Phil Gaimon’s Journal: From daily blog to sickly slog
It's funny how the races you focus on and prepare for can go to hell, just like a big result can come by accident, when you least expect it
Heading out the door? Read this article on the new Outside+ app available now on iOS devices for members! Download the app.
I suppose it was cocky to commit to a daily blog, because it assumes that I’ll finish the stage race. Maybe it’s just bad luck. I didn’t think that finishing the Amgen Tour of Cali’ was that lofty a goal, after all the harder races I’ve been able to slog through this spring in Europe. In fact, I thought I might get a result or something here.
Instead, I guess I got a stomach bug. I spent the night in Pismo waking up every hour in a sweat, heart racing, with a headache, so sore that I felt like I’d been sadistically beaten. Tommy D. was still sleeping like a baby, so I don’t think he took a baseball bat to me in my sleep or anything, but I suppose it’s a possibility.
I started the race that day, and was pleasantly surprised to be able to hang in there, with the help of the guys bringing me lots of ice socks and water, all hoping I’d push through to help out later in the race.
I didn’t feel great the morning of the Mountain High stage. My stomach was still messy, but the headache and soreness were gone, so I was optimistic that I’d make it through, maybe even get in the break. Bike racers are dumb that way.
Then the race started, and the 6.5 watts per kilo I had in my head turned into 6.5 kilos per watt. The first 20km were tough, and I was in the cars a lot (along with plenty of other dudes), tasting the still-undigested pesto risotto I’d had for dinner two nights before. It doesn’t matter whether your head aches if there’s two days of food in your guts, and nothing turning into fuel. The doctor told me to pull out in the feed zone, where I got a ride to the finish to cheer on my team.
It’s funny how the races you really focus on and prepare for can go to hell, just like the big result can come by accident, when you least expect it. It’s a silly sport that way, especially for the guys lower on the totem pole, like myself.
I only live 30 minutes from the hotel, so the upside is that I get to spend the night in my own bed, because there’s nothing worse than hanging around the event when you’re not in it. All I want to do after a bad race is think about the next one and put this behind me, so as much as I like everyone here, I don’t want to see them right now.
Rohan and the rest of my team is kicking ass, so I’ll cheer the guys on from a distance. But for now, I’m getting out of here like I’m about to turn into a pumpkin.