Cadel is the 2009 road race World Champion! Too bloody amazing!
After a year which bore some heartaches and some near misses, along with luck that, at times, would test anyone, at Mendrisio, Switzerland Cadel scores the biggest win of his career thus far.
24 hours after the final stage of the Le Tour, I'd thought Cadel's year was done and dusted, and that he should take a break to recover from the mental bust-up he'd clearly experienced.
The Vuelta proved his resurgence, with a hugely gutsy effort to claw back onto the podium after some less-than-average luck which cost him all but 9 seconds of the final gap between himself and the winner Valverde. After the melt down of Le Tour, that was truely a marvellous effort to turn around his year.
And now, with some wonderful support from his Australian teammates, and a huge move on the final climb up the Novazzano to break his rivals, Cadel climbs on the top of the podium and has gold hung around his neck atop the WC jersey. Pretty epic by anyone's standards.
Cadel and the Australian team, Oz salutes you!
Ride safe!
Monday, 28 September 2009
Saturday, 8 August 2009
Tangoing with Canis lupus familiaris...
...or, doing the dance of death with the dog (alliteration be damned).
I have always been well alert of dogs whilst riding: keen eyed, sharp, even vigilant. Whilst never having had a run in with the mythical beast whilst on my beast, I've had a few close calls: anything primarily driven by a sense of smell which relegates the miracle of sight to the back row of the central processing unit cannot be trusted. I've seen my own mother's hounds-of-hell crack their heads on cupboards whilst sniffing out treats she'd dropped on the floor, and had always assumed that was not atypical behaviour solely confined to her mutts: in all other aspects they seem typically 'dog'.
So, seeing free-roaming dogs whilst riding has always made me extend the collision detection radar outwards without fail. The problem with this is one has to see them first. Tooling along on my Dean titanium the other day, on a well known road, I encountered a furry fury in the most unfortunate of ways.
Now, I'm assuming the hound was definitely not out to get me: if it had been I feel sure it would've taken advantage of the situation it caused, and been gnawing on my flesh post-haste as soon as I hit the dirt. Nevertheless, it did 'get' me.
I'm not 100% on the actual details – one second I was on my bike cruising at 30km/h, and the next (subsequent to a flash of black fur) I was lying prone in the dreamlike aftermath-of-crash mental state one experiences.
I'd been riding in the middle of the lane, parked cars to my left, and I'm assuming the dog tore out of a small gap between cars just as I arrived adjacent to it. I only caught a fleeting glimpse of a furry blur appearing directly in front of me, when all hell broke loose. Next, I'm sitting up on the road, blinking and computing whether I had all my body parts in their correct place and orientation.
It seemed as if I did, so my thoughts immediately turned to my bike. I stood, picked it up and started examining it, at which point it began to acquire a haphazardly applied blood paint job. Hmmm, OK – it seems that that warm feeling on my face isn't the flush of adrenaline, but rather the flow of blood.
Hands to face, I felt for where the stuff was coming from, coz' it was now a decent little flow. Two places – a rather large gash in my top lip, and a rather larger gash in my chin. Seems like I'd used my face as the initial landing point. Running my tongue around my mouth, I discovered a certain grittiness to its contents: luckily this was sand picked up rather than the remnants of teeth. There is not a mark on my hand or arms, so it looks like it happened so fast I didn't even have time to get my hands down in the usual reflexive protective way.
At this point, it suddenly became imperative that I make sure my bike was OK, get on it, and get home - *shrug*. So, grabbing the cleaning cloth from my seat bag (luckily it was clean), I wiped what blood I could from my face, held the cloth onto my upper lip and chin with one hand whilst I inspected my machine. Chain was half off the crank, but that was quickly remedied, brakes were rubbing but they had just been forced off centre, everything else looked OK. So, of course there is nothing else to do but ride home, yes?
And ride home I did, in one gear and with one hand (my right hand occupied with keeping the cloth to my face). I have no idea of the thought-process-control my brain was exerting – somewhere in there was a message that should've been of prime importance being ruthlessly suppressed: that message was "Riding home 15km with one hand whilst pissing blood isn't conducive to one's continued good health".
But make it home I did, and ring the local medical centre I did, and arrive there I did. 2 hours (1 hour of waiting) and 12 stitches later I was back home.
It's been 3 days since the off, and my upper lip (which was punctured clean through by a tooth) is now more lip and less trunk-like in appearance, and the big chunk separated from my chin is firmly back in place. Some swelling and a bit of road rash remains but it's really nothing: it could've been a hell of a lot worse.
Turns out the bike made it home with a very bent RD hanger – as I didn't change gear I didn't notice at the time. A few little scratches on the shifters, a skewer and the RD hanger housing, but I'm amazed at how little evidence of a 30km/h road hit there is: it certainly faired better than I. I assume the dog hit my front wheel a glancing, sliding blow just enough to send my wheel in one direction and my mass in another, because it is dead straight – not a smidgeon of truing required.
As for the mutt – I have no idea: I never saw it again. It's probably still running around chasing whatever the hell its olfactory engine senses.
Ride safe!
I have always been well alert of dogs whilst riding: keen eyed, sharp, even vigilant. Whilst never having had a run in with the mythical beast whilst on my beast, I've had a few close calls: anything primarily driven by a sense of smell which relegates the miracle of sight to the back row of the central processing unit cannot be trusted. I've seen my own mother's hounds-of-hell crack their heads on cupboards whilst sniffing out treats she'd dropped on the floor, and had always assumed that was not atypical behaviour solely confined to her mutts: in all other aspects they seem typically 'dog'.
So, seeing free-roaming dogs whilst riding has always made me extend the collision detection radar outwards without fail. The problem with this is one has to see them first. Tooling along on my Dean titanium the other day, on a well known road, I encountered a furry fury in the most unfortunate of ways.
Now, I'm assuming the hound was definitely not out to get me: if it had been I feel sure it would've taken advantage of the situation it caused, and been gnawing on my flesh post-haste as soon as I hit the dirt. Nevertheless, it did 'get' me.
I'm not 100% on the actual details – one second I was on my bike cruising at 30km/h, and the next (subsequent to a flash of black fur) I was lying prone in the dreamlike aftermath-of-crash mental state one experiences.
I'd been riding in the middle of the lane, parked cars to my left, and I'm assuming the dog tore out of a small gap between cars just as I arrived adjacent to it. I only caught a fleeting glimpse of a furry blur appearing directly in front of me, when all hell broke loose. Next, I'm sitting up on the road, blinking and computing whether I had all my body parts in their correct place and orientation.
It seemed as if I did, so my thoughts immediately turned to my bike. I stood, picked it up and started examining it, at which point it began to acquire a haphazardly applied blood paint job. Hmmm, OK – it seems that that warm feeling on my face isn't the flush of adrenaline, but rather the flow of blood.
Hands to face, I felt for where the stuff was coming from, coz' it was now a decent little flow. Two places – a rather large gash in my top lip, and a rather larger gash in my chin. Seems like I'd used my face as the initial landing point. Running my tongue around my mouth, I discovered a certain grittiness to its contents: luckily this was sand picked up rather than the remnants of teeth. There is not a mark on my hand or arms, so it looks like it happened so fast I didn't even have time to get my hands down in the usual reflexive protective way.
At this point, it suddenly became imperative that I make sure my bike was OK, get on it, and get home - *shrug*. So, grabbing the cleaning cloth from my seat bag (luckily it was clean), I wiped what blood I could from my face, held the cloth onto my upper lip and chin with one hand whilst I inspected my machine. Chain was half off the crank, but that was quickly remedied, brakes were rubbing but they had just been forced off centre, everything else looked OK. So, of course there is nothing else to do but ride home, yes?
And ride home I did, in one gear and with one hand (my right hand occupied with keeping the cloth to my face). I have no idea of the thought-process-control my brain was exerting – somewhere in there was a message that should've been of prime importance being ruthlessly suppressed: that message was "Riding home 15km with one hand whilst pissing blood isn't conducive to one's continued good health".
But make it home I did, and ring the local medical centre I did, and arrive there I did. 2 hours (1 hour of waiting) and 12 stitches later I was back home.
It's been 3 days since the off, and my upper lip (which was punctured clean through by a tooth) is now more lip and less trunk-like in appearance, and the big chunk separated from my chin is firmly back in place. Some swelling and a bit of road rash remains but it's really nothing: it could've been a hell of a lot worse.
Turns out the bike made it home with a very bent RD hanger – as I didn't change gear I didn't notice at the time. A few little scratches on the shifters, a skewer and the RD hanger housing, but I'm amazed at how little evidence of a 30km/h road hit there is: it certainly faired better than I. I assume the dog hit my front wheel a glancing, sliding blow just enough to send my wheel in one direction and my mass in another, because it is dead straight – not a smidgeon of truing required.
As for the mutt – I have no idea: I never saw it again. It's probably still running around chasing whatever the hell its olfactory engine senses.
Ride safe!
Tuesday, 21 July 2009
Le Tour is killing me!
My eyeballs feel like they are cracking, and my head is dull and pounding with the lack of rest. I have no energy; the legs are listless and barely manage to rotate, and my entire body aches from the exertion of the previous two weeks. It's interminable: day in and day out I push myself onwards and upwards with no end in sight. Why am I subjecting myself to this?
Watching Le Tour that is!
Man, if this is how the riders feel, then I'll shelve my plans to do Etape du Tour one of these days! All these late nights are turning me into a zombie (mmmm – brains!).
Tiredness aside, it's been a fascinating Tour: all the drama, contrivances, wheelings and dealings and egotism of a soap opera at its finest.
So, after stage 15 ending on the climb to Verbier things have gotten more than a little clear – well at least logically.
'Bertie' Contador has shut the door on who should be the leader of Astana – we'll see if that pans out – and with the team's support looks set to be a winner come the finish. Unless he forgets to eat (pretty sure his mistake during the Paris-Nice this year won't be repeated) or has an off, he looks the goods.
Andy Schleck is my next favourite, with a proven climbing record, and a strong team including his dedicated brother Frank. I think he'll flourish on the remaining climbs: still, his individual TT prowess (or relative lack thereof) may be a weak spot, so he'll need to climb into a strong second prior to that. But, 2nd for mine.
Third step on the podium is a bit of a lottery, but:
Carlos Sastre is a dark horse: I liked his climb up Verbier after the early pace put him back on his heels. He didn't panic, got himself below the red line, and motored back toward the end. Plus, he strikes me as more of your diesel style climber, which I think the final stages will suit. He can also ITT OK, and he's had a pretty quiet time of it up 'till now. My best guess for 3rd.
Bradley Wiggins has been a bit of a climbing revelation thus far, but his new-found ascent abilities haven't been really tested: Verbier isn't the primo grind and there's more 'to-the-sky' stuff to come. Plus the individual TT, a strength for him, comes a couple of days before a jaunty little plod up something called Mount Ventoux: overcook it at the ITT and he may not like that particular ascent. Maybe a podium?
Lance Armstrong isn't going to hold second and I think will finish off-podium. The leadership 'battle' at Astana is over and he's gotta work for Contador now, so he can't really expect Kloden to drag him around on the coming climbs anymore. I see him slowly losing time to some of those currently below him in the standings over the next couple of days: guys like Cadel Evans, Frank Schleck, Nibali, Kloden, and possibly Kirchen, Martin and Krueziger. Maybe his ITT will gain him back sometime, but I don't see a podium for Lance. Mind you, at 38 and after a prolonged lay-off, I don't really care – it's been a great effort in and of itself.
As for Cadel Evans: well, it's been a good effort, but after the more than 2:30 timesink of the TTT, plus some losses on other climbs, I can't see him clawing back 4:27 on 'Bertie. Plus, Andy Schleck and Carlos Sastre are at least his equals in climbing, so unless Cadel has a phenomenal ITT I think there's no podium for him. Still, there's hope whilst he's still on his wheels: guts and determination count for a lot, and he's got that in bucket-loads, so we'll see how far he can climb up the GC standings, which I'm sure he will.
Good luck to all, and here's to another couple of sleepless nights!
Ride safe!
Watching Le Tour that is!
Man, if this is how the riders feel, then I'll shelve my plans to do Etape du Tour one of these days! All these late nights are turning me into a zombie (mmmm – brains!).
Tiredness aside, it's been a fascinating Tour: all the drama, contrivances, wheelings and dealings and egotism of a soap opera at its finest.
So, after stage 15 ending on the climb to Verbier things have gotten more than a little clear – well at least logically.
'Bertie' Contador has shut the door on who should be the leader of Astana – we'll see if that pans out – and with the team's support looks set to be a winner come the finish. Unless he forgets to eat (pretty sure his mistake during the Paris-Nice this year won't be repeated) or has an off, he looks the goods.
Andy Schleck is my next favourite, with a proven climbing record, and a strong team including his dedicated brother Frank. I think he'll flourish on the remaining climbs: still, his individual TT prowess (or relative lack thereof) may be a weak spot, so he'll need to climb into a strong second prior to that. But, 2nd for mine.
Third step on the podium is a bit of a lottery, but:
Carlos Sastre is a dark horse: I liked his climb up Verbier after the early pace put him back on his heels. He didn't panic, got himself below the red line, and motored back toward the end. Plus, he strikes me as more of your diesel style climber, which I think the final stages will suit. He can also ITT OK, and he's had a pretty quiet time of it up 'till now. My best guess for 3rd.
Bradley Wiggins has been a bit of a climbing revelation thus far, but his new-found ascent abilities haven't been really tested: Verbier isn't the primo grind and there's more 'to-the-sky' stuff to come. Plus the individual TT, a strength for him, comes a couple of days before a jaunty little plod up something called Mount Ventoux: overcook it at the ITT and he may not like that particular ascent. Maybe a podium?
Lance Armstrong isn't going to hold second and I think will finish off-podium. The leadership 'battle' at Astana is over and he's gotta work for Contador now, so he can't really expect Kloden to drag him around on the coming climbs anymore. I see him slowly losing time to some of those currently below him in the standings over the next couple of days: guys like Cadel Evans, Frank Schleck, Nibali, Kloden, and possibly Kirchen, Martin and Krueziger. Maybe his ITT will gain him back sometime, but I don't see a podium for Lance. Mind you, at 38 and after a prolonged lay-off, I don't really care – it's been a great effort in and of itself.
As for Cadel Evans: well, it's been a good effort, but after the more than 2:30 timesink of the TTT, plus some losses on other climbs, I can't see him clawing back 4:27 on 'Bertie. Plus, Andy Schleck and Carlos Sastre are at least his equals in climbing, so unless Cadel has a phenomenal ITT I think there's no podium for him. Still, there's hope whilst he's still on his wheels: guts and determination count for a lot, and he's got that in bucket-loads, so we'll see how far he can climb up the GC standings, which I'm sure he will.
Good luck to all, and here's to another couple of sleepless nights!
Ride safe!
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