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Papillon: The Joe Papp Diary 2004
Joe Papp is a UCI Elite rider with the UPMC cycling team. He was a double stage winner at the 2003 Vuelta a Cuba (UCI 2.5) and in 2002 won the GS Mengoni Grand Prix, the BMC NYC Cycling Classic for elite amateur men and a stage at Superweek, among other events. Joe's writing is good enough to make boring races intriguing and intriguing races captivating.
Hot, hot Chile
Vuelta de Chile, March 11-21, 2004
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Monday, March 8
Woke-up to the unpleasant but expected sight of snow falling outside my window in lovely Glen Spey, NY. It was not for us, however, as long as our director Mike Fraysse could manage to drive us to JFK airport for our flight tonight to Santiago, Chile. I finished last minute packing, personal business and coaching client work and hopped into the team van with my ‘mates Gerardo "Jerry" Castro and Mateo Sasso. We're meeting our other Uruguayan, Alvaro "Coto" Tardaguila at Kennedy, as he's been spending his down time with girlfriend Claudia in Queens. I can only hope that he's found the time, the energy (haha) and a safe place to train, since I've seen neither hide nor hair of him since we returned from Cuba. We're also meeting our friend and new America's Cycling Team-UPMC teammate Eneas Freyre, the American who rode with the Spanish team Cropusa in Cuba. Our final rider, Alejandro Acton, is en route to Chile as we speak on a bus from his native Argentina.
To recap my life thus far, I went to college on a scholarship, went to grad school on a fellowship and put it all on hold to return to full-time cycling. I live in an apartment in a beautiful Victorian mansion in the middle of nowhere in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains in New York and since November of 2003 I've spent less than 14 nights in my own bed. And I love it.
At first I dreaded the thought of having to race in Chile after just recently finishing the 2000km Vuelta a Cuba, and was discouraged from coming by my coach Eddie Borysewicz. However, after racing on Saturday in an event that I used mainly as a test of my fitness, I'm very pleased with my form and eager to mix it up in Chile with the boys from Kelme and the other euro-pro teams. Let me clarify that - I'm not eager to have to climb the Andes with them, but can't wait to test myself in the flats.
Tuesday, March 9
We arrived in Santiago without the slightest hiccup and were taken by our hosts to the CAR - the Centro Alto Rendemiento - which is the Chilean Olympic training center. Last year we stayed here quite a bit, and it was a treat to again see some of the permanent residents who are still here and with whom we became friends. While unpacking our gear we got a look at Kelme's Look bikes, and the Giant carbons being ridden by the Portuguese pro team. Colombian team Orbitel 05 is also here, and in talking to several of their riders I was reminded of just how small the cycling world really is.
In my bedroom I have a framed US National Team jersey from 1995, when I raced the Vuelta a Panama with JP Castro, Radisia Cubric and Brian White. There was a Colombian team there, and early in the race a guy my age by the name of Hernan Bonilla won a stage with an epic solo break. Alongside the jersey in the frame I had put the front page from the next day's newspaper, which featured a photo of our team but a headline praising Bonilla's win. So, I asked one of the Orbitel guys if he knew Hernan Bonilla, and he responded, "That's him over there (pointing to his teammate standing next to him in the hall)." Nine years later, and he we are again. Wow.
Wednesday, March 10
Today was spent in transfer to Concepción, Chile's second most important city after Santiago, located on the north bank of the Río Bíobio. The Bíobio is Chile's only significant navigable waterway, and tomorrow's team time trial will take place along its far bank.
Eneas and I checked into our room after what was, in reality, a pleasant and easy six-hour bus ride. Being veterans of the hellish, 16-hour trip between Cienfuegos and Guantanamo in Cuba, we were well prepared with extra food and drink, along with all the other necessary North American bike racer comforts, including Blackberry, IPOD, camera, mobile phone, laptop, reading material, pillows, etc. In fact, the transfer was a great time to pass around my computer and share photos from the past year with my friends on the Uruguayan selection. Daniel Fuentes, a Cuban who has lived in Uruguay for close to seven years, especially enjoyed seeing the photos from this year's Vuelta a Cuba.
Nothing of any significance for us riders occurred in the evening, as the technical congress was not something any of us needed to attend. I didn't get to ride, as there was some confusion as to the location of the bikes and luggage in the cavernous hotel, but I did take the time to fax our acceptance letter to the organizers of the Tour of Korea. Though the Tour of Chile has not yet started, I'm very excited at the thought of riding my first stage race in Asia at the Tour of Korea, which will be contested 12-18 June. I can't wait to try to find a massage therapist/mechanic for that race...applications are now being accepted - send them care of the usual address.
Stage 1 - March 11: Lota - Concepción TTT, 35 km
Though we knew in advance that we had a team time trial for the first stage of the tour, even US Postal-like practice and preparation wouldn't have helped us salvage a good ride today. As it was, we didn't finish last, which was a minor victory in itself, and both Alejandro and Alvaro showed themselves to be quite strong, which gives me hope for tomorrow's stage to Chillán. Nonetheless, the Kazaks caught us, and we caught the Transportes Romero team, which made for an interesting sight in the final kilometers: three teams trying to follow the UCI's rules and not pace off of one another even while having to cross a narrow bridge and navigate twisty city streets before the finish. Eneas was very smooth in the rotation, Jerry was hanging in and Mateo was definitely swinging. I think he missed more turns than he took. Although I didn't agree with the decision, by majority vote we decided before the start that we wouldn't drop any riders, which means that we're all almost five minutes down on the leaders after stage one. Nice.
Stage 2 - March 12: Concepción - Chillán, 117 km
Despite yesterday's disaster, I felt great today and was climbing in the first group for the entire stage. The opening 40km to the first KOM were incredible for the speed at which we covered the false flats, sometimes touching 50km on the gradual uphills. Last year, I was shocked by this, though the second time around I at least had an idea of what to expect.
Before the mountain prime, Cline of Uruguay attacked and went away with one other rider. The duo stayed away until there were less than 20km to go to the line, when the Curico team of Jose Medina started chasing in hopes of a stage win. After having descended onto the flats for the final run-in to the line, when we passed without incident the point on the course where Cesar Grajales (the Colombian climber loaned to us by Jittery Joe's for the 2003 Vuelta) crashed hard last year, I gave a sigh of relief and set about to finding a good wheel for the sprint, since - except for Eneas - my teammates were in difficulty just staying with the group. Ugh.
There wasn't as much crosswind as last year through this part of the course, which made it physically easier (no being pegged in the gutter at 53kph) but ironically, more dangerous. Since we weren't in a single-file line and the bunch wasn't breaking up into groups, there were far more riders around to meddle in the sprint, and lots more kamikaze-piloting of bikes as riders fought desperately for a position among the first 10 riders.
In a road stage like this, which features a flat finish, but a turn 400m from the line, there are really two races, one of which is much more important and exponentially dangerous than the other. The first and more crucial race is to the final turn, and could reasonably be contested by the first 30-40 riders, given the width of the roads and exactly how many different lines of riders there are surging along the course. The second race, which almost becomes a formality, runs from the turn to the finish line, and is really only a contest between the first four or five riders exiting the curve. Thus, as you might imagine, it's a far scarier and risky proposition to win the battle to the turn than it is to win the race...strange, but true.
Having some familiarity with the top Chilean riders based on my experiences here last year, I picked the wheel I would follow for the sprint - that of Gonzalo Mirando of Publiguias, who is like the Chilean version of my Cuban nemesis Joel Marino, except that he climbs well, in addition to being a scorching-fast sprinter. Now mind you, following one wheel through the melee of the final kilometers is easier send than done, as poor Eneas found out when he tangled with Pedro Lopez from Portugal with 2km to go, almost bringing down an entire line of riders. They were both fighting to advance through the same miniscule gap in the field, and for an instant neither Eneas nor the LA Pecol professional backed down. Unfortunately, that's the way it is in the sprints - someone has to give a bit, or if not, a crash occurs. Deciding that reasonableness was the better part of valor, Eneas extricated himself from a very hairy situation and set about to looking for another path to the front before the rapidly approaching turn.
I was doing the same, having given up Mirando's wheel after he flatted when we hit a railroad crossing. His entire Publiguias team slowed to wait for him to ensure that he could rejoin the field without losing time, and in doing so dramatically changed the dynamic of the finish. They had overpowered the Curico riders, who were left in the same position as us - fighting for a place - and were controlling the lead-out, but upon quitting the front a power vacuum ensued. Quickly warming to Fortune's fickle ways, Curico charged back to the front and with some well-timed chops and bumps, started guiding Corvalan to the line. I had switched to following Edgardo Simon's wheel, which is often like a free pass to the top-5, but with so many riders still in the bunch and the field starting to swarm, guaranteed only that I would be in position to watch Simon make a dramatic, OJ-like dance to the front of the field, slashing and cutting and massaging his bike through impossible gaps, all at 55kph...
As we headed into the final 500m, I had the opportunity to continue with Simon on the inside, "bombing the turn" as we say. However, I chose discretion over valor, since the rights and privileges afforded to a rider of Simon's stature in his home race (like the chance to dive the inside of a turn, chop a bunch of top sprinters and still be allowed into the line and not knocked down) don't typically transfer to the gringo who is latched desperately onto his wheel.
Having eased up just a bit and looked for another line into the turn, I was effectively "stuffed" and no longer in contention for the podium. To finish in the top-10 would still be an ok result for a rider in my position, so as soon as I could, I found a hole on the right and started sprinting for all I was worth. When I botch a sprint because of nerves, like I did today, I can typically pass 4-6 riders before the line without anyone coming around me (which alludes to the speed - and opportunity to win - that I wasted by not being in the front through the turn), and so it was today. I went from about 12th through the turn to 8th on the line, trailing in just behind Muñoz from Kelme and Cabrera from Lider-La Polar (Simon's teammate).
Curico got their win with Corvalan. My teammate Alejandro, who rode strongly in yesterday's TTT (and soloed to a stage win in the Vuelta de Chile in 2003) was dropped on the final climb today and lost almost 7:30, perhaps indicating that he's not quite as fit as I'd thought... hmmm.
Stage 3 - March 13: San Nicolás - Talca, 197 km
Today's long stage featured a third category mountain at 40km that was actually easier than the seven "rolling" climbs which followed it, especially the last two. Colombian team 05 Orbitel, which last year raced in Europe's professional ranks, failed to put a rider into the opening break (we had Eneas there) and they spent the rest of the morning launching attack after attack over the climbs in hopes of bridging someone across to the leaders. With neither Lider-la Polar nor Curico willing to let the Colombians go, however, the result was a never-ending series of terrible accelerations on the climbs, on the flats, on the descents.
Alejandro had a funny exchange with one of the Publiguias riders concerning just how many rollers were left to come during one particularly difficult section of the course. Alejandro: "Hey, how many climbs are left?" Publiguias: "Just a few rollers." Alejandro: "Are they difficult?" Publiguias: "Nah, they're no worse than that bump we just went over." Alejandro: "If you saw how much it cost me to get to the top of that last ‘bump,' you'd not say such foolish things."
After two hours of racing I couldn't have felt further removed from the relaxed atmosphere in the start village this morning, where I was posing for pictures with the Cristal podium girls while also being filmed taking a picture of the video cameraman who was filming me for the evening news...
After we passed through Santa Juana, Curico took over at the front and began riding tempo to gradually bring down the break's advantage and protect their lead in the overall. We slowly started to catch the stragglers from the escape, but poor Eneas had the misfortune of being scooped up and spat right out the back of field at a moment when a rash of attacks were being launched through a technical section of the course that passed through the village of San Javier Urbano. I remember making a 90-degree right turn and sprinting out of the corner on a LA Pecol rider's wheel only to have him blow completely and open the door. I looked up and saw a split occurring, and for once, without hesitating, I kept sprinting for all I was worth to close the gap. Alas, this was when we caught Eneas, and I can tell you that I passed him about six inches from his left shoulder, sprinting at 60kph in hopes of being on the right side of the split. Later, Eneas recounted his feelings at that moment, saying, "When you passed me at that speed, I was going so slowly that I thought about stopping on the side of the road and getting off of the bike for the rest of my life."
About 4km down the road on the Autopista Ruta 5, I felt the same, since Edgardo Simon had missed a second split and was flogging his teammates at the front of our group in desperation to close to the leaders. I embodied the notion "swinging" at the back of the group, just holding on for dear life, but thankfully we caught and the pace dropped for a few minutes. There were still two escapees away, however, so the respite was brief.
The field gobbled them up just before we exited the highway for the final three kilometers to the line in Talca. Thankfully, there was no turn just a few hundred meters from the line, which came at the end of a one kilometer long drag through Talca. Like yesterday, however, the approach was crazy and there were bikes and riders bouncing in every direction as doors were shut, elbows thrown and heads butted.
Muñoz from Kelme gave evidence today that he will take shit from no one, as he responded to Simon's dirty riding (hand off the bars, pushing the Kelme rider then pulling his jersey) with a swift punch in the ribs. He gave the same to a Curico rider who entered the fray - all this while we're sprinting like rider-less horses to the line. Seriously, what bike handling, and what poise - definitely someone to be emulated. Unfortunately, I'm less than ultra-confident right now and am hesitant about falling on my still-recovering knee. Thus, I flicked to the right when they went to the left in hopes of a clear shot to the line. I thought I had it, too, until I realized that a police motorcycle had been parked just a bit too far into the road on the right side of the road. I kid you not, as the footage show on tonight's TV news clearly illustrates what happened next: with no chance to move back to the left because additional riders had moved up, I contorted my body and twisted my torso, lucky only to shear off the bike's mirror after I hit it with my right shoulder at full gallop. Christ. And I still moved up two spots to take 7th on the line; I'm 6th overall in the points competition.
Stage 4a - March 14: Talca - Curepto, 77 km
Climbing stage with four climbs in the morning, dropped Coto on the third climb and only Jerry stayed with me thereafter. Miguel Quitral, our mechanic of last year, set a fierce tempo on the final climb. Rolled into town seven minutes down in a group that included Corvalan, who's won the last two stages. Ouch. Tired. Saw a Kazak rider kick a dog that was nosing for food on the sidewalk. Ass. Bus ride to the start of the next stage, no organizer provided lunch. Amazing how much you suffer in this sport.
Stage 4b - March 14: Hualañé - Curicó, 90 km
Afternoon stage to Curico. Felt great again, chilled on way into town though the finish was super-dangerous again. Lots of pushing and shoving. I had Simon's wheel for awhile going towards the final turn but it was too much of a hassle in that people were trying to kill me for it. I lost it and went through the turn too far back. Luck gave me Jerry's wheel with a long way to the line but he couldn't lead me out and Eneas was on the right. Finished 20th though I sat up in frustration before the line. Would have gotten top-15 if I'd kept going, top-10 if I'd opted for Eneas and not Jerry. Eneas finished 11th!
Stage 5 - March 15: Curicó - Pichilemu, 150 km
This was the same stage as last year, and sure enough, the same tactics played out: an early break went away after a fierce start to the stage, though we still went up the first climb, a third category wall at 27km, "a morir" (to die). There was some shuffling about after the descent as riders made fruitless bids to get away and bridge to the break, before the field finally settled down and the leaders rapidly extended their lead before the final climb, a 2nd category mountain named Cumbre Las Antenas that comes 22km before the finish in the seaside town of Pichilemu. Today we put Alejandro in the break, which was really no use whatsoever since no one would have expected us to chase anyway (which we might have been obligated to do, were we a strong team that failed to place a rider in the breakaway). I think Alejandro is just burning himself out and will be dead in a few days, which will be worse than if he'd just sat in the field and tried to survive.
But whatever, he's got his motives and I've learned never to argue with a Latino when there's an issue of personal pride at stake. Instead, I hid myself in the field as best I could and spent about 20 minutes talking with Ivan Parra of Colombia who rides for Kelme and is a really nice, really humble, guy. He's another one to emulate, though I don't think I'll equal his performances on the international cycling stage in this lifetime.
We talked about family, the sport and personal satisfaction. Ivan had a great quote, saying, "Thanks to god my family has been able to live well though my cycling." He also admitted, "El ciclismo tambien es un enfermedad," something that I think every cyclingnews.com diarist will agree with, especially those of us who ride full-time for the love of cycling and not for a fat paycheck.
So back to the racing...even though I'd made it over the first climb in the lead-group I never felt great today. On the mountain at the finish I found a rhythm but only after about 1.5km and by that point I was in the second group. I really suffered to find that rhythm, however, though once I did, Pequeño, our massage therapist, kept saying how smooth I looked. Ha. So much of climbing and time trialling is about finding the rhythm. I suffer on the climbs when there are dramatic changes in pace, because it takes me out of that rhythm and forces me to fight to get back into it.
We finished at the same beach resort as last year, though at least it's sunny today. Called a friend of mine in Cuba in the evening. I was motivated by Ivan to do this, since he was recounting to me during the stage how when he wakes up in the morning and doesn't feel so good and has heavy legs, or his motivation is not that great, he just thinks about his family and about the birth of his impending child to get psyched to train. During our conversation on life after the bike, he explained that he has a degree in advertising and marketing from school in Colombia, and when I told him I had my degrees he said "congratulations, man!" in English, which of course sounded much funnier to me than it really was. I never thought these guys could be so down to earth.
I'm in 58th overall in GC at 24:58; there are 94 riders still in the race. I've also dropped to 14th in the points competition.
Stage 6a - March 16: Cruce La Rosa - La Estrella ITT, 21 km
My diary entries are getting shorter and harder to write because of the fatigue that is accumulating. Someday I'll have to detail exactly what goes into surviving a stage race and how much mundane crap the riders are responsible for accomplishing, like hand-washing our racing uniforms and trying to air dry them before the next stage.
Finish the stage, follow your recovery protocol, take a shower, wash clothes, second recovery protocol, having another recovery drink, eat, nap, massage, emails and phone calls, dinner, more phone calls/email, watch TV, training/race data analysis, prepare clothes and food for tomorrow, make sure stuff is drying. Ugh. There's no walking around town trying to pick up chicks, that's for sure.
Double stage again - getting up for breakfast at between 5 and 6AM is utterly horrible and it's so difficult to actually eat enough. Body is still shut-down a bit and craving sleep. I should write about the recovery protocols for after the stages and explain how there's not even enough time right now to take a fricking nap. I went well in the ITT and took pace off of Jose Martinez from Kelme, who caught me after 11 minutes. I did a good ride for me and finished 38th at 3:28, which is pretty good with no aero set-up. However, I did have super-high power output numbers. Sat around on the sidewalk in the finishing town during the intermission and couldn't really eat or ingest enough calories via solid food, since body was a bit tweaked, to say the least, after the effort. There's a great recovery protocol from Hammer Nutrition that I wish I'd followed, but I've already used up most of my personal supply of gels and protein:
This protocol calls for the following 30-minute interval bolus:
Fluid Fuel Amount Timing water - 16-24 Fl Oz 0-60 minutes - Hammer Gel 4 servings 0-60 minutes - Whey Pro 1 scoop 0-60 minutes 3-6 Endurolytes water - 16-24 Fl Oz 60-90 minutes - Hammer Gel 3 servings 60-90 minutes - Whey Pro 1 scoop 60-90 minutes 3-6 Endurolytes water - 8-16 Fl Oz 90-120 minutes - Hammer Gel 2 servings 90-120 minutes 3-6 Endurolytes
To quote the folks at e-caps: "This is all your body will handle, noting descending intake just prior to jumping into the next stage. Typically, exercise-depleted calorie loss requires 24 hours to replace 80-90% of the glycogen stores cannibalized. Unless race rules allow IV-glucose with a saline drip between stages, the 2-hour window post-exercise will accept around 900-1000 calories without imposing negative gastric side effects or misplaced glucose to fat stores. Appetite loss is due to the gastric environment which is highly acidic with the degree of dehydration exacerbating the reduced compatibility of the gut to crave or accept solid foods." So leave those ham sandwiches in the truck, boys.
Stage 6b - March 16: La Estrella - Algarrobo, 146 km
Road stage started in the afternoon and they went insane from the start, super-hard. We had the first KOM after only 3.4km! I made the first split on the fast road after the right-hand turn, but that came back together, then after the meta volante it was incredible how hard we went in the rollers with the crosswind. When it split, I just couldn't make it across, so rather than hosing everyone behind me, I drilled it as best I could without blowing and reached back to give a hand sling to whoever was on my wheel, and - surprise - it was a Kelme rider - Muñoz, I think. After the stage in the hotel he called it a "buen detalle" and said I was a class guy for doing it. Take a note: it pays not to make enemies in the bunch, and if you can help someone out without great expense to yourself, do it.
Anyway, back in the race, I was in a group with one Kelme, four Kazaks, three from LA Pecol (Portugal), one Miche (Italy), three Curico, four from Uruguay including overnight GC leader Nestor Pias, one Lider-la Polar, two Publigiuias, etc., and the Uruguayans were the only ones really working (obviously to salvage Pias's lead). I helped as best I could then the Portuguese did too. The break was flying, however, and we couldn't bring them back with so few people contributing to the pace. The speed finally dropped to a manageable level and we just rolled over the cat. 3 climb, went quickly up the cat. 2 climb and cruised the rollers to the line. Except for the four riders from Kazakhstan, however, who twice attacked our group en masse while we were rolling along. That certainly earned the ire of the bunch, and with good reason - they wouldn't help with the chase when going fast actually mattered, yet after we'd settled in to ride to the finish, they do something as boorish as that. Martinez from Kelme, who caught me in the ITT, gave one of the Kazaks an earful after we brought them back.
I had trouble eating again at the finish and had the displeasure of having to talk with Coto and Alejandro on behalf of Mike Fraysse (who's back in the USA) explaining our disappointment with their abandoning the race. I'm not pleased at all with either of them, and I'm sure this is the last time we'll be invited to race in Chile. Ciao. I can't believe they both just abandoned today without even communicating with the rest of us over the radio.
At least we're staying in a very pretty ocean-front town, and also it's cool, it's also still sunny and very, very beautiful. Our hotel is on the 5th floor of a terrace-like complex, and there's no elevator. Kelme and the Colombians are on the ground floor, but we're on the 5th and highest, having to schlep all of our luggage and our tired bodies up and back - which is only appropriate for how shitty we've been riding.
Dinner wasn't served until 9:15PM which meant no bed before 11PM which is tough. I don't remember this race being so complicated logistically last year, and the Tour of Cuba was like a touring trip in comparison to what's happening here.
Stage 7 - March 17: Algarrobo - Villa Alemana, 105 km
The course today featured a 1km wall that came only 500m from the start line, with false flat and crosswinds for the next 15km, then four serious rollers out on the open road before we completed two hellish finishing circuits in Villa Alemana.
From the start, I did not feel good and knew I was in trouble. I have not slept enough and this has severely compromised my recovery, plus I have not taken in enough carbohydrates during the past few days to replace my depleted muscle glycogen. I'm also suffering from diarrhea and an upset stomach. All par for the course in a tough stage race.
As such, I had lots of power on tap today up until about 30km from the finish when I started to feel like utter shit. I'm convinced it was a combination of dehydration and insufficient glycogen reserves in my muscles. I did my best through the circuits but a surprise roller on the backside caught me out and I ended up losing four stupid minutes to the winner, finishing with three Italians. I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to ingest sufficient fluids though I really didn't get to rest before getting a massage since I was complicated by the inter-team squabble.
If I'm bad, however, Eneas is on his death bed. After we arrived at the race hotel, which is the same tourist resort as we stayed in last year, the Cuban-American who was born in Spain slept five hours, skipping his massage, before rousting himself only long enough to eat dinner. He's got a wicked fever, and if he finishes the race - which I think he will - it will be a testament to motivation and perseverance.
I'm now in 56th on GC at 39:41. 82 riders are left in the race.
Stage 8 - March 18: Olmué - Los Andes, 122 km
I've never been a fan of the big mountains, though I'm starting to conquer them in my own way. When we hit the slopes of La Dormida, a 15km category 1 mountain, I pegged my power output to what I knew I could maintain for 45:00 while keeping energy in reserve for the third category climb that came with 20km to the line.
After about 15 minutes of steady climbing, I was left with two riders - double stage winner Corvolan and a tall, skinny guy from one of the regional Chilean teams. When we crested the summit, Corvolan started sprinting over the top, intent on building as much speed as possible to help us in our pursuit of the next two groups on the road. We absolutely bombed the descent and joined up with a small group just as we passed through the village of Til-Til.
Kept pouring it on to catch the next group, which was a bigger prize. When we finally linked up with them, we were 23 riders strong and the second large bunch on the road. There was a crosswind section on the Ruta G-15 where the two Spaniards from Kelme and a gaggle of other riders decided to go hard, which was fine by me so we started an echelon and were rotating through - except, of course, for the Kazaks, who were actually sitting up in the echelon, refusing to come through and cutting the group in two. Again the response from the others was harsh, though justified. If you're not going to work in a situation like that, you're not obligated to, but you should remove yourself to the back of the line so as not to disrupt the efforts of those who are rotating. I don't know if those guys don't see it that way, or they just don't care, but they were down right onerous about it. I put in my four cents, giving them the English translation of the Spanish diatribe, which would come back to bite me in the ass only 20-some kilometers later.
We eventually crossed the line 13 minutes down on the leaders, but it was what happened next that reminded me of the importance of not getting into a fist fight in front of TV cameras or the police... One of the Kazaks who'd been in our group rode back down the hill to where I was sitting and, for lack of better phrases, "got in my face" and "started talking smack." Given that I was rather tired from the day's exertions, it's completely reasonable when I tell you that I didn't have the energy to talk any shit back to him, let alone start a fight. Needless to say, the Kazak had other ideas and when I turned my back to leave, he sucker-punched me and it was on. My apologies to the Kelme soigneur who did his best to separate us but instead caught a blow or two.
I defended myself as best I could and initially had the support of the head race commissaire, who promised to boot the Kazak for starting the fight as long as the police didn't get involved. Unfortunately, the police decided to get involved, arresting the Kazak and taking me in to give a statement, and the aftermath of the incident was broadcast on that evening's news. Both of us were dismissed from the race and fined 200 Swiss francs each, and this was no doubt the last time I'll be invited to race in Chile. I'm going to lay low for a few weeks back home, try to win a race in the States before I go to Cuba again in April and hopefully find the form that will allow me to write in my diary about being in epic breakaways and courting podium girls. Stay tuned.
Email Joe at joe@cyclingnews.com
