Ben King from L'Avenir
Stage 1: 140 km
I gained a first hand appreciation for the tradition and honor of holding the yellow jersey at a race this important. We all know that Taylor won't win the overall when we get to the tall climbs. We're saving Talansky for that. But we'll ride with pride to keep him in it as long as possible. From the start we made it clear that we intended to control the race and gained instant respect. We lined the whole team up at the front and let a lone Frenchman gain 3 minutes, then pounded out the next 100 km into a head wind with Taylor, Butler, and Talansky just behind us. They never touched the wind or had to fight for position. In the sprint finish, Taylor pulled his foot out of his pedal costing him the win but held on for 5th. We'll ride with the jersey again and we still lead the team classification.
Stage 2: 150 km
Repeat tactics, another day on the front under a dangerous sky. Today three riders broke away, and three riders, Howes, Boz, and I led the chase. Heading south into a head wind, we rode rolling roads past wilting sunflower fields, the same flowers that illuminated the Tour de France. It rained. Our turns on the front were relief from the dirty water spitting off the wheel ahead of us. When we recovered in third position, we took the stream full in the face seeking shelter from the wind. We averaged 40 km/h (25 m/h) to keep the break from gaining time and elevated the pace after 100 km to chip into their lead. Four categorized climbs loomed in the last 50 km. What goes up, comes down, and that meant slippery descents. Up and down.
Howes, Boz, and I rode into our last energy reserves soon to be incapable of influencing the race against fresh legs. Slaving over one more climb to keep our leaders in ideal position, we blew ourselves up. As we faded, riders fighting for position bulged up on either side of us. Then Talansky threw his arm up, "flat! flat! I have a flat!" Boz, Howes, and I dropped back with him to help him regain the field. The treacherous descent twisted and jolted in both directions hawking riders off its slippery surface into the ditch. I waited in the caravan of cars following the race for Talansky, and locked up both wheels to avoid smashing tailgates when cars stopped to avoid smashing crashed riders. Carnage. I saw a motorbike parked and a race commissaire in the bushes. Then I saw two British feet, "owowow! There's thorns!" Trek teammate, Aussie Tim Roe, hit a barbwire fence and took 11 stitches. In the mayhem Talansky lost 1:23 to the leaders. We all felt desperate and then dejected. Yellow Oakley Jawbones shattered in the road. Phinney lay bleeding and moaning. The medics urged him to the ambulance but he protested, "I can ride to the finish."
Up and down. Physics determines what's possible on a bike. But as Boz said, "cycling is not math." We went from 1st to last in Team GC, and Taylor went from maillot jaune to maillot rouge (first to last) in one day. Our British teammate on Trek, Alex Dowsett, will ride in yellow tomorrow. Up and down and up. We will rebound.
I gained a first hand appreciation for the tradition and honor of holding the yellow jersey at a race this important. We all know that Taylor won't win the overall when we get to the tall climbs. We're saving Talansky for that. But we'll ride with pride to keep him in it as long as possible. From the start we made it clear that we intended to control the race and gained instant respect. We lined the whole team up at the front and let a lone Frenchman gain 3 minutes, then pounded out the next 100 km into a head wind with Taylor, Butler, and Talansky just behind us. They never touched the wind or had to fight for position. In the sprint finish, Taylor pulled his foot out of his pedal costing him the win but held on for 5th. We'll ride with the jersey again and we still lead the team classification.
Stage 2: 150 km
Repeat tactics, another day on the front under a dangerous sky. Today three riders broke away, and three riders, Howes, Boz, and I led the chase. Heading south into a head wind, we rode rolling roads past wilting sunflower fields, the same flowers that illuminated the Tour de France. It rained. Our turns on the front were relief from the dirty water spitting off the wheel ahead of us. When we recovered in third position, we took the stream full in the face seeking shelter from the wind. We averaged 40 km/h (25 m/h) to keep the break from gaining time and elevated the pace after 100 km to chip into their lead. Four categorized climbs loomed in the last 50 km. What goes up, comes down, and that meant slippery descents. Up and down.
Howes, Boz, and I rode into our last energy reserves soon to be incapable of influencing the race against fresh legs. Slaving over one more climb to keep our leaders in ideal position, we blew ourselves up. As we faded, riders fighting for position bulged up on either side of us. Then Talansky threw his arm up, "flat! flat! I have a flat!" Boz, Howes, and I dropped back with him to help him regain the field. The treacherous descent twisted and jolted in both directions hawking riders off its slippery surface into the ditch. I waited in the caravan of cars following the race for Talansky, and locked up both wheels to avoid smashing tailgates when cars stopped to avoid smashing crashed riders. Carnage. I saw a motorbike parked and a race commissaire in the bushes. Then I saw two British feet, "owowow! There's thorns!" Trek teammate, Aussie Tim Roe, hit a barbwire fence and took 11 stitches. In the mayhem Talansky lost 1:23 to the leaders. We all felt desperate and then dejected. Yellow Oakley Jawbones shattered in the road. Phinney lay bleeding and moaning. The medics urged him to the ambulance but he protested, "I can ride to the finish."
Up and down. Physics determines what's possible on a bike. But as Boz said, "cycling is not math." We went from 1st to last in Team GC, and Taylor went from maillot jaune to maillot rouge (first to last) in one day. Our British teammate on Trek, Alex Dowsett, will ride in yellow tomorrow. Up and down and up. We will rebound.
Stage 3: 157 km
Last week we previewed the last 50 km of the stage including the two 12 km climbs. To achieve redemption we had to put a stamp on this decisive stage. We did.
We tossed a man into the British rotation leading the field and sharing the dirty work so that our team could rest unhindered behind Dowsett in his yellow jersey. Again Boz, Howes, and I took turns pace making. Approaching the first long climb, our team took full control with Phinney as the engine on the flats. Butler and Talansky started the climb in perfect position. Our work done, the rest of us rode as easy as is possible up the next 30 km of mountains. When we got to the finish Talansky had a wild look in his eyes, "Third, I got third. We can still win this race, guys." What satisfaction that brought us. If he had not flatted yesterday, Talansky would have put us back in yellow. As it is, we're within striking distance without the responsibility of defending.
Stage 4: 180 km
The novelty of this lifestyle is wearing off. A road in Europe feels the same as a road in my hometown. Team buses, race banners, and the competitors vein shredded calves no longer jolt my nerves. New hotels, new teams, new food, courses, languages, tactics, new is normal. This sport is hard and often miserable. Four hours in the rain, legs screaming, heart race 170 for the fourth day in a row. But you won't stop. Even quitting is hard. To be dropped is like taking a knockout punch in the face. I don't think we do it for the love of the sport. We do it for people. When teammates become friends you will ride yourself into oblivion for them. You suffer each day because, "good job" from your director sounds best when you know you've earned it.
Today's stage caused this introspection. My fuel light came on early. Other riders had tunnel vision like me, but after two draining hours of constant hills, I found a purpose in the race. A gap opened ahead of Talansky on a windy false flat. I closed it for him then exploded slipping out the back of the front group. Butler never past me. I found him in a group off the back with Boz. Butler had to stay in the front group with Talansky. Go time. "Butler, get on my wheel!" Another cross-eyed effort closed the gap. Boz, Butler, and I were the last three to make the 40 man front group. A tweet from @cbutler88 (Chris Butler) after the race completed my day. "A very draining stage 3 of L'Avenir. @benking89 saved my butt in a crucial moment!" That's what its all about. That's why I'm here.
Stage 5: 153 kmLast week we previewed the last 50 km of the stage including the two 12 km climbs. To achieve redemption we had to put a stamp on this decisive stage. We did.
We tossed a man into the British rotation leading the field and sharing the dirty work so that our team could rest unhindered behind Dowsett in his yellow jersey. Again Boz, Howes, and I took turns pace making. Approaching the first long climb, our team took full control with Phinney as the engine on the flats. Butler and Talansky started the climb in perfect position. Our work done, the rest of us rode as easy as is possible up the next 30 km of mountains. When we got to the finish Talansky had a wild look in his eyes, "Third, I got third. We can still win this race, guys." What satisfaction that brought us. If he had not flatted yesterday, Talansky would have put us back in yellow. As it is, we're within striking distance without the responsibility of defending.
Stage 4: 180 km
The novelty of this lifestyle is wearing off. A road in Europe feels the same as a road in my hometown. Team buses, race banners, and the competitors vein shredded calves no longer jolt my nerves. New hotels, new teams, new food, courses, languages, tactics, new is normal. This sport is hard and often miserable. Four hours in the rain, legs screaming, heart race 170 for the fourth day in a row. But you won't stop. Even quitting is hard. To be dropped is like taking a knockout punch in the face. I don't think we do it for the love of the sport. We do it for people. When teammates become friends you will ride yourself into oblivion for them. You suffer each day because, "good job" from your director sounds best when you know you've earned it.
Today's stage caused this introspection. My fuel light came on early. Other riders had tunnel vision like me, but after two draining hours of constant hills, I found a purpose in the race. A gap opened ahead of Talansky on a windy false flat. I closed it for him then exploded slipping out the back of the front group. Butler never past me. I found him in a group off the back with Boz. Butler had to stay in the front group with Talansky. Go time. "Butler, get on my wheel!" Another cross-eyed effort closed the gap. Boz, Butler, and I were the last three to make the 40 man front group. A tweet from @cbutler88 (Chris Butler) after the race completed my day. "A very draining stage 3 of L'Avenir. @benking89 saved my butt in a crucial moment!" That's what its all about. That's why I'm here.
"Dude how are we going to get over that mountain tomorrow?" Taylor said after a fit of delerious laughter. "I know, it's not even funny. "I don't know... I love you, man." Stage 4 had driven us to a new level of fatigue.
It took only 20 km for a massive groupetto to form leaving Butler, Talansky, and I in a lead group of 40. I fought to stay there to care for our leaders. A break dangled ahead of us throughout the twisty descent and rollers to the finish. Our diminished group sprinted for 6th, and after all my work for the team I indulged myself at the finish. Second wheel with 200 meters to go, I waited to unleash. Just as I stood up to accelerate, I felt a hand pull on my hip sling me backward. I went Southern VA redneck on that Lithuanian for one uncontrollable minute, not because it cost me a top ten finish but because I almost crashed at over 50 km/hr.
Stage 6: 210 km
The queen stage. We spent our rest week at the base of the finishing climb, and Pat talked about how we would rip the finish to shreds. Our plan depended on so many variables like having Talansky close in GC and most crucially having our whole team in the front group after 6 days of racing. I crashed at the very base of the first giant climb for an extra challenge. Actually, I thought I would never catch back on. I steadily picked my way past weaving defeated racers, until 50 guys remained up the road. A Brit, who I know to be strong, fell off the leader's pace, and together we reeled them in. My relief turned to frustration when every rider I had passed up the climb materialized back in the group. They had held onto a car up the climb.
The Belgian's (the new yellow jersey team) let a break go and rode a fast tempo for the next 4 hours. 30 km from the Col du Risoul, the finishing 12 km climb, Team USA congregated at the front of the race. An increase in bumping and nervous energy, made it stressful to keep our team organized at the front because our plan depended on it. 30 km from the finish on a winding rolling road, I hit the front and started mashing with two Belgians. I pulled my heart, lungs, and legs out for 10 km and the field began to split. We caught some of the GC contenders napping at the back, but our entire team rode at the front. I led the charge until complete failure and got out of the way. Taylor took over next, then Howes. One by one, we unleashed ourselves until only 30 riders remained to start the climb. Once again, we domesiques (helpers) nursed ourselves to the finish, and once again Talansky rewarded our work with a second place moving into 6th overall.
Stage 7: 13.5 km Uphill TT
The Col du Risoul, yesterday's finishing climb had another 40 minutes of suffering in store for us. No pressure on our shoulders, Boz, Howes, Taylor, and I focused on finishing within the 25% time cut, a potential dilemma. It would be easy to lose that much time to the stage winner. Talansky, however, focused with vengeance. We awaited his arrival after finishing- all within the time cut- and sipped our vanilla recovery drinks. Time trials start in reverse general classification, so when Talansky burst across the line one minute faster than the previous best time, we detained our ecstasy in anxious anticipation. The five rider's still on course had only a small time buffer. 5th, 4th, 3rd, and 2nd all fell victim to Talansky in GC. One more rider, the yellow jersey, to overthrow. They say a rider can do magical things with that jersey on his back, and that little Columbian proved worthy setting a new best time by 48 seconds to win the overall.
Epilogue:
The race began with a prologue, so why not end with an epilogue? ProTour directors stated as a matter of fact that our team was the strongest in the race. Maybe not individually, but collectively I cannot disagree. Nothing to regret. Talansky quoted Steve Prefontaine saying, "Is there anything worse than finishing second?" No, nothing is worse if you could have won. But we have nothing to regret. Not even the flat tire and time penalty on stage 3 affected the final GC. In this case, second overall, defending the yellow jersey for two days, and 5 top tens against the greatest U23 riders in the world in peak condition is as good as it gets.
Now we're driving to Belgium where we depart Europe. We'll pedal the bikes for 45 minutes tomorrow and I expect to feel broken. But the absurd truth is that we could race another 200 km stage in the morning, and often that's what's demanded. This is the "Baby Tour de France." Imagine reading two more weeks of these blogs.
This Article Published September 12, 2010 For more information contact:
