After a LONG 6 days of racing last week I have a new perspective and respect for cycling and the pros that spend the entire summer (and longer) traveling, racing and not much else.  It was an amazing experience and every day I learned so much about technique, racing, strategy, and my own athletic limitations.  I did not finish in the top 10 or even in the top group for any stage, but I did FINISH and that says a lot for how hard the course was and being my cycling first race.

Day 1, Monday- 2,5 km – Prologue
  When we arrived on Day 1, September 3rd, there was the Prologue that evening with a 2,5km time trial.  I was shaking just going up to the launch podium and almost pedaled right out of the starters hands before they gave me the count down to go.  However short, it was exhilarating to race through the streets with a car honking behind you and people shouting along the course.  I gave it an all out effort and felt my muscles and lungs had also once I crossed the line.  The rest of the evening I had a cough that I had not felt since running indoor track at the armory (armory cough) where the stale dry air and deep breathing under such an effort causes something shake around down in the lungs.

Day 2, Tuesday- 125,6 km
  I was nervous from the start, and not knowing that there were 2 “neutral” loops around the town made things worse considering the tight turns, cars on the side, sidewalks, oh, and can’t forget bikes EVERYWHERE.  I was just trying not to fall, knock someone down or freak out with all the chaos.  Then once we headed out of the small french town I felt like Simba in the stampede scene of The Lion King.  I was overtaken in all directions by cyclists and then left in the dust of solitude.  I tried as hard and fought like crazy to stay on anybody passing so that I would stay with the group and not have such a hard time later over the 125km course.  But it was no use.  The group I was able to stay on broke up quickly as they jumped behind passing cars to get a “ride” to the front group.  I found out later that this initial sprint wasn’t normal and happened partly because of the wind, and partly because of a 10km bonus prize of 500 euro that everyone was going for.
  So after the first 25km of all out struggle and pushing my muscles straight down lactic acid alley I settled my mind into the unbelievable thought of 100km alone.  Well, not completely alone, there was a USA girl attached on that I asked if she wanted to work together.  We traded off a bit, but after another 30km she was obviously spent and couldn’t lead anymore.  I found out she was a junior rider using this race as a prep for world championships.
  We rode on, up small hills and down long open roads through the french country side.  No assistant car or water/feeding stations, just one Swiss team car that stopped and gave us a Fanta that was much needed, and a water.  I don’t think I had ever enjoyed orange soda more in my life.  At about 80km the US girl couldn’t hold on any more and I was alone behind an assistant motorcycle that stopped at the round-a bouts to block traffic.  I held a constant push of the pedals and kept telling my body to try and go faster for the simple thought of being over the max time and out of the race.
  125km alone, at all out effort was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and when I saw the 5km to go I couldn’t believe it.  But that last 15km wasn’t a stroll to the finish, it was along the main river against the wind, that made it last just that much longer.  I finally crossed the line, exhausted and dehydrated beyond belief but relieved to have finished.  Oh, but that wasn’t the finish… just day 1!!  That evening I was just afraid thinking that it had only begun.