Stage 2

Jim sort of falls apart. What are those little pellets falling from the sky? Lactic acid and pizza: not a good mix.

Stage 2

After the glory (well maybe that’s an over statement) of standing on the podium after the granfondo/stage 1, I started to have visions of retaining my third place position for a spot on the podium for the stage race. I felt super good on the climbs in stage 1 and with several hilly stages to come, I was gaining some confidence. Further, I had a several minute advantage over the riders in fourth, fifth and sixth place who finished in a group behind me. Big mistake. On the second stage, my legs felt like lead and I couldn’t keep up with the first group losing a couple of minutes. I really suffered just trying to ride in the second group. Though I was still in third place, given how bad I felt, I knew I could easily drop out of third place by Thursday or Friday which are hilly stages or for sure in 20km final time trial stage on Saturday.

Originally, this stage was to be held on Monday but the race director, undoubtedly responding to the pleas from the less hearty riders, decided to postpone the stage until Wednesday, which was supposed to be the rest day. The good news was that we wouldn’t have to contend with riding on slippery roads along a winding, flat, fast course. The bad news was that the remaining five stages would be done without a break.

Tuesday’s stage would start and finish in Orgosolo, a small town perched on the side of mountain. It is about an 80 minute drive from the Club Hotel Cala Ginepro where the race is based. The course called for an immediate six kilometer climb out of town followed by some rolling terrain before a long time to the top of Bruncu Spina (elevation 1,570 meters).

The temperatures were cool as we boarded the bus but the sun was shining. I packed my cool weather gear but decided to leave my rain jacket behind. Lisa and I didn’t have a car on this trip so we boarded a large maroon bus for the trip to Orogoslo with around 15 other people. As our bus rumbled along the twisting roads outside of Oresei, we could see several mountain ranges in the distance topped by billowing, dark clouds.

As the mountains drew nearer, I heard someone say, “pioggia” or “rain.” Our bus wound its way up the road up to Orgosolo. A spitting rain hit the windshield of the bus.

When we reached Orgosolo, the rain had stopped but foreboding clouds surrounded us. Then we were told there was a course change. The weather was abysmal on the top of Bruncu Spina (later that night the race director showed people a picture of the road on top of the mountain covered by two inches of snow). The Bruncu Spina climb would be eliminated. Instead we would do the remaining part of the course, which was a loop to a town called Fonni, twice. It would make a longer course with supposedly more total climbing.

There was no time for a warm-up so I lined-up with the other riders on the beginning slopes of the climb which started right in town. The lead car started up and the group left in an all-out sprint (at least that’s the way it felt to me). My legs screamed in pain. I glanced down at my heart monitor and saw 171, 172, 170. I was going as hard as I could but my heart rate was 10-15 beats lower than the climbs on stage 1. And yet my legs were throbbing. Not a good sign. I clearly hadn’t recovered from stage 1.

I could see a group of 10-20 riders ahead but there was no way I would catch them so I ratched down the effort and joined a group of six or seven riders. We crested the hill with the lead group 50 meters in front. Nobody wanted or could do much work so we dangled behind until some guy motored to the front and almost single-handedly closed the gap. A minute or two later, other small groups caught on to form a lead group of 40 or 50 riders.

A moderate rain started to fall. Then it was like someone pulled a cord and released a ceiling door as little hailstones shot down from the sky. The hailstorm didn’t last long but we were all drenched. I definitely regretted leaving the rain jacket back at the hotel.

The loop was rarely flat. It was mainly moderate grades or steep descents. Since my legs hurt so much, I suffered on the slightest grade. Then, on the downhills, I nervously grabbed at the brakes hoping there wouldn’t be any spills on the wet, curving roads.

We rounded a corner on a road cut into the side of the mountain and Orgosolo came into view. We all knew that the second time up the climb out of town would be decisive.

We passed by a row of cars were parked next to the low stone wall separating the road from the steep hillside below. There was a sharp right-hand turn, which marked the start of the second lap and the start of the 6km climb.

It was a virtual repeat of the first lap, except a lead group of 20-25 riders formed with several smaller groups behind. I didn’t make the cut and found myself in the second group which around 10 riders. At least my friends Alan and Cesare were in the group so I knew we had good, strong riders. But we weren’t strong enough to regain contact with the lead group.

There was rain, then some sun but there was always a strong wind. I was struggling as were several other riders. On the last descent before the finish, Cesare took off. It wasn’t totally downhill to the finish and I was sure we would catch him but he stayed away.

After we crossed the line, Cesare was stopped at the side of the road. He was wearing bright orange mid-calf shorts which contrasted with his canary yellow helmet. Alan and I congratulated him on his savvy move. He chuckled and thanked us.

Alan took a very brief spin through the streets of Orgosolo. Along the narrow twisting streets, we could see some of the large murals painted on the sides of buildings throughout town. The town seemed lively and vibrant, in contrast to some of the other small towns we’ve visited on the island which are run down.

Though my stomach was churning from all the lactic acid, I was a little hungry and knew I should get some food since our bus wouldn’t leave until everyone finished. And by the somewhat portly look of some of our fellow passengers, that might not be for some time.

I peeled off my soaking bike clothes into my dry street clothes and went in search of food. More rain started to fall as I spotted a “Pizzeria” sign. I opened the glass storefront door. It was the classic small Italian pizzeria operation--15 feet wide and 30 feet long with rows of industrial style tables and chairs on the side and a counter upfront with a large glass display case. Behind the counter were two ovens and next to them stacks of long, rectangular pizza pans.

There weren’t any pizza slices the display case but I could see pizzas baking in the oven through their small windows. Many of the pans next to the oven were filled with pizzas too. Nobody was at the counter but I could hear voices in the back. Quickly, a young woman in a light green dress with solid white front and a white linen cap appeared. “Buon giorno, vorrei un peso di pizza, per favore” I said. She said something I couldn’t understand and then pointed to the side of the wall where there was large piece of paper with a menu scribbled by hand. She then said, “Proscuitto, funghi, mozzarella?” I finally figured out what she was getting at and responded, “Oh, proscuitto e mozzarella.”

She disappeared through the saloon style doors back to the kitchen. A few minutes later she reappeared with a little pan that had a slice of pizza topped by raw cheese and proscuitto. She opened the oven door and placed the little pan in next to a large rectangular pan filled with a pizza. While the oven door was open, she pierced the large pizza with a very long fork and little bursts of steam erupted from the pizza. Then she lifted the bottom of the pizza to check the crust.

Once my slice was done, she placed it in a little cardboard box and I took my cargo back to the bus. When I got back to the bus, Lisa was there and had changed into her street clothes. There were still many missing passengers. I deposited my box on the seat and took a quick stroll through town to take pictures of the murals.

I returned to the bus. The remaining passengers trickled in. I wasn’t in a particularly jovial mood because of my lousy ride and the pain in my legs. A sturdy looking man with silver hair walked down the aisle of the bus, looked at me and said, “Giapponese?” I responded, “No, Stati Uniti.” He said something else which I didn’t exactly understand but I didn't feel like trying to make more small talk.

The bus driver looked down at his list. Two women, looking cold, wet and miserable, walked up the steps onto the bus. The bus driver checked off the final two names and we made the long journey back to the hotel.

We took a completely route on the way back. Lisa and I ate the pizza slices. The rain had stopped but there were still dark clouds everywhere.

I was glad the stage was over but wasn’t really looking forward to the remaining stages. Ordinarily, for me it’s no big deal to feel lousy on the bike and finish in the middle of the race. But I was sitting in third place in my age category. I had been surprised how many people had congratulated me on my result. I was something of a known quality now, which meant my ignominious plummet down the general classification would be public and noticed.

I stared out the window of the bus remembering that this was supposed to be a vacation and fun. I don’t have to race for anyone else I told myself. If I happen to tumble off the podium, it’s no big deal. After all, I never came here with any expectations of even making the podium. As far as I was concerned, making the podium for the granfondo and winning the gigantic chocolate egg was a surprise bonus.

My stomach churned some more not happy with the lactic acid and pizza combination. “No stressato,” I told myself as we took the final right hand turn to the hotel.