Col du Soudet - Rest day, large update, regards to all, jwb

7/11/06
Cambo Les Bains-Pau
190.5 kilometers, featuring the Col du Soudet
Category: Hors
Length: 14.7 kim
Height: 1,540 meters
Altitude gain: 1090 meters
Average gradient: 7.3%
Steepest stretch: 10.5% grade at 10 km

“Bonjour, Monsieur Col du Soudet.”

“Oh, your French. It pains my ears. And I am so very old. Please, speak your native tongue.”

“We have come to climb you.”

“Really. And who might you be?”

“We are an American cycling team.”

“Hmm. Discovery?”

“No, sir. We are the Destination Cycling Team.”

“Let me have a look at you. Come closer. I’m an old man and I don’t see well. Oh. Hmmm. There are sheep upon my meadows that are more fit than you. And bulls as well.”

“Yes, but Old Man of the Col Du Soudet, we would very much like to climb you.”

“Alright. But if you hear cowbells on the descent, by all means, slow down. The cows and bulls, and sheep as well, they were here before you. They will be here after you leave. If you hit one upon your bicycle, I shall drop a large rock on your van.”

“Merci beaucoup, Monsieur.”

“Dacor.”

Today was the first day in the mountains, and after staring at the horrifying gradients in the cycling magazines for the past year, we got the opportunity to stop looking at climbs on paper, and start experiencing them in real life.

The day started with a punch in the stomach of a climb that gave the legs no time to warm up. The Col d’Osquich was a Category 3 climb, and it deserved respect, but it did not strike fear in our hearts. That was reserved for the Old Man of the Col de Soudet.

Mist surrounded the mountain, and as we arrived, the group became very quiet. We stayed within ourselves, being conservative, smart. Up, up, up we went, hearts beating, breathing in a controlled fashion. For the first half of the climb, the group stuck together.

Then Sir Isaac Newton gave us a lesson on gravity. The lighter riders floated to the front, and soon enough 129 pounds of Coach Joshua Dean Powers was tapping out a cadence light as can be and the rest were following. The script for such a climb would be that Joshua Dean would shepherd the group to the top, in control, and in his personal Endurance Zone.

Patrick Kildow, who became the Destination Cycling King of the Mountains today, did not read the script, as he just went, and smooth as can be, in control, without the benefit of a heart rate strap, a cycling computer, or a power meter. On a stock Trek 5200, he floated up, up and away from the group. Josh settled in with Jimmy. I stuck with them until the halfway mark. Then, when I took an inventory of my assets, I made an executive decision to let them go. Keep in mind that if you blow yourself up on one climb, there’s still plenty more to come.

Past campers on the sides of the road and Basques dressed in orange, and Germans sporting pink, we went up, through the mist, toward the clouds that covered the mountains. Every kilometer, a cruel sign informed us how many were left, and what the average gradient of the next one would be.

As any statistician will tell you, an average is pure poppycock. Sometimes, the road would go straight up, then level out, for an average grade of 5%. While the sign was true to the formula, in reality it was an out and out lie. And what a cruel lie it was.

We all had to climb the mountain, but we did not have to climb alone. The French, the Germans, the Italians, all were riding up the legendary climb. The people in the campers along the route encouraged us. “Venga, venga, venga!” said the Italians. “Allez, allez, allez,” replied the French.

As we rode past a T-Mobile fan bus, I had just enough energy to say, “Ich bein Klodi!” a reference to a much-respected T-Mobile rider. The Germans went nutty.

At the top of the climb the mother ship, the sag van, was there to greet us with an ice-cold Coke, a warm jacket, a much-needed word of encouragement, and the laying on of Brian’s hands upon my knees.

Soon enough we were all reunited, and it must be noted that Mark the over 6 foot tall former linebacker, trained down to 200 pounds, with the Lance-like at-rest heart rate of 38 beats per minute, found his way to the top of the climb with style and grace. Unless you ride, you’ll never understand how difficult this is. It would be similar to taking Coach Josh, who weighs in at 129 pounds, and putting him in a college football game at the position of linebacker and asking him to stick the 275 pound fullback in an open field play. The results would be amusing, but probably not inspiring.

After donning some warm clothing, it was time for the descent. At speeds exceeding 40 miles per hour, we roared down the mountain, through the fog, around hairpin turns, past bulls and cows who stood in the middle of the road, with a dull look in their eyes that said, “Stupid American. I double-dog dare you to hit me.”

The descent was not without incident. One of our riders had a spill, and Dr. Rob Kantor found himself putting the skills he learned in medical school, and practiced at an ER as a resident, to good use. To date, he has repaired two cuts on legs, witnessed a woman in a restaurant have a seizure, and helped an ancient Frenchman who tripped and face planted onto the cement.

Having survived the technical descent, we were hoping to get to the finish line with a minimum amount of fuss. Not a chance. The Col de Marie Banque wanted a pound of flesh from us and that is what she got. While the climb was much shorter, it was difficult, as it came at the end of the day. King of the Mountains Patrick Kildow again showed us how it’s done. Jimmy was close behind, and Rob polished off the climb right behind them.

Reunited, in a slight tailwind, the group wanted to be done with the wet, the cold, the discomfort, the long day in the saddle. Mark went to the front and wound up the blue train to 27 miles per hour and set the tone for the rest of the ride home. As Pau is a crowded city, we pulled the throttle back at the town line to avoid incident, and minimize the chances of being separated from the mothership with the GPS.

This was a good warm-up for the team, and it should be noted that tomorrow features 206.5 kilometers of riding, five significant climbs, one of which is the Tourmalet. We also finish in Spain. For fun, we discussed the notion of dressing Coach Josh in an all orange outfit, and seeing what kind of response he elicited from the Basques.

But before we get too worried about tomorrow, we must reflect upon today. At breakfast this morning, a young member of our team witnessed the spectacle of Jimmy and Patrick mixing a custom smoothie with their portable blender. As Jimmy heaped special powders, nuts, yogurt, and an assortment of other secret ingredients, the youngster quipped, “Shit. If I’m mixing up speed drinks when I’m 40 years old, somebody do me a favor and shoot me. In the face.” Ah, youth.

I believe Mick Jagger once said, “If I’m 40 years old, and I’m still singing Satisfaction, please kill me.” Apparently, he had a change of heart decades ago. The point is, if you like doing something, it’s your prerogative to damn well do it. What is the alternative? To stay home and watch TV? Is the network going to send you a birthday card? “Great year! Keep watching.”

And now, some news for the cyclist readers who are wondering if the 2007 Tour de France Challenge is right for them:

There are five things that I believe are absolutely essential for participation in this event.

-Your significant other has to be supportive of the endeavor. If he or she isn’t, you’re in for a challenge before you get to the Challenge.

-Your boss or your company has to be just as supportive. If either is not, you’re not going to have fun. Or you’re going to have to find a new job.

The next three things are easier to acquire:

The first is a powertap wheel, which is more for training than for the event itself. In my humble opinion, a $1,000 bicycle with a powertap is worth a lot more than a $10,000 bicycle without one. You learn a lot about yourself, you can send files to your coach. You’ll waste less time as you’ll be either riding hard or riding to recover, not slowly riding yourself into the ground.

Even more important than a powertap is a coach you like. The earlier you hire the coach, the better. As Coach Joshua Dean Powers has done the Tour de France Challenge twice now, and coached more than a few athletes to the finish line, I believe he is uniquely qualified for the job.

There’s also a potential bonus. If Coach Josh does the Tour de France Challenge next year, you get to ride with He who built you. The coach/athlete relationship, if you haven’t experienced it since college, is quite fulfilling. Coach says what to do. You do it. You get results. You’re happy. If only every relationship was as simple and as productive.

As far as equipment goes, if you have a comfortable road bicycle, you should seriously consider a compact crank. I know, I know. You are as strong as a bull. You think compact cranks are ridiculous. For sissies, they are! You’re afraid you’ll spin it out on the descents. Well, unless you’re a better rider than Tyler Hamilton, who won a stage at the Tour with a compact crank and a broken collarbone, I beg to differ.

The compact crank has a great many benefits that are only apparent once you get here. To wit, you are able to stay in the big ring longer. In the small ring, you can get up the tough climbs. And if, after mercilessly attacking yourself on a tough climb, and subsequently blowing yourself to smithereens, you can still get to the top. Also, for those readers over the age of 40, your knees will thank you.

Regards from Pau,

JWB


7/12/06
Stage 11
Tarbes-Val D’Aran Pla De Bert
206.5 kilometers, plus make-up kilometers, around 138 miles
5 climbs, featuring the Col du Tourmalet

On the road to one of cycling’s most revered cathedrals, the summit of the Tourmalet, there are no atheists. Cyclists in team kits, tourists lugging backpacks, husbands and wives on tandem bicycles loaded down with camping equipment all say a prayer to get up the 19.5 kilometer climb.

Through the rain, then the fog, and finally the mist, the ribbon of a road to the top winds above the clouds and the sun beats down, illuminating all below.

Precariously perched just two feet from the edge, campers line the road that slithers to the top. Germans rooting for T-Mobile co-exist with Basques bedecked in orange, hoping for a hometown hero. The French, who have been waiting for more than two decades, hope for a new champion.

Rob Kantor knows this climb, and he put on a climbing demonstration that was just as clinical as a review of a medical procedure. He went to the front with Jimmy and Patrick and he went and he went until it was time to stop and wait for the rest of us.

Director Joe Tonon and Coach Joshua Dean Powers were together when the sun illuminated the spectacle, and they were both pleased that all the guests got to see the Tourmalet in all its grand glory. It doesn’t get much better than this.

The steepness of the Tourmalet was foreign to me, and my goal was simply survival. I stayed within myself, and completed the climb, only once hindered by an RV that stopped suddenly in front of me, forcing me to unclip. Getting started again on a steep incline is not easy for a novice.

Mark, our 200 pound, former linebacker teammate, had a good climb and got the job done.

When everyone arrived, we stood on the edge and took a team picture, enjoying the moment, and a snack, but not for long. Four more climbs demanded our attention.

The day was long, and we were in the saddle for almost ten hours. It was a 137-mile death march. The last climb of the day was the sweetest for me.

If I had just seven days to live, I would choose to spend one of them riding with Coach Joshua Dean Powers. After Jimmy buried himself, knowingly, willingly, for the good of the team, pacing the group up the first half of the last climb, Coach Josh went to the front and knocked out a cadence like a Swiss metronome. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, up he went, past the insane Basques, past the serious Germans, past the frowning French.

As Coach Josh built me, he knows just how far he can twist the controls. For cyclists, it’s all about how many watts of power you can produce per kilogram of body weight. I can push about 300 watts on a climb but if it’s over 300, the lights flicker, once, twice, three times, then go out altogether. That’s around 4 watts of power per kilogram of body weight.

After the lights go out, the best I can do is lie down on the side of the road in a curled position and hope someone will put me out of my misery, quickly and painlessly.

If you want to win the Tour de France, as Lance Armstrong has on seven separate occasions, you will need to be able to produce 7 watts of power for each kilogram of body weight. So Mr. Armstrong, who weighs around 70 kilograms (in form,) can produce 500 watts of power up the entire Tourmalet. If someone angers him, he can produce even more.

In his peak form, Coach Josh, a professional cyclist, can lay down 6.2 watts of power for every kilogram of his body weight. So when Josh climbs with me, let’s just say he’s not exactly in pain, as he is around 50% more powerful than I am.

But Mr. Powers did not come to the Tour de France Challenge to train, or to set personal bests, or join some desperate cycling team that was riddled with scandal. Mr. Powers came to work, to be a shepherd, a guide to the red-faced, middle-aged, huffing and puffing clients.

We finished together at the top and I took a picture to celebrate the moment. For me, it was a thrill. I have said it before and I shall say it again. If you, dear reader, are thinking of doing the Tour de France Challenge, or any other serious cycling trip that you will commit significant resources to, I assure you, you will have more fun if you hire Coach Joshua Dean Powers than if you don’t.

Once you get to the top of a large climb, you would think it would be easy on the way down. For all of those who have never ridden a bicycle down a mountain, at speeds in excess of 40 miles per hour, it’s exhilarating, but not relaxing. Yes, it’s easier than climbing up, but if you make a mistake in the Pyrenees, and go over the edge, your remains will probably be consumed by a mountain goat long before they are found.

I was nervous on the descents when I first got here. I did not understand how to choose a line, how to carve a turn, how to lean into the task.

Earlier in the day, Mark, who has excellent bicycle handling skills, gave us a seminar on how to turn. As Mark is over 6 feet tall, and 200 pounds, everything he does on the bicycle is easier to see.

To show us how it is done, he pointed the bike downhill, and carved turns in the road. To make sure we understood which foot was un-weighted, he unclipped from his pedal, and hung the leg in the air while the other foot pressed down. This is like someone shredding moguls on one ski to demonstrate the way to turn properly.

Patrick Kildow, who was ahead of me, was soon looking like he was skiing in Park City, Utah, rather than riding in Spain. He learned quickly. I got better as well. By the end of the day, my maximum descending speed was just shy of 45 miles per hour.

At the top of the last climb, we had a choice. Go back down in the van, or ride the bicycles. Since the road was clogged with RVs and cars, Josh decided to ride. I hung 10 meters off his wheel, following his line, monkey-see, monkey-do, learning by imitating.

We beat the van to the bottom, and I got in some much-needed make-up mileage. As of this writing, I’m just 18 miles shy of being even with the team. That’s my new goal.

It’s late in our town in Spain, and I am cross-eyed tired, so I bid you well, and good night. Outside my window, on the third floor of the hotel, Basques are screaming on the street below. This is their preferred method of communication. In the room next to me, Germans are debating. Motorcycles tear down the street, and all hopes of rest appear to be dashed. It is late, the alarm will go off early, and tomorrow is another long day in the saddle.


7/13/06
Stage 12
Luchon-Carcasonne
211.5 km
Hot, hilly, and grouchy

After yesterday’s epic five climbs, today had nowhere to go but down. While we were all prepared for the grand day in the mountains, today was pure drudgery.

The kilometers and the miles are starting to add up. Amongst us, we have achy knees, sore hamstrings, saddle sores galore, upset stomachs, exhaustion, sleep depravation, and other unmentionable un-pleasantries.

The highlight of the day occurred at lunch. Josh pushed his road bike up a grass hill and then showed us a bit of his mountain biking skills as he rode it back down. As Brian filmed the spectacle, we demanded jumps, wheelies, anything really that had “Jackass” potential. After coming to a skid stop in the heat, Josh said, “That’s all I got.”

We would love to be able to say that tomorrow will be an easy day, but that’s not the case. Cycle Sport magazine writes that the next stage is, “A very long, hot rolling stage up the Rhone valley, which could see a weary peloton let a breakaway group of the right competition stay clear.”

In our group, the competition is not with each other, but with overuse injuries. Keeping joints functioning, sores at bay, and backsides healthy is a great challenge in itself.

I have offered to adopt my Danish massage therapist, Brian. He keeps my knees going, and for that I shall be eternally grateful. He said, “What about my girlfriend, and my parents?” Too bad the house at home isn’t big enough for all.

My apologies for not posting these updates sooner. Wifi, or “WEE-FI,” as the French say, is difficult to come by. The Hotel Bristol does not offer WEE-FI and I do not have time to walk to the hotel that does, the glorious Hotel Accord, with the uninspired design and the spectacular air conditioning.

The Hotel Bristol is charming. Which means it is hot and noisy. Rest easy, dear reader, a five Euro tip to a nice staff member got me a fine looking fan that is on my bed stand, blocked up by the hardcover book I’ve lugged everywhere but not yet read.

I hope you are well, and above all, cool.

7/14/06
Stage 13
Beziers-Montelimar
230 kilometers, around 142 miles, “Surely you jest”

If you were forced to choose one word to describe the Hotel Bristol, you would briefly consider the following: “charming,” “elegant,” “picturesque.” But after spending an evening here, the word you would settle upon, without hesitation, would be “hot.”

The choice of window open and somewhat cool, or window shut and somewhat quiet was easy to make. Window open, drunks yell all you want.

While all of the guests suffered, Dr. Rob Kantor had the worst night of all because he knew what he was up against. Most of us thought we were hot. Rob knew precisely how hot he was.

He has a fancy watch that displays altitude, time, and, cruelly, temperature. So while he was unable to sleep, the good doctor was able to see that it was 96 degrees in his room and it was late at night, or very, very early in the morning, depending upon your point of view.

To make matters worse, there was a faulty motion-activated light switch in his bathroom that would turn off after he had been in there for fifteen seconds. To keep the light on, he had to waive his arm in the air, or flap a towel like a wounded, angry bird.

At this point, the team is tired, the crew is tired, the guides are tired, the guests are tired, and we are all longing for the dumpy, poorly designed, shabby-chic ibis Hotel chain with the sublime Carrier AC.

Jason is in large trouble with the team. Coach Joshua Dean Powers, who was Jason’s roommate last night, has officially labeled him a “dumb ass.” Reason being, Jason works for a company that makes portable AC units. We are currently discussing not if, but how we will kill Jason. Shall we shove him off a cliff? Poison his water bottle? A stoning at lunch? The debate rages on.

Transfers are becoming increasingly difficult. Roads are closed in preparation for the Tour, and our GPS unit doesn’t know it. We have to improvise on how we get from point A to point B and that occupies precious time, time we will lose at the end of the day. That means dinner will be later, someone won’t get a massage, someone will be grouchy, someone will snarl.

But when you think it’s all over, that life can’t get any worse, somehow, it gets better. The team rallied today on the stage from Beziers-Montelimar and it’s a good thing it did.

Cycle Sport says, “A very long, hot, rolling stage up the Rhone valley…the cycling equivalent of death by a thousand cuts.”

The 140-plus-mile ride featured a miserable headwind that distributed pain throughout our group. The suffering of a long climb has a certain rhythm to it that is sweet, as there is a beginning, a middle, and an end. You make progress. You get out of the saddle, stretch the legs and move around. You look at the tourists grilling sausages and swilling beer. You see how you fare against others out challenging the mountain. Climbing is an activity that occupies the mind.

Riding into a headwind makes one think, “Hey, wouldn’t it be fun to go whitewater rafting?” The misery is compounded hourly. Coach Joshua Dean Powers set the tone at the beginning of the day and we worked evenly, fairly, smoothly, and predictably, together as a team. A climber by birth, Coach Josh hates riding into a headwind, but he made the best of it.

To say it was hot is to underscore the inadequacies of the English language. The temperature was in excess of 106 degrees Fahrenheit. The roads were melting and sticking to our tires. How professional cyclists race in such conditions is beyond comprehension.

We also learned why our teammate Mark is in his hometown athletic Hall of Fame and you and I are not. When last we spoke, the over 6-foot tall, 200-pound, former National Champion linebacker had climbed all five mountains of a difficult stage. At the top of the fifth climb, he looked like Armstrong after an all-out effort in an uphill time trial. His face was white, his eyes were bloodshot, his lips were purple. Later, we learned Mark had lost 6 pounds of body weight, despite hydrating constantly.

The next day, he was sick, and looked like he could not go on. Yet he gutted the day out, finishing at his own pace with Jay, he who didn’t bring the company air conditioners, but may live now that he is in the protective custody of the muscle-bound Mark.

This morning at breakfast, Mark was white around the gills. But he gutted out the morning, and then the afternoon, and finished yet another long day in the saddle, joyously carving turns on the last descent.

Dr. Rob Kantor’s rolling medical clinic found more business today. Dr. Rob has yet to sit down to enjoy his lunch without providing some medical advice to a rider. To date, he has tended to four hurt riders, and today, he cared for a victim of a crash while simultaneously eating a sandwich. It is a wonderful thing to have a doctor on your trip, and Dr. Rob is a great one.

Just when we were all ready to sleep in the van with the motor running and the AC on full blast, life is looking up. We are staying at a beautiful old hotel with some new, functional AC units. As I sit, I am surrounded by the trappings of a French, turn-of-the century romance film: tall ceilings, flowing drapes, a bed with a canopy. But above the bed is the art we love most, a GE AC unit.

It’s Bastille Day in France, and outside my window the fireworks are exploding, and the Bee Gees are singing, “Night Fever, Night Fever…” The Village People are still loved here: “It’s fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A!”

You may like good food and good wine, so I will do my best to report. Keep in mind, to me, food is fuel. When training, I routinely eat a pot of pasta, covered with a jar of sauce that would normally feed six.

Erin of the Destination Cycling Team staff fights off the inclinations of the French. They would like us to sit at the dinner table for at least three hours. If we are to get any sleep, we must be fed family style. Erin also asks, pleads for, even begs for pasta. The French nod politely, then serve egg noodles. Perhaps they despise the Italians, but they just can’t bring themselves to put a marinara sauce upon their tables. I know nothing of wine, but the wine people on the trip have been happy with selection, which is usually native to the region we are visiting.

Jimmy, the super-domestique, lives for his evening dessert of ice cream and the team has happily adopted his addiction. Dessert at dinner is the highlight of the day.

The saddest part of the day is in the morning, when, bone-tired and sleep deprived, you reset the cycling computer. You hold down the two buttons, and the previous day’s 140 miles blink back to zero and then it’s once again all ahead of you.

Tomorrow is an easier day than today. It’s 180.5 kilometers from Montelimar-Gap. Four climbs, then we have a rest day where I hope to make up my 18 missing miles to become even with the team in spirit. I also hope to find some WIFFY internet access so I can post my thoughts. We travel to many small towns, few of which have internet access.

The entire team wishes all the best to American Floyd Landis. He’s in yellow as of this writing. Next year, he must have an operation for a degenerative hip condition, so let’s hope he wins one. This could be his last chance, and boy wouldn’t Lance be ticked off if former teammate Floyd won a Tour for Phonak rather than Discovery.

7/15/06
Stage 14
Montelimar-Gap
180.5 k

Last night’s hotel was exquisite, today’s stage was short, so Director Joe Tonon decided to have a later start. We slept in until 7:00 am and enjoyed a homemade breakfast at our old-world hotel which featured new-world GE air conditioning.

The team was energized by a good night’s sleep and giddy over the idea of a short stage, of only 108 miles, followed by a much-needed rest day.

We have stomach issues, exhaustion, saddle sores, chafing, sore knees, sore feet, tight backs, tired arms, road rash, cuts, abrasions, bee stings too numerous to count, grinchy knees, and angry hamstrings.

The day featured a lot of up and down climbing on roads that are not good enough for the Tour. We also passed the famous spot where Joseba Beloki crashed, broke his leg, and Lance Armstrong cycle-crossed his way across a field, and rejoined the lead group. It’s a lot steeper than it looks on TV. There was some discussion of a historical reenactment where one of us would pose on the ground, and Coach Josh would fly through the field on his road bike.

The highlight of my day was leading the group up a long, gradual climb. I have been criticized in the past for being uneven in my efforts, so I did my best to pace the group up the Col de Peyruegue at a constant pace. Mission accomplished. At the top, I celebrated by going to the back, and assuming my place in the descending pecking order.

Dr. Rob Kantor had a great day in the saddle, and was quite thrilled with the good night sleep he received last evening. His thermometer watch was in the comfort zone all night, so he was riding in good form today. He schooled me on the third climb of the day.

We rode the last climb of the day together, after Patrick Kildow, who is strong beyond comprehension, launched an attack that crushed the spirit of all those around him. After riding for 20 minutes at 300 watts, he dialed it up to 400, then 500, which created a gap that could not be closed.

At the end of the ride, the crew had McDonald’s cheeseburgers and strawberry shakes waiting for us. This is the sort of food no one eats at home, but given how many calories we burn a day, we may eat whatever we want.

The crew also did a great job today handing out bottles. I drank at least 16 bottles today, and during one handoff, we all received ice cream on a stick. To eat ice cream on the bicycle when the temperature is over 90 degrees is a great thrill.

As we are now in the Alps, the hotels become campy and rustic. The Hotel Regina, where we will stay for two nights, has no AC. The word that comes to mind is “Spartan.”

Tomorrow, we will all try to get some rest. I plan on enjoying an 18-mile recovery ride, which will be the last installment on my missing miles, and a trip into town to find some WIFFY internet access.

We now have six stages left, three epic days, and three relatively easy efforts. Although we have been around each other for quite awhile, we all realize that eventually, the trip will end, at it will be back to the ho-hum and the humdrum.

We passed another American Tour group out on the road today, and their idea of doing the Tour de France is totally different than ours.

We ride as a team. Ten people are in the group, each goes to the front for a 15-minute pull out in the wind, then goes to the back. Sick people are given a break, and are not expected to work.

The other group we saw is different. They hand everyone a map at the beginning of the day, and each person rides individually. They don’t go as fast as we do, and they don’t cover the entire course. Most of the time, we see their van driving around with a rack full of bicycles, as the riders have all quit for the day to complete the day’s trek by van.

Time for dinner.

Regards from Gap,


JWB

Thoughts on a rest day

To the best of my knowledge, Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer never floated down the mighty Seine River. But if they were to, I doubt they would have more glorious adventures than we are.

We see magnificent sights. We ride with great company. We eat ice cream on our bicycles while knocking out 6,000 foot climbs.

A year ago, when I heard about this trip, my reaction was instinctual and immediate. It wasn’t that I had to do it.

I couldn’t not do it.

Even as I lie here, weary and sore, the utter madness of the concept still rolls around my mouth like a fireball on a summer day: a team of regular guys ride the entire route of the Tour de France.

The notion of the team is important, because no one on our trip could do it alone, not even our professional rider. At one point or another, even the strongest amongst us needs the team.

That such an adventure would appeal to me is out of character.
I am one of those wretched, despicable creatures, a varmint of habit. I like my bed, my yogurt, my granola, my commute to work, my desk at work, my sandwich shop at lunch, and my spaghetti for dinner. I like to go to sleep early and get up early and do it all again.

You get none of that here. Every day is a different hotel. Some are great. Others are hot and noisy. Every day is a different ride. Some are beautiful, others are a grind. Every day features different food. Some sandwiches you love. Others aren’t what you had in mind.

During one ride, Coach Josh handed me a ham and cheese sandwich. I asked him if he could place it between his seat and his buttocks to warm it up a bit. He smiled and said, “I already did.”

But no great adventure ever came without a price. To get in your car, and turn on your AC, and drive to your mall, and order your chicken burrito at Baja Fresh is a very comfortable experience. But it will never be an epic adventure.

President John F. Kennedy said, “We choose to go to the moon not because it is easy, but because it is hard.” Imagine. The mission statement is, “We’re going to the moon.” I was too young during those glorious days to understand the significance of that mission, but I have a friend who was.

At night, his father would sit down in his favorite chair, while holding his favorite drink, and he would say to his son, “I made the gyroscopes that are going to go into the rocket, that will take man to the moon.” And my friend, who was a young man at the time, would think to himself, “Oh, Dad’s cocked off his ass again.”

When man did get to the moon, there sure were a lot of people at NASA who made it possible. Our crew at Destination Cycling is first-rate, and of course, none of this would be possible without them.

Director Joe Tonon is our leader, and he sets the tone for the entire crew. He is a Virgo by birth, and a perfectionist by choice. The details that he manages are mind-boggling. He leads the crew, he leads the rides, he lets you know when you’re about to go the wrong way up a one-way street. He also took the risk of organizing the trip. I never thought five guys would sign up for such a trip, and if it wasn’t for Joe’s relentless dedication to the mission, the trip wouldn’t have happened, and I’d be spending the rest of my life talking about how I coulda, woulda, shoulda ridden the Tour, but instead I stayed home to fix the sump pump.

Erin Berard deserves a lot more credit than she gets. Her title is Director of Marketing, but I see her more as Producer of Dreams. There’s a big gap between “regular guys ride the entire route of the Tour de France” and “welcome to the hotel, you’re in room 207, your bag is already there, the AC is on, Brian will come get you for your massage, dinner is at 8:00 pm and your wife emailed me to let you know that she is coming.”

Brian the massage therapist is a healer, and I have all the respect in the world for anyone who can keep an old machine running. He’s been smiling since he got here, and he has great guest karma. I’ve offered to take him home to the States, where he may be my adopted son, and care for my knees for the rest of time. He’s still thinking about it.

On the road, the glorious, strong, smooth, pleasant affable guides do their jobs with a smile. Coach Joshua Dean Powers makes you a better rider just by being in your midst. When the wind is on the nose, Jimmy Railey takes to the front and hammers away for a long, long time. Patrick Kildow, with the super human strength and the calm disposition is happy to do the same.

My teammates have taught me plenty. Dr. Rob has the most class on the bicycle. He’s smooth and even and in control, he climbs like an angel, and always paces himself to get to the finish of the day. His traveling clinic has also been quite busy, and we are lucky to have a doctor of his qualifications on the trip.

Mark is the toughest. He’s a pure athlete, who in another era, could’ve been a gladiator, a professional soldier, or a wrestler. He’s the most graceful big man I’ve ever met and he taught me how to descend.

Alberto is the most courageous. After his crash, he cleaned himself up, got back on the bike, and just kept going. The dream was just as appealing to him as it was to me. Alberto said, “Hey, this isn’t some trip to Disney Land.”

Paul is the most successful. He’s the most regular guy I’ve ever met who sold a company for more than a billion dollars. He took risks to get there, and lived on the edge of failure more than once.

They have all been good teammates to me. I hope to do right by them.