Stage 14

I wanted to take myself out on the bike Sunday morning but get back in time to  watch Versus, the cycling channel, and the finish of Stage 14 (115 miles) of the Tour de France, the first day in the Pyrenees.   About 10 AM the leaders had 25 miles to ride before the finish in Ax 3 Domaines with a 3000 foot climb before them; while my ride, 17.5 miles, was on the relative flats around Goshen.  It would take us about an hour to finish our rides: me here, riding slower but shorter and flatter; the peloton there, riding faster but longer and climbing.  However, if I rode quickly I hoped to get back before the riders started streaming across the finish line as the final ascent would slow them.

I was riding well, but not as fast as I'd hoped; I might miss seeing the  stage winner.  I could feel strain in my glutes as I pedaled.

With about 4 miles to go, I was passed on a slight downhill—so I did what I do, strain or not—I sped up and stayed with the passing rider, wondering if he would maintain his speed on the slight grade coming up as I watched his head bob—a sign of stress—he was probably riding faster than he normally does, but so was I. 

Here came the grade: he slowed a little—my heart was pounding but I had to go—"Passing," I said when I accelerated around him to take the lead.  I had to maintain what I thought to be an unpassable pace until the end no matter what my heart rate was or was to become. And I did.

At the last mile marker—my finsh line—I recorded the time on my Garmin cycle computer and backed off the pedals; I rode slower to cool down over the 1/4 mile ride to my door; as I turned off the trail, I heard from behind me, "Hey thanks, man."  I yelled back, "Yeah, yeah..."

At home I saw that I'd recorded another season best: 16 miles in 53 minutes and 53 seconds; well over a minute faster than the previous best time recorded last Sunday and only 13  seconds slower than my all-time best recorded in 2008.  I should have thanked him.

Sweat dripping from my nose, with the AC roaring, I sat down before the TV to watch the last 2 miles of the Tour drinking from a gallon of Poland Spring. 

"...Christophe Riblon of France attacked early to out-run Mark Cavendish and the other sprinters winning the stage, finishing in 4 hours, 52 minutes, 43 seconds; ahead of Denis Menchov of Russia and Samuel Sanchez of Spain. Andy Schleck of Luxembourg was 4th but retained the yellow jersey with a 31 second  lead on main rival, and last year's Tour victor, Alberto Contador of Spain." 

These professional riders are fast (they can ride more than twice as fast as I can on a level road)—all legs and lungs—almost "superhuman" with an incredible tolerance of pain.  Now that Lance is out of contention, behind by 39 minutes due to crashes and bike breakdowns, I'm pulling for Andy.