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Sheldon's excellent adventure: From way excellent to way scary
Pomona and Redlands, March 18-28, 2004
By Sheldon Deeny
Ok, this is a really long journal entry because I have a lot to say. So, I titled each section; that way you don't have to read the parts that don't sound interesting.
Well, March 17th rolled around a few weeks ago and I was excited as ever to be leaving for my first big race with the team. We would be doing the Pomona Valley Stage Race and the Redlands Bicycle Classic.
Pomona Valley Stage Race
Pomona took place in San Dimas, a "suburb" of Los Angeles. Now, I've never been to L.A., and I don't care to go back, unless it's for another bike race. The air is thick with smog, and the place is thick with people and cars. Mountains could barely be made out on the distant horizons, and I had to look straight up to see blue sky. Not exactly my type of place. But, the weather was very warm, and the sun managed to shine brightly through the polluted atmosphere.
I won't go into details about Pomona, and you can find out what happened at Cyclingnews.com. This would be my first big "pro race" because I've never raced in a 150 man field with all the country's top riders. The first stage was "neutralized" due to safety concerns, which left us with a shortened uphill time trial, a road race, and a criterium.
My time trial warm up was a crazy one. I decided to ride over to the start area on my own and managed to get lost on the streets of San Dimas, straying about five miles in the wrong direction. I finally found a police officer who pointed me the right way. During this time, two of my chainring bolts fell out, leaving my chainrings crooked, and then my rear derailleur started skipping, and then I got a flat tire. After almost sliding out on a few turns because of my flat, I made it to the start area, huffing and puffing, seven minutes before my start time, and desperately needing a new bike. Luckily, Alyssa had showed up that day with three spare bikes, so I used one of those and rode amazingly slow up the climb, despite going as hard as I could. The next day was a road race, which was really hard, and then on Sunday, we finished with a criterium, which was sorta hard, but also boring. I think I finished 68th overall.
Back to school
I learned that on Monday, I would be visiting an elementary school with Andrew, Ang, and Ben, and we would talk to them about bike racing. Andrew and I remembered how when we were in elementary school (we didn't know each other at all back then), random guys with birds of prey and hacky sacks and trampolines would show up and entertain our schools for half the day. Well this time, we would be on the other side, entertaining a school full of little kids. I was a little nervous because I always thought I was awful with children, and seeing the entire school sitting on the playground bleachers and waiting for us when we showed up made me even more nervous. The three of us changed into our cycling clothes and rode out in front of the kids and talked to them about racing. Then we rode around and showed them our bikes. After the talking, the kids went three ways: some of them to Ang, others to Andrew, and the rest to me (I had all the kindergarten kids and first graders). Then I tried to answer a barrage of little kid questions coming at me three and four at a time, like, "Have you ever done a 10 hour race?", and "How do the brakes work?", and "Can I touch your helmet?" There were also many ooooohs! and aaahhhs! as the kids crowded around an touched my bike and lifted it up over their heads. Then they started asking me for autographs, and I somehow managed to sign my name on all 200 of them (or however many there were) whether it was on their hands or shirts or arms or wherever. Afterwards, I realized that I hadn't done anything that fun for a long time. Going there was definitely the highlight of my entire trip .
Redlands Bicycle Classic
Prologue - March 23: Mt Rubidoux Time Trial, 5km
On Tuesday, Redlands started with an uphill prologue. I finally realized on this trip that there is nothing worse I could be doing on a bike than riding an uphill time trial. I was one of the slowest riders out of 195... and once again I was going as hard as I possibly could. I will probably find more success in the sport if I stick to events in which sprinting is needed. It was only about 10 minutes of suffering, but I was glad to get it over with and move on to the next stage. Little did I know what was in store for me the next day...
Stage 1 - March 24: Crestline Road Race, 85.5/138.2km
The first road stage was a new course that went through windy desert highlands and finished up a big climb. I did a mediocre job of staying towards the front, but then we turned a corner and the crosswind picked up as well as our speed. I was soon amazed as in less then 10 seconds, I went from thinking, "Hey, I feel great!" to "Uh oh, I might get dropped." 10 seconds after that, I actually did get dropped, and had to give everything to chase with another group for about 20 minutes to catch back on to the leaders. Finally, it came together again and we rode at a brisk pace. I think there was still a small group off the front. We rode around in the desert for a little while longer and I ran out of water, but I felt good.
At around the 65 mile mark, we went through an intersection and then down a hill and picked up speed pretty quickly. In front of me was David Zabriskie of US Postal. He pointed out a deep gouge in the road over the yellow line, and we both tried to bunny-hop over it. I went right into the rut and lost control and hit the pavement going way too fast (60 kph). He did the same thing in front of me, and I'm pretty sure I completely plowed over him; I didn't even have time to grab the brakes. I felt like a rag doll, skidding down the road and becoming mangled as I was run over by a bunch of riders behind me. The field piled up into a massive, chaotic crash that split the group.
Many got injured and couldn't finish that day. One guy broke his collarbone. Dave Zabriskie got a big gash in his head and I vaguely remember seeing his face dripping all over with blood as someone was flipping out and screaming, "Zabriskie! Zabriskie! Oh my God!" I lay on the ground, writhing in pain, and knowing for sure that I wouldn't be getting up for awhile and that my race was finished all too early. In the split second between the moment when I realized that I was going down and when I hit the road, I thought "Oh man, this is going to be the worst thing that's ever happened to me." While I was skidding down the road and getting run over, I thought "I might never be able to ride again." That had to be the scariest moment of my life. You see, I've never been in a crash that bad, so I didn't know what to expect. It was chaos all around as riders got up and tried to get going again, straightening their bikes out and getting wheel changes. I lay on the ground and then after a few minutes our mechanic, Kevin, was leaning over me and tried to calm me down. I maintained consciousness throughout the entire incident but was definitely in a state of shock. In the photos section, there is a picture of me giving two thumbs up, but let me tell you, I was definitely NOT ok at that time.
The hospital
The paramedics checked me out to make sure I wasn't seriously messed up, fitted me with a neck brace, and loaded me onto a stretcher and into an ambulance and I headed off to the hospital. Once there, I was thoroughly checked again for problems (miraculously, I had no broken bones or anything serious), and finally given some pain medicine which made the ceiling spin and my bed float on a foamy ocean. They cleaned me up and the doctor put stitches in my hip and elbow. My hip sustained the worst damage, and it looked horrendous. A gigantic, bloody hole about one centimeter deep was my worst injury. All around it was chewed up skin, some still dangling off the wound, but most of it left on the road. It was also bruised and swollen. My chest and elbows were scraped up pretty bad too. I couldn't walk at all for about two days because the skin on my hip would move and that would hurt. On the plus side, the nurse that attended to me was a very fine looking blonde by the name of Sherri, who I'll never see again, but it was nice to have her there anyway.
The rest of the trip
I had to stay in a hotel room for the rest of the week and lie in bed and watch TV for eight hours a day... ok, so I didn't HAVE to watch TV, but with all that Vicodin, it was about all I could do. I also slept for 16 hours a day. Strangely enough, I didn't have any feelings of boredom or anxiety. But, the TV got old on the third day, so Beth went out and got some DVDs for me to watch. I also tried walking around outside, and on Saturday night, I went out to a barbecue that one of our housing hosts was having. That was the first time I could stay standing up for awhile and not get nauseous. The next day I packed up my stuff and when the race was over, I flew home with Andrew and Blake. I got to ride in a wheelchair through the airport, because walking was still a little too painful. Right now, it's Thursday evening, and I went on a ride today for the first time, and I felt ok, except for my cold.
My next race is one of my favorites: the Boulder Roubaix. I think it's one of the harder races here in Colorado. It's 85 miles, 50 percent of which is gravel and dirt roads, but you feel like you've raced for 110 miles.
Well, that was a really long journal, but wasn't it packed with drama and adventure? Thanks for being my fan and reading at least part of it.
