The Gringo

Well, I conquered some demons today on the bike. Ever since I came to Reno it's been like learning the ride the bike all over again. The pavement feels different, the air is thinner, there are mountains to climb; you get the picture. This morning I completed a 25 mile loop on McCarran Blvd. McCarran is a loop road around the city of Reno. Parts of this loop include some pretty intense climbing. To give you an idea, I ride a 2-1/2 mile section of McCarran every day on the way to work. There are street signs going down this section of road that show the symbolic semi-truck on a wedge of hill with the words "check your brakes" printed under it. The hill is a 6% grade and every morning I hit 37 mph down the hill without so much as a pedal stroke. Needless to say going home is where the challenge begins. The first day I climbed the hill on McCarran I hit 191 bpm on the heart rate monitor. My legs felt like jello by the time I got to my apartment.

After 3 weeks of riding to work and battling the "hill" I decided that it was time to tackle some of the bigger hills on McCarran Blvd. The main climb leads up through the Caughlin Ranch neighborhood and is similar to my daily commute "hill" except twice as long! Anyways...without beleaguering the blog for the non-cyclists out there I rode the hill and several others that make up the 25 mile loop. I feel pretty happy that I'm progressing and getting stronger. If only my gut was getting smaller ;-)

During the ride this morning I was reminded of a passage I read from Columbian, Santiago Botero. Botero was the World Time Trial champ several years ago and rides for the German powerhouse cycling team T-Mobile. Here is a little write-up where he talks about Lance Armstrong in the mountains at the Tour de France. It's a very good read (even for the non-cyclist)...

"There I am all alone with my bike. I know of only two riders ahead of me as I near the end of the second climb on what most riders consider the third worst mountain stage in the Tour. I say 'most riders' because I do not fear mountains. After all, our country is nothing but mountains. I train year-round in the mountains. I am the national champion from a country that is nothing but mountains. I trail only my teammate, Fernando Escartin, and a Swiss rider. Pantani, one of my rival climbers, and the Gringo Armstrong are in the Peleton about five minutes behind me.

I am climbing on such a steep portion of the mountain that if I were to stop pedaling, I will fall backward. Even for a world class climber, this is a painful and slow process. I am in my upright position pedaling at a steady pace willing myself to finish this climb so I can conserve my energy for the final climb of the day. The Kelme team leader radios to me that the Gringo has left the Peleton by himself and that they can no longer see him. I recall thinking 'the Gringo cannot catch me by himself'. A short while later, I hear the gears on another bicycle.

Within seconds, the Gringo is next to me - riding in the seated position, smiling at me. He was only next to me for a few seconds and he said nothing - he only smiled and then proceeded up the mountain as if he were pedaling downhill. For the next several minutes, I could only think of one thing - his smile.

His smile told me everything. I kept thinking that surely he is in as much agony as me, perhaps he was standing and struggling up the mountain as I was and he only sat down to pass me and discourage me. He has to be playing games with me. Not possible. The truth is that his smile said everything that his lips did not. His smile said to me, 'I was training while you were sleeping, Santiago'. It also said, 'I won this tour four months ago, while you were deciding what bike frame to use in the Tour. I trained harder than you did, Santiago. I don't know if I am better than you, but I have outworked you and right now, you cannot do anything about it. Enjoy your ride, Santiago. See you in Paris.'

Obviously, the Gringo did not state any of this. But his smile did dispel a bad rumor among the riders on the tour. The rumor that surfaced as we began the Prologue several days ago told us that the Gringo had gotten soft. His wife had given birth to his first child and he had won the most difficult race in the world - He had no desire to race, to win.

I imagine that his smile turned to laughter once he was far enough not to embarrass me. The Gringo has class, but he heard the rumors - he probably laugh all the way to Paris. He is a great champion and I must train harder. I am not content to be a great climber, I want to be the best. I learned much from the Gringo in the mountains. I will never forget the helpless feeling I had yesterday. If I ever become an international champion, I will always remember the lesson the Gringo taught me.