MA|PC Team Camp Day 9b: Spruntz

MA|PC Team Camp Day 9a: TTTTTTTTTT work

MA|PC Team Camp Day 8: S T I L L R A I N I N G

Afternoon Ride

MA|PC Team Camp Day 7: This is quite possibly the most amount of rain I have ever seen

Bragança —> Mondim de Basto (Senhora de Graça)

More to come, but suffice to say: this was one of the dumbest situations I have ever been a part of as far as bicycle racing is concerned.
- - - 
UPDATE: 

Okay, so I'm a day late writing this. SUE ME. Today (yesterday? who tf knows) was just one of the most ridiculous experiences I have ever had, but is nothing if not a testament to the fact that bike racing actually matters in Europe, and in Portugal, so much that it will literally fly in the face of pragmatism, common sense, and general safety so the bike race will continue. My American mind simply cannot comprehend. 

Where to begin. 

So today was the second of 4 big ol banger days that all have north of 3,500m of climbing and 170+ km. Ergo, hard fucking days. The big features of this day was suppooooooooosed to be a ginormous cat 1 climb (with apparently a steep ass cobbled section for the first couple kilometer, because why the fuck not) followed by the famous Senhora de Graça climb, which I guess I have come to know as basically the Portuguese Alpe d'Huez, 

We started the day off and it was SAVAGELY hot--I think the hottest day so far?--to the point where you felt like your head was going to pop if you went 10w over zone 2. This was a bit of a shame because today's stage was objectively beautiful, and I wish I could have enjoyed the views more, but alas, I have a wheel in front of me to stare at, SO NO ENJOYMENT 4 MEEEEEE. (I did sneak some peaks of the scenery when I wasn't almost vomiting, and the valleys and the lakes [reservoirs?] and the rolling narrow roads were super fun. 

HOWEVER. The fun quickly ran out as we were beginning our ascent up a quick 4 kilometer ripper and I decided to go back to get bottles, and in the process crashed because as I was looking back for the car, some chopped my wheel in front and send me to the ground. All things considered, I'm pretty much fine, my bike is pretty much fine, but my ego is severely scraped. I hate crashing. I hate it so fucking much, for obvious reason, but mostly because I felt like there is a "Days without incident" board in my mind that has to get reset every time I do crash and when I have to do that, it makes me feel like a shitty bike racer. The reality was I should've protected my own front wheel and should have just not looked back, and I sell my soul in a heartbeat to go back and NOT have that happen, but alas, such is the sport, and we move on. 

The next couple of kilometers were quite uncomfortable because of the scrapes, one of which felt like a straight up rug burn, and then the dumb shit started happening. I had reconnected with a group, and we are about to pin it down this big descent which would have led us into the base of the first Cat 1. However, on that descent, one of my teammates relayed to me (because my radio was broken) that they were about to neutralize the race because the mountain we were supposed to race up WAS ACTIVELY ON FIRE. And when I say on fire, I am not fucking around, this was a full blown emergency with a plume of smoke so big that you would have thought an atom bomb had gone off. It was genuinely frightening, and as someone who has lived in California during some of the worst wildfires the state has ever seen and seen the devastation they can bring, it was even more alarming. 

But fuck it, we had a bike race to do right? We sit in this little town in the baking heat (which my wahoo said topped out at 53 degrees yesterday? Probably an error, but I am not kidding, it felt like that) waiting for the organizers to tell us what they are going to do. Finally, we get word, and here's the plan: we are going to re-route arOOOOOOund the mountain--about a 20 kilometer deviation, which will be ridden neutral--we'll restart the race at the base of a 4 kilometer climb which will then deposit the race into a 20-kilometer moto gp circuit of a descent, which then would take us into the base of the lsat climb. Bob's your uncle, the race will go on. 

I was honestly baffled, and I wasn't the only one. I don't know if you know this, but where there's a fire, there's smoke, and the air quality was, uh, NOT great. And along with this, as we started riding again, toodling along at our neutral pace, we were literally impeding first responder vehicles that were coming from the other direction. Our race convoy was having to scoot over to the side of road as firetrucks honked at us, and it all just felt so stupid. Don't get me wrong: bike racing is important to me, obviously, but this just seemed so unnecessary. I know the yellow jersey went and talked to the commissaires and a bunch of other people were voicing their concerns or frustration, but it quickly became apparent that unless we were riding literally into the fire, this race was going to have a winner. 

We get to the base of the 4 kilometer climb, and because there was a break up the road, which notably had our very own Caleb in it, who is flying right now, the organizers had to re-establish the gap. This means that they send the first group on the road out, start a stop watch, then they sent the chase group out, and then they send us out. And anyone who has started a ride after stopping to fill up a water bottle or grab some food knows is that the "cafe leg" effect is very real and very painful. Now take that experience, and double it. Double it again. Double it again. Now double it a fourth time. Good. You're halfway there. 

We. Fucking. SPRINTED as soon as the whistle blew, and I swear to fucking god I was recruiting muscles from my ear lobes to help me pedal the bike over the climb so I wasn't in a completely ass position on the ginormous descent. I made it the bottom and then tried to position Kieran into the base of the final 8km slog, but I was completely spent and just had nothing to give and was quickly spat out the back and ended up in a gruppetto with Cade, with whom I would roll to the finish, completely cracked, at 7pm, having taken literally all day to do this thing.

And I wish that's where the day would end, but in another addition to the chain of bad luck that has been plaguing the team (the team bus broke down after stage 2), the team van broke down on the way up to the mountain which meant that we were down to two vehicles, which meant that we had to leave luggage in the van because there wasn't enough space in the team vehicles for riders, staff, and all our stuff. So it was only essentials for the evening along with a 2 hour transfer from the summit back to the race hotel. And because one of the cars that the team is using is electric, we had to stop and let that charge. That meant that it was a Lidl run for dinner, and we didn't end up getting to the race hotel and showering until 10:30pm and eating dinner at 11pm. 

This is where I am once again here to remind you all to thank your staff. I cannot express my gratitude enough for what our staff have been able to deal with and they are still making our lives as easy as possible. They do it without fail, they do so much with a little, and they are doing it a lot less sleep than we are, and I so appreciate them, I really really do. Holy FUCK do I appreciate them. This literally would not be possible with their hard work, so we owe whatever we are able to accomplish to them. 

And look, I am also not here to just bash the race organizers for their decision making. This is a consistent point of tension between riders and races because there really isn't an contingency plan for if an emergency or a disaster strikes, and the organizers are beholden to stakeholders (i.e. towns who have paid money to host starts, finishes, route passages, etc.) to try and put on the event. And a friend even pointed out that on the Senhora de Graça climb, the amount of fans out there is insanity. It is legitimately what cycling is all about, and the passion is so tangible and their love for the sport realer than almost anywhere else that I have ever been that it truly would be a shame to deny those people who camped out there for literal days the chance to see their favorite national riders competing in the biggest race in the country. I don't know what the protocol needs to be, and I'm not here to offer any solution. I almost wish the governing body would write some rules on this or something...oh well, at least I can handle my bike better on these wider bars when I get routed around the next wildfire. 

As I am writing this on the day after this stage actually happening, I don't think that I have been able to truly capture just how absolutely annihilated I was after this day, but I guess the fact that I didn't write anything last night is testament to that? I didn't end up going to bed until 1:30am because I was in that weird loopy state of bonked where I couldn't really go to sleep, but I was absolutely exhausted, so instead I spent 30 minutes catching up on Wait! Wait! Don't Tell Me and trying to repair the shoes that I had scuffed, which, let's be honestly, was the biggest tragedy on the day. 

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Sam Boardman

Volta a Portugal: Etapa 4

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MA|PC Team Camp Day 9b: Spruntz

MA|PC Team Camp Day 9a: TTTTTTTTTT work

MA|PC Team Camp Day 8: S T I L L R A I N I N G

Afternoon Ride

MA|PC Team Camp Day 7: This is quite possibly the most amount of rain I have ever seen

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