stage 4, stage 5
7-04-06
Stage 4
Huy-Saint Quentin
207 kilometers, around 130 miles
The worst of my fears was confronted today at the 40-mile mark. My right knee was giving me problems. It hurt, I couldn’t climb on it, so I stopped, and got in the sag wagon.
According to Coach Josh, there was a rider last year who was in pain and just kept pushing. By the time he told anyone about his tendon problem, it was too late to do anything. It swelled up to twice its normal size. A year later, it still hurts.
Tendonitis is my old friend. Back in 1983, after cross country practice, the knee hurt just the same and I’d have to crawl up the stairs backwards on my ass. I can’t run anymore. At least I can ride. I just don’t think I can ride 8 hours a day, several days in a row.
The penalty for pulling up and dropping out is you have to ride in the sag van. Rasmus and Bryan, two Danes, who could both crush you on the bicycle, do their job and listen to Danish rock and roll. As you motor through the French countryside, you wish you were on the bike. But it’s not happening.
The team is riding well. Before lunch, they were hammering along at 25 miles per hour. That said, it’s hot, over 90 degrees, and for the first time, Coach Josh is sweating.
Mark and Rob are still riding, and both look very strong. Rob has a very flat back on the bike, and looks like Greg LeMond. He’s very fit, compact, and has a sweet pedal stroke. He climbs effortlessly, and can pull as well as the staff.
Mark is a totally different kind of rider. He looks like an NFL linebacker on a bicycle. It comes as no surprise that he was a linebacker on his high-school team in Orange County California, a team that went on to win a national championship.
He’s a huge man, over six feet tall, trained down to 200 pounds of muscle. He spins at 120 rpm with legs the size of oak trees. His arms are almost the same size as Coach Josh’s legs. Down hills, he goes by at 140% of your speed. The scary thing is he can climb with the small guys. He puts it on the little ring, and just powers up hills. It’s easy to imagine him on a track bike, tossing teammates around the ring with a mighty shove of his hand.
For the staff, on the bikes, we have Tour director Joe Tonon. He’s in charge of all logistics, and managing to ride strong as well. Tall order. During his pulls at the front, he’s monitoring his cadence, heart rate, power, speed, distance from hotel, budget, logistical details, health and fitness of riders, all at the same time. A former high-level cyclist in Europe, he has the experience to get the job done. His authority has a good influence on the pack.
Up the climbs, Coach Josh takes over. He is 28 years old and 129 pounds. As a professional mountain biker, this training is good for him, but he’s not dipping into his reserves or his red zone. When he climbs, it’s like watching a drummer tap out a rhythm on a cymbol. When my tongue is hanging out of my mouth, Josh can still have a pleasant conversation. He can do anything on the bike – unclip from the pedals, put his foot up on the seat, eat lunch, make lunch, get you a water bottle, hold onto a van moving at 40 kilometers per hour, chase a van moving 60 kilometers per hour.
Jimmy is ultra fit, broad shouldered, 45 years old. He rides a lot, and lifts. When the wind is on the nose, he is the conductor of our blue train. Eventually, he gets weary and his best friend Patrick, a ski instructor from Park City, takes over. He’s quiet, strong, and reminds me of my best friend in high school, Reid, who tragically lost his life to cancer shortly after graduation from Hamilton College.
From the Danish rock collection, “GIVE IT TO ME BABY! UH-HUH UH-HUH AND ALL THE GIRLS SAY I’M PRETTY FLY FOR A WHITE GUY!”
Bryan sings along to the tunes. Rasmus, who is the strongest man on earth, as well as a 10-hour Ironman drives, staying right behind the pack. The right wheel of the van is in the breakdown lane.
We’re moving along at about 35 kilometers per hour. Just 50 meters ahead, the riders are doing what I’d like to be doing, hammering out a tempo. Instead, I’m looking at cows out the window, hating my knee.
We go flying by the pack, to pull up in a spot and get ready to receive all the empty water bottles. I’m thinking about getting back on the bike, but I don’t know. The knee didn’t feel good at lunch.
It doesn’t hurt when I’m not moving, but when I move…
“I LOVE YOU BABY, AND IF IT’S QUITE ALRIGHT, I NEED YOU BABY, ON A LONELY NIGHT…”
We come to a stop at an intersection.
“SHE’S GOT THE LOOK! SWINGING TO THE BAND, MOVING LIKE A HAMMER, SHE’S GOT THE LOOK! WHAT IN THE WORLD CAN MAKE A BROWN-EYED GIRL TURN BLUE?”
We pull over and I get out of the van to test the knee, like it’s going to magically get better just sitting here, doing nothing.
No chance. Josh is tapping out a climb. Mark is right behind him, keeping pace, putting out twice as much power to make up for his massive frame. Joe is thinking about a million things and still getting it done. Jimmy’s knee hurts, but he’s sucking it up. Patrick’s all good vibes. Rob looks hot, but he still appears to be born to do this.
I want to get back on the bike, I don’t want to be in the van. But I want to ride again tomorrow.
The radio sums it up for me, “FROM ALL OF US AT AEROSMITH, REMEMBER, THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL IS THE TRAIN.”
7.05.06
Stage 5
Beauvais-Caen
Around 225 kilometers, around 145 miles
This morning, we received some bad news. One of our teammates was going to end his participation early, and join up with his son. I was disappointed because I like this guy as he is successful, significant, and down to earth. Rare combination.
Another teammate was dealing with a saddle sore. Yesterday, he took a day off, soaked it, applied some second skin, copious amounts of chamois cream, and wore two pairs of shorts to get through today, which he did with class and grace.
Our conversations are becoming similar to those you might hear at a retirement home.
“I hope this doesn’t sound blunt, but how’s your ass?”
“No, no. Thank you for asking. My ass is very good. My sore has shrunken, and dried up a bit. I’m quite pleased. How is the wound in your leg?”
“Oh, much improved. It appears to be healing!”
“And the knee?”
“Yes, the knee. We are cautiously optimistic.”
“Always a good policy.”
Everyone has issues, and last night, Rob, a teammate, as well as a doctor, made a toast, “To good health.” Here, here.
While we share our issues, we also share our cures. Some have special lotions and recipes for what ails you. It’s just not possible to spend 8 hours a day in a saddle, for 20 days, without having some issues.
As it would be bad form to discuss other people’s, I’ll just say mine, wound care, and knee care, result in a comical treatment at the end of the day.
While the ass is soaked in hot water, the knees are held above the tub and iced. One of Erin’s many tasks is to find ice all over Europe. Sounds simple. Hah. This is similar to locating a Skoda car dealer in the United States.
The wily veterans show their experience at every point. Mark astounds me with his brilliance. Last night, at McDonald’s, he actually asked for, and received ice. As he enjoyed his McDonald’s snack, he iced his arm. Bless him for giving me a cube, which I rubbed on my tendon.
Ibuprofen is candy. Coach Josh calls it, “I-Be-Broken.” We are advised by Dr. Rob not to exceed the recommended dosage, or issues will arise. We heed his advice.
Today, the sensations on the bike were much better. The weather was cooler than 90 degrees, and not only did I make it to lunch, I actually got all the way to the finish. The last ten miles were unpleasant, and the knee was grinchy, yet I was a real participant in the Tour de France Challenge, rather than a partial participant.
I give all the credit to Bryan, my massage therapist and healer. He has protocols he follows that make it possible to ride when you’re not sure such if it can be done. He touches your pressure points, applies special creams, tapes, etc.
The 14-days of antibiotics are out of my system, and my internal thermometer is returning to its natural state. One of the bottles of medicine said, “Don’t go out in the sun.” I believe I know why now.
It’s a great feeling to roll through a town as part of a team. We’re seeing villages, and fields, fighter jets, and local characters. We can’t stop and experience it all, but we say, “bonjour” and keep going.
The now 8-person team, four guests and four staff, has found its groove. In a mighty headwind, we formed two lines across the rode. I was on Director Joe Tonon’s rear wheel, which pierces the air with a voosh, voosh, voosh sound.
On the climbs, Coach Josh goes to the front and makes it look easy. The rest of us do what we can to keep going.
When we get to the hotel, there’s much to be done. Erin went ahead with the bags, and she is here to greet you with your room key. You go to your room and there is your bag, waiting for you. After a quick soaking, and icing with the precious substance Erin acquired who-knows-where, it’s time for a massage with Bryan.
An hour or so later, it’s time for dinner, the all-you-can eat face-stuffing festival to prepare for the long ride in the morning. As we have had a long day in the saddle, Coach Josh permits the consumption of ice cream.
Jimmy on the staff says he only thinks of two things all day, the time you have to be ready to ride in the morning, and the time you have to be ready for dinner. If you think of anything else, how far you have to go the next day, how long the climbs are, how grim the headwind will be, it’s just too much information. He says when the trip is over, you appreciate the simple things in life more.
I’m for that. Professional cyclist Floyd Landis said that some cyclists are content to sit and stare at a post. I believe I know why. It doesn’t hurt to stare at a post.
Stage 4
Huy-Saint Quentin
207 kilometers, around 130 miles
The worst of my fears was confronted today at the 40-mile mark. My right knee was giving me problems. It hurt, I couldn’t climb on it, so I stopped, and got in the sag wagon.
According to Coach Josh, there was a rider last year who was in pain and just kept pushing. By the time he told anyone about his tendon problem, it was too late to do anything. It swelled up to twice its normal size. A year later, it still hurts.
Tendonitis is my old friend. Back in 1983, after cross country practice, the knee hurt just the same and I’d have to crawl up the stairs backwards on my ass. I can’t run anymore. At least I can ride. I just don’t think I can ride 8 hours a day, several days in a row.
The penalty for pulling up and dropping out is you have to ride in the sag van. Rasmus and Bryan, two Danes, who could both crush you on the bicycle, do their job and listen to Danish rock and roll. As you motor through the French countryside, you wish you were on the bike. But it’s not happening.
The team is riding well. Before lunch, they were hammering along at 25 miles per hour. That said, it’s hot, over 90 degrees, and for the first time, Coach Josh is sweating.
Mark and Rob are still riding, and both look very strong. Rob has a very flat back on the bike, and looks like Greg LeMond. He’s very fit, compact, and has a sweet pedal stroke. He climbs effortlessly, and can pull as well as the staff.
Mark is a totally different kind of rider. He looks like an NFL linebacker on a bicycle. It comes as no surprise that he was a linebacker on his high-school team in Orange County California, a team that went on to win a national championship.
He’s a huge man, over six feet tall, trained down to 200 pounds of muscle. He spins at 120 rpm with legs the size of oak trees. His arms are almost the same size as Coach Josh’s legs. Down hills, he goes by at 140% of your speed. The scary thing is he can climb with the small guys. He puts it on the little ring, and just powers up hills. It’s easy to imagine him on a track bike, tossing teammates around the ring with a mighty shove of his hand.
For the staff, on the bikes, we have Tour director Joe Tonon. He’s in charge of all logistics, and managing to ride strong as well. Tall order. During his pulls at the front, he’s monitoring his cadence, heart rate, power, speed, distance from hotel, budget, logistical details, health and fitness of riders, all at the same time. A former high-level cyclist in Europe, he has the experience to get the job done. His authority has a good influence on the pack.
Up the climbs, Coach Josh takes over. He is 28 years old and 129 pounds. As a professional mountain biker, this training is good for him, but he’s not dipping into his reserves or his red zone. When he climbs, it’s like watching a drummer tap out a rhythm on a cymbol. When my tongue is hanging out of my mouth, Josh can still have a pleasant conversation. He can do anything on the bike – unclip from the pedals, put his foot up on the seat, eat lunch, make lunch, get you a water bottle, hold onto a van moving at 40 kilometers per hour, chase a van moving 60 kilometers per hour.
Jimmy is ultra fit, broad shouldered, 45 years old. He rides a lot, and lifts. When the wind is on the nose, he is the conductor of our blue train. Eventually, he gets weary and his best friend Patrick, a ski instructor from Park City, takes over. He’s quiet, strong, and reminds me of my best friend in high school, Reid, who tragically lost his life to cancer shortly after graduation from Hamilton College.
From the Danish rock collection, “GIVE IT TO ME BABY! UH-HUH UH-HUH AND ALL THE GIRLS SAY I’M PRETTY FLY FOR A WHITE GUY!”
Bryan sings along to the tunes. Rasmus, who is the strongest man on earth, as well as a 10-hour Ironman drives, staying right behind the pack. The right wheel of the van is in the breakdown lane.
We’re moving along at about 35 kilometers per hour. Just 50 meters ahead, the riders are doing what I’d like to be doing, hammering out a tempo. Instead, I’m looking at cows out the window, hating my knee.
We go flying by the pack, to pull up in a spot and get ready to receive all the empty water bottles. I’m thinking about getting back on the bike, but I don’t know. The knee didn’t feel good at lunch.
It doesn’t hurt when I’m not moving, but when I move…
“I LOVE YOU BABY, AND IF IT’S QUITE ALRIGHT, I NEED YOU BABY, ON A LONELY NIGHT…”
We come to a stop at an intersection.
“SHE’S GOT THE LOOK! SWINGING TO THE BAND, MOVING LIKE A HAMMER, SHE’S GOT THE LOOK! WHAT IN THE WORLD CAN MAKE A BROWN-EYED GIRL TURN BLUE?”
We pull over and I get out of the van to test the knee, like it’s going to magically get better just sitting here, doing nothing.
No chance. Josh is tapping out a climb. Mark is right behind him, keeping pace, putting out twice as much power to make up for his massive frame. Joe is thinking about a million things and still getting it done. Jimmy’s knee hurts, but he’s sucking it up. Patrick’s all good vibes. Rob looks hot, but he still appears to be born to do this.
I want to get back on the bike, I don’t want to be in the van. But I want to ride again tomorrow.
The radio sums it up for me, “FROM ALL OF US AT AEROSMITH, REMEMBER, THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL IS THE TRAIN.”
7.05.06
Stage 5
Beauvais-Caen
Around 225 kilometers, around 145 miles
This morning, we received some bad news. One of our teammates was going to end his participation early, and join up with his son. I was disappointed because I like this guy as he is successful, significant, and down to earth. Rare combination.
Another teammate was dealing with a saddle sore. Yesterday, he took a day off, soaked it, applied some second skin, copious amounts of chamois cream, and wore two pairs of shorts to get through today, which he did with class and grace.
Our conversations are becoming similar to those you might hear at a retirement home.
“I hope this doesn’t sound blunt, but how’s your ass?”
“No, no. Thank you for asking. My ass is very good. My sore has shrunken, and dried up a bit. I’m quite pleased. How is the wound in your leg?”
“Oh, much improved. It appears to be healing!”
“And the knee?”
“Yes, the knee. We are cautiously optimistic.”
“Always a good policy.”
Everyone has issues, and last night, Rob, a teammate, as well as a doctor, made a toast, “To good health.” Here, here.
While we share our issues, we also share our cures. Some have special lotions and recipes for what ails you. It’s just not possible to spend 8 hours a day in a saddle, for 20 days, without having some issues.
As it would be bad form to discuss other people’s, I’ll just say mine, wound care, and knee care, result in a comical treatment at the end of the day.
While the ass is soaked in hot water, the knees are held above the tub and iced. One of Erin’s many tasks is to find ice all over Europe. Sounds simple. Hah. This is similar to locating a Skoda car dealer in the United States.
The wily veterans show their experience at every point. Mark astounds me with his brilliance. Last night, at McDonald’s, he actually asked for, and received ice. As he enjoyed his McDonald’s snack, he iced his arm. Bless him for giving me a cube, which I rubbed on my tendon.
Ibuprofen is candy. Coach Josh calls it, “I-Be-Broken.” We are advised by Dr. Rob not to exceed the recommended dosage, or issues will arise. We heed his advice.
Today, the sensations on the bike were much better. The weather was cooler than 90 degrees, and not only did I make it to lunch, I actually got all the way to the finish. The last ten miles were unpleasant, and the knee was grinchy, yet I was a real participant in the Tour de France Challenge, rather than a partial participant.
I give all the credit to Bryan, my massage therapist and healer. He has protocols he follows that make it possible to ride when you’re not sure such if it can be done. He touches your pressure points, applies special creams, tapes, etc.
The 14-days of antibiotics are out of my system, and my internal thermometer is returning to its natural state. One of the bottles of medicine said, “Don’t go out in the sun.” I believe I know why now.
It’s a great feeling to roll through a town as part of a team. We’re seeing villages, and fields, fighter jets, and local characters. We can’t stop and experience it all, but we say, “bonjour” and keep going.
The now 8-person team, four guests and four staff, has found its groove. In a mighty headwind, we formed two lines across the rode. I was on Director Joe Tonon’s rear wheel, which pierces the air with a voosh, voosh, voosh sound.
On the climbs, Coach Josh goes to the front and makes it look easy. The rest of us do what we can to keep going.
When we get to the hotel, there’s much to be done. Erin went ahead with the bags, and she is here to greet you with your room key. You go to your room and there is your bag, waiting for you. After a quick soaking, and icing with the precious substance Erin acquired who-knows-where, it’s time for a massage with Bryan.
An hour or so later, it’s time for dinner, the all-you-can eat face-stuffing festival to prepare for the long ride in the morning. As we have had a long day in the saddle, Coach Josh permits the consumption of ice cream.
Jimmy on the staff says he only thinks of two things all day, the time you have to be ready to ride in the morning, and the time you have to be ready for dinner. If you think of anything else, how far you have to go the next day, how long the climbs are, how grim the headwind will be, it’s just too much information. He says when the trip is over, you appreciate the simple things in life more.
I’m for that. Professional cyclist Floyd Landis said that some cyclists are content to sit and stare at a post. I believe I know why. It doesn’t hurt to stare at a post.
posted by joe berkeley at 11:21 AM
1 Comments:
Rob,
I know I don't know the specific details of your knee injury, but I had the unfortunate circumstance to have a lateral tendon problem myself a couple months ago after alot of time on the bike. I happened upon an article on Pez about Power Cranks. In this article it was mentioned that these cranks can help with injuries by keeping supporting muscles strong keeping things down the line stable. Well, I don't have acess to Power Cranks so I thought to myself that one-legged pedalling may work almost as well to help engage those stabilizing structures(muscles and such). I immediately went out and did about a minute on each leg alternating for about five minutes. I know this sounds crazy but it worked immediately! On long rides, when, I would feel a little "prescence" I would do isolating leg pedalling which eventually, a month and a half later, all is good to go. I am now back up to 28 hrs a week. Please give it a try. mike
Post a Comment
<< Home