Sadly during the three week trip to Qinghai all of us became so accustomed to these near death experiences that after the first week or so we stopped even noticing. In another incident in town our bus ripped the front bumper off a car and I can’t even count on both my hands the number of pedestrians that we almost ran over. Pregnant mom’s with toddlers in one arm and groceries in the other would just waltz into the street ignoring the police escort and apparently not intimidated by the fast moving buses. Another day I watched as a bus in front of us in the convoy filled with riders caught fire while blazing down a 14,000 ft mountain descent (don’t worry the flames somehow subsided on their own and the bus continued on).

The traffic was just one of many obstacles that we faced on the two week long Tour of Qinghai this year. This was my third time racing Qinghai and I have something of a love, hate relationship with the race. The average altitude of the race is 10,500 ft (peaking at something over 14,000ft) and many stages go much, much higher. It is a survival race that much I am sure of. There have been a lot of problems with food in the past, last time I was there I think about half the peleton got sick in some form or another, but this year seemed much better and the guys that did get sick weren’t as bad as in the past. Then there is the altitude to contest with, racing for 5 hours breathing through a straw is a pretty accurate description. If those two things don’t crack you then there is always the 15 hour time difference to adjust to, the language barrier and the freezing cold rain. But for some unknown reason I sort of love it.

This years Tour was the longest yet and the longest race on the calendar other than the three grand tours. Unfortunately the race was not as aggressive as in years past and the GC battle didn’t play out exactly as I had hoped, but none the less the team had a very successful Tour with one stage win and three podiums. After I became extremely ill three years ago at this very race I have made a habit out of packing all of my own food for the race. This is not an easy proposition considering the limited space and weight I have to work with but I have turned it into a bit of an art form. A rice cooker and water boiler serve as my kitchen appliances and I bring everything from dehydrated camping meals to lentils, oatmeal and beef jerky. It’s not glamorous but it gets the job done.

One of the most memorable moments of this years tour had to be the two days we raced along the Gobi dessert. To say this race takes place in the middle of nowhere is a serious understatement, but for a couple of stages it felt like we might as well have been on the moon. After finishing up a big 200km stage, I believe it was stage 10 or so (it all starts to run together after a while), we had a 3 hour transfer by bus to the hotel. For ages all we could see out the bus windows were sand dunes and caves cut into the more solid formations on the other side of the highway. The sand seemed to stretch for eternity every direction, I can hardly imagine how empty it must be there when there isn’t a race caravan driving through.

About an hour and a half into the transfer we pulled over at the only civilized structure we had seen since leaving the finishing town; a small convince store at a gas station. Since we didn’t have a meal after the stage most of us were starving and thirsty at this point. We all filed off the buses and made a bee-line for the shop, which had all of about ten things to pick from. I am pretty sure we spent more money there then the shop had seen in the past 10 years combined. We all clambered back onto the bus with our stash of cookies, water and shrimp flavored chips. After about another hour the water had run through all of our systems so we started yelling out to the bus driver for a nature break. Of course this was made difficult by the language barrier, but eventually we got the point across. The entire caravan came to a halt and all 150 riders clambered out of the now hot, sweaty buses. It would have been quite a sight if you had stubbled across us..150 skinny white guys, some still in brightly colored spandex, others in compression tights and track suits, all lined up along the roadside peeing in unison. It really is a traveling circus, you can’t take it too seriously.

Back in the bus just as we all started to feel that we couldn’t handle another 10km of transfer the road opened up as we came around a sharp bend and there smack dab in front of us was the most out of place thing I have ever seen. For a moment it crossed my mind that what I was looking at was really a mirage, I mean it was a long stage and I am pretty dehydrated up here at 12,000 ft. But I shake my head and concentrate a little harder, no, this is no mirage. The road has opened up from an infinitely long, chip seal, rolling two lane dessert highway to an eight lane, asphalt, super highway. The road side before was just sand, now it is marked by tidy shrubs and trees neatly packed into planter boxes. Light poles every 50 meters keep the road bright at night and make me feel like we are following the path to some futuristic wizard of oz. Everyone is asking the same question: What in the hell is a city like this doing in the absolute middle of nowhere and what on earth do the people who live here do?

The answer it turns out is really two parts. The city was built recently by the government, but there is no real industry there and nothing to successfully support the inhabitants so, it remains mostly uninhabited. The following day was a circuit race around town we assumed that the spectators would be out in hoards seeing as we must be one of the few spectacles that comes through town, but it felt more like a ghost town. There were a handful of people cheering at the half way point on the loop but other than that it was eerily quite. The race ended uneventfully and the next day we took off towards a much larger finishing town away from the dessert, but I certainly won’t forget those couple of days in the dessert.

Over the last few stages of the tour we did our best to shake up the GC on the brutal climbs, but it wasn’t to be with the finishes being too far away from the high mountains. In the end I had to concede victory and settle for 9th place, not what we had hoped but sometimes thats racing, even when the form is great and you do all of the right things the tactics just don’t play out for you. In any case I was very happy to finish my longest stage race yet and in one piece (minus the skin I lost on stage 12)!

Doing a 14 day long race you really do start to find a rhythm and I am still adjusting five days later to being home, but it sure does feel good to have familiar faces and food around. Traveling the world can be very fun and leads to plenty of great stories but it is also quite exhausting. With USA pro cycling challenge as the next big priority for me I need to recover quick and get back to it.

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Sadly during the three week trip to Qinghai all of us became so accustomed to these near death experiences that after the first week or so we stopped even noticing. In another incident in town our bus ripped the front bumper off a car and I can’t even count on both my hands the number of pedestrians that we almost ran over. Pregnant mom’s with toddlers in one arm and groceries in the other would just waltz into the street ignoring the police escort and apparently not intimidated by the fast moving buses. Another day I watched as a bus in front of us in the convoy filled with riders caught fire while blazing down a 14,000 ft mountain descent (don’t worry the flames somehow subsided on their own and the bus continued on).

The traffic was just one of many obstacles that we faced on the two week long Tour of Qinghai this year. This was my third time racing Qinghai and I have something of a love, hate relationship with the race. The average altitude of the race is 10,500 ft (peaking at something over 14,000ft) and many stages go much, much higher. It is a survival race that much I am sure of. There have been a lot of problems with food in the past, last time I was there I think about half the peleton got sick in some form or another, but this year seemed much better and the guys that did get sick weren’t as bad as in the past. Then there is the altitude to contest with, racing for 5 hours breathing through a straw is a pretty accurate description. If those two things don’t crack you then there is always the 15 hour time difference to adjust to, the language barrier and the freezing cold rain. But for some unknown reason I sort of love it.

This years Tour was the longest yet and the longest race on the calendar other than the three grand tours. Unfortunately the race was not as aggressive as in years past and the GC battle didn’t play out exactly as I had hoped, but none the less the team had a very successful Tour with one stage win and three podiums. After I became extremely ill three years ago at this very race I have made a habit out of packing all of my own food for the race. This is not an easy proposition considering the limited space and weight I have to work with but I have turned it into a bit of an art form. A rice cooker and water boiler serve as my kitchen appliances and I bring everything from dehydrated camping meals to lentils, oatmeal and beef jerky. It’s not glamorous but it gets the job done.

One of the most memorable moments of this years tour had to be the two days we raced along the Gobi dessert. To say this race takes place in the middle of nowhere is a serious understatement, but for a couple of stages it felt like we might as well have been on the moon. After finishing up a big 200km stage, I believe it was stage 10 or so (it all starts to run together after a while), we had a 3 hour transfer by bus to the hotel. For ages all we could see out the bus windows were sand dunes and caves cut into the more solid formations on the other side of the highway. The sand seemed to stretch for eternity every direction, I can hardly imagine how empty it must be there when there isn’t a race caravan driving through.

About an hour and a half into the transfer we pulled over at the only civilized structure we had seen since leaving the finishing town; a small convince store at a gas station. Since we didn’t have a meal after the stage most of us were starving and thirsty at this point. We all filed off the buses and made a bee-line for the shop, which had all of about ten things to pick from. I am pretty sure we spent more money there then the shop had seen in the past 10 years combined. We all clambered back onto the bus with our stash of cookies, water and shrimp flavored chips. After about another hour the water had run through all of our systems so we started yelling out to the bus driver for a nature break. Of course this was made difficult by the language barrier, but eventually we got the point across. The entire caravan came to a halt and all 150 riders clambered out of the now hot, sweaty buses. It would have been quite a sight if you had stubbled across us..150 skinny white guys, some still in brightly colored spandex, others in compression tights and track suits, all lined up along the roadside peeing in unison. It really is a traveling circus, you can’t take it too seriously.

Back in the bus just as we all started to feel that we couldn’t handle another 10km of transfer the road opened up as we came around a sharp bend and there smack dab in front of us was the most out of place thing I have ever seen. For a moment it crossed my mind that what I was looking at was really a mirage, I mean it was a long stage and I am pretty dehydrated up here at 12,000 ft. But I shake my head and concentrate a little harder, no, this is no mirage. The road has opened up from an infinitely long, chip seal, rolling two lane dessert highway to an eight lane, asphalt, super highway. The road side before was just sand, now it is marked by tidy shrubs and trees neatly packed into planter boxes. Light poles every 50 meters keep the road bright at night and make me feel like we are following the path to some futuristic wizard of oz. Everyone is asking the same question: What in the hell is a city like this doing in the absolute middle of nowhere and what on earth do the people who live here do?

The answer it turns out is really two parts. The city was built recently by the government, but there is no real industry there and nothing to successfully support the inhabitants so, it remains mostly uninhabited. The following day was a circuit race around town we assumed that the spectators would be out in hoards seeing as we must be one of the few spectacles that comes through town, but it felt more like a ghost town. There were a handful of people cheering at the half way point on the loop but other than that it was eerily quite. The race ended uneventfully and the next day we took off towards a much larger finishing town away from the dessert, but I certainly won’t forget those couple of days in the dessert.

Over the last few stages of the tour we did our best to shake up the GC on the brutal climbs, but it wasn’t to be with the finishes being too far away from the high mountains. In the end I had to concede victory and settle for 9th place, not what we had hoped but sometimes thats racing, even when the form is great and you do all of the right things the tactics just don’t play out for you. In any case I was very happy to finish my longest stage race yet and in one piece (minus the skin I lost on stage 12)!

Doing a 14 day long race you really do start to find a rhythm and I am still adjusting five days later to being home, but it sure does feel good to have familiar faces and food around. Traveling the world can be very fun and leads to plenty of great stories but it is also quite exhausting. With USA pro cycling challenge as the next big priority for me I need to recover quick and get back to it.

Go to the Source – http://www.kielreijnen.missingsaddle.com/

Philly is always one of my favorite races of the year, the crowds are huge and the atmosphere is hard to beat. The finishing stretch is always lined with hoards of people and the party on Manayunk Wall rivals the Dutch on Alp D’Huez during the Tour. The race was shortened slightly this year from 260km down to a scant 200km, and with seven assaults on Manayunk Wall it was guaranteed to be a more aggressive race than in years past. On the start line I predicted that it would take 2 hours for the break to finally roll away, in-fact it ended up being closer to 3.5 hours…Hard from the gun the field was strung out the very first time into “the wall”. I stayed near to the front as possible to keep an eye on any potential break away moves going over the top. By the way “the wall” for those of you who don’t know is about a kilometer long, with pitches reaching 17% (and holding steady) it probably averages about 15%. Towards the top I decided to have a dig to see if I could break some riders clear, I past the KOM line first and continued to push along the descent towards the waterfront, but was absorbed back into the field as the road flattened out. Attacks continued as we produced another very fast lap time. The second time up “the wall” the field was still together so the pace was fast and furious. Again I marked attacks towards the top of the climb, and put in a dig towards the top. At that stage in the race I had maximum points on two of the seven KOM’s so if the opportunity presented itself I decided to continue to try to collect points in the hopes of snagging the KOM jersey at the end of the day. The fast laps continued and although I found myself of the the front of the field numerous times nothing stuck for more than a lap. By lap four I had also secured 20 points towards the KOM jersey and the chances of someone leap frogging me were very slim. The aggressive riding continued all the way into the 5th big lap where finally a break of five riders broke clear. I was frustrated not to be with them but they went on the flat roads, not on the climb where I had expected it and with so many attacks all day there was certainly some luck involved.

The flied then settled in to chase, but as we got organized the sky opened up and for the first time in the race’s history it rained. In fact, it didn’t just rain it poured. It was impossible to see anything and I knew it was only a matter of time before there would be crashes. Sure enough leading into the wall there were two major pile ups, I was lucky enough to miss both and made my way to the front of the field as the pressure up the climb increased. Splits started to form everywhere, but by the start/finish line everyone was back together with a 2:30 minute lead to the breakaway. United Health care and ourselves set to continue the pace making and Joey, Alex E. and I did our best to reduce the gap. After 15km or so of flat out riding the gap had come down to a minute, but I was spent I took one last long hard pull into mt. Lemon and my job was done. Fortunately other teams came to help in the closing kilometers and the break was absorbed in the final 3km. Now it was up to our sprinters, Aldo, Alex S. and Danielle C. to get the job done. we had done our best to protect them all day and the freshness showed in their legs when Aldo jumped at 500meters clear from the field with Alex and Danielle on his wheel. Alex easily slipped around Aldo in the closing meters and Danielle held on for fourth. It was a 1, 2, 4 finish with 1st in team GC and the KOM jersey for me.

Everyone was very happy with the day and the teams efforts. We worked well together and it showed in the final.  Now some guys will head to Canada and others will prepare for Qinghai myself included.

On a side note, my very good friend Kate Powlison is taking on an extreme challenge with 5 other girls. They are all riding the 2012 Tour de France Course!!! Check out more about their causes and mission here: http://www.stayclassy.org/fundraise?fcid=193005 and here: http://www.velodramatic.com/archives/7439 Wish her luck!!

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als coming just after Tour of California this year it was always set to be a fast and furious show down, with all the favorites in top form. Because Team Type 1 didn’t take part in this years edition of California I was fresh off the plane from Circuit de Lorraine in France, a little bit jet lagged and not used to the heat that everyone else had been experiencing all week in CA.

Since it was memorial day we were treated to a very special national anthem sung by a local talent, and then we were off. It was a fast and furious start to the 116mi. race with three local laps, followed by four large laps (including the Paris mountain climb) and then a final three local laps. The normal early break tired hard to establish on the initial local laps. Various teams threw team mates up the road to make sure they were represented. Nationals is always on of those races where the tactics are unpredictable, sometimes the early move stick, sometimes it is a field sprint, sometimes a late attack, it seems to be different every year. After three local laps of attacking a move of 10 or so finally broke clear after establishing a minute gap heading out of town however BMC’s Tejay Van Garderen and Liquigas’ Timmy Duggan decided that it was dangerous and their respective teams weren’t represented, so the chase ensued. The chase however was so fast and unexpected that gaps started to open and before we knew it the main field was well behind. As soon as we caught up with the initial breakaway there was a lull and I started to help pull since I was committed to the move at that point. After a short time Garmin (which was the best represented team in the break) took over duties at the front and began to stretch the gap out. By the time we completed the first big lap it was out to three minutes and Garmin seemed to have the best cards to play with their sprinter Tyler Farrar safely tucked in the group. Things were mostly unchanged by the time we started the 3rd big lap. Garmin was still pulling our break of 25 or so riders along and the field was still chasing but the gap was coming down. By the time we hit Paris mountain the gap was down to a mere 40 seconds. This forced a stronger pace from us in the front, which lead to Farrar and a number of others getting dropped out of the break. Over the top of the climb the gap was hovering around 30 seconds and Garmin had run out of riders to work (other than Tom Peterson who road an incredible day, sacrificing himself for his team mates).

I decided that after spending all day in the break I didn’t want to see us caught by the field so I helped with the work on the descent into town. It was enough to re-motivate the group and distance us a bit from the shattered peleton behind. Once the gap started to go back out again the Competitive cyclist team (who was also well represented with four riders) took over the work duties and the gap went back out to three and a half minutes before the final assault on Paris mountain.

Tom Danielson led in to the climb with a vicious attack that put me into the red right away. I don’t know if I was suffering because of the heat or if I just didn’t have my climbing legs but either way there was no way I was going to keep that pace up. After a kilometer or so of fighting I decided to ride at my own pace up the climb and hope that others would catch up and we could chase back down the leaders coming into town. The five strongest climbers of the break crested the climb close enough to one another to for one group and as I suspected towards the top of the climb and along the descent I was joined by some of the other dropped riders. Our group of 8 then set to work to chase down the leading 5. Normally 8 vs. 5 would be no contest but everyone was very tired at this point and having some of the strongest riders up the road meant that my  group had to bank on a tactical cat and mouse battle up front slowing the leaders. As luck would have it that is exactly what happened and with 900 meters left in the race we made contact. Timmy Duggan had already taken off from the leaders with 20km remaining and was another 30 seconds ahead (with only 900 meters of racing left there was no chance or catching him) so the race was for second place. Once we latched we were only allowed one deep breath before the final fight for the line began. Ben Jacques-Maynes of Bissell took of first with Adam Hanson of Kelly Benefits following. Frank Pipp of Bissell and myself grabbed Hanson’s wheel and held on as best we could as we rounded the final bend. As Hanson closed on Jaques-Maynes with 200 meters to go Pipp lit out to over come Hanson. I knew this was the final effort of the race so I gave my all to try to come around the right side. I had just enough power to get by Hanson in the closing 50 meters but Pipp proved to powerful and I had to settle for 3rd.

It just goes to show that the race is never really over until you cross the line. It was a very different race than any edition before and I played the best tactical cards I had given that we only had three riders in the race. I had hoped to be a bit stronger on the climb the final time, but now I have something to train for! It was a great race, Timmy was a very deserving winner and Frank a very deserving second. I was happy to share the all-Boulder podium with both of those guys. I am really looking forward to Philly next weekend as it can be a similar type of course.

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Spending the night in Milan, well the outskirts anyway, fails to give you the sense of what is to come the following morning. A seven and a half hour race, is well, seven and a half hours so unlike the typical Italian races it has to start early. 6:45 AM and the alarm was buzzing, not the sound you want to hear when you feel like you could sleep for two more hours. Knowing the challenge ahead, you want every last ounce of food and sleep you can get. But never the less I dragged my butt out of bed and down stairs for one last gorging. After breakfast it was into the bus and over to the start. What awaited us was, as my French teammate put it, Noir de monde. A crowd like you wouldn’t believe. The traveling circus was in full swing.

Sign-in, team meeting, food check, radio check…and then off to the start. We paraded through the streets of Milan for what seemed an eternity as we awaited the 0km mark and the flag to drop. Martijn, Vegard and I were on break away duty so we were primed ready to make the first move. As the flag finally swung it was Vegard to jump first. When he jumped he never looked back, a few more attacks went and finally a group of 8 more riders bridged up to Vegard. That was it as quickly as the flurry of attacks went, they stopped. And the peleton took a big breath and relaxed for a bout 40km. The gap to the 9 riders ahead steadily grew, 4 min, 8min, 12:30, all the way out to 14 minutes. At that point a few teams without riders in the move put their workers to the front. and the gap ceased to grow.

The next 100kms are pretty uneventful and quite predictable, but they are maybe some of the most important kms of the race. This is when eating and drinking is so important. Constant runs back and forth to the car. I must have consumed 10 panini’s in that 100km. It was about that time we  hit the first climb of the day, not steep but long and with a very long descent to the coast on the other side. Everyone in the field was still fresh so there wasn’t much suffering but everyone was nervous. Constant break and accelerating, swerving left and right. It was certainly enough to keep you on your toes and let me tell you in a seven and a half hour race keeping your mental concentration is not an easy task. By the top of the climb things evened out and it was a smooth descent to the coast where we cruised along at a good clip. With half the race now under our belts the first real test awaited us on the La Manie. As we approached the pace increased steadily at first and the violently. It turned into all out war. Guys sprinting up the sides of the bunch for all they were worth. Wheels touching, I must have had a dozen near crashes by the time we banked hard right onto the La Manie.

The beginning of the La Manie, is only about as wide as a bike lane, and a field of 200 riders approaching at 60km/hr from a 4 lane highway, well it just seems impossible. Screeching brakes, shouting, I came to a complete stand still, balancing on a brick wall as we stuffed ourselves into the corner. I fought hard leading into the climb and it paid off because I don’t think the last 50 riders in the bunch ever saw the front again. Once around the corner it was single file and full gas. It was like riding through a mine field, guys were dropping like stones others where battling to try to get back up to the front. As we twisted our way up the La Manie the coast slowly dropped below us in a bed of fog.

Last year the  group split in half, not up the La Manie, but down it. The road is so narrow and the race is so strung out at that point all it takes is for one rider to make a bad move and the leaders are already a km up the road. Turned out to be the same case this year. With some major riders towards the back over the top of the La Manie it didn’t take long for the riders at the front to drive the pace and cause a split. Once back down on the coast we were flying.  Sky chased hard from behind but to no avail. The coastal road began to roll steeper and steeper as we approached the Cipressa. Riders were starting to get impatient as the climb approached but the fatigue was also starting to set in (as we were 260km into the race at this point).

And just like that the crowds swelled, took over the road and forced us hard right onto the start of the Cipressa. Immediately it was single file, I still felt good at this point so I did my best to move up the line, things were looking really good, but you could tell riders were starting to fatigue heavily. As we approached the top  some riders touched wheels (not sure who) and a handful of riders near the front came down including Gilbert. I was fortunate enough to not get caught up but I did get held up a bit. This wasn’t a big problem until descent strung out the remaining riders. I could see the front of the group two switchback below me the whole way down. I knew it would be a real struggle once we hit the flats. As I made the final turn onto the coast road from the Cipressa I sprinted for all I was worth. 53-11, 200RPMs and every last ounce of strength I had left. It was enough for about 5 more kilometers, but with 15km to go a gap opened in front of me and I didn’t have any gas left to close it. Moments later we swept onto the slopes of the poggio, the leaders just in sight ahead of us. The fire works began at the front  as I, well…exploded. I was completely spent the roaring fast stretch along the coast left me empty and now it didn’t matter what I ate or drank I was bonked. I crept my way up the poggio and by the time I hit the top and started descending I could barely hold on to the bars. At this point I was solo (which was probably a good thing considering if someone was with me I probably would have crashed them). I swerved my way like a drunken sailor so thankful to the see the 3km to go sign at the bottom. I put my head down and slowly ticked off the gears as best I could. I must have been creeping at this point, tunnel vision, the whole bit. I felt like collapsing as I crossed the line. I slowly limped my way to the team bus and laid down inside. Everything hurt. It was amazing how in that last 15km I went from feeling strong and in the race to completely disassembled. But that is what happens when you race for 300km for the first time in your life.

All in all I was happy with my race, I didn’t know quite what to expect doing my first real classic, but I fell in love. It was a beautiful race and I can’t think of anything more fun than racing 300km…well maybe somethings. I certainly hope to be back next with a little more insight. Thanks to everyone for your support! Next week I will be in Belgium for three days of De Panne. Thanks for reading.

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