The first stage of Transalp had a simple enough profile. Two big climbs then a 40km false flat section. But simple profile graphics, these things you use to get your head around the coming day, to prepare, they don’t mean much in the dust and the gravel and when you’re surrounded by 40 or 50 mad Euros all racing for the finish. Racing it was like doing two XC races back-to-back and washing that down with a time trial. I might have had races where I’ve felt more physical pain, and probably more mental anguish, but I have never, ever, been so consistently and continually in the box before. Ever.
Climb, Climb, Time Trial. Easy.
Start as you mean to continue
Mike and I had a great start. We started in the first chute with 200 of the best riders that are here. It didn’t feel much different from the start of any other marathon I’ve done, only bigger, more colour, more noise (bad techno), and more languages. We rolled well with the bunch out of town, mike followed me and we moved up and held good positions. The bunch rolled from tarmac to gravel, snaking around narrow bike path corners, then started to climb. As we climbed we started to recognise the mixed teams around us: a couple of Americans, a couple in orange. I noticed I was getting pushed more than the other girls, and worried a bit, but we pushed on until the pace got too much for me and I broke, very suddenly, off the back. Mike had a stern word to me about letting him know before I dropped off. “but I was trying to get back on” I said. We kept pushing but soon, after an hour-and-a-half something went very wrong with my legs – massive lactic pain – I had gone out too hard and now I was blowing up. No. Wait. I had blown up.
We made it to the first descent and I put all my new eurobombing skills into practice, I was as aggressive as I can be and passed two mixed teams on the way down. I would never, ever descend like that normally, I unclipped in the corners, I let go, utterly, completely, surrendered to the fact that if something –anything – were to go wrong that would be it. Ravine time.
At the bottom of the descent I came a bit more undone. My legs had stiffened, and although Mike kept telling me to push up and over the rolling pinches, when I got out of the saddle I couldn’t stay on top of the gear and was sitting down, standing up, shaking my head – defeated again and again. Every team we’d passed caught up, tailed us, then passed us “that’s a Europump” said Mike.
Too late to learn that one.
Be careful what you wish for
The other day in Livigno we were wishing we had some sun cream, then the next morning we found a huge, new bottle of it next to a ski lift. Then yesterday I was wishing I was richer and I found two Euro. Today just before the first feed zone, right when I was really suffering, I wished we could stop, and like magic Mike pulled over. He told me to keep riding but just around the corner the timing mats were laid out, which, if I’d crossed with more than two minutes between us, would result in a penalty. I stood on the side of the track, drank, ate, and waited. A few mixed teams passed, glaring at me. I feigned nonchalance. Looked down at the grass, unwrapped a bar, munched a bit, took a swig of my water, then when they’d gone, stared back for Mike where are you?, and eventually he came. The bearings in his front hub had collapsed, his wheel was completely out of true, screeching, shaking in his fork. On the rear he’d broken a spoke and his bike sounded a bit like a coal train. I was relieved that we’d backed off a bit and thought “great, now we can sit up for a while”, but Mike had different ideas and started to push again over a smooth tarmac road until we started climbing again, the second big ascent.
Every now and then I’d feel Mike’s hand on my back, but I was suffering and the change in rhythm was hurting, too. We did, however, get into a good tempo and I don’t remember much besides getting wet feet crossing a waterfall, then negotiating our way past a herd of cows, until we saw the top, a smooth, grassy plain and a pass, then a descent so steep, so loose, and with nothing but some 1-inch tape stretched between fence posts between us and a sheer cliff, 200metres down.
We descended for a long time, and at the bottom another mixed team caught us, and we sat on with them for a while, then I blew. Again. And we lost them. I sat behind Mike while we descended the craziest downhill run through a town I’d ever done. No marshals in sight, but cars, buildings (no-one has a driveway in Europe), pedestrians, motorbikes, crossroads, and us, flying down the middle of it all at 60km/h. Then turned onto a sealed bike path, and…
Time trial
I’ve never been so scared on a bike. Not with all the crits, road races, mtb races, nothing. We joined a bunch of Euro men with about 35km to go. This last section made great use of the fabulous bike infrastructure that snakes across Europe. Pleasant for the tourist or a family outing ride, but when you get 40 or so men racing to the death, it’s not so nice. Add to that the fact that the tourists and were still going about their business with great enthusiasm, and you have a pretty deadly mix.
I’m not sure how many times I was dropped from this bunch. I do know that two mixed teams joined us as other bunches melted into ours. And it was fast. 40km an hour, with sudden skidding, swerving, cornering, and surging, surging, surging. With every surge, if Mike was there he’d push me back on, if not, I’d drop a wheel. Sometimes mystery hands reached out, or kind Euros slowed up and dragged me back. I’ve never come back from the dead so many times. I’ve never wanted to get dropped so bad. I was terrified, on the vomit-limit, and Mike would not, would not let me give up.
But his wheel went again and we had to let the group go. We TTed ourselves until a pair of Euros swept us up. My moment of glory came when the men wore out and I rolled through, feeling strong again, only to take a wrong turn 30 seconds later. The handy Euros got away and Mike and I were on our own again with three kilometres to go. I felt a fool, a slow, weak fool. But it was almost, almost over.
We pumped across the line, got food, washed our bikes. Mike went to see about some wheels. We walked around the town for 45 minutes trying to find our hotel, where we showered, sort-of washed our clothes, and got to work…
And how am I now? I’m sunburnt, I’m sore, and I’m looking forward to going back to just plain whelmed for a while, because there’s been a lot to take in, and there’s so much more to come.
We did the 111km stage in 4:34 but I was sad to get the news that we’d dropped from about 5th place to 12th between the first feed zone and the finish line. Our goal had been to stay in the top ten and maintain a position in the first start chute – now we’re in the second – that means getting there earlier, less sleep, no warm-up, more traffic to move through in the race – but the gaps are small, and Mike is still confident.
Time for some new wheels for Mike, thanks to help from Mavic.
He has a new pair of wheels. I just wish someone would get me a new pair of legs.
One down. Seven to go.