Jim's legs improves. He crests the stage's main climb which he thinks is the major difficulty but a rude shock awaits him. He makes some friends from Team Nuova Corti.
On stage 4, my legs felt decidedly better than two days ago. I made the selection on the main climb and since course profile seemed to indicate the remainder of the stage was relatively flat, I thought I’d be able to hang onto the first group until the finish. But there were a series of small hills and fierce crosswind sections. I was dangling by narrow elastic string, which snapped only few hundred meters from the top of the last hill. The first group, which contained four other guys in the “D” age category quickly disappeared from sight. I caught on the second group but lost two minutes. The trend line for staying on the podium on Saturday doesn’t look good.
***
Yesterday, when I finally brought myself to look at the results, I was shocked to see that I had actually moved into second place despite my miserable performance two days ago. A mistake? No, it turned out the guy in second place suffered two flats on stage 2 and lost nine minutes. Still, I had lost two minutes to the riders in third place (who won last year) and fourth place (who won two years ago). My lead to them was four minutes and six minutes but I could easily lose that with the remaining stages. If I am to stay on the podium, I really can’t afford to lose time on stage 4 which didn’t look too challenging.
***
Last night at dinner, Fausto Sorbi, the leader of the “D” age category stopped by our table and presented me with a hunk of the chocolate Easter egg he won for first place in the granfondo stage. Later, I walked over to the round table in the corner of the dining room where Fausto and his teammates were gathered. Fausto is slightly built with brown, wavy hair. He has a wisp of moustache set against a small soul patch on the bottom of his mouth. His eyes are bright and he usually wears a cheerful smile. We made some small talk which was limited by my poor Italian. I asked him where he was from and he responded, “Modena” and then motioned like he was driving a car while saying “Ferrari.” On that’s right I remembered, Modena is the home of the Ferrari car manufacturer. I told them I visited the Emilia Romagna region and had visited Marco Pantani’s hometown and had eaten a piadina at the small shop run by his mother and sister. Everyone at the table smiled at me. I smiled back but had run out of things to say. “Ciao, James” said the table. “Ciao” I responded.
***
When Lisa and I opened the French doors to the balcony of our room, we saw overcast skies with streaks of blue. I said, “Maybe the weather will be o.k. today.” Lisa said, “Yeah, but I think the weather comes in from the other direction.” She was right of course. I got faked out two days. I wouldn’t make any optimistic assumptions about the weather based on the first look out the window.
At 8:50 a.m. riders were already riding over the Winning Time timing pad prior to the start of stage 4. I rolled across the pad and heard a high pitched squeal. I had a pretty good place in the starting grid, maybe in the fifth or six row. We were herded on one of two lanes separated by a planting strip. After 10 or 15 minutes, I noticed that many riders were starting to line up in the other lane. The race director and the head of the race jury (I think) started yelling at these riders to go to the back of the pack in our lane, or so I thought. Nobody seemed to heed their pleas though and when we started there was a solid block of riders from the other lane merging into the main hotel road with us.
We made the right turn on SS 125 like we did yesterday and on Sunday. The pace was fast. The pack was nervous. But it seemed a little less chaotic then the previous two times we had traversed this section of road. After a few kilometers we took a left on a new road to Irgoli. The road rose gently. The pace was still hard but my legs felt good.
Since my pre-race intelligence indicated the one hill midway through the course would be pivotal, I was determined to start the climb in a good spot. So I was constantly working my up through the pack. There were some attacks which strung out the pack. As the pace slowed, riders would move up on the sides. I looked for every opportunity to latch onto one of their wheels.
We reached the point where the granfondo and mediofondo split. The climb would start soon. I moved up a few riders and found myself in the first five riders. Sandro, the Swiss rider I had met two years ago, was in front setting an easy tempo, which was fine by me. But it wasn’t to some other riders as they started jumping by one by one until a string of riders followed. The pace became intense. I looked at my heart rate monitor 178, 179, 180. My legs burned but not as bad as two days ago. Maybe I’d be o.k. on the climb today.
The road wound its way around a moderate sized hill filled with lush greenery. As we rounded each curve, I would look ahead, trying to see where the top was. My heart rate read 183,184, 185. I was starting to suffer. Then we rounded a corner to see a Winning Time timing pad which we were supposed to cross to prove that we had done the granfondo course and not the shorter mediofondo course.
In previous years, where we had to do this, it usually marked the top of the climb. However, the road didn’t start descending immediately but in fact made a wide curve before slightly climbing on a plateau. We passed through a notch cut into the top of small mound and started a gradual descent. “Whew” I thought. “That wasn’t too bad,” I said to myself. The riders sat up to take a quick drink. I looked over to see Alan by my side. He too had made it.
We descended down the curving, twisting road. But the descent was short lived as we soon started up a gradual grade. I looked up to see that this road was on the side of another hill and could see that this road switchbacked its way up. There was no sign of where the top of the climb was. The pace seemed really intense. It may not have actually that much faster than the first part of the climb but I was going into major suffer mode. I looked back to see Alan drifting away.
“Stay with it. Just make it to the top.” I told myself. A few more switchbacks and then I could see the road disappear over the top of rise. I made one last surge to ensure that I stayed with group before we were again on the descent. We went single file through a small town called Lula. A Brit, named Sean Kilroy, came up to me and said, “Are there any more climbs.” “No, just the little bump outside of Oresei. I’m glad since I was really suffering at the end of the climb” I said. “Me too” said Sean.
A few minutes after our conversation, the road tilted up. It wasn’t long but I thought I would’ve remembered this small climb from the course profile. My legs were getting more and more tired. We made another short descent to be met by another slightly longer climb. I definitely hadn’t remembered two climbs.
I was starting to worry about the small bump outside of Oresei in the last 15 km as we started another gradual descent into a fierce crosswind. I looked up to see everyone lined up single file. I was tacked onto the very back of the group. The pain in legs was excruciating. I had flashbacks to the last stage in Elkhorn where in a similar situation I got popped off the back. I started having a problem staying with the wheel in front me. One bike length then two, then three. “This is it” I thought. But the foot came off the gas pedal and I could see the riders start to bunch together.
I sprinted to join them only to look up and see the road starting climbing up the side of another hill. Worse yet, I could see a truck far off in the distance. This climb would be much longer than the last two. “Stay with them to the next sign,” I told myself. I made it to the sign but I could still the truck way off in the distance. There was no way I’d hold on until then. It was game over for me. I ratched down my effort and watched the pack slowly move away.
But instead of continuing straight to where that truck was, the road turned left, and the top was only 50 meters away. I really blew it. Had I known where the top was, I might, just might, have been able to hang on. It was just that I thought we had a lot farther to go.
The pack wasn’t that far away but I didn’t have the legs to even try to bridge back up. As I pedaled by myself into the fierce crosswind on the long straight road bordered by large fields, I was convinced that I would lose major time. I estimated there was still around 25 km to go to the finish.
Then, a train of riders came storming by. In the group were Alan, Sandro and Cesare. The group was going hard and Alan and I exchanged only a few words. We didn’t need to say much to each. We both knew what each other was thinking.
I sat in for awhile before starting to work into the rotation. It wasn’t a smooth group. Some guys were still strong. Others, like me, were blown.
Being the second group on the road, we didn’t have a police escort or lead vehicle. When we entered the small towns of Galtelli and then Oresei we had to dodge cars, car doors and generally wreak havoc with traffic.
We hit the small bump outside of Oresei. Sandro, who had been one of the real drivers of the group, set a moderate tempo. “This wasn’t too bad” I thought. We crested the top of the hill but on the false flat on top. Sandro put down the hammer. He and couple guys were still going hard. “Come on James” he said motioning for me to pull through. I sheepishly drifted back. I was having a hard time holding wheels. Sandro attacked but for naught.
We rounded the final turn to the hotel. The group fanned out for the final sprint. I crossed the line a few seconds back.
Fausto Sorbi and his Nuova Corti teammates were gathered together. They said, “Due minuti.” I had lost two minutes. I said something about bad legs and they nodded their heads. Lisa came up on her bike with camera in hand.
I took the camera and motioned to Fausto and his teammates for a photo. They asked me to stand in the middle between them while one of their friends held onto my bike. Lisa took a couple pictures. We all shook hands. The guy holding my bike picked it up and said, “Molto pesante (very heavy).” Then they motioned at some of their bikes made by Carrera. They told me I really needed to get a Carrera bike and I think they were saying that the guy holding my bike was with the company or something to that effect.
***
Fausto had been such a nice guy I decided I would give him an extra jersey I had brought from home. At lunch, Fausto and his teammates were sitting at the same round table in the corner of the dining room. I walked up and said, “Un regalo per Fausto, una maglietta di Stati Uniti.” Fausto examined it, smiled and said, “Grazie” as the rest of the table applauded. The guys at the table started saying something about giving me one of theirs Saturday. Then one of the guys joked and said Fausto should give a Carrera bike.
The guys on this team seem very nice. Our brief encounter reminded me that the most valuable experience of these races has been making new friends. It also reminded about what it’s important about a race like. The results are transitory. There’s a brief moment of glory. But the friendships made here can last a long time. On that measure, this is a winning giro for me.
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