Italia 2004: Stage 3

The weather improves. Jim hits the deck. A medical certificate?

Stage 3

What a difference a day makes--at least in terms of the weather. The sun finally came out and the temperature was warm enough not to put on the knee warmers or wear a vest. Stage 3 was almost completely flat save for a short 2km climb in the middle of the race. I managed to stay with the lead group which was no big accomplishment given around 100 other riders did too. Still, I suffered throughout the race, which wasn’t helped when I crashed early in the race. Nonetheless, stage 3 didn’t worsen my ignominious fall from third place.

***

As has become our habit, at dinner we’ve sat with our friends Alan and Deirdre and Deirdre’s sister Pia and her boyfriend Chris. The previous night we were with them at one of the dining room’s long tables. Next to me were a group of around five Italians, two youngish looking couples and older guy. I struck up a conversation with one of the young guys sitting next to me. He had short black hair and narrow wire rim glasses. He wore a light colored dress shirt. I asked him how his race went and he said something to the effect that he felt okay the first lap but in the second lap he was cold and his legs didn’t work. “Anche io (me too)” I responded even though I wasn’t necessarily cold.

The guy next to him started to take an interest in our conversation. His head was shaved clean. He had a friendly looking face with round features. He wore a black turtleneck sweater. He started to jabber away about the fact that I was in third place and asked how I did today. I told him that I finished in the second group. Then, the guy next to me started to talk about Wolf (Ewald Wolf) who had won my age group last year but who was sitting in sixth place in my age group this year. I said that Wolf had finished in the first group and had gained several minutes on me. I also said something about the fact that I probably would be out of third place in a few days.

As we talked, I thought it was kind of strange that these guys knew so much about the results in my age category and the riders in that category. I started to wonder if maybe they were in my age category (D) despite the fact that they looked young. Or maybe there were high up in their own age categories and knew the good racers in the other categories. So I asked them what age categories they were in and they said, “B and C” and then what their position was to which they responded, “dietro (back).”

I had been trying to convince myself not worry about results and here were some random guys who were following what was happening in my age category. I then told the guys something to the effect that I didn’t really care about results. I was here on vacation and that I wasn’t going to be stressed. “Che sara’ sara’” I told the guys and they smiled.

***

Stage 3 started like the TGV or Japanese bullet train. I had arrived early and had a pretty good starting position but within the first 700 meters the pack was strung out and I could barely see the front. The pace backed off a bit but there were constant accelerations, decelerations which made for extremely nervous riding.

Around 15 kilometers after the start, we were going up a slight incline when the rider directly in front me started to skid and swerve. He hit the deck. I slammed on my brakes but had nowhere to go and plopped down on the pavement. A couple riders fell on me. It was a slow speed fall and I didn’t feel any obvious injuries as I jumped up. I checked to see that my wheels still spun and started to get back on my bike but found saddle was askew. I torqued it over hoping that I wasn’t damaging it since it’s made out of carbon fiber.

The support cars were passing by and the pack, which I was surprised to see had shrunk from around 400 at the start (the grangiro and mediogiro were riding the same course) to maybe 150 riders. A couple of riders were with me. I wasn’t sure if they had gone down too or had been held up behind the crash. But they didn’t look very motivated to chase back on. I gave it everything I had. Fortunately, the pack was just cruising up a small rise and I was able to regain contact. Whew!

I caught my breath and then looked down to see a couple small abrasions on my left arm and leg. My right hip felt bruised, probably from someone falling on me. The pack moved quickly along the flat rolling roads. We sped through a couple of small coastal villages probably exceeding the speed limit.

Just past a town called Budoni, we started our way back. Ahead I could see the road rise up over the notch of a group of rolling hills. It was short climb, maybe 2 or 3 km long. I was in the middle of the pack. I didn’t the hill was long enough to make a significant split.

But the pack started to string out. As we were cresting the hill I could see maybe 20 or 25 riders in a single line followed a gap to another 15 riders. I was behind two guys and we were a few bike lengths to the 15 rider group. “Not a problem” I thought expecting one of the guys to surge and close the gap. Instead, they both sat up. I shot around them spinning furiously as the road descended knowing that it was doubtful that I would generate enough watts to regain contact. Some guy came whizzing by and I gritted my teeth as I tried to accelerate to catch his wheel. I was close enough to get some draft as caught back on.

The guys in front stepped off the gas as another 60 or 70 riders made their way back to the pack. “Glad that’s over with” I thought to myself expecting that the remainder of the ride would be a moderate cruise back to the hotel. A minute later, the pace picked back up and the pack strung out. I looked down at my cyclometer and saw “33mph, 34 mph.” There was a little tail or cross wind but it wasn’t all that strong. I was hurting. We were on a slight incline and speed still stayed over 30mph.

This kept up for surprisingly long time. Alan later said he thought it was only three guys from Team Salieri, which would be equivalent to a Division 3 team, who were at the front during this whole time. They’re pros but compete on the granfondo circuit rather than UCI races.

Alan and I rode toward the back of the pack together telling each other our whole goal was to just finish safely with the pack. We passed by the 20km to go sign, then 10km and 5km. We made a left hand turn onto the road to the hotel. The sprint for the finish line spread the pack out but it seemed like we finished “gruppo compatto.” Alan and I stopped next to the planting strip separating the hotel entry road from another road to the other hotel down the street. He said, “I’m glad that’s over with. Mission accomplished.”

***

Back in the hotel room, I did a formal survey of the damage to my bike and me from the crash. The only real damage to the bike was a large gash in my front tire, which appeared to be the result of someone’s chainring. About half an inch of the tread was completely separated from the material beneath so I replaced it with a spare I had brought.

My abrasions were superficial. But I thought I should try to get bandages so I asked around for the medical assistance and was finally told to look for the race doctor in the dining room. I found him and he said he would take care of me after he finished lunch.

While I was halfway through eating my breaded halibut fillet, he beckoned me to follow him. The doctor was a large man in his late 50’s with wavy black hair accented with silver streaks. He wore a black vest over a casual dark shirt.

Another guy accompanied us who had a finger wrapped in a bloody paper towel. We went to the doctor’s car, which parked along the side road of the hotel. He opened up the trunk. Inside was a small black doctor’s bag ala the type U.S. doctors used to carry when they made house calls in ancient times and several cardboard boxes with medical supplies.

He tended to the injured finger first. Then, he motioned to stand on the sidewalk. I showed him my abrasions. He applied some antiseptic liquid with a piece of gauze. Then he said something to me like “antiten…..soemthing.” I had no idea what he said. Then, he reached for a pad of paper and wrote “antitenanncio or something like” which I finally realized was tetanus. I told him “Si” figuring he understood that I had a tetanus shot recently.

Then he asked something about a “certificato.” I remembered that for an Italian racing license that you’re supposed to have a medical certificate. I sort of faked one up just in case I was ever asked so I told him “Si.” Then he started saying something about resting for three days and no racing. I couldn’t figure out what was going on.

But he said a few words in English and I finally pieced together that he was asking me if I wanted a medical certificate attesting to my injury so I could get reimbursed by my insurance company or something to that effect. If I presented it to the insurance company then I would be obliged to rest for three days and not race. I tried to tell him that I really didn’t want a certificate but he started to write one up anyway. When he was finished he said something else which I made out to mean that if I didn’t really want I could tear it up. He chuckled and moved his hands like he was ripping something apart.

As I walked back to the dining room to see if the ever vigilant wait staff had carted off my half-eaten breaded halibut fillet I started to wonder if I shouldn’t take three days of rest. I was getting pretty tired and it seemed like a better excuse for dropping out of third place than just not having good legs. But I crumbled the small piece of paper and put it in my pocket as I sat down to eat the rest of the halibut fillet which was still on the table.

Comments

Hi Jim, Found your blog from the NW Race link. The stories are great! Hope the racing continues to go well.

The weather has turned typical Pacific Northwest here after a long Easter weekend of record high temps (80's). Hopefully it stays dry for the TST race this weekend.

Say hi to Alan and Deirdrie for us. You'll have to let Alan know Pam and I rode Hurricane Ridge on Saturday, what a monster climb - 25km 5300 feet of climbing! Took an hour and 25 minutes! The views at the top were spectacular.

John Tolkamp & Pam Egger.
Vancouver, BC

Posted by: John Tolkamp | April 15, 2004 at 10:24 AM