The John Lieswyn Diary 2000

US Pro Criterium Championships

Downers Grove Illinois (Chicago), August 20, 2000

This gives a new not so musical meaning to Smashmouth... (my wife wrote that and then started laughing. Pretty cruel, eh? I had to chuckle myself, except that the stitches pull my lip pretty hard when I smile.)

After Manhattan Beach and the attendant 32 hours of travel out of 48, I was pretty run down. Our host in California and my seatmate on the redeye flight home were both sick, and sure enough, by Monday night I had it too. Tuesday night I figured it wasn't a common cold: I was racked with aches and fever. So I began a 3 day course of Zithromax antibiotics. Thursday night I finished reading Lance's book, and I was inspired to try riding again. Bad idea...I barely made it 20 miles. Friday morning I was feeling better and my teammate Peter Wedge and I drove down Hartford to catch a plane to Chicago.

Saturday night we had a 50km warmup race on the same course as Sunday's championship. I felt about 70% of normal and just rode the race to try and open my body up for Sunday, finishing around 20th. Graeme was 3rd. With lots of rest and the physical therapy by my brother-in-law Dave Kingsbury, I woke up Sunday morning feeling pretty good. My job today was to mix it up, get in breaks, and go for the win from a small breakaway. I could do this by attacking late in the race like Chann McRae did 2 years ago, going with someone like Gord (in such a scenario I'd take the US champs jersey for a 2nd place finish behind the Canadian). Or I could just try to make the race really hard, which would benefit our sprinter Dave McCook because there would be less Mercury men left to lead out their sprinters at the end.

In the opening laps I was struck by how much easier the pace was than in the warmup race the night before. Whatever the reason, I kept telling myself to be patient. After 10 laps I threw in a soft attack to test the waters, and ended up in a break with one Saturn and one Mercury rider. During the duration of this break, I took the first of three sprints for a $1000 bonus. Our break was absorbed and I was riding 2nd wheel at the front with 2 turns to go for the second sprint. I was planning on attacking after the sprint, as I really wasn't interested in wasting energy on cash sprints when the jersey was up for grabs.

Just before the last turn, 3 riders blazed by me on the left. A small voice in my head warned "that's waaaay too fast for this turn" but everything was happening too quickly. I was already backing off, allowing a bikelength to open up between myself and the man in front of me, John Peters. I came out of the turn 5th. The second man in line couldn't control himself and went into the metal fencing. In complete disbelief about what was happening FOR A DAMN SPRINT LAP, NOT THE FINISH, I had time only to take a deep breath before I was into the fence myself. I sensed that I was going into the ground head first and tried to bring up my arms, but they were stuck in the fencing and tangle of bikes.

When I sat up, my hands went straight away to my teeth. I have an artificial bridge for my front teeth, and if I lost one of the anchor teeth then I'd have to have the bridge replaced at an astronomical cost and numerous visits to the orthodontist. The anchor tooth was chipped and ground down on its face, but it was still there. And there was blood, lots of it. I spoke into my radio "guys, I'm out of the race".

Our manager Steve arrived to check me out. It seemed that we had pushed the fencing a good four feet into the crowd, and taken out a spectator as well. John Peters had puncture wounds to his shoulder and leg, and would go in for stitches. Police suggested I take the ambulance, but I looked at the spectator flat on her back, and John sitting there not moving, and decided I'd just hold a paper towel to my lip and ride my bike to the hospital. I buckled my helmet and went for my bike, to find the rear derailleur completely mangled by the collision with the metal fencing. I walked over to the team van, interrupted only to give a TV interview about the crash.

Dave Kingsbury drove me to the hospital, and I looked in the mirror and realized that was one interview that wouldn't make the airwaves. My face looked like Frankenstein. After 10 stitches to my upper lip and the warning that I may have to see a plastic surgeon in the future, I was released to go pack my mangled bike for the flight home that night. Our team didn't win the race either. On Monday I went riding on a spare bike and found that my neck and shoulders were severely sprained. Today is Wednesday and I'm feeling much better, and looking forward to this weekend's race in New York.

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