10.4.2011 | 7:15 am
Dustin Brady and I are good friends. We’ve got a lot in common. In fact, a little too much in common.
There’s the good stuff: We both love bikes — I write about them all the time, and he works for Shimano.
There’s the all-too-common stuff: we both are engaged in a pretty much permanent battle to lose weight and keep it off.
And there’s the awful stuff: I lost my wife to breast cancer. Not much later, Dustin lost his fiance, Michelle, to breast cancer.
And now he and I work together, whenever we can, to fight cancer. Most often, this has been by his arranging for incredible bike-related prizes for LiveStrong Challenge contests, in honor of Susan’s memory.
This time, though, I’d like you to get behind me and put the full force of Team Fatty into helping Dustin honor Michelle.
And, by the way, by doing so you’ll possibly win one of a number of prizes that are just head-spinningly incredible.
Background
Right now, Dustin is in Hawaii. This Saturday, he’s going to be doing the Kona Ironman — his first Ironman attempt — in tribute to Michelle. Here’s why, in his own words:
My fiancé Michelle was sweet and sassy.
I knew she had weeks to live about a month before she did (Doctor told me to let her ask and go at her own pace). Well, during that month I kept asking myself, what am I going to do with myself?
Well, I had taken Michelle to Kona in 2008 & 2009. In 2009 about 11pm at night as we watched the inspirational finishers she turned to me and said, “You should do this someday” … I replied … “Yeah I would like to try, I’ll put it on the bucket list.”
I remember right where I was when I made the decision I was going to try and get into Kona (This is where we grew our appreciation and respect for the sport) and do the race in her memory. I was driving home to take a shower before going back to the hospital … it was right where the 73 merges into the 405 heading south through Mission Viejo. I was never going to tell her … I was simply going to do it and get healthy again like Michelle wanted.
So jump forward two weeks … Michelle finally asked the doctor the tough questions. She went through the initial emotional BS but then instantly started worrying about her loved ones. What was Tiffany going to do, she wanted to give her our scooter. What about her Mom?
And then in typical Michelle fashion as I was stepping out of the room to get something to eat … she point-blank asks me, “What are you going to do when I’m gone … you need life skills!!”
I replied, “Life Skills?!?” with a smile on my face (always try to show your loved one things are going to be ok).
Then I continued … I’ll tell you what I’m going to do … I’m going to do an Ironman for you … and for me.”
She looks at me, and starts to tear up. This is the last thing I wanted! I went to her to hug her and tell her I love her.
But as I approached the bed and leaned in for a hug, she stuck her hand out to stop me, then rotated her hand to shake my hand, and says “YOU PROMSE!?!?”
I shook it right then and there! The rest is history. Now I’m trying to live each day like she did … with a smile on my face and trying my best to seize each and every day to the fullest.
So when I do Kona, I will be doing three things.
- I want to raise $20K for the Young Survivors Coalition in her name
- I will carry her ashes with me in a small sealed container the entire distance
- I will wear a special kit promoting something she started. At the end of the landing page it sums up why … I want people battling cancer to know they are not alone. My website is www.fcancerup.com (a little aggressive but it’s what most people think!)
Fight Cancer, Help a Friend Keep a Promise, Win a Dream Bike
Of course, Dustin’s on his own as far as finishing the Kona IronMan goes, though I cannot imagine more amazingly powerful motivation than he has. (And I will post his number and info on following his progress on the race as soon as it’s available.)
But I think we can help Dustin with that first objective.
And since Dustin’s made some out-of-this-world prizes available, I believe we might just be able to eclipse that goal by a good little margin.
I’ve signed Team Fatty up as a member of Weiser’s Army in a cause that Michelle deeply believed in: The Young Survival Coalition, which offers resources, connections and outreach to young women diagnosed with breast cancer.
And here are the things we’re going to give away.
The Grand Prize: Your Choice of a 2012 Giant TCR Advanced SL With Shimano Dura-Ace Di2
This is a pro-level road bike — in fact, the bike and components Team Rabobank rides:
You get to pick the frame, either with the integrated seat mast, in black or white, or with an adjustable seat post. For myself, I think it’d be pretty darned hard to beat having the integrated seatmast in white:
That is going to be the foundation of a seriously clean-looking, amazingly advanced bike, especially once you put on a full Dura-Ace Di2 group on it. You know the one — incredibly fast, accurate, electronic shifting.
On a personal note, I’ve been loving Di2 on my own bike for more than two years. During which time I’ve had to get it fixed or taken in for maintenance exactly zero times. And I charge the battery about once every two or three months.
It’s seriously more reliable than manual shifting. Not to mention faster. And you can do shifts you could not normally do (like a quick shift on the front derailleur during a very steep climb).
You also get your choice of a Dura-Ace clincher wheelset, either 24mm, 35mm, or 50mm profile.
And hey, how about some carbon Dura-Ace pedals:
And you’ll cap it all off with a PRO Vibe Carbon Bar and Stem.
How much would this bike cost if you were to go out and buy it yourself? Oh, I dunno — how about around $10,000.00.
If you are not already a serious road cyclist, this bike is going to turn you into one. You just won’t be able to help yourself.
More Awesome Prizes
Of course, only one person can win this dream road bike. But there are going to be some pretty excellent other prizes given away too:
- A Dura-Ace clincher wheelset, either 24mm, 35mm, or 50mm profile. Whichever you like. And since we looked at the 24mm wheels last time, let’s take a quick look at the 50mm wheels here:
- A GoPro HD Camera, with a bike mount, so you can get glorious high def video of your riding adventures.
- A set of Shimano Dura-Ace Carbon Pedals
- An HTC jersey, autographed (but you’ll have to wait and see by whom!)
- One of everything FCancerUp store.
That is a big ol’ serious batch of prizes. For a good cause, and for a good friend. So please, donate.
How It Works
Entering the contest is really easy. For every $5.00 you donate at my Tour de Pink fundraising page, you get a chance at winning each of these prizes. So, here’s how it works, in nice easy steps:
- Go to Team Fatty’s Tour de Pink fundraising page.
- Donate any amount, in $5.00 increments.
- For every $5.00 you donate, you get a row on my magical spreadsheet of prizes.
- I choose winning rows at random, using random.org to choose winners.
- You must donate by Wednesday, October 12, to win.
- I will contact winners by phone and / or email.
Pretty simple. And the fact is, Young Survival Coalition is about as straight-line to the type of cancer that both Susan and Michelle fought. Charity Navigator gives them four stars.
So your money will be well-spent, on an incredibly relevant cancer.
Speaking for both Dustin and myself, thank you very much for taking the time to make a donation.
PS: I need someone to be the official Team Fatty rider for the Tour de Pink. It’s a three-day ride, and it looks incredible, and I wish I could go. But I can’t. So I need someone to go and do the ride, being the official Team Fatty rider.
And what I’d really like would be if it’s someone who has lived with breast cancer, either as a survivor or as a caretaker.
If you’d like to be the person who rides for Team Fatty — and you’re willing to come back and tell the story, with words and photos, either leave a comment or send me an email with a little bit about your story.
Thanks!
Comments (46)
10.3.2011 | 11:59 am
What is it that makes a good event great?
It’s not as simple a question as you might think. Or maybe it is, and the simplicity misses me. But the fact is, some events — whether it’s a race or a big ride or a GranFondo — are OK, some are bad, somer are good, and a few are great.
I ask this because, so many times while riding Levi’s GranFondo yesterday, people would remark to me what a fantastic event this is. They had some concrete reasons, and some that had more to do with how the event felt.
Whatever that special sauce is that bumps an event out of “good” and into “great” territory, everyone seemed to agree that Levi’s GranFondo has a lot of it.
The Festa
Thanks to everyone’s generosity, The Hammer and I got to go to the Festa del Fondo, a swanky dinner and auction to help raise money for the charities supported by Levi’s GranFondo.
Then, to my surprise, I was whisked away by an intimidating-looking man man named Yuri, who unceremoniously dumped me into a small, dark room, whereupon a blinding light was shone into my eyes and I was asked a number of questions about what I knew about Levi.
Yes, really.
Except it wasn’t as bad as it seems, because it was actually Citizen Pictures — the people who did the Leadville “Race Across the Sky” documentaries — doing interviews for an upcoming documentary about Levi.
The first question was, “Tell us about how you first met Levi.”
I drew a blank. Just stared at the camera.
Then, thirty seconds or so, I remembered. And told the story, in excruciating detail.
And, as usual, I rambled on for a very long time, while in the back of my head a little voice critiqued me, saying things like, “You’ve completely lost sight of the original question, haven’t you? Do you even remember what it was? Is there something hanging from your nose?”
After Cyndi — the person interviewing me — fell asleep from boredom at my answers, I snuck back upstairs, where dinner was already in progress. This year, dinner was more substantial than last year, with pasta and meat and other food I could recognize pretty well.
There was auctioning. Milling about. Hobnobbing. And I got to introduce Laura — who won the trip to France to ride with Andy — to Michael, who won this particular trip out to meet and ride with Levi.
I have to say, that was a highlight of the trip. I love seeing people enjoying the incredible prizes I get to give away as a side effect of the amazing charity work Team Fatty does.
Then I pulled Michael and his girlfriend over to Levi’s table to introduce them to each other. Michael’s new to riding — in fact at the time he and his girlfriend were pretty much entirely new to riding — but he certainly knows his pro cycling. Better than I do, for sure.
Finally, at the end of the evening, BFOF and GranFondo volunteer Angie arranged for Levi and me to pick up our race packets at the same time.
The thing was, she had arranged for me to get the race plate with the 1 on it. Levi got a homemade race plate, made out of an actual paper plate.
As expected, Levi “persuaded” me to give him back his number.
Group Ride
On Friday morning, top fundraisers (and I) got to go on a group ride with Levi and Odessa out to Forget Me Not Farms, one of the charities the GranFondo supports.
The winners of the GranFondo Trip, Michael and his girlfriend, got a great photo with Levi:
And Michael would afterward tweet:
Yeah, that’s not a bad start to one’s cycling career. Kinda makes you wonder how they’re gonna top that, though.
Hanging out at the Farm was cool.
Though I have to say, that cow looks suspicious of Levi. Almost as if it had been put in a headlock a time or two.
I Gotta Say Thanks
The Hammer and I arrived at the starting line nice and early, which I believe is a first for us. It also turned out to be awesome, because it meant we had time to meet and hang out with other riders.
In particular, Team Fatty riders.
I was hugely excited to come across Janeen “TheNoodleator” McCrae:
Janeen, The Hammer and I would gorge on gelatto together after the race. Janeen would contend that she won, because she ate more. I contend that in an ice cream eating contest, there are no losers. Or maybe it’s that everyone loses. Hard to say.
And Nic:
And David:
I was startled to find that David of Marin, CA, whom I had always been led to believe would be a very tall man, is actually only five feet tall. On his tiptoes.
And Chuck Ibis:
Chuck is as startled as I am bewildered. About what, you may fairly ask? About the fact that we are both so ridiculously handsome, of course.
And Lee:
Lee Applebaum is the CMO of RadioShack.
I saw Glenn Kasin, who’s the go-to guy for pretty much everything, Team RadioShack-Nissan-Trek-Hershey’s-FTD-Nabisco-FatCyclist.com-Hewlett Packard:
Oh, you haven’t heard about the latest additions to the team name?
I ran across this guy:
For the first time in the history of ever, Levi did not attempt to punch me in the throat, nor did he put me in a headlock. I was grateful.
And, finally, I hung out with an incredibly good-looking woman who looks like she could drop most guys in the climbs, and practically everyone in the flats:
Oh dear. It looks like we accidentally dressed the same again. How embarrassing.
The Ride
Last year, the GranFondo weather was atypical. By which I mean it was warm, perfect, and beautiful. You should watch the video.
This year it was a lot more typical. Which is to say, when we got high up in the mountains, it was windy. And there was fog. And some rain.
But between the new 2011 FatCyclist vest and Smartwool armwarmers, The Hammer and I were never really uncomfortable. And by the time we got out to the coast, the fog and rain and wind dissipated and we could enjoy the scenery.
Still, the mist and fog added something to this ride — an eeriness. A stillness. A sense that — even though you knew there were 7500 other riders out there — you were on your own.
Honestly, I don’t know if there’s an event out there that’s its equal.
You’ll have to trust me on this, because we didn’t take a lot of pictures once we got rolling, due to the fact that The Hammer’s camera fogged up:
No, the fog wasn’t really that bad.
Which brings me to something I’d like advice on: what’s a great point-and-shoot camera for cyclists? I.e., something that can live in a sweaty jersey pocket but still take great pictures, and can be easily — and quickly — operated with gloves on?
Then, after the ride, someone made the crucial error of not realizing that once I begin talking I lose track of time, and made me the MC of a recognition ceremony.
Which started with Levi choking me within an inch of my life:
I still cannot believe that Dave — the announcer guy on the right — didn’t intervene or call the cops or anything.
And then I talked:
And talked:
And talked:
You’ll notice that in all of those photos, it is almost as if I’m the one always doing the talking. While Levi stands there, letting me jabber away. Because, naturally, everyone was there to see me, right?
I am such a dope.
The Heart of the Matter
I’ve been to a lot of events (and even, for the first time, participated in promoting and producing one event) in the past few years, and think — finally — I’ve got a handle on what at least some of the factors are that can make an event good.
There are a few things that pretty much have to be in place in order for an event to happen at all: The course. Course and hazard markings. The starting and finishing areas. Aid stations. Medical and mechanical support. Volunteers.
The thing is, some events feel like these must-haves are items to be checked off a list; they have to be done, so get them over with. just check these items off because they have to be done. Other events treat them with passion, turning gotta-haves into something else: a selling point. A feature.
Take, for example,the Lunch aid station at Levi’s GranFondo. You can grab a pre-made sandwich if you’re in a hurry, or you can go to what is essentially a working deli and have a sandwich made to order. Last year, there was a fresh-squeezed lemonade stand at one of the stations.
At the Park City Point to Point a little over a year ago, when my SS dropped its chain as I rolled into an aid station, a mechanic ran up from the neutral mechanic aid booth and told me he’d have my bike ready to go in five minutes.
Stuff like that isn’t expected at an event. It’s not required to make me attend an event. But when it happens, I tell my friends.
I think that how much you care about your logistics can make the difference between a bad, OK, or good event.
But what about great?
I’m beginning to think that the only way you can have a great event is if it has a great personality. Something that makes it individual. Something that gives it heart.
And I think that something has got to be a person — or people — who inspire everyone around them to want to make the event something special.
Levi’s GranFondo has Levi Leipheimer, as well as the BikeMonkey dynamic duo of Carlos and Greg.
Levi is everywhere at that event. Hanging out with people, checking to see if folks are having fun, taking pictures with everyone who wants.
It’s obvious he loves riding, loves the route, and loves the event. Loves seeing so many people having a great time.
And the BikeMonkey guys, well, they’re no different. They somehow manage to produce an event that has a massive number of people — 7500+ riders! — that still feels personal. Not like you’re one more object on a conveyor belt.
From the course to the aid stations to the giant festival at the finish line, Levi’s GranFondo is one giant rolling party.
And it’s a party I’ll look forward to being at again next year.
Comments (42)
09.29.2011 | 10:54 am
During the 2012 Team Fatty gear pre-order, I made no secret of my enthusiasm for the new Specialized bottles with the Watergate (ha) valves. Twin Six did an awesome design to go on those bottles, and a bunch of you — like, around 500 of you — ordered some of these beauties.
The fact that we sold these bottles at no profit whatsoever (good luck finding these bottles at $8.00 anywhere else) probably had something to do with the number of orders, too.
Well, yesterday my bottles arrived. Here’s what they look like:
Um.
Ew.
Evidently, someone at Specialized thought that the black translucent bottle TwinSix ordered wasn’t a good color, and convinced them to go with silver. But on that silver bottle, the orange color looks…well, brown.
The thing is, those of you who ordered these bottles are probably starting to get them right now.
And I figure some of you, at least, are going to be a little disappointed in the way these things look.
I called the Twin Six guys, and they agreed, this is not what the bottles should look like, and they (the bottles, not the Twin Six guys) are, frankly, pretty ugly.
So, they’re going to make things right.
In fact, they’re going to make things even righter than right.
Option 1: If You Just Can’t Stand the Bottle
If you simply cannot imagine yourself ever using this bottle, email service@twinsix.com. They’ll set you up with what you need to return the bottle(s) and get a refund.
Option 2: If You Would Like an Awesome Deal
While I don’t really dig the brownish-orange-on-silver look, the fact remains that these are the best-working bottles I’ve ever had. And if you use it, you’ll like it.
So if you got one (or more) of these bottles and want to hang on to it, Twin Six is going to give you a 30%-off code toward any full-price purchase. Which means if you buy a $24 shirt, that pretty much means you got the bottle for free. And if you buy a couple of jerseys, you’ve more than made your money back in savings.
Stay tuned for details on what this code is and when you can start using it. Twin Six is getting it set up right now, and I’ll post it on the blog.
Hey, some times weird things (like brownish orange ink on a silver bottle) happens. I think it’s cool that Twin Six is making it right.
Comments (43)
09.28.2011 | 10:21 am
A Note from Fatty About the GranFondo Contest: Congratulations to Michael K of Southern California; he and his girlfriend will be getting the full-on deluxe treatment at Levi’s GranFondo this weekend!
I haven’t drawn the other three prizes yet; I’ll do that today. So just because you haven’t heard from me doesn’t mean you haven’t won!
A Note from Fatty to People Who Are Going to The GranFondo: Hey, we should all go to the Armstrong Redwood State Natural Reserve on a hike on Friday afternoon, and maybe go to the Gran LaFonda handmade bicycle show Friday evening. Send me an email so I can put a list together and get ahold of you with the where and when.
A Late Start
The day started rainy. Like, miserably coldly rainily rainy. I was trying to be philosophical about it, though. Trying to tell myself things like, “Well, I knew it would have to rain on at least one of the rides.”
That wasn’t helping, though. The Alpe d’Huez was the most famous of all the rides we’d be doing in this trip, and I wasn’t all that excited about racing riding it in the rain.
Andy announced that we’d start the ride a little later, because the weather report showed that the rain might be slackening — or stopping altogether — within the next hour or so.
And, amazingly, it did. But it was still cold, still looked like it might start raining again, and we had a 2000-ish foot descent from La Grave to get down to Le Bourg d’Oisans, the village at the base of the Alpe d’Huez climb. So we bundled up: Smartwool base layer and and armwarmers, tights, jersey and rain jacket.
The ride plan was actually a little shorter than some of the other days: drop down to Le Boug d’Oisans, climb the Alpe d’Huez, drop down the other side, and then climb back to La Grave.
just 53 miles, with around 7000 feet of climbing.
By the time we got to the village — “the Bourg” as we called it — the sky had cleared. The day had turned warm.
Things were looking much better. We ditched all our cold-weather riding gear in the follow van (having a follow van is the ultimate in cycling luxury).
We were in no hurry to get started on the climb, though. After all, it was (now) a beautiful day, we had a lot of riding ahead of us, may as well relax for a bit.
So here’s The Hammer, relaxing at a cafe:
And here’s Andy Freaking Hampsten, looking at a photo of some famous guy racing the Alpe d’Huez:
And here he is taking a closer look and realizing it’s him:
And here’s me, considering the possibility of glory on the Alpe d’Huez.
Or something like that.
Fighting the Urge
After hanging around for a while — some people bought local jerseys at a bike shop, but The Hammer and I did some currency conversions in our head and got serious sticker shock, and hence bought nothing — it was time to get started.
It was time to climb the Alpe d’Huez. I swear, I got a little tingle just typing that.
After attacking the Mont-du-Chat climb without The Hammer, and then riding the Col-du-Glandon with her, I had pretty much decided that it was more awesome to ride and experience these things together. But as the small group I was riding with — Shawn, Heather, The Hammer, and I — got near the base of the climb, I reconsidered.
“I really want to ride this at my limit,” I told The Hammer.
“I really want to enjoy myself and take pictures,” The Hammer told me.
“Do you mind if I go for it?” I asked.
“Of course not,” she replied. “See you at the top.”
The Climb
I saw the sign that indicated the base of the Alpe d’Huez climb, punched my GPS’s Lap button, and Shawn and I started the climb.
The Hammer took a picture of me as I went.
As far as the climb goes, well, it’s steep. I mean, check out the elevation profile, beginning at about mile 20.
The thing is, though, only the first couple kilometers feel really brutal. After that, the switchbacks come pretty often:
And those switchbacks give you a nice twenty-second reprieve.
Now, the most distinctive — and wonderful, as far as I’m concerned — feature of the Alpe d’Huez is that after the first couple kilometers, the road is painted with names. Everywhere. All the way to the summit.
And since my head was down, looking at the pavement, those painted names were pretty much the only thing I saw.
I didn’t stop for pictures. I didn’t talk with any of the people I passed. I didn’t take a good look at the church on Dutchman’s Corner.
I just rode my heart out. Tried to be as fast as I could possibly be. And, for what it’s worth, I think I did pretty well. I passed dozens — maybe hundreds — of cyclists. Meanwhile, not a single person passed me. Even Shawn dropped off, leaving me to get to the top alone.
Luckily for you, however, The Hammer did take pictures during the climb, and has a much more lucid recollection of it. So you’ll definitely want to read her recap of the day at the end of this post.
The Summit
I looked at each switchback sign — on the Alpe d’Huez, switchbacks are numbered — counting my way to the top.
I was hurting so much. I wanted desperately to get to the top, to finish.
Simultaneously, I didn’t want this climb to end, ever.
Putting in a truly maximum effort does crazy things to your head; the pain is canceled — kind of — by pride in what you’re able to make your body do.
All the way up the climb I read, everywhere “ANDY, ANDY ANDY.” Such was my dementia that for about two thirds of it I thought, “How cool that they’re still honoring Andy Hampsten by painting his name on the road.”
And then I remembered there’s more than one Andy, and mentally facepalmed.
A couple of times during the climb I tried to do mental comparisons to where I normally ride. And to be certain, there are just as demanding — in fact, even more demanding — climbs all around my house.
But there’s something about the celebrity of the Alp d’Huez. Turning yourself inside out where the icons of cycling have turned themselves inside out.
Knowing this was (probably) a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me, I went harder than I think I could have otherwise.
And then, there was the banner. The finish line. I rode under it, resisting the urge to throw my arms in the air, because there were a lot of people sitting, watching from a nearby outdoor cafe and I didn’t want to look like a fool.
The Summit, Take 2
I stopped, rested for a few minutes. Then I realized: I had forgotten to stop my stopwatch. So I punched it then. 56 minutes. Minus a few minutes for forgetfulness, so 53-ish minutes or so.
I felt a little bit bad that I had missed my opportunity to get an accurate measurement of my finishing time, but at least I knew that the Alp d’Huez takes, more or less, about the same amount of time it takes to get to the top of the Alpine Loop back home. Which made sense, because the effort and amount of climbing are about the same, too.
Then the thought occurred to me, I should turn around and ride back down to where The Hammer is, and finish riding up with her. I rode down the (surprisingly short) distance to where she was climbing up, and we finished the climb to the Finisher’s banner together.
This time, though, we took pictures. Here’s The Hammer as she approaches:
And here she is, under the banner, asking if I got the shot when she threw her arms up in the air.
The answer, of course, is “no.” I did not get that shot. But she was fine with this one.
Then I handed her the camera so she could get a shot of me going under the banner:
Whoops. Hit the trigger a little soon. So she asked me to go under again.
I complied:
Summit, Take 3
By now, all the people in the outdoor cafe were laughing their heads off at us. I couldn’t understand why. Sure, we were obviously doing touristy photos, but thousands of people probably take this shot at the summit every day, right?
And that’s when Shawn caught up with us and said, “You’re not at the summit yet. That’s another kilometer uphill.”
Oh. In other words:
The little dip you see is where I went downhill to meet The Hammer so I could ride back up with her.
So. We got back on our bikes and rode to where the real summit is. Which does not have a banner, nor a little podium prop like the fake summit. It’s kind of plain, actually.
I contend that the fake summit is more awesome than the real summit of the Alp d’Huez.
Picnic and Back Home
We weren’t done with our riding for the day — far from it, really. We still had a climb of about 600 feet to get to the descent, called “Route Pastorale du Col de Sarenne.”
Which called for a picnic on the summit of the Alpe d’Huez. Here’s me, eating:
And me, getting something else to eat:
And me, eating some more:
Gee, I wonder why my nickname’s “Fatty.”
Next, we rode up to the highest point of the day’s ride, the Vallee du Ferrand:
As we began the descent, I was astonished at how steep sections were, and how long of a descent we were taking. Look at that road winding on and on below us:
My “Every descent implies an ascent” alarm went off inside my head, and I hoped we wouldn’t be descending for too much longer.
Oh, and here I am, somewhere along the descent, holding a giant rock:
By the time we climbed the road back to La Grave and our hotel, I was wiped out. It was only afternoon, but I was ready to eat and then get to bed.
The vacation had settled into a routine: Wake, eat, prep, ride, eat, rest, eat, sleep. There wasn’t much time for anything else. And I couldn’t have been happier.
We had two more days of riding. The final day would be the Col du Galibier.
But the day before that, there would be a disaster.
The Hammer’s Take
Here’s the letter — and photos — The Hammer wrote about our day on the Alpe d’Huez.
Well amazingly the rain abruptly stopped and after breakfast we prepared to descend into the city of Le Bourg d’Osians. This is the gateway city of Alpe d’Huez and home of one of Andy’s favorite bike stores. We bundled up in all of our warm bike gear and raced down the valley to Le Bourg. The temperature was quickly warming up and we didn’t need the warm stuff for long. That is the advantage of having a van following you, you can pick and choose what you want to wear.
Here is Elden contemplating what type of pastry he would like to try before heading out for the monster climb of Alpe d’Huez.
Elden had forewarned me that I would be riding up Alpe d’Huez on my own. He really wanted to ‘pour on the gas’ and see how fast he could climb to the top. He wanted to feel like a pro racer as he switch backed up the road.
I, on the other hand, wanted to take in the experience–take pictures, enjoy the view, etc.
Alpe d’Huez consists of 21 switchbacks and is approximately 8 miles long. Each switchback is labeled with a number and the elevation. It also has a name of a cyclist that won an Alpe d’Huez stage in the Tour de France and the year he won it. It is very helpful as you climb up the mountainside.
Here is a picture of the first few switchbacks.
I was warned that the first 3 switchbacks were extremely steep (10% grade) and after that it mellows back down to a 5-8% grade. I started off with 3 other riders (Elden being one of them) and they quickly dropped me. I didn’t mind, I was enjoying myself. I wasn’t going slow either, there were plenty of other bikers on the road and I was quickly passing them.
After the first few kilometers, the road wasn’t as steep and I really turned on the power. If I was running the RAGNAR, I would have counted the bikers that I passed and would refer to them as “road kill”. If this had been RAGNAR, I would have had over 50 road kill. I was burning up the Alpe d’Huez!
THis is switchback seven, also called Dutch Man’s Corner. You can see the base of the ski resort-”the top” in the saddle of the two hills.
On Dutchman corner, there is a small village-complete with old church and cemetery.
Here I am posing with Andy Hampsten’s switchback sign! Only 5 more switch backs to the top!! Yeah!
The sign says I’ve made it…at least to the closest side of the village. I still have a few kilometers before I reach the top.
I met Elden here. He had made it to the top and returned to ride with me. What a sweet man.
Look at all the switchbacks that I have done…just a few more left
The roads were still painted with encouragement from fans from the last Tour of France. Too bad my name is not Andy or Frank or Alberto!
Yeah! Elden takes the stage! But not really….This is a fake finish line to get you to stop in the village and buy a beer. The top is still a few kilometers to go!
It’s Lisa who Wins the mountain top finish of the Alpe d’Huez! We celebrated by drinking the most expensive coke of our lives…4 euros for a can of coke! ($6).
The descent down the back side of the Alpe d’Huez actually started off with a 600 ft climb! The road was pretty messed up too. It had big cobblestone trenches built into the road to help with drainage. It made for a vey hairy descent once we hit the real top!
Elden starting the switch backs down the back side of the mountain:
Taking in the view:
One of the many mountain lakes we passed on the return trip to La Grave. The water is a peculiar bluish green!
The water from the glaciers and snow come rushing off the rugged mountain sides!
Now we’re about to head out on today’s ride — it’s supposed to be an easier day, since tomorrow we ride the Col du Galibier — another famous Tour de France stage!
Comments (31)
09.27.2011 | 9:16 am
I don’t care very much about clothes, and hence don’t own a lot of clothes. I pretty much rotate between four pairs of shorts and maybe eight t-shirts, six of which are black (and five of which are Fat Cyclist t-shirts).
That’s pretty much it. That’s how I dress. When I travel, I don’t have to choose what to wear; I just bring everything along. It still fits in a carry-on.
And yet, my closet is full. I have several bike jerseys, and several pairs of bibshorts. And some cold-weather riding gear: a few jackets, tights, vests, and pairs of armwarmers. And some more jerseys.
Just the essentials, really.
“I cannot believe how many jerseys you have,” said The Hammer. “You could wear a different jersey every day for a month, including weekends.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I answered.
And so The Hammer decided to make a point. She got out all my bike clothes (although she forgot my socks and gloves. I I took pains not to remind her of this fact because I was pretty sure it would not work in my favor), and she laid them out on the driveway.
Like this (click for larger):
Originally I planned to take a picture from a tall ladder at the end of the driveway (you can see the shadow of the ladder in the top-left corner of the above image), but it just wasn’t high enough to be able to see the jerseys well.
So I went on the roof of the house and photographed them there. I still couldn’t get all the stuff in the frame, so I took a bunch of photos and then kinda-sorta stitched them all together in Photoshop.
Unfortunately, they’re all upside down this way. But I can fix that problem (click here for a very large version of this photo):
Once you get over the “Help, the world is upside down!” feeling (and the fact that my Photoshop skills aren’t that great), you will no doubt notice that I do, in fact, not have enough jerseys to wear a different one every day for a month. That was clearly absurd of The Hammer to even suggest such a thing.
I have enough jerseys to wear a different one every day for two months.
Clearly, I have a problem.
And–obviously–that problem is: I need to get more bibshorts.
PS: Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re any different than me.
PPS: Speaking of jerseys, there are a lot of people noticing that the new FatCyclist jersey is quite possibly the best jersey we’ve ever done (see professionally-shot self-portrait, right), and folks are wondering how they can get one.
Well, the best way to get one was to have been part of the pre-order back in July. However, there will be a few jerseys and other Team Fatty gear available once all the pre-orders have shipped and exchanges have been handled.
Those will go on sale in mid-October. You’ll want to act fast, because those will probably sell out within a day.
The best way to stay posted on when these will be available will be to read this blog and follow me and TwinSix on Twitter.
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