My Giro 2008 – Grand Fondo – Predictions
On May 24th I will be riding/racing in the Giro I’talia Grand Fondo – Dolomite Stars, 153km in distance and over 4800 meters climbing.
I can hardly wait.
This will be my first ride international ride, and the first time I’ve climbed anything over about 2000 meters. Also the first time I’ve ridden anything above 1300 meters.
I predict that I will suffer. But that’s not my only prediction. Nosirree. The fact is, I have been riding enough and looked at the inclines enough that I already have a good idea of how the day’s going to turn out, to the extent that I can confidently make the following predictions about the ride:
I predict the language barrier will be a problem. It’s clear so far that all the information is in Italian – there are no English versions on the event web site, all rider comms are in Italian. Whilst I have translated enough to know the important details – once I hit the ground in Italy my access to both Google Bablefish and my Italian friend will be severely limited. There is also the high probability that 98% of riders will be Italian and therefore unable, unlikely or unwilling to speak English – therefore I might miss out on important information like “broken glass ahead” – or inane encouragement like “Come on only 3000 metres vertical climbing to go”
I predict that riding on the wrong side of the road will be fun at first. I’ve never done it before, but the concept is pretty simple. Ride on the right hand side, people will pass you on the left. Whilst this will be fine at the start when there should be plenty of wheels to follow, later on in the ride, when tired and alone – I’m guessing I’ll make a few mistakes
I predict that it will be colder, wetter or hotter than I expect. Despite significant web research on Dolomites weather patterns, reviews of other Giro tours and their suggested riding gear, careful analysis of the Giro riders last year in terms of gloves and clothing. You see I get quite hot normally, I sweat more than the average man and this means I normally don’t wear layers – particularly in a race environment where I’m guessing I’ll be applying significant effort with limited stops. But on the other side of the equation we have snow covered Dolomites. I’ve been warned of the dangers of getting cold feet and hands on such a ride, therefore I have absolutely no idea what to wear and or take and will most likely either regret not buying that marino base layer vest – else curse the thick ski like gloves that I carry up 4800 meters without ever using.
I predict that I will be kind of jumpy, giddy, chatty and goofy for the first Passo Pordio climb. It never fails. I get a massive adrenaline surge at the beginning of long rides and I get this big grin and am just so darned enthusiastic that people who haven’t had their morning caffeine tend to find me irritating.
I predict I will take it out too hot. I always know I shouldn’t go out at top speed, but then I can’t help myself and I just fly, entirely convinced that my legs are going to feel this good the whole day. Oddly, they never do. This is described as a race NOT a ride and therefore the sheep that I am will no doubt take it out too hard.
I predict that I will be entirely non-jumpy, non-giddy, non-chatty, but still goofy (but in a different way) for the final climb. Once the initial rush has worn off, I settle down and am actually a pretty good riding companion for a few hours or so. I’m talkative, but don’t demand (nor require) conversation. I’m just happy to be there, and feeling good about the ride. Then, for the final climb (maybe 2 climbs), I become a sullen, hateful being, full of spite and bile. Do not talk to me, because I will not have pleasant things to say. I have said 99% of the swear words I have ever uttered during the final parts of big rides.
I predict that each time I get passed I will have a suitable excuse. There is a wide range of justifications for people being able to pass me on the ride. I’m sure a popular one will be – “small guy” – obviously a genetic advantage with respect to power/weight ratio means these guys should be able to pass me (what took them so long!). I think I’ll also be using “young guy” – clearly peoples younger than myself should be younger and fresher and stronger. (Ideally they should respect their elders and slow down to my pace and offer some wind break as a courtesy). When someone similar or greater in age and weight passes me, I’ll resort to more indirect excuses. I’ll closely evaluate their bike and gear and mutter “gee nice light bike” under my breathe. When people who are older, weight more and have a lower spec bike pass me – I’ll imagine their life as being that of a single, childless, but independently wealthy person – who can therefore spend most of their daylight hours riding and training.
I predict that I will ride alone for at least part of the day. I’ve trained with Victor and resolving to at least do the first climb together and try to stick together after that. I’d love to think that this will actually be the case, but I have a hard time imagining it. At some point I’m going to bonk and will actually get angry if people try to stay with me at my bonked-out pace. And I’m not the only guy who prefers to suffer alone. At various moments, others in the group are going to suffer, and will want to suffer alone. I’ve learned that when someone wants to suffer alone, it’s best to let them. Because that way if they die, you get their stuff.
I predict that I will wish I had brought an iPod. I understand that many women are able to talk continuously for ten hours. I don’t know any guys who can (not saying they’re not out there, just that I haven’t met them…and also, that I don’t want to meet them). At that point, I’m going to wish I had brought an iPod.
I predict that I will be angry at my past-self for having such poor self-discipline. During the big climbs (and they are truly big!), I am going to mentally — and possibly literally — flog myself for not having dieted properly before this ride. “If you would have exercised some self-control,” I will say, accusingly, to my past-self, “You would be smoothly spinning your bike up this Dolomite, instead of grinding away.” Sadly, my past-self was too busy drinking beer and wine to hear what his future-self was saying. Too bad, because my future-self has a good point. (Ditto replace Diet concept with Training concept)
I predict I will wish I had my own bike. There is nothing like your own bike. Since investing in a Cervelo there is a good chance I’ll be riding on the exact same bike, but there will be differences. These differences will only become apparent after about 5 hours of riding. A small difference in seat height zapping my power, handlebar angle too low causing sore hands & shoulders. I can say with confidence that I wish I had my own mis-adjusted bike, but only after about 5 hours.
I predict I will resent people who pass me. Even though I will not be treating this as a race, but instead more of a survival challenge, I still tend to take it personally when someone passes me. I especially hate it when they say something friendly as they go by. (Thankfully it might be in Italian so therefore might not register fully). On the other hand, I hate it just as much when they don’t say anything at all. (I’m guessing Italians are good at this) My recommendation to my fellow riders? Don’t pass me. Wait your turn, and we’ll all get around the back together. Oh, and don’t crowd me, either. Stay 10 meters back at all times.
I predict I will resent people who are pulling me but going too fast. Especially during the the flat part of the ride, I intend to tuck in behind people, and never take a turn pulling. I’m not sure right now how I’ll rationalize that as an OK thing to do, but I figure I’ll come up with something. When these people start pulling away, I presume I will come up with a sarcastic remark, which I would utter…if only I had the wind or spoke fluent Italian.
I predict I will take a lot of pictures at the beginning of the ride. At the beginning of the ride, everything looks like a photo-op.
I predict I will take no photos whatsoever during the final 4 hours of the ride. By the end of the ride, everything looks like just another snow capped Dolomite, just another bike, just another vally. Whatever. Let’s just get this over with, OK?
I predict I will get sunburned. I’m pretty good about getting sunscreen on me. But I always miss a spot. Usually the tip of one of my ears. That will look awesome.
I predict I will vow to never do this kind of ride ever again. I am willing to go out on a limb for this prediction. As I climb Dolomite after Dolomite, the giant switchbacks, it will become astonishingly clear what a stupid idea bicycles in general are, and what an even stupider idea this ride in particular was. This certainty will come with the clarity of an epiphany that cannot be denied. This is an OK prediction to come true because I’m unlikely to ever get a leave pass to cycle in Europe again anyhow.
I predict that even when things get really bad, a small part of me will be happy, because good stories need conflict. Even as I’m bonked out of my brain, I’ll be composing the paragraph that makes it sound like I’m suffering nobly, somehow. However, if it’s someone else who bonks, it will be the occasion for great comedy.
I predict I will be grateful it’s over. It’s amazing how quickly the pain subsides when you finish a ride. There have been times when I actually have started giggling with relief as I realize I have finished. I know, middle-aged men shouldn’t giggle. I’m not saying I’m proud of the giggling, just that it happens.
I predict I will annoyed I can’t instantly analyse the data from my Garmin. Might be tricky to get the data online and loaded whilst O/S – most likely have to wait till I return home.
I predict that by the time 3 days (72 hours, for those of you who use the metric system) has elapsed, I will be excited and planning my next road bike challenge. Which just goes to prove that I’m stupid.
