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Tales from the Peloton
The 2003 Tour of Hope
Los Angeles, CA - Washington, DC, October 11-18, 2003
Chosen from over 1000 entries, Chris Brewer was one of 26 riders selected to ride this year's Tour of Hope. The brainchild of cancer survivor and five-time Tour winner Lance Armstrong, it was a journey that would take them from Los Angeles to Washington, DC, all in the space of a week. Each shares a common bond with their designated team leader - to fight cancer - and of course, a love of cycling. This is his tale.
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I initially tried to sum up the Tour of Hope (ToH) from an objective reporter perspective for Cyclingnews, but failed miserably in it, because to be a part of this project you simply could not be objective - there was just too much emotion involved.
So instead, I'll try to tell you what it was like to be a part of Team D - the "Butter Buddies" (so named after an infamous chamois butter incident at our Napa Valley training camp!) - as we transited the USA together.
The ride would be accomplished in a relay format with the large team broken down into four squads. Each squad would ride twice a day with each session being 60-75 miles in length. Once you completed your leg, the next squad would go immediately on and you'd be whisked down the road around 180 miles to rest and prep for your next session. This routine would continue 24 hours a day for seven days, in all weather / road conditions (unless safety dictated otherwise), and the team as a whole had to average 20 mph in order to make it to Washington, DC on time Saturday morning, October 18.
The Grande Depart
We started out in rather grand fashion: first we got to attend a taping of the Tonight Show with Jay Leno as Lance was the featured guest. Then the next day (Saturday), several hundred riders joined us in Los Angeles for a kick- off event / ride through the streets of LA. This ride, and the one in DC, was also a fundraiser for the Lance Armstrong Foundation with all proceeds going to the LAF targeted to fund cancer research. As you might expect, security for Lance was pretty tight in LA (and everywhere else) but he was able to sign some things for some of the folks there, as well as talk about the ToH project and officially introduce all of the team riders.
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One humorous note was that during the LA ride, a couple of us dropped back to get in the general rider envelope and chat. I felt this hand on my shoulder and someone saying "Hey, Chris..." - I turned and it was none other than former USPS rider Dylan Casey, and one of my WWW clients. Lance had invited him to come out, so I busted up through the line of bike police with DC to intro him to the more racer-oriented folks on the team. After a few minutes, one of LA's finest rides up and tells Dylan he has to go to the back, this area was for ToH team riders only, and no one was allowed up near Lance. He tried to tell them: 1. LA invited him; 2. he was part of LA's team; and 3. he didn't want to be near Lance, just hang out in the back - but the cop said something like: "Yeah, well everyone wants to be part of Lance's team" - and made him drop out... DC just laughed and shook his head, said "No worries" and rolled back...
Regrettably, we couldn't ride the whole 100K with everyone, as we had to get the actual Tour going, so we pulled off early and did some media stuff before the three squads not riding rolled out to their first transition areas. Since we were last, we got to see the first squad head out, and then before we knew it we were piled into our van and moving eastward to 29 Palms, CA. Our crew consisted of 10 people who would get to know each other very well over the course of the next week...
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Our coach from Carmichael Training Systems was former pro rider Craig Undem, our guide from Trek Travel was "Big Wave" Dave Edwards, and our massage therapist was Stephanie Roussos (also the soigneur for US pro team 7Up/Maxxis). The actual riders were myself, Dr. Milana Dolezal (oncologist), Dr. Jim Fetten (oncologist), Jim Buchanan (cancer survivor supporter), Jodi Gold (brain cancer survivor), Mike Talifero (testicular cancer survivor), and Sheila Davies (oncology nurse). You can read a whole lot more about these amazing folks at www.TourofHope.org under the National Team subsection.
Back to the story... each transition area was designated by miles, not time, so that they could be as safe as possible along the way. The Trek travel folks had driven the route twice prior to check and re-check these sites as well as note any significant hazards and challenges. These were all fully documented in a huge binder that all the squads and drivers had, complete with maps, pics, and narratives. The only real challenge to the miles vs. time stage scenario was that the teams ahead were never really sure just how long a recovery period they would get; this was all dependent on the team's speed on the road. Suffice to say it was never as long as we planned - as the ToH wound on, the speeds kept winding up, so a running joke was: "We have four hours to rest, recover, and prep - so be ready in two!"
29 Palms: "Home of the Ugliest Man Competition"!
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We started our adventure out in the middle of the California desert in 29 Palms. Our first transition was a gravel parking lot in a combination bar / convenience store that boldly advertised it as "Home of the Ugliest Man Competition"! We actually had a great time with the locals who I don't think were used to a bunch of lycra-clad roadies joining them at Happy Hour, and while they quaffed Budweiser, we were prepping with Powerade and Power Bars.
After our first session, which was more of a warm up ride than a hammer-fest, we piled into one of three "Rock Star" buses to transition to the next start. While this may seem a bit opulent, they were actually far more functional than at first appearance. The major benefits were: 1. 12 bunks on board to sleep in; 2. a large living room area up front to eat in; and 3. room enough in the back for the massages to be done while on the road, although Steph said she had never, ever worked in odd conditions like this in over nine years of rubbing riders down!
We got a quick taste of what life on the road would be like for the next week - essentially you never got more than three hours continuous sleep, ever. You'd either be woken up for your massage, or the schedule got bumped up, or it was time to hit the hotel for a much-needed shower (I think I counted being in 14 hotels over the course of the ToH - sometimes literally for minutes, other times a couple of hours waiting in preparation). While food and drink was excellent and abundant, it was often sandwiches / left overs in our cooler from previous stops. Without question, the two things we asked our bus drivers most often: "Are we near the hotel yet?", and "Has anyone seen the chef's truck?" - a positive on both of those meant a hot meal made while you waited...
Night owl
Riding at night - a lot - was also a new experience for most of us. We had certainly done some training in this manner, but when we looked at our schedule for the Tour we noted 9 of 13 stages would either be in total darkness or through sunset / sunrise. I have told many folks when they asked what part of America I liked seeing the most, "I'm not really sure - I may have to go back and do it again some time in the daylight..." I saw a lot, though, of the rear of a Subaru... the night riding would certainly come to play in the latter stages, but more on that later.
The rider envelope that we stayed in the entire time consisted of the large CENTCOM RV down the road scouting things out, the lead car a hundred meters or so from the riders working immediate issues and navigation, then the team on the road followed by the coach's car providing updates and advice via two-way radio. Then the Trek mechanic's car was at the ready, followed finally by each squad's van to pick up and drop off riders and do whatever else was necessary. If we needed anything, one of the stronger riders would drop back, pick it up, and bring it back up to the team - here's a recollection of one of my experiences along this line...
We were riding in Arizona, and it's hot, even in the morning. So with about seven miles to go, I had a bunch of sweat salt in my eyes. I radioed back to the follow car (with coach Craig in it) and said, "I need a WATER bottle." No worries - dropped back and got the bottle. Looked at Craig and said "This is WATER, right?" He assured me again that it was. Lifted the bottle and squirted it in my eyes - Powerade. Dropped back to the car, Craig says (very sincerely) "I'm sorry, that wasn't water..." (well, no s#@!) and he hands me another bottle. I ask him: "You're sure this is water?" He assures me it is - I reach back into the car, point the bottle at him and squeeze it as hard as I can and hosed him down from head to crotch, satisfied that it was indeed water. Rinsed the Powerade and sweat off my face and rode away to the finish.
A low point: getting sick
One thing I did not count on experiencing during the ToH was getting sick - and unfortunately by Day 2, I had a stinking head cold. I begged decongestants off the team Doc in the lead car as often as I could and essentially avoided the coach as much as possible, so he hopefully wouldn't know I was sick and pull me off the bike... I hit my low point healthwise on Monday, which was ironically the high point for many on our squad - riding with Lance. We started off before sunrise and then got word that there were riders ahead over the radio. Since no non-ToH riders were allowed in the rider envelope without permission (for safety) and no one was squawking about it, I knew it was either local media (I hoped - then we'd go slow!) or it was a VIP party of some kind. As we approached and I saw one rider go up out of the saddle with that familiar dancing cadence, I knew right away who it was - LA, plus his friend John "College" Korioth, and agent Bill Stapleton.
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Now Lance doesn't ever want to go fast in a group ride situation, he'd rather spin and chat - in fact if you start to half-wheel him or ramp it up, he'll often grab your jersey pocket and pull you back to him a tad. But the group did have a renewed energy as we rode together for about 30 miles in and around Ria Dosa, New Mexico - and it was COLD as we descended for miles down into a mountainous valley. But hey, sometimes in life you gotta be tough - and everyone else at least had a great time in a very memorable session of the ToH.
The next stage was a welcome rest for me and Mike - but one we also wished we could have been on as well! We were now into TX and had a prevailing tailwind over 15 mph and a dead flat eastern section of highway. The riders literally flew down the highway - a "No chain" ride, as George Hincapie would say - and there were smiles all around as they completed the section. Milana really likes this kind of riding and we would call out for the "M Train" as she would get up on front and just roll it as everyone else hung on...
Mother Nature callin'
The weather now came into play in major way for Team D. Our next session started at 2:30AM, and a major front was moving across the USA just a tad ahead of us. While we missed the rain, thank God, we didn't the wind. Conditions were pretty sporty as we had 20 mph sustained crosswinds from our 10 o'clock position, gusting to 30+ often at times. Craig selected Mike and I to do this as a duo while the rest of the squad rested as best they could. They later told us most of them sat riveted to the van windshield watching and praying for us, sketchy as it was... as for Mike and I, we were actually having a lot of fun and riding pretty well together, although when our bladed spokes flew both our bikes about a foot to the right on a wicked little downhill descent, that kind of got our attention...
The roads were now starting to climb as made our way into the northeast. The next 60 mile stage showed how we could use our team much like a basketball coach subs in his players. The plan was pretty simple: rated #3 on our stage difficulty scale, we went out with five riders and were essentially all business. Jim, Jodi, and Milana would ride on point for us the first 15 miles, then when the roads started going up, they would drop off and then Mike and I would handle the rest together until the last nine miles. Then the roads went up even further and since no draft effect could be realized, I would drop off and he would handle the finish. All went really well and we were each really spent by then end of the stage - and then we found out we had gone so fast the next squad wasn't at the transition point. The ToH had to keep going, though, to maintain the timeline. So in a show of excellent teamwork, we got Mike off the bike and Milana, Jim, and I donned our still-sweaty gear and went back out for another 10 miles until things got regrouped and the next squad was away. Afterwards it was a great feeling of team accomplishment for sure.
Our next session through the heartland of Missouri was blessed in several ways - flat, daylight, favorable winds, and nice temps. We used this as a form of recovery ride and split the squad 50-50 for the stage. As Mike, Jim, Sheila, and I spun through the countryside chatting it was almost surreal to review in my head the challenges we had just faced a few hours ago - distant memories that were actually quite fresh. Our next stage was more of the same as we rode though Missouri and into Illinois, highlighted (?) by one of our support staff providing us a huge amount of corn-related information over the radio he had gathered over the years of being a local in this area. Too much information, I thought!
Three hours' sleep and ready to rock!
The next couple of stages were still relatively flat and favorable. Sleep deprivation was probably our most common denominator, but we were also totally into the rhythm of the event, so even that wasn't too much of a factor. It was funny to hear people say: "Man, I just got three hours' sleep and I am ready to GO!" - and they were serious. As the final two stages loomed, though, we knew it was "game time" for sure: 120 miles, 12,000 feet of climbing, all in the night, and the weather was closing in...
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Stage 48 (we rode every four stages, so this was 12 of 13 for us) was cold and started at 2:30AM - but the real enemy would be fog. Mike and I rolled out as a duo again, and the fog rolled in. Throughout the stage we never could see more than 200 metres down / up the road; the major impact was not being able to judge how to approach each climb. Was it a short, steep roller - or was there more around the curve awaiting? Coach Craig and the GPS laptop mapping system were invaluable to us on this stage for sure; about 25 miles in, we added Jim Fetten into the mix to provide some added support and the three Amigos rode solidly to the finish, 20 minutes ahead of schedule but totally spent as well.
Stage 52 was dubbed "The Stinger" for us as it would be the final really challenging section for the Butter Buddies squad on the 2003 ToH. Another 6,000 feet of climbing, another night time ride - but now the weather had really closed in. Temps were around 40F, and now a steady rain had rolled in as well. We kidded that Nike just wanted to make sure that all our foul weather gear worked as we piled on layer after layer of gear. Mike, Jim, and I would again handle the hardest initial section, then Jodi and Milana would provide welcome support before all of Team D, including coach Craig. We would ride a celebratory final section together as a unit.
I recall one funny moment on this stage as the three of us were slogging away up this steep pitch. I was trying to inspire the guys and I said to Jim: "Hey, remember that there were over 1,000 people who wanted to be on this team." Jim looked over to me frigidly through a rain-soaked set of Oakley's and said, "Yeah, but I bet they don't $#@%ing wish they were here right now!" I laughed, but I think he was serious.
Mission complete
And then it was done. Amid hugs and tears and trying to get warm, we realized that save for a 30 mile celebration ride with Lance and BMS CEO Peter Dolan tomorrow, we had completed our mission - and the team as a whole did it five hours ahead of schedule. As we piled into our team bus one more time, and hit a hotel for yet another four hours rest, we experienced what it must feel like to be on a winning team of a Grand Tour race. We had met all the challenges we were faced with and powered through them in solid style. And now the day would come where there would be nothing but smiles and congratulations, and a major feeling of having accomplished something significant.
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As we rolled into Washington, DC - now as a 28 person team, Lance on point, naturally - it was hard to comprehend all that we had been through and the importance of the moment at hand. But when we got into the heart of DC and the Capitol building loomed on the horizon, and the final turn into the park where several thousand riders, cancer survivors, family, and well-wishers were waiting and cheering wildly... wow. I was all good until the last 200m, then the emotion of the experience simply took over and I lost it, but in a good way.
26 riders set out to do what some said was not possible in the time frame allotted, and we did it. But more importantly, we delivered the message that true hope in the cancer community is one day to have a cure, and the cure is found through research and clinical trials. And finally, we provided hope to those going through cancer or working to deal with their own prior cancer experiences. We got a lot more than we bargained for on the 2003 Tour of Hope, and to everyone associated with the event you have our sincere thanks and total admiration.
Go to the Tour of Hope web site, www.tourofhope.org
Go to Lance Armstrong's website, www.lancearmstrong.com
