Road Culture

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Editor's Note: Rebecca Rusch is competing in South Africa's Absa Cape Epic stage race on a Mixed team with fellow American Matthew Weatherley-White. Rusch, a two-time 24-hour mountain biking world champion, is sharing her daily diaries with VeloNews readers. This stage was reported to be an “easy” day. We are tired, bruised and the effects of this many days of racing are starting to show. Matthew and I are both feeling fine, but the legs are sore and the 5 am wake up call is taking its’ toll on me!

Editor's Note: Rebecca Rusch is competing in South Africa's Absa Cape Epic stage race on a Mixed team with fellow American Matthew Weatherley-White. Rusch, a two-time 24-hour mountain biking world champion, is sharing her daily diaries with VeloNews readers. Absa Cape Epic, Stage 3

Monumental. The night before a race, the last thing I do before I climb into bed is to prepare my bag for the next day. Each rider has a suitcase and a race bag. The suitcase travels to the finish in the team truck and we carry the race bag, which holds everything we’ll need for the day, in the bus on the way to the start. With everything ready to go, tucked in bed, I look over the race book one last time before closing my eyes.

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Professional endurance competitor Rebecca Rusch has tackled her fair share of adventure races and 24-Hour mountain bike races throughout the years. Now, the Idahoan is back in South Africa, competing for the second time in the Absa Cape Epic, endurance mountain bike stage race across the country’s scenic Western Cape. And we’re along for the ride. — Editor

Check out CyclingTips's author page.

Check out CyclingTips's author page.

Check out CyclingTips's author page.

Check out CyclingTips's author page.

Sitting on a plane headed back to Spain after a weekend of racing and a day spent pre-riding Paris-Roubaix sectors, I’m pretty sure that classics season is now officially open. The blister on my hand, right where the ring finger creases as I type, is a good reminder. Yep, pave is in no way easy on the body. My fingers, and the slight ache that run through them as they roam the keyboard would be reminder number 2. Moving on to other contact points with the bike; well, yeah, I’ll be reminded tomorrow.

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Suffering, speed and sore legs. Game on. The fans were fervent, the racing intense, and the media abundant. From Australia to Qatar to California the races were closely followed and cycling seems to be more popular than ever. For a month Mark Cavendish and I have traveled together: from hotel to hotel, from plane to plane, and from the Middle Eastern arid wind to the California rain. Our suitcases quickly became our homes on the road. We finished stages not knowing where we were ? the town was just another name and the finish line crossed another stage completed.

After Michael Barry’s most recent diary the Tour of Qatar took a distinctly different turn. As most of you have surely read, the morning after Mark Cavendish convincingly won his first of two stages, a young rider on the Topsport-Flanders team was found dead in his hotel room. It was a tragedy in the truest definition of the word, and I can only imagine what it must have been like for his roommate and his family, far away in Belgium; life-changing, to say the least.

'Cross worlds were crazy this year: the fans didn’t disappoint, the track was similar to the Leguna Seca raceway and the weather was pretty reasonable too. Thank you to all the people who came out and cheered on their fellow countrymen and women and especially the ones who cheered for me. It’s an amazing experience to be racing thousands of miles away and to hear so many people screaming your name. I was diggin’ the vibe in the morning watching Katie Compton give the ladies field a real leg whippin’. She rode strong and left it all out there on the course.

Gusting gale-force winds are not ideal for bike racing. Qatar, a peninsula that juts into the Persian Gulf off of Saudi Arabia, is a wide-open windy desert with few trees and fewer roads. The races are lost on the windy open roads as the peloton quickly splits into echelons, as every rider fights to find shelter in the draft of another rider. To race well in the wind a rider needs great bike-handling skills, unrelenting power, consistent focus and experience.

On a plane bound for the Persian Gulf, the peloton sat together on our way to start the season. In an odd contrast of environments we traveled from Paris to Qatar, from the damp gray to the arid sun, from rolling roads in green and brown pastures to straight flat motorways in desert sand. Slowly, cycling is planting its roots in other cultures.

The weekend is here and it’s the biggest race in cyclocross: The world championships. If 'cross were included in the Olympics, we’d all have a bigger race to look forward to every four years. While talk of the Olympics is happening, so far it’s only talk. For now, we’ve got the rainbow stripes and it’s the highest honor any 'cross racer can achieve.

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After a pretty unreal off-season, especially looking back now from afar, all of a sudden the season is on for Garmin-Slipstream. One group of the guys are down in Australia, racing it up in the Tour Down Under. Another crew have been in Silver City, New Mexico, for the looooong U.S. camp at elevation. I’m back over in my adopted seasonal home of Girona, Spain, and already mid-way through a training camp here focused towards the Tour of Quatar. It hardly seems like a week ago that I was at home in Boulder, and while obviously training, still in off-season mode.

As we headed to the January 18 World Cup in Roubaix, France, I was excited to race again after 10 days of good weather and training rides in Spain. The race has a great atmosphere at one of the most special cycling venues in Europe.

It’s that time of the year. Riders in both the U.S. and in Europe are enjoying their respective training camps. Most professional road teams have had a couple already. Some teams divide it up by arranging one for media, one for the guys racing in the spring classics and one for the guys racing the tours. Well for me, it’s ten days in Alicante, Spain. After the really cold weather that was ripping through Europe the last couple weeks, I just had to get out of Dodge.

I’ve often mentioned the most cherished time of year for cyclists, the off-season. It’s what you think of in every difficult moment all season long. You’re suffering in some godforsaken Belgian gutter in mid-March and in the back of the head is already what lies six months ahead.

I’ve been in Europe since nationals, a little over two weeks actually and usually by this point in my trip I’m tired and ready to a break and relax for a couple days. A year wiser and happier makes such a difference. This year I made a tough decision to skip the Nommay World Cup in France when I got to Europe, let myself recover, get settled in my new home away from home and then give it the stick in the hardest races of the year.

Bad days come and go. Everyone has one, no one’s immune to a real day “rocker.” It just happens. Well folks, I had mine last weekend and it sucked. Another year is gone and the opportunity at the national title will have to wait 362 days before I get another crack at that jersey. The race was over and done with and I barely even showed up to the race. I never put my face in the wind, I didn’t contribute to my teammates and it was the day I was dreamin’ and screaming about all season long!

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In a sterile hotel presentation room, roughly 40 male and female cyclists, dozens of staff and seven managers and directors, sat and listened. The group was pushed into the last rows of seats while the front two were empty — like school kids scared of the front, the spotlight, or the teacher. A contrast to our poised powerful cycling positions, the riders slouched in their lethargic off-the-bike state, with their legs up and resting on the backs of chairs in front of them.

It is the week before the US National Championship of Cyclocross and I am having trouble figuring out a good topic for my biweekly VeloNews.com journal. I wish this was because I am so focused and preoccupied with the impending championship event, but in reality my mind wanders as I think of the upcoming off season that directly follows the race.

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The final two weekends of 'cross racing in the United States are upon us and when I think back to Star Crossed in September, just one week after finishing the Tour of Missouri and a long road season, it’s hard to remember all the racing up to this point. This 'cross season has been packed with travel and races every weekend. So, as we barrel down to the final and most important weeks of the season, it’s really awesome to think back on some of the great battles we’ve all had against one another.

What brings a team together? CSC’s boot camps are legendary. Often teams bring in consultants that help with “team building” activities. Ropes courses are status quo. A little trust-tree action from time to time is surely part of the deal. Last year on Garmin we realized that while all of this is well and good, and does form solid ties, we found something even better — booze, and bar-food-fueled attempts to stimulate Boulder’s nocturnal economy.

Rain drops fall heavily on my jacket as I weave my way through throngs of haughtily dressed Japanese women, each staring disapprovingly at me though their transparent Hello Kitty umbrellas, as they go about their upscale shopping in downtown Kobe city. I am searching for an elusive Coffee/Bike/Dog Grooming/Hair Salon that is rumored to hold the best coffee in the Kansai region of Japan. It is closed. I end up at a eerily familiar Mr Doughnut and, two cups of grime and five doughnuts later, I make my way back out into the rain and begin my search for home.

We’re back and the racing has been abundant. I picked up a win in Toronto two weeks ago and a podium last weekend at the USGP in New Jersey. Now the biggest races of the year loom on the horizon and I’m looking forward to them all: the USGP Finals in Portland and the national championship weekend in Kansas City. But, as a change of pace, this diary isn’t going to be about racing.

Behind the story there is always a greater story, one which is often missed. The Tour of Lombardy unfolded in traditional fashion: a breakaway, a gauged acceleration in the peloton, the knife-stabbing attacks that seal most riders’ fate, and then, finally, the winning attack and the defeated sprints for the places of honor. The favorite won.

They say the best way to perfect a skill is to go to where that skill is practiced perfectly. For cyclocross, Belgium is that place. Cycling fanaticism in Belgium is difficult to explain. There is really no correlation to it in the United States. Football is the easiest association, in the scale of the fan base and the spectacle, but the true Belgian cyclocross fan is more deeply rooted to the athlete than the true football fan.

Since my last diary, I’ve driven to Connecticut, jumped a plane south to Louisville and then west to Boulder to race the hotbeds of cyclocross!

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The wheel in front of me twitches and pulses with enormous energy as it tries desperately to pull away from my gasping breaths. My legs ache, the pain beginning deep, unbelievably deep, slowly creeping up through the layers of my consciousness, finally reaching the threshold where my struggle to ignore it is overcome and it comes gushing out in great spasms.

A lot of similar questions come along when you’re out at the races. One question I hear frequently is some variation of the famous “How do you know when you’ve made it big?” I usually give a good P.C. answer and move along, because who really knows the answer to that question!? It’s something I’m too humble to try answering. But two weeks ago, it stunned me, even jolted me. It was right there in front of me. I came up over the horizon to the parking lot on a nice Sunday in Ohio and I had my own big orange parking cone with my last name on it! [nid:84490]

VeloNews.com publishes a diary from Kona pro cyclocross racer Barry Wicks every other Wednesday. Wicks' column alternates with one by Cyclocrossworld.com-Cannondale's Jeremy Powers

Alessandria, Italy ? The peloton, stretched thin into a long single line, stuck to the white line marking the edge of the road with the riders on the front pushing the cool yet fresh autumn air as they rode a hard tempo to control the race and bring back the breakaway. Leaves blew on to the course, acorns and chestnuts spotting the road, and the odor of fermenting grapes was pungent as we passed the vineyards known for producing the best wines in Italy.

“So, what do you guys do in the off-season?” Most of the time this gets asked by someone wondering about a “job.” From those a bit more knowledgeable about the sport, it’s referring to something we do to fill our time, figuring that the bike goes in the garage and gets to collect cobwebs ‘til the first camp gets things going again in a few months’ time. Not quite.

Welcome to my new diary on VeloNews.com, a diary that will offer an exciting, behind-the scenes look into my cycling ventures as I tour around the United States and Europe racing cyclo-cross this fall and winter. I’m certain there will be great moments inevitably accompanied by some less exciting ones: Crashes, gossip, name-dropping, interviews; lousy drivers, flight attendants and race promoters. Just make sure you read every other Wednesday during this 'cross season, and I’ll do my part to keep it exciting.

Editor's Note: This is the first of a regular column on VeloNews.com written by Team Kona professional cyclocross racer Barry Wicks. Transitioning from my mountain bike to my cyclocross bike in the fall is an adventure in rehearsed humility. I know that buried deep within my delirious, travel-addled head sits the unique skill set required to pilot my cyclocross bike around a muddy race course at speed. Tracking down and filtering that memory is a process that can usually be sorted out during the first ’cross race of the year.

The crowd roared as we, the handful of riders that was once over 200 riders large rode slowly around the course on the final lap of the six and a half hour race. Paolo Bettini sat on the front of the 30 man group, blowing kisses to the tifosi as they chanted his name, blew airhorns, rang bells and draped flags over the course. When it was known his teammate had won the title the noise from the Italian crowd intensified. At that moment we could no longer talk in the group, or hear anything coming over our radios, which had the volume cranked to the maximum.

Editor's Note: Will Frischkorn is a professional rider on the Garmin-Chipotle team who occasionally shares his journals with VeloNews.com readers.

As the road climbed uphill into the lower Alps the peloton began to shatter. Riders attacked, while others drifted against the flow of the group. Gaps formed in the long line of riders. At the back, groups of dropped riders pooled together while, up front, sensing it was the moment where differences would be made, riders forced the pace, rivals working together to forge gaps. I followed the wheels, jumping from one to the next as riders could no longer hold the speed.

The motorcade of team cars raced through downtown Beijing, the usually congested roads virtually emptied for the Olympics, to the start. In each unbranded white car, the riders were piled in the back, as the directors drove. A small flag on the side was the only thing differentiating each team. On the roof, the bikes were covered in tape and the carbon wheels logo-less to appease the Olympic rules that control which companies can be featured in their event.

Four of us climbed into the back of the borrowed team Saturn truck, picking good spots for our lawn chairs. Once we were settled, the door was pulled shut and locked. We sat in darkness while our team captain, Steve Bauer climbed into the passenger’s seat beside Fernando, our mechanic and the driver, up in the cab. The southern air was hot and muggy and the back of the truck, filled with bikes and wheels was at first refreshingly cool in contrast to the outside air.

Before we get to storytime I’ve got a bit of homework for everyone … click on this link. Read about my motoring habits. And maybe prove that I’m more popular than last week’s “Celebrity Drive” subject, Sammy Hagar … Not bloody likely.

When I said yesterday that you could tell which directors weren't pleased with their teams' races, today you could tell who was f-ing pissed. If it weren't for the fact that they made the day one of the most painful I've ever raced I'd actually feel bad for the guys on Liquigas, and a couple of others to a lesser degree. As is the only sympathy is the fact that there were a lot of really, really hurting guys out there today and we all shared in it together. [nid:80807]

First up, rest days rock. After two weeks of racing, a day to relax a bit and kick back is like Christmas when you still believe in the big man. A morning to sleep late, eat a ridiculous amount of food, tool around on the bike for a while (preferably on some beautiful country Italian roads), grub down a bit more, sleep, then sleep a bit more, get a massage, eat another stupid amount of food, and then sleep again, ideally at least 10 hours.

Drew Geer and Mark Gouge are racing the Jeantex Bike Transalp 2008 powered by Nissan, an eight-stage epic mountain bike stage race, from Füssen, Germany, to Riva del Garda, Italy, passing through Austria and Switzerland. The two are racing for the Chipotle-Titus-VeloNews team and are providing daily journals and photos. The following report from Geer is about Friday's stage 1, a 75-kilometer route. "There will be some tarmac and you will go fast. You will walk your bike, but you will not mind because it will be so beautiful."

Editor's Note: It's official: Team Giant's Adam Craig is one of two men picked for the U.S. Olympic cross-country team. He continues to share his journals with VeloNews readers as he races around the world. This week he report on some East Coast racing: Windham, New York, last week and the national mountain bike championships at Mount Snow, Vermont, this weekend. Enjoy.

We’re officially more than half way through!