Breaking the mold

By Emma Bishop

From a small mountainside town in Ecuador to Connecticut, entrepreneur and single mom of three Paola Ortega is all about setting the bar high and then soaring above it.

Paola Ortega, 40, has been a resident in the USA for 18 years. Cycling was never part of life in the USA, it came to her two years ago in the form of therapy when her marriage ended and she started the transition from married life to life as a single mom with three girls.

“I always used to cycle back home in Ecuador, back then it was my only transport. Rekindling my love for cycling after my divorce helped me overcome the hard times that I was going through.”

Those hard times include discovering she had breast cancer following a fall while out cycling. Ortega shrugs off the discovery as just, one of those things.

“How we overcome problems, is how we succeed. That (breast cancer) was not going to stop me. I tell my girls, you live by example – it’s in your hands.”  

Through her cycling group, Cycling Connection CT she learnt of GFNY NYC and decided to sign up in order to prove that she can ultimately do anything if she puts her mind to it. She also had the full support from her three girls. Sunday will be Ortega’s first century ride.

“It’s my first and I’m really excited and also very nervous. I’m sure I will be in pain but enjoying it at the same time!”

Training for a Century ride is no small thing. It takes planning, preparation and dedication. If you are a single mom it also takes heaps of organization and the ability to prioritize that only a single mom would know how. When Ortega is not making ice cream at Tropiglace, a family business from Ecuador she brought to the USA, she may be ferrying her girls, Emilly 19, Natalie 14 and Isabella 10 years old around. 

“I take literally any opportunity to ride, in cycling classes, on the trainer and on the road. Actually my bike and cycling kit are in the car with me all the time, just in case,” she laughs.

Ortega likens riding to complete freedom. She has also discovered and recommends it as a great stress reliever.

“When I am going downhill I usually scream. My friends know that this is not a cry for help but just my stress reliever. It’s also a plus to be able to lose a pound and makes it all a perfect combination!”

Understanding there are limits but never afraid to push them, Ortega believes people get distracted in life and this prevents us from dedicating time to things that really matter. 

In a world where men dominate the sport of cycling, Ortega is all about encouraging more women on bikes and has inspired her girls with her determination and training.

“Emilly and Natalie are so excited. Yesterday was their first time riding with me, it was awesome to do that and I look forward to more rides as a family in the future.

Completing the Journey

By Emma Bishop

Three years ago, Scott Johnson received a call that every parent lives in fear of.

A road cyclist for the past three years, Johnson of Columbus, Ohio was going about his day when he received a phone call from his daughter. Her words, “Did you see the email?” was all Johnson needed to know something was very wrong.

“Our son, Ben was living in Bogota, Colombia at the time with his wife Alejandra,” recalls Johnson. “That morning Alejandra had sent a family addressed email.”

‘Ben had an accident on his bike. They have taken him to the hospital. We hope he wakes up.’

As an experienced internist/hospitalist, Johnson had extensive experience with trauma patients. 

“I found her simple words terrifying.” He confides.

Johnson immediately booked a flight down to Bogota not knowing what he would find. 

“On arriving at the hospital I learnt that Ben went out of sight on a descent during a routine training ride to the mountains and was discovered lying unresponsive on the roadside.

He had suffered a brain injury called diffuse axonal injury. A common result of helmeted high velocity trauma and occurs when there is a twisting of the brain inside the skull at impact.”

Arriving at the hospital 15 hours after Ben had been found, Johnson drew hope that during that time, his son had begun to “wake up” and had started withdrawing from stimuli, murmuring words and following simple commands.  

“I knew that this kind of rapid progression was the most reliable sign of a good prognosis, and I suppose, typical of any parent, I had high hopes.” Johnson says.

Less than a week later, as soon as he could move and swallow, Johnson and Alejandro took Ben home. 

“All the rehab was done at home. I am amazed by Alejandro’s strength during his rehab. There was never any question of what they had or may lose. Her focus was all about here is Ben and he is going to get better.” 

Due to relocate from Bogota to NYC last year in May, following the accident in April relocation was postponed to August when Ben was strong enough to make the move.

“It was six months before Ben became Ben again. Day by day and week by week he returned to the Ben we all knew.” 

Twelve months after the accident Ben secured a new job at Staten Island City College, where he has been working for the past semester. Knowing the outcome could have been so much different makes it hard to recall those months of not knowing what the future may hold for his son. 

“To see him where he is now is so gratifying,” Johnson proudly says.

As for getting back on the bike that was definitely not something anyone was expecting him to do anytime soon.

“He just went and did it, and only then told me about it,” recalls Johnson. 

Dad feels he has to ‘a certain degree’, let go of the competitiveness and perhaps as a testament to his renewed passion, Ben posed the idea to ride GFNY NYC together, as in really together.

“He will be my domestique! I am looking at Sunday as a celebration of his life and mine. He has ridden the course a couple of times recently and tells me it is beautiful, so whatever the weather Gods throw at us we are looking forward to completing this journey together.”

by Chris Geiser

It was back in June when I had first started to use and abuse the phrase “Double-Double” in reference to doubling our GFNY adventures in Europe in September, that I realized that I would not be a GFNY 3x finisher. Oh wait — Cozumel, I was initially dismissive. “I will never get away with it”, I thought. A double-double adventure in Europe, followed by a Veteran’s Day long weekend in tropical Mexico to celebrate GFNY with a final race for 2018. But here we are. In that article in June, I closed with the “I reserve the right to change my mind about Cozumel, btw”.

We are on for GFNY Cozumel, which has led me to unveil a few new and fun hashtags. #screwbasemiles #letskeepracing #GFNYFallSeason — are the battle cries that will take us into Thanksgiving. As everyone is starting to trade the bike for the weight room, and for Zwift, and saying things like “we are just trying to get base miles going before the season starts, I am getting to Great Kills beach as often as possible to ride in headwinds that I hope simulate the legendary headwinds of the GFNY Cozumel race. Screw base miles — let’s race! #GFNYFallSeason — my accident in April made 2018 all about the Fall. Or rather, the fall made it all about the Fall. I am digging being “a fall racing dude”. Almost like that surfer you see on the beach in January.

Tom and I in Portugal, Toto and I in Italy in 2017. We’re getting the band back together in Cozumel! Ari Dee will be there, and we are waiting on a few others to confirm.

But enough about me….(I know right, insufferable, it’s brutal, I can’t even stand listening to me talk about me anymore). Let’s talk about someone of substance.

Meet Shaun Gad

I recently had the opportunity to spend some time on the phone with Shaun Gad. Shaun is not only the organizer of GFNY Cozumel, now in its fifth year, but also one of the organizers of GFNY Jerusalem, running its second edition this coming May! In setting up the interview I sent some questions ahead of time, and offered “feel free to fill in by email if you prefer” — I figured he was as slammed as a 120mm stem at this point in the season with the race coming up. He shot back immediately, “let’s get on the phone, I think you will really find my answers to these questions very interesting.” Spoiler alert! I did!

Shaun Gad from the unauthorized theft of his Facebook profile picture. Not surprisingly, it was the only photo I could find of him alone. And that’s what GFNY is all about!

The Cycling Life

Tell us about your cycling life? How did you end up here?

“I grew up in NYC and used to travel to Mt. Snow for mountain biking events, these were NORBA (National Off Road Bicycle Association) sanctioned races. I have always been on the bike. Whether BMX or free style. If it had wheels on it I was passionate about it since I was born. I love it and it’s close to my heart. I have never let go of that sense of Freedom that the bicycle gives you.

I grew up in Queens and then moved to Long Island, and started doing group rides along the LIE and a few small races, crits in Harlem, nothing fancy. I had an opportunity after I was finished with school, to go to Mexico, and had the opportunity to work in our family business here, and I ended up choosing Cozumel. This was 20 years ago. I wasn’t so big into cycling for five or six years, but once I was back into it, I was traveling and getting into being a big fan of cycling again. The Tour, the Giro, the USA Pro Challenge.

I then started a team here in Mexico. Old riders, new riders…

I was working for a big company with a lot of resources, and used that to help to build cycling here in Mexico. Helping organizers, organizing races myself. Mexico was just starting to build a cycling scene. You would get to a race and there would be the fancy bikes, and the cool gear, and then the local racers, that just had a bike, and no fancy gear. And when the race started, the local guys on the basic bikes were the ones that had the legs. Never ever underestimate anyone, especially here.

Please tell us about how you got involved with GFNY? There is always a great story here, what is yours?

Cozumel first started with my partner Miguel Gonzales and I helped the government facilitate IronMan events and it was doing very well on the Island, but there were no pure cycling events. The secretary of tourism, had asked the question, “do you think we can bring any other events here?” I knew there was GFNY, and several others, I emailed them all, and Uli and Lidia responded within three seconds. I was the first one to ask if they would like to bring the franchise out of the U.S. The Mexico and Italy races happened around the same time.

We met in person, went over my background, how we can build the event, the logistics we would need for the event, and it didn’t take long for us to all agree. The funny thing was that after all that I went to the same school as Lidia. Miguel and I wanted to bring it in for fun. We didn’t see ourselves as an event company. We thought, “we’ve been putting local races together, like helping make the IronMan happen on the Island but lets focus on cycling”. I have a degree in marketing, so I did everything I knew how to combine that with what I knew about cycling and promote the heck out of the race. We had 1100 riders the first year, and we thought “wow -this is the right recipe”.

Looking at how people are marketing and promoting events, and the bike stores, the ones that have the right lingo, and the ones that are just doing what they can to market their company, we realized that we needed to do things a little differently.

It was more, for us, saying the right thing the right way to connect with the riders. It’s one cyclist talking to another, and sharing a passion. My goal is to not only get people into it, but how to evolve as a rider once you get started. How to get to the top of the climb, and how to survive the heat of the race. You have the hunger to get better, how much further can I take my body next week and the week after. People like the challenge and seeing what they can put their body through.

For example when you are here in Cozumel, when you get to the other side of the Island, it’s windy, one of the things in the race tips — stay to the right and stay in the drops — BUT — only when you see the bushes. When you are near the bushes, it’s usually a cross wind, those bushes will block the crosswind. Get into an echelon when there are no bushes. When there are bushes, get in a pace-line get in your drops, and move through.

Our teammate Hector “Nairo” Viscano above left with Luis Lemus, signing in, and starting the race at GFNY Cozumel.

Some people beg me not to give that away. A lot of riders figure this out by the second lap. And they may see other people doing that as well. This can take you from a 36 km per hour to a 44. The winner last year did 42 km per hour for the entire race. You’re going to get some fast speeds here. The first 20 minutes are uncomfortable. Scale of 1–10 it will be an 8 or a 9. Then you will get into your pace and you will carry that to the KOW and then you will be uncomfortable again. Then you will find your rhythm again. Some people get excited going through downtown and waste a lot of energy. You need to be smart about how you spend your power.

Editor’s note — uncomfortable sounds about right for keeping up with a fast group off the front. At GFNY Deutschland, my heart rate was 170 beats per minute in the neutral start. In Portugal, Tom and I decided to negative split the course, and our plan worked pretty well. But the course in Cozumel is a different kind of challenging. Fast racers, strong winds, and flat out, balls out, get the lead out, till you zonk out, full gas until you are under the kite. Trying to hold the wheels of the fast groups will be a challenge, but will make for a better overall effort. My fastest forty kilometers ever, at GFNY Italia in 2017, came as a result of one of these types of courses.

And on the Other Side of the World….

Once complete with the race in November, Shaun will likely turn his attention back to the GFNY Jerusalem, coming up on May 3, 2019. The first GFNY Jerusalem was held this past Spring, right before the Giro came to town. When the news broke here in NYC about the Jerusalem race, the Giro, and just the entire scope of the evolution of cycling in Jerusalem, the excitement about all of it started to swell. Several of our Gavia Cycling teammates were signed up and ready to go. GFNY was touching down in the Middle East -how did this come about?

As I understand, you are the organizer for both Cozumel and Jerusalem. What are the challenges that come with organizing two races, in these very diverse parts of the world?

Having the right team. Everything is about your team. Teamwork. If there are things I am not capable of doing, then I rely on my teammates. They are all my friends. The pillar is that one of my teammates ilan Zaviv, is over there, in Jerusalem.

When the Israeli government contacted us, they wanted to get us there before the Giro. ilan lives in Jerusalem, and has tour companies, understands logistics, and said “let me put together a team over here”. He collaborated with the largest event company in Jerusalem, (organizers of the Tel Aviv marathon for instance), and in putting that team together, told the government — we are ready, let’s talk. We went over everything, and spoke to the Mayor of Jerusalem. He had the route planned for us. We had never seen that before. I wanted to get on the bike with him!

For me, that we were going past where my father is buried, I felt like my father was bringing me to Jerusalem. It was a big deal. We shook hands, and did the paperwork. Jerusalem is completely different than any other GFNY. The route, the logistics, the people, it is completely different. I was super impressed with all the support we received for the race.

   

The Jerusalem jersey and medal, start line, and Gavia teammates, Mark, Karen, and Benny.

I have heard 5+ Stars from everyone that has raced in Cozumel. Please tell us your secret for putting on such a great race? 

I always want to make the races better, and more entertaining. Here in Cozumel, it’s like a Broadway production. We are entertaining you from the minute you get off the plane, and leaving you hungry for more when you get on the plane for home.

The truth is, it takes time to put these things together and do it the right way. I would never want to limit my ability to put together a great event. But I love to ride, and if I don’t ride three times a week I go cuckoo. So you have to have a balance, and in mixing the two.

I don’t look at myself as a pioneer. It’s a big passion, and it has been for a very long time. We were fortunate enough to build a fashionable race, with a quality brand, and that’s what I am trying to represent what people see as what cycling is. There are so many more ways to explain it than “I went out to ride my bike”. Social media has brought so many people that share that pleasure of cycling, and turned it into something more pleasurable in building these types of events. There were Gran Fondo’s before us obviously, but there is something to be said for how GFNY operates vs other events. Like I said before, it’s the recipe. To build a community of like minded riders, or those that aspire to be part of this type of challenge and race against others. You can do whatever you want with GFNY, race against the clock, yourself, the podium, others in your age group, the wind here in Cozumel. There are so many things that make us interesting. We are a pioneer in that category because no one has done that before. Cycling is a sport for everyone! That’s the foundation of cycling! Bringing community together and not separating it.

Next Stop Borrego, then Cozumel

Before we are off Cozumel in November, Tom and I have some business with a 6 hour ITT in Borrego Springs, California. It should be an excellent preparation for the fast course, and windy conditions, and allow us to test our mettle without riding in a pack. The fall season has been something to behold. To have the motivation to keep training hard, keep riding, and keep bringing it every day, has put a Spring in my step that has almost made me forget that it was Fall. #GFNYFallSeason #ScrewBaseMiles #LetsKeepRacing

With sincere gratitude to Shaun Gad for spending the time with me. We are so looking forward to racing at GFNY Cozumel. This will be my 3x medal achievement for 2018, and my 9th GFNY overall. Stay tuned to find out where number 10 will happen!

by Chris Geiser

Gonzo journalism in the heart of Europe! Cutting straight to the heart of the cycling dream! Fear and loathing on the TGV! Eight legged freaks in double occupancy! Smashing the would-be PRs of Horatio Alger on the Giant of Provence!

All respect to Hunter S. Thompson, a master, and an inspiration, in bringing humor, drama, and extremism to every story he pursued. He coined the phrase “Gonzo Journalism”, trying to cut straight to the heart of every issue he investigated, every journey he took, every assignment he had. While we had forgone the cigarette holders, fast convertibles, and mass quantities of drugs and alcohol, we made sure to find plenty of excitement through travel, exploration, making new friends, and of course, cycling.

We have talked about the races, but, to be fair to the journey, getting there was half the fun. Over twelve days we met cyclists from all over the world, ate schitzel, bretzel, bratwurst, duck, tapenade, piri-piri chicken, and butata frita. We drank gallons of Pellegrino, Perrier, and whatever sparkling water we could get. Usually ordered in 5 bottle quantities before we opened the menu.
We used every available means of transportation with the exceptions of horse-drawn carriage, hot air balloon, and boat. We traveled to the heart of Europe, down to the Mediterranean, and back to the Western most point on the Continent. We faced climbs, headwinds, cross-winds, twisting and turning descents, and the occasional straight, flat road, with a tail wind (snoozers). To be honest, after GFNY Italia in 2017, I secretly worried that we could never put another experience of a lifetime trip together. I should not have worried.

Time Between Races

With our GFNY Deutschland experience in the books, we got things in order, straight away when we got back to the hotel from the finish line. Aleksandra had family visiting her in Hameln, and watching her wave the flag of Poland as she crossed the finish line. For Jack and myself, it was a short order of bike packing, showers, and dinner, so that we would be ready to hit it bright and early in the morning. Or, maybe just early, as it wasn’t very bright out yet. We had the following itinerary for the day tomorrow

05:00 — wake up and get bags and bikes into the truck

05:30 — get to Aleksandra’s hotel, and get her stuff in the truck

06:00 — get on the road to Frankfurt

Wake up man it’s late but not too late,
It’s six o’clock like everyday!

Get your things run and forget the rain,
Take power pills don’t miss your train!

09:30 — arrive Frankfurt train station (aaaaand music)

13:58 — catch the TGV to Avignon (this one sounds simple)

21:20 — arrive Avignon — rent car and drive to Vaison la Romaine

23:00(ish) — arrive Vaison la Romaine

You maybe asking — Hey, Geiser, this sounds like an awful lot of trouble to go through to get to Lisbon, when you could have just driven to Hamburg or Hannover and caught a plane and maybe waited for a reasonable hour to do so? WTF Man? What’s this all about anyway?

I am SO glad you asked! With a week to kill between GFNY Deutschland, and the inaugural GFNY Portugal, we decided that this was ample time to get to the South of France, and climb Mont Ventoux. I had wrestled with the great Giant of Provence twice in 2015 (a Friday on my own, and the following Sunday as part of GFNY Mont Ventoux), and I had a score to settle. While I may have been lighter then, I had the feeling that I was a better cyclist now. And I wanted to see what that looked like. It also allowed Aleksandra to live her dream of climbing the mountain. With Tom already planning to spend some time in that neck of the woods, we coordinated months in advance to create a plan to meet in Vaison la Romaine, spend a couple of days, climb the mountain, drive to Marseille, and fly to Lisbon with enough time to shakeout for GFNY Portugal. Just another week in September for intrepid GFNY travelers. Nothing to it. The only hard part should be the mountain…right?

Final check on the room in Hameln, and the truck is mostly loaded for our drive to Frankfurt.

So you got on the road?

Oh right, yes, thanks — aaand, we are back in — yes, we got on the road. Stopped two times for gas station coffee, and made pretty screaming time down to Frankfurt. We were actually on schedule. But here is where it gets complicated. Let’s drop Jack and Aleksandra, at Frankfurt Main, take the truck to a gas station, fill it up, drive it back to the airport, return it, and get on a quick train back to Frankfurt main.

Unloaded and ready at the train station. A Hammering Man replica, just like the one we have in Seattle. Except I am guessing this one didn’t get dropped.

After unloading I can say it went mostly to plan. With the exception of sorting out which train, which direction, how much to pay, and then getting back up to the station. We got our tickets printed, and we had time to spare, enough for a respectable, sit down lunch, and the purchase of some on-board snacks.

With the handy-dandy, Rick Steves website loaded on my phone, we established our strategy for boarding the TGV with 3 bicycles, 3 large roller bags, and 3 backpacks. While we had assigned seats for the first class section of the train, luggage on the TGV follows more of the “festival seating” model. With our train in the station, Rick told us that we could approach the train 20 minutes beforehand. I spoke to the conductor in French, and got his permission for us to board.

Deliver us from evil — I couldn’t believe that another country had been duped into drinking Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. Iggy on the cover of the DB magazine has to be a good sign. Oh wait, we are not riding DB.

This would make it a cake walk. But here is where it gets messy. As we had booked all three tickets in two goes, I had car 11 seat 82 for Aleksandra, and car 13 seats 105/106 for Jack and myself. You would think I could remember this. We knew it would be a heave-ho to get the bikes off the train in Avignon, so we developed a strategy ahead of time to plan for it, and it would work. Especially if Jack and I hadn’t sat (at my direction), in seats 105/106 in car 11, and if I hadn’t helped situate Aleksandra and her stuff in car 13. As the train continued to board, my mistake was exposed. We would change places with Aleksandra, but moving the bikes and bags was out of the question. We would have to get up at Lyon, and change places, to handle this effectively — No problem. We got this.

HA!

Now situated, seemingly from Frankfurt to Lyon, the train started to roll. An announcement in German that I half-caught. Followed by an announcement in French that made may say “MERDE!”, and followed by the dreaded confirmation in English.

Ladies and gentlemen, we are sorry for this inconvenience but this train will need to change equipment at Strasbourg, we will give you ample time to change trains, and will provide up to the moment track information.

This was bad. We would have to get everything down into the lower decks and get ready to move in the next two or three stops, and, be ready as we crossed the border into France, to dosi-d’oh the equipment to another train, while trying to stay ahead of a train full of passengers, and a platform full of new passengers all struggling to make their luggage fit on the train. MERDE!

By 4PM we were over the border. This text came in welcoming me as we were humping the bikes to the lower deck.

At Strasbourg it was a complete goat-rodeo. The trains had been lined up across the platform from each other, but in reverse car order. We now had to swim up stream, yelling “Regardez!” (Watch out) as we went to get the bikes through. Aleksandra was able to get onto the new car 13 without much issue and get everything stowed. As I got stuck behind another passenger, Jack was able to stand the bikes on end behind the last seat. It was sight to behold, and I thought we were home free. I settled in, to our seats, and the train started to roll. Within seconds of closing my eyes I heard the muted cry of “bicyclist!”. Fear and loathing took over as I opened my eyes. Both bikes had tipped and had the last single side seat occupant trapped under their collective weight. I moved back to the luggage area and began hoisting the bikes onto a luggage rack, on an angle, and warning the nice passengers in the seat in front of the rack to watch out.

Our arrival in Avignon was relatively on time.

We were ready to exit the train with all haste in Avignon. The lower deck became crowded with travelers eager to exit after a long afternoon’s journey from Frankfurt and points south. We were no exception to this, knowing we still had a car rental and a drive to Vaison ahead. But we were confident that the Marx Brothers portion of our program was over. Jack watched with amazement as the French Casey Jones cranked the train up to 318 kilometers per hour. Finally we slowed, and could see the platform materialize.

We exited to the platform, and found our way to the car rental counter. The transaction was quick and efficient and we even got an automatic transmission at no extra charge. (not that I object to a stick shift, but for as many roundabouts as we would see, and automatic was a nice bonus). We engaged the maps, and started to make our way.

Google Maps — and yay, all mapping programs on your phone, absolutely suck in the South of France. Let’s just own this. Do you own it? Good. There is no getting around that the roads ebb, and flow in all directions, and that route names and numbers are really guidelines. They work EXTREMELY WELL when you are following them exclusively, but combine that with a mapping program and it is a holy terror. Knowing the area as I did, I thought we could maybe follow the signs, but the map seemed to be doing ok at first. Until we ended up in a shopping mall parking lot, being told “proceed to the route”. Finally, we got some guidance that took us to the A7. Aleksandra was prepared and threw us a 3kg ziplock bag of Euro coins. We would need it. As we proceeded onto the A7, instead of following my instincts, I followed the GPS which told me to take the exit toward Nimes/Montpelier. I did it. I knew it was wrong and I did it anyway. Why not light a cigarette, put me in a 73 Ford Pinto, and back me into a brick wall. That’s how wrong it was. But according to Google, salvation was at the first rest stop. There at the rest stop, instead of asking (as Jack suggested), we zigged and zagged and hit three different dead ends. We gave up and went to the next exit. Uzes. We were really in the wrong direction now. But we were able to jump off, and back on, and get going toward Vaison again, and finally it was going our way. Once off the A7 we were all road signs and roundabouts. I recognized the area from my last visit and we were able to use the “trust but verify” system of Google maps now that we had an idea where we were and what to do next. Finally in Vaison, we were able to find Tom and Nancy’s place and get Aleksandra dropped off for some much needed rest.

Fawlty Towers

I won’t name our hotel in Vaison la Romain. Except to say that it was once the top cycling and tourist resort in town, it seemed to have fallen, literally on darker days. We pulled into the circular drive and were directed around the back by signage to the garage. We were traveling the garage in reverse of how it was laid out, and Jack and I were hysterical that our comedy of errors continued. With the car parked, we went inside to find the front desk actually still open. He provided us keys, and we assessed the elevator. We unloaded. Jack stacked the bikes in the elevator, pressed “2” and we both ran up the three flights of stairs to the elevator area to unload them, as we couldn’t fit ourselves and the bikes. No matter. But it was dark. We used flash lights to navigate to our rooms, and finally got our stuff put away. We would meet in the morning. After getting undressed, tucked in, turning the air conditioning up, and getting my phone plugged in, I noticed my new roomate.

The hotel tennis court — we are a long way from Roland Garris!

OK In all fairness, the place was really ok! It had just seen better days. It had a garage with a bike area, and a bike stand for putting our stuff together, and so it was really quite friendly. In meeting our gracious host the next morning, I casually asked about the lighting.

Excuse me, Mr. Fawlty, but might we actually be able to have lights on on the second floor?

There are no lights?

Well inside the room, yes, but in the hallways, no.

Oh, right that happened on the first floor last week, mate. We will get that fixed.

He then looked at his footman, across the counter who answered him in another language. Not English, not French.

You’ll have to excuse him. He’s from Barcelona. In Spain.

Our assault on Mont Ventoux would be on Wednesday, so we got ourselves down to Place Montforte, the main square of Vaison, and found some coffee. Tom, Nancy, and Aleksandra made their way up to meet us. We were S.O.L. for a full breakfast as it was Tuesday, and Tuesday is Market Day in Vaison. We had a cup of coffee, hit the market, and then hit the super market to get our own breakfast together before we got bikes back together and got out for a shakeout ride.

After breakfast Jack and I got back over to the hotel and got our bikes together. We would want to get out on the road, Tom would be picking up his bike (shipped to Malaucene by Mirko), and I wanted to get my bottom bracket checked out. It was a 10km ride to Malaucene, so the sooner we got started the better.

The bike garage included holdovers from GFNY Ventoux 2016. On the way back to the hotel, Jack and I got a look at Ventoux from a distance.

We had an easy spin over to Malaucene, where we stopped in at Ventoux Bikes. Tom had to straighten out some issues with his bike as it was shipped in, and I started to talk to a mechanic about my bottom bracket issues. The plan — a civilized lunch, Tom would ride back with Aleksandra and Jack, I would leave my bike, and drive back to Vaison with Nancy. My bike would be ready at 6.

To cut to the chase, it was a full bottom bracket replacement. “I think you live near the sea. The salt from the sea, it steals your grease!” 90 Euros later, it was replaced, and I was ready to go. (Merci Matthieu). The noises and clicking I had during GFNY Deutschland were getting disconcerting, so I was happy to have it fixed.

We had a fabulous dinner at Restaurant L’ Epicurien — this was a place that Tom and Nancy had found and was an undisputed 5 star experience. They had a unique menu, exquisite food, and amazing desert. We could not have asked for better. But we still had a mountain to climb.

Mont Ventoux

I won’t beat around the bush, or sugar coat the fact that I was out to prove something on this day. It had nothing to do with competition, with the exception of competing with myself. I won’t say that I was dissatisfied with how I performed in 2015, but I was uninitiated. I was not strategic. I had no idea how to go about managing my effort. I was also a little freaked out about my current gearing. Rocking the 53/39 with a 29 on the back turned the heads of more than a few people that I told about this trip. It would have to do. This was after all, an HC climb. This ain’t no party, this ain’t no time trial, this ain’t no foolin’ around.

I chose the same route I used on the Friday before GFNY Mont Ventoux in 2015. It went out through Malaucene, followed along the same roadway, and then turned in over Col de Madeleine (not that one), and then down into the town of Bedoin. The Bedoin approach is the one that is used by the pros in the Tour De France, and in the Dauphine. It is reputed to be the most difficult of the three. When I saw Uli a few days later in Portugal, he asked “You went up Bedoin of course?” It was the presumptive pro approach.

I led out, knowing the route by memory. I enjoyed every second of it and pondered the concept of having a French soul. I feel completely at ease in France for some reason, I am not sure why. It makes me happy to be there. To be there on a bicycle, even more so. I grew to feel the same ease, and at home feeling in Italy during GFNY Italia last year.

At KM 0 — the start of a 22 KM route to the top, we checked in at a local bike shop to get Tom a new power meter battery. This would be an essential effort measurement tool. I was myself, going to keep a close eye on power along with my heart rate to make sure I was spreading myself evenly over the 22KM to the top.

Finally we were rolling.

Kilometer 0, and the bike shop. The initial kick starting about 2KM in from the bike shop.

I was quickly off the back of our foursome, but it was admittedly without despair. My day today would not be about keeping up with the group. It would be about making sure that I was ahead of the 2:13 mark that I had in my mind as what needed to be done to ensure that I was improving as a cyclist, a climber, and a person. I could not have a bad day. I needed to protect my frail ego from failure, and I was ready to do anything I could to make that happen.

As the pavement started to kick up to the requisite 8% + I knew that I was beyond all respite until the “softening” at Chalet Reynard, with about 7KM to go. I was already 39/29, and there I would stay, trying my best to manage a fast cadence for as long as I could. As we meandered through the woods, I saw parts of the group, specifically Tom, and Aleksandra get further away. I had Jack in sight, but I couldn’t catch him. I was unwilling to burn a match on such a frivolity as catch up. I would either catch him with my strategy, or I wouldn’t. Spoiler alert — I wouldn’t. But I could see him all the way to the top.

About 10KM a French rider came up along side me and put his hand on my back. Concentrating, and not being able to see, I freaked out a little. Quel suprise?! What the hell is happening? He apologized and explained he was trying to help me. I mean, I get it, but if you don’t know a fella, you don’t put your hands on a fella on an HC climb while he has blood pouring out of his eye balls from his effort.

“I don’t need any, I don’t want any, Merci!”

He moved on. I kept pedaling, through the doldrums of the Ventoux forest where the mile marker stones are few and far between, and where the KM numbers don’t count down as fast as the grade numbers kick up. This was the thick of it, the toughest part. Where it continually kicks up over 9, 10, 12% without relenting. A long road ahead that you can see the torture laid out in front of you as you continue to climb. Finally, I came into the sunlight and turned. I could see the top again, and the road turned to the left and twisted around to the approach to Chalet Reynard. I could see the green and black GFNY colors on Aleksandra as she continued up from the Chalet. The signs for big horn sheep gave me a boost of confidence, as I could now get into countdown mode.

I started to mark the KM in my head as I went. I should see the photographers soon. I should see Tom Simpson soon. Maybe not, maybe I was still at the bottom of the approach to the top — I was. It started to get difficult again, as I knew it would. The thing about this part of Mont Ventoux is, for some reason, even as you get closer, it doesn’t feel like you are getting closer. Despair starts to set in. As I got to the final turn, before I knew the top was coming, it kicked up again. I was now shouting fucking 53/39/29 — gear numbers randomly, like I was having a stroke. Frustrated at how hard it was to push, I was thinking:

This has to be going on three fucking hours. There is no way I am under 2:45. Fuck it, I will be happy to be at the fucking top, and be done with this sick fucking fantasy.

It kicked again, and I kept pedaling. My head was down, and I heard my name.

GEISER!

Tom, what the hell are you doing here?

Cramped up, rode it out, here I am.

We both kept pressing. We were close. Just the 20% kicker at the very top. We were up. I hit the lap timer. when I got to the flat. I screamed! YEAAAAAAH! Like Roger Daltrey getting ready to tell me who the new boss is! People around me laughed.

TWO FUCKING ELEVEN!

Are you kidding me? 2:11. I was thinking it was three hours. I hit the lap timer at KM 0. 2:11. I was 2 minutes ahead of the 2:13 I was thinking. But that wasn’t the real story of my comparison to 2015. I had hit an almost 10:00 difference (in a good way), in the Strava Segment. (Obviously not measured from KM 0, but it was how I was tracking my time).

Almost 10 minutes difference in the Strava Segment from Bedoin.

We called Ventoux a success and reveled for a while before getting ready for the descent. I had brought my 2015 GFNY Mont Ventoux gillet, for just this occasion.

For the last laugh at Fawlty Towers, Jack and I got ready to pack the bikes. We would be out to Marseilles in the morning, and wanted to make sure we could eat dinner with a clear head. But first I needed a cup of coffee. Throughout our stay, I was walking into the grand cafe of the hotel, and availing myself of the coffee machine. Thinking, it’s there, it has cups, and it’s not coin operated. Well — to the chagrin of the aforementioned footman, when he finally caught me inflagrante cafe, so to speak.

Hey — that is not free — just for breakfast.

Uh oh! I made quick with the Humble Pie face, to protest my innocence and ignorance, while offering to pay for the coffee. We shook hands, and Jack and I enjoyed our last cup at the hotel before we would depart in the morning. In 24 hours we would have a different stunning view in Portugal. But we had work to do and bikes to pack before dinner and rest.

On to Portugal

The race in Portugal, already documented, was an amazing experience. With time after the race, we were able to create an amazing addition to the whole GFNY Double-Double experience and see some of the countryside, beaches, and history that makes travel so fascinating.

Editors note: Portugal — is amazing!

While Tom and Nancy, needed to get back to France to fulfill the remainder of their plans in Cognac, we decided to take a day trip to Sintra, and see the Castle of the Moors, as well as the colorful palace that sat atop the beautiful Portuguese seashore.

We split into groups with some taking the Tuk-Tuk (small motor carriage), up the hill, and the rest of us taking the climb on foot. With almost 300 meters in climbing done, we were at the Castle of the Moors, and walking the battlements. A mix up on the Tuk-Tuk took the remainder of the group to the palace. Either way, we were able to see some amazing history, and beautiful scenery, before taking the Tuk-Tuk down. Then recovery ride, beach, and dinner.

For our last dinner together in Cascais, we chose a local pub-fare type place. Easy in, easy out, nobody gets hurt.

How’s the fish and chips?

Oh wonderful, prepared in the English way, but with beautiful hake fish, meaning no bones.

We ordered.

Oh by the way, we were out of hake fish — this is sole — you have heard of sole maybe? This sole has bones but it is a better fish. Just be careful of the bones.

The next morning, we were on our way. Back to reality, back to the states, and back with the perspectives that only travel can bring. After 12 days of traveling I was tired and a little ready for my own bed. But not so tired, that I am not already looking forward to what lies ahead. With the podcasts teasing out things that may happen in March and June, I am already planning how I will divide up my time off. This trip was special in that my better half was able to make it to Portugal. To be able to share it with Chaz, was an amazing thing. Not only to see her waiting for me at the finish line, but to share all of the other experiences with her. To have a friendship of 27 years, with Jack, rekindled — how else could you do that? We bonded with travel, and racing, and it was like we hadn’t lived 3000 miles away from each other these past 20 years. We picked up right where we left off. And the Gavia team, to have so many there, from all over, Tom and Nancy from California. Aleksandra, Adrienne, Ari, Mike, BTG Greg, Alicia and myself, all there from NYC. Jack from Seattle. Clarence and his wife from Germany. Noel, and Luis from Puerto Rico. The shouts of “hey Mister Double Double” from people I didn’t know. More friends, in at least four more countries. More Strava profiles to follow, to see where everyone is riding, or traveling to.

More GFNY races ahead, more travel. More! More!

I feel the hot wind on my shoulder
I dial in, south of the border
Hear the talking of the DJ –
Can’t understand, what’s he say?

I’m on the Mexican radio
I’m on the Mexican radio
I’m on the Mexican radio
I’m on the Mexican radio

by Chris Geiser

With gratitude for all that have helped me along in the journey so far, family, teammates, dear friends, co-workers (you all know who you are). And anyone else that I may have forgotten. For every mistake that I didn’t make worse, for every bad situation I handled better, for every memory that I made better by being present, my eternal gratitude. And last but certainly not least, to the one who posed the question — “what is it, do you think, that is holding you back from achieving everything you want to achieve, and being who you want to be?” To be on the path — that is the achievement.

Booth Repeats — 2 days after making one of the best decisions I have ever made, when answering the question “What’s holding you back?”

A Very Special Week — For So Many Reasons

This has been a special week. Without getting too teary eyed about it, in the midst of our #GFNYDoubleDouble hijinx, I hit the 2nd anniversary of being sober. It may not seem important to what we had going on here, except that cycling has been a catalyst, in creating a sphere of influence around myself that has allowed me to understand all that was holding me back, deal with it, and move forward. It’s a process to be sure, just like becoming a better cyclist is. Once started, the journeys follow two similar paths. The Double-Double being a celebration of the journey, and a manifestation of all that the journey means. But we are here to talk about a bike race — and a damn good one — so to quote Anthrax — “Yo watch the beat!”

The Negative Split

It was race time, and falling short of my previous sleep induced terrors on the train back from Lisbon yesterday, about forgetting my GFNY bow tie, it was time to do the work. In conferring with Tom all afternoon about the race, we decided to work together and try to run a negative split. That meaning that we would go easier in the first half, and try to go faster in the second half. Calculating for a mark that would put us just over six hours for the whole course. Tom is a master at analyzing the course profile, required outputs, and how to modulate effort along the way. I was giving it a lot of thought — this concept is something that I have failed at numerous times, and it would take a great deal of discipline for me to modulate that effort, stay with Tom, and take advantage of having one of the best people I know, helping me modulate along the way.

Requiring something to be nervous about, I tossed and turned all night. Wondering where the new batteries for my power meter might be, and where the wrench to take the caps off were. Did I have swabs to clean the caps? Would I get up in time to change the damn batteries? What would I do if I had to race without my power meter? I finally made a command decision to control what I could. I got out of bed, brushed my teeth, made coffee, and with a fresh brewed cup from the “monkey jar” I got to work on refreshing my power meter. “Take the pedals off dumbass it will only take two minutes longer, and it will be way easier”, I told myself. Hey, I was right! It was easier. Changed — phew, done. Crisis avoided. Now, where is that danged bow tie?!

Gruppo compato! Let’s do this!

With the gruppo compato, (group all together), we rolled to the start line. At the start time, Uli asked about my goals for today. “Well, I had 6:19 in my head all through Germany, so I am thinking that even though I didn’t get there, I would like to try and get there”, and I was serious. That number would not escape my psyche the entire day. With entry to the VIP corral, there were (as there were @GFNY Deutschland), some heavy hitters in the front corral. The group would go out hard and fast, with some of our group going out for Aleksandra, and Tom and I going out together with our negative split strategy.

A lot of horsepower up front. Tom and I would be working our own strategy.

And We’re Off…

It was a lively atmosphere at the start line. Lots of photos, videos being taken. Arms up and waving, and finally the countdown. Really? Already? I don’t feel like I have been standing here long enough. The Portuguese numbers were counted down on the PA by Ana Paula Cavalcanti the race organizer, and then we were off. I could hear my timing chip beep as I crossed over the matt, and we were weaving through the streets of Cascais, and suddenly past the apartment that we just left, waving along the way. Out along the seashore, I was being careful to modulate my heart rate, and not worry about the pack. “They are not doing a negative split”, I thought. We will catch many of them along the route. Hey — wait a second? About that negative split…where the hell is Tom? My first thought was that he must have gotten swept up in the pack. No matter, he would either make his way back or he would stay with the pack, either way, I was going to stick to the plan. Heart rate in the 120’s I kept it moving brisk, and kept the cadence spinning high. Within a minute or two, Tom was upon me. “Geiser, I am here”. He slipped in front of me, and informed me that he had lost his chain at the start, and had to wrangle it back on to keep moving, and that caused a delay. We were now weaving with the pack as we saw Uli, Mirko, Lidia, and Aleksandra on the side of the road. Someone had a flat already. It didn’t take long for them to get it changed, and to catch us on the second turn.

“GEISER — Let’s go GEISER!” Uli was shouting as he made his way by. We stayed with that group for a small bit, but were making sure to work to our strategy as we came upon what Mirko had referred to on Friday, as “the first selection”.

“Hey if we stay together all day only one of us will have to buy the photos” we joked as we fist bumped while we passed the cameras on the climb. We were taking it very easy but passing a number of riders as we gently made our way up, knowing that what looked like the end of the climb, really wasn’t. We rolled past a number of familiar landmarks from the Medio route, and had a few blind dates try to latch on to Tom’s wheel. They were edging me out. My move here — ride out in front of Tom, and start gradually killing the pace. They would usually get frustrated and fire around us like a scatto del fagiano shaking their head the whole way.

Onto the 162KM Route

We zigged and zagged our strategy through the front half of the Medio route, and out through Sintra, and finally we found ourselves passing the Medio turn and making our way toward our destiny — the Gran Fondo long route. Here we would start to see the climbs that we didn’t see on our Friday recce, and start to understand the true difficulty of the course. As we rolled past one of the first aid stations, we were able to see how the water and food were set up so that we could minimize our stopping time, when we needed water — and we would definitely be needing water throughout the route. The sun was now fully out, and it was getting hot. Despite passing under what looked like a few rain clouds, the heat deepened, and out in front of us, we could see the mountains/hills, that we would need to traverse to get back to the beach at Cascais as part of completing the course. Tom — ever prepared — had the course loaded, and so he and the signage allowed me to concentrate on effort without the worry of course navigation.

The day wore on and the climbing seemed to intensify some. We were staying on target with our split and our effort, and I was finding a bit of strength on the climbs. It was great to be able to hang with Tom and for us to work together the whole way as a team. As a side note — if you had told me I would be working with Tom the whole day, that we would finish together (spoiler alert), and that other good things would happen as a result of all of it — I would have signed a contract for that the night before. At the half way point, I had to give in to a natural break, and so we pulled at the next aid station, filled bottles, ate a banana and I found a nice quiet place to let things happen as they needed to. That would hopefully be the last of the stopping. We were staying true to our split, as we rounded a descent, made our way through a small town, and saw Big Tall Greg on the side of the road with a moto. He recovered from the puncture that he had, and as he caught up to us yelled “Two fucking flats, can you believe it, two! I was on pace with the front group and I fucking flatted twice!” — I was just glad to see he was OK, but we all got on with it, and Greg kept cranking toward the finish.

We kept persevering up the various climbs and pressing against the heat as we went. We took advantage of the aid stations as they came to refill bottles. As we made our way up to the intersection with the Medio route, I realized that all was not well. As I descended a small section, I realized on the next upgrade that I was bouncing on my saddle. The bouncing gave me pause. I remembered in pumping my tires in the morning, that my back tire was unusually low. I had had some trouble getting it filled, but I did get it filled, and then I thought precious little of it as we rolled out of Cascais. (While I was worrying about my power meter batteries, and my bow tie). I had gotten slightly ahead on one of the climbs and pulled over at a driveway of a local business to check it out. I was dangerously low. As Tom approached, I was setting up my CO2 gun, and, with only about 50KM to go, was considering just blasting the tire full and moving right along. “Maybe we just want to take a minute and change it”, Tom offered. He was right, and I knew he was right. This would come back to haunt us, and make a mess of our time if we didn’t deal with it properly. I pulled a new tube and got to work. (Editor’s note — the tube in question was saved and tested and exploded at 40PSI on Monday morning — ‘nuff said).
We were changed, and back to full quickly, and on with the show.

The Devil You Know

We were now on the route that we knew — we had rejoined the medio where the two routes converge — and we knew what was ahead for us. There was one really significant climb left, with a couple of small ones in between. The big climb was the KOM climb for the course, and led to the fast descent back to the beach road, that led to the finish line. As we got to the next stop we hit the SIS flat cola tablets, and pressed on, until I heard Tom say “big climb coming now — turn right”, and there we we were. Climbing the last bit. I got stuck again as the road narrowed, behind stopping traffic, but was able to make a continuous roll to the top. With just a few bumps to the summit, we had essentially gotten up and over, and suddenly the road tilted down.

And down we went — fast — streaking into the down the curves, I felt the wind blow into my deep set carbon clinchers, and with that the movement of the bike in the road. I pedaled harder to cut through the wind, and as we made the final turn, I looked at Tom and said — “let’s make sure we screw up each other’s photos at the finish line”. We were almost there, and now navigating the beach roads into the finish line, and down to the last 5k. One of our blind dates was back among us, and trying to make sure he got to the finish line first. We were having none of it, and turned it up. Into the finish, where we bumped fists for the cameras, and saw our teammates awaiting us.

6:33 was our elapsed time, but largely due to my flat tire. Now how about that moving time. 6:19 — I said it and I meant it. And there it was. As for the negative split — it was almost dead even. The climbing took care of the acceleration, but the effort level definitely went up.

6:19 moving time, my premonition came true.

The Finish Line

One member of the team was still out. We were in touch with Mike Carey via text and phone, and he was aware of Adrienne’s location and let us know about when he expected her to cross. We got some food and a coke, and awaited her return. As we waited, we found out that Aleksandra was on the podium for her age group, and for the women’s category overall. A huge set of wins for #Bomba. As we started to celebrate that, a call from Mirko — “Where is Tom- he is being called for at the podium!” Tom ran to the podium, to find that he was number 1 in his age group. While I know deep down that Tom could have achieved this on his own, it’s nice to think that as I worked with him throughout the day, I somehow contributed to the win, and that feeling, was truly amazing!

As we saw Adrienne cross the finish line, we quickly realize that all was not well. She had gotten hit with a huge gust of wind on the beach road that took her down, and put a nasty cut on her elbow. As the medics tried to get her to go with them, she insisted on getting back on the bike and riding the final 4KM to the finish line. A couple of dozen stitches later, surfing lessons cancelled, she was able to finish the race, but not without some damage to her elbow.

The Gavia family on the podium. Aleksandra and Tom celebrate their new hardware. Adrienne crossing the line, and the group of us at the finish.

A New Tradition From an Old Tradition

As we made our way back to the apartment, Jack filled us in on a beach house tradition of his family, to jump in the water full clothed at the end of the trip. While not quite the end, we had done what we came to do. We double-doubled, some of us tripled, and two of us actually won. On top of all of it- to have people from other countries shout “hey Mr. Double Double” (that you have never met), as you ride into the start line — well that’s just the icing on the cake.

What more could you ask for, except to cool down, kid style in the beautiful bay across the street from Gavia House. The sign ups for the 2019 #GFNYEuropeanDouble have already begun.

Next up: What happened in France? Abbot and Costello on the TGV! Fear, loathing, and adulation on Mont Ventoux.     

by Chris Geiser

It is absolutely unbelievable to imagine that what started in January as almost a dare, is nearly a fait accompli! Jack, Aleksandra, and myself made our way through France this week by TGV (story coming next week), to meet @Tom Niccum, take care of some unfinished business, and then flew to Lisbon from Marseille on Thursday morning. With our unfinished business, finished, we had a great dinner, packed bikes to the car, and got some sleep. We were up with the sun on Thursday to eat the last of the food at Tom and Nancy’s apartment, and make the 90 minute drive to Marselle. (Cue Guy Ritchie montage):

Cue Guy Ritchie music — leaving at sun up to make a noon flight to Lisbon

1. Drop Jack, bikes, bags, refuel car, drop off at rental counter
2. Get to flight check in early enough to be first-ish
3. Check in, sweet talk baggage pricing
4. Get bike ex-rayed
5. Get through security
6. Get shaken down by security
7. Lunch
8. Board
9. Fly
10. Land
11. Maciej!

Security shakedowns aside, everything went pretty smoothly. We were met at the airport by the hardest working man in show business, Maciej! By 3PM we were in Cascais, and into our apartment overlooking the race course, and the Atlantic, and only a few hundred meters from the start line. We got setup, built bikes (this was our 6th such activity of this type this week), and started to figure out what dinner was looking like. The whole group was now in Cascais (with the exception of Clarence), myself, Jack, Aleksandra, Tom, Adrienne, Ari, Greg, and of course, Mirko. With the expo not yet open (although we stopped by to say hi as they set up), we were ready for dinner and hit the local seafood joint directly downstairs.

Veranda strategy session for the Medio route in the morning.

The Medio Route

Over dinner and on the veranda, we made plans for a recce of the Medio route first thing in the morning. Leaving from the start line, we wound out through the beach roads of Cascais heading for Sintras and points beyond, with the anticipated coverage of about 80 kilometers for the day, and about half the climbing we would see on the Gran Fondo route on Sunday. With Mirko leading the ride, we got going, and kept a brisk pace through the first few kilometers of the course. It was of course time for a photo.

The hambones on our first beach siting as we rolled out of Cascais on the Medio Route

With a quick climb up, from the beach road, I heard Mirko telling the group “this will be the first selection, on Sunday”. I asked him later what he meant; “so many will go out hard, and as they get here, they will slow down as they realize they are climbing”. We wound up and out through traffic, and got into the town of Sintras. Famous for its castle, but we were there for coffee.

Quick coffee stop in Sintras, to try the local custard tarts, and refuel.

As we pressed on, the traffic started to lighten up, and the roads seemed to magically widen, as we did more scenic climbing, and wound our way up some of the biggest climbs of the Medio route. Not too long after, and right along the route, I could smell the brine of the Atlantic as we approached the town of Azenhas do Mar. We went down a quick, steep, hairpin curve, and stood up to push up a steep incline to an overlook point, to a vista that took everyone’s breath away.

An amazing view of an edge of the European continent. Jack getting down the ramp to the overlook for a closer view.

We stood with our jaws dropped, took selfies, and joked but time was starting to slip away. So we got going, and pressed on. Through a few quick descents, and a couple of nice easy flat sections, we began the first part of several climbs. The group started to split a little, but we were mainly staying together and pressing on. The climbs were beautiful, and challenging, and a good test of what I had learned about myself and my training in Germany, and France, leading up to this ride. With a long fast descent ahead, we were quickly hammering along a beach road back to the marina where the expo was waiting for us.

It was good to get registration out of the way, talk to folks that we had only met via Facebook, and continue to get acquainted with Cascais.

The expo is open, the pirri-pirri is fabulous, and the view from our apartment is unbeatable.

It was time to try the local food on for size, and it did not disappoint. While we had a very nice lunch, the main event, was dinner at Somos um Regalo. A fast walk through the town square, and off the beaten path. There were no tourists, and they seated out party of ten immediately via some sweet talking from Tom.
Waiter: “Are you ready to order?”

Me: “But we haven’t seen a menu?!”

Waiter: “It’s chicken, and would you like rice? And a salad? And butata frita?

Me: “Yes”

And we were off. Some of the best pirri-pirri chicken out there. An amazing feast, and for a chicken lover such as myself, one of the best meals I have ever had. At roughly 10 Euro per person, it was also maybe, the greatest food deal I have ever seen, and I ate to hurt myself before being dragged out by the rest of the group with a leg bone hanging out of my mouth. We were fueled for the 7AM GFNY Group ride run by the GFNY founders, Uli, and Lidia in the morning.

We set out from the start line, and head in the opposite direction than we did on the Medio route. The idea was to do an easy 40km or so, and get as many of the GFNY World travelers together for the ride as we could. Our new friends Noel, and Luis, just in from Puerto Rico, were with us, and Clarence had arrived from Germany to establish “Gruppo compato”, the whole group together spinning out along the beach and back up the last descent we had done yesterday. This was a fun climb, twisting and turning up and out of Cascais, until hitting a short descent down to the most Western Point in Europe. Along the route, folks got acquainted, and reacquainted, and provided the proof to why GFNY is a global cycling language all its own.

Cabo da Roca is the most Western point in Europe. The closest we will be to home before we fly home. But first — there is racing to be done.

Uli and Mirko cranking it up. Mirko getting ready for the Portuguese Swan diving team, team photo en route to Cabo da Roca (the western most point in Europe).

Climbing back out of Cabo da Roca, we kept the conversations going until it was time to take the big descent back to the beach, and then hammer back to the Marina. We definitely saw a headwind along the beach as the wattage required was significantly higher today than it was yesterday.

Once back at the expo, I decided to figure out a completely obnoxious and self-serving sign in, and presented Ana Paula Cavalcanti with a copy of the Italian Job.

#SurfGFNY #GFNYDoubleDouble #114 is checked in and ready.

Trains to Lisbon and Back

With some time to kill, we headed to Lisbon to check out the old city. We had some Pirri-Pirri (yes, again), and climbed the hills to the Castle of St. Jorge. Then down and around and back on the train. With the heat on the train I got a little sleepy. Race anxiety crept in, and I had a dream that I showed up to the start line without my bow tie. I don’t know what it means, but if that is the only problem that I have tomorrow, I can do without the bow tie — this time. We are heading out for our pre-race dinner. More this week as we complete the #GFNYDoubleDouble and get ready to surf! I leave you with a gratuitous Lisbon photo!

Well, where did we leave off? It’s been a crazy couple of days of travel, packing the bikes, unpacking the bikes, on the train, off the train, back on another train (and as we say in Staten Island — that’s a whole other thing), back off the train. Another rental car, snafu’d by Google Maps, the backward parking garage, my new 8 legged roommate, and a whole bunch of whole other things. But I digress. We are here to talk about the race. As we wrapped up in the last go-round, I was stuffing my jersey pockets (MacGeiser style), for the 161km, and 2200 meters of climbing that lay ahead. Outside of time trials, this was my first real road race back on the bike since going ass over tea kettle in April, in Upstate New York. I really wasn’t sure what to expect.

At our dinner, Clarence asked about my time goals for the race. I went with a “would be delighted with 6:30, but 6:45 would be completely acceptable”. Really anything under 7 would have been nice. And anything between 6:42 and 7:09 would rival my best GFNY races to date. But I was sheepish. I didn’t know how my training would add up. I felt good, but would I stick to my strategy. There were a lot of factors in play, and I was lining up (thank you Kenny), in the elite VIP corral sporting bib number 24. Jack and I rolled over to the start line, and got ourselves in position about 30 minutes early. I hadn’t had any coffee — which for a race day for me, was unheard of.

Rolled to the start line early. Before the corrals filled we took the opportunity to introduce ourselves to some new friends, and reacquaint with some old ones.

The VIP Corral

I must admit that I felt a little bit like George Plimpton, in Paper Lion being in the front corral. Elite athletes, like our friend Clarence, Felipe Castro, the national champion of Costa Rica in his category (both of whom will be in the GFNY Portugal race as well), and a host of others. We made some new friends, and saw the racers that I would have perceived just by looking would be in the top ranks at days end. As folks talked to me there was a little bit of “how did you get in here” in the introductions. But I quickly got over it. As the corrals filled, the music got louder, the announcements started, and the race directors car moved into position to get the neutral start underway. Something of a festival atmosphere in the center of Hameln, the race directors car, being the Pied Piper, leading us all to the course. Once out past the neutral start, we would be on our own. Photographers took pictures, more announcements were made, and then finally there was a palpable hush.

In the last seconds before the starters clock hit 07:00:00, the chill in the air, the slight hint of dewy moisture, and the amazing hush, made this an almost startling moment in its silence. It screamed that something great was about to happen.

The Race Directors car getting into position as the corrals started to fill.

And We Were Off…

Chasing through the twists and turns of Hameln heading out to the country side with the race directors car out in front. The race was not neutralized for very long, and the speeds out of the gate bordered on the ridiculous. At one point I looked down, I was spinning at over 100rpm, in the 53 chain ring, and my heart rate was in the 170’s. We were less than 2 kilometers into the race, and I was already revved to the red line just to try and keep the 42–45 kilometers per hour pace that the leading groups were producing. I could feel myself being shot out the back like a potato that was jammed in a muffler pipe, and jetisoned out when the car started. I was being passed left and right, and as we hit the country roads was now surrounded by Medio course riders. This was a predicament. My new friends were keeping me to their right side, and so I had a tough time creating anything close to a chase speed that could reconnect me with the front groups. Jack, and Aleksandra were off and running, and I would not see them again until the finish line. With my heart still racing, I found my way out to the left, and spun my way out to the front of one of the medio groups. I would try and drive from their until the climbs and then see what happened.

As we hit the Daspe-Heyen climb outside of one of the first towns we rolled through, I began to get into my strategy. The Daspe-Heyen, was not what I would refer to as a categorized climb, but it was a punchy little kicker (sounds more like a kangaroo), that reminded you what lay ahead. Usually this is the type of place where I would throw everything into trying to get to the top fast and not lose any time. But, today was different. Instead, I used it to allow me to peel back my effort, and recognize that the length of the course required a sound strategy. A strategy that I had worked out, but just hadn’t followed in the first 15 kilometers. This is one of my more common problems in time trialing, but this was no 40km affair that would be over in an hour. This required settling in, being disciplined, and following the plan.

The Daspe-Heyen — in the grand scheme of things, not a categorized climb, but kicks enough to remind you what is coming.

The Daspe-Heyen succeeded in calming me down, and allowing me to make a little space between myself and some of my Medio friends. Between here and the next set of climbs, I would leap-frog with several groups, but was mostly having a series of blind dates with folks jumping on my wheel for the flats, passing me on the downhills, and watching me take back the front on the climbs. The plan was working.

There were several punchy climbs that took us to the Roter Fuchs (the Red Fox), where we twisted and turned up a beautiful Ardennes like climb that had a little bit of a bite in the middle. With several double digit grade sections, the average grade reported on the course map was a little deceptive. At the top, at the Roter Fuchs tavern, was the first aid station. I chose to keep going. I made it up the climb in fairly good order, and was starting to realize that my efforts to stay disciplined were paying dividends in time. With the descents being sharp, but not terribly technical, I was able to take some time back, and gain some momentum as we rolled through the towns.

Have I mentioned that the course, at this point, was completely closed to automobile traffic? When descending, using the entire right side of the road affords you an incredible amount of control at higher speeds, and allows you to make up some of that time that you give back on the climbs. It was an amazing way to “Be a Pro for a Day” (the GFNY motto), racing through the streets of the towns with closed intersections, highly visible markings, and volunteers cheering you on.

40KM to Go! Really?

Given that the GFNY Deutschland Gran Fondo route is a double loop (hey double), the Medio Fondo route is shared through the first loop. With 40KM to go in the Medio route, I wondered if I had missed a turn. I asked the gent next to me “Ist der medio?” I got back a very fast answer in German that I couldn’t process. “Kein Deutsch, Anglisch bitte!” I asked. My answer came with a very thick British accent “you’re alright mate, we are sharing the road to the turn, but we have a little way to go, and a couple of climbs. You will see what I mean when we hit the split, but we have two climbs yet to go”.

I thanked him and kept pedaling. As I got to the first of the two climbs he was referncing, I measured it out (Thank you Tom Niccum), and kept my match burning damage low. As me and several others descended into the next round of straightaways, another rider said to me “I think that is the end of the race car behind us, is that car the end of the race car?” I looked back but saw no car. But it was certainly conceivable that the broom wagon was nearly upon us as I was completely owning that I was at the back of the Gran Fondo field. As I turned down the next main street, there was a sharp left, that went up a very steep grade for a short kick, there were a number of riders who had missed a shift, or dropped a chain that were off and walking, I was determined not to join them. With all of my weight leaned forward, I just kept spinning the cranks as hard as I could until I was on the flatter section of the road. This 100 meter section was the only section of “bad road” I saw on the entire course. But let’s qualify that. While perhaps a “bad road for Germany” it was a completely “standard and acceptable paved surface by the standards of the NYC Department of Transportation”. So, as Jack would say “we had that going for us”. The transplanted section of Staten Island street, led out onto the Lauenstein Kehrenspaß, the last of the categorized climbs for this loop. I kept checking my time versus my distance to see if the strategy was still working, and it was, so I maintained my discipline. On the way up I saw two familiar signs from the GFNY NYC Championship route.

53/17 (as I passed this sign, I went to shift my cassette, but my right hand slipped, and I accidentally extended my middle finger at the sign)

What would Eddy do?

These two laugh riot signs seemed to have made there way across the Atlantic, in what was obviously an attempt by race organizers and race founders to make me feel more at home. Yes, that must be it.

As I continued up, there was a camper van at the top, with a Tour de France Polka Dot baseball cap hanging from the mirror. A perfect accompaniment, as I got a lovely hello from the woman occupying the camper, I readied myself to start making time back toward the cutoff. As I emerged from the forests of the descent, I saw the familiar stacks of the nuclear plant marking my way back toward Börry — where I knew a nasty climb awaited on the second lap. There were great discussions with riders from all over the globe along the way. The U.K., Sicily, and many others that made the day so enjoyable. But I was about to lose all my friends for the rest of the day. I had been so embedded in the Medio pack, that when we hit the cutoff, I went left, and they went right. I was now on my own. It was now an 80km time trial to the end, as I rounded away from the cutoff, and back out onto the seemingly deserted roads back to the Daspe-Heyen. But while I wondered how far in back of the field I was, I never stopped racing.

My thoughts on camera as I made my way to the second half.

I was through the cutoff in less than three hours. 2:58 to be exact. I decided I needed to memorialize not only my pace for the first half, but also my sense of being DFL (Dead Effing Last for the uninitiated), as I got through a small town and out to the first little climb. I was pacing well, and having a great ride, and maybe even a great race, but the field was now very spread out on the course, I had the course to myself.

As I pushed on through several little towns, thinking I was DFL, I yelled out to the volunteers “ich bin der langsammer” (I am the slow one) — hey if you achieve that status, the black jersey, the lanterne rouge, why not celebrate it. As I hit the Dasper-Heyen for the second time, I realized that the race had not actually been lost yet. From a distance, I saw a lone green jersey, standing up on the steepest part of the climb. “DO NOT TRY TO CATCH HIM ON THE CLIMB”, my professor brain shouted at me (Thanks Turkish). I stuck to the plan, and knew that I would and could reel him back in. Knowing that the next bit of climbing was more my cup of tea, I did what I could over the short and punchy last bits, descended to the turn, and begin roleuring up the next phase. There would be a technical descent at the end of it, that may be my chance. It wasn’t. Not until I hit the more open roads did I begin to really make back time. We played cat and mouse for 2–3 km and finally I was able to overtake him. We were locked in a battle to not be last. But, suddenly, we had more and more friends that we could depend on to help us in this fight. Up a steep bit that ran to the next section of flats, I saw the ambulance and broom wagon making there way. I realized then that, here in Europe, the race pace, and broom wagon follows at a higher pace. So I began racing with the intent of not fighting the broom wagon’s pace, but fighting the pace of every other rider I could.

Creeky Bottom Brackets

My bottom bracket had been making some awful noises over the past few days. But it was nothing in comparison to the Cervelo rider that I played leap frog with several times. I not match for him on the climbs, he no match for me on the flats. I knew two dislikes of his, the first the sound of his bottom bracket, the second, the sound of mine passing him. As we hit Roter Fuchs for the second time, he spun away from me, but we would rekindle our friendship several times before the finish line.

At roughly 50km to go, and at the top of Roter Fuchs, I made my first stop. I filled my water bottle and dropped an SIS caffeine tablet in. I hit the head, talked briefly to one or two other riders, and was off. I didn’t want to lose time, and with all that I had told Clarence about my goal time, I kept running the number 6:19 through my head. Could it be 6:19. Why 6:19? Well, why not I guess. I periodically checked the time to see if I was making the grade. It would be close.

The climbs went slower the second time around, as you might expect. It was getting hotter, and significant energy had been spent to get back to Börry. This was where the final climb, and for my money (while short), the toughest climb on the course. It would precede a screaming fast run in to the finish line that I would take full advantage of. But first, I had to say hello to an old friend. As I stayed within earshot of his bottom bracket, we started to climb, with the pitch getting rising to a steepness that matched the intensity of the heat I was feeling from the sun on the back of my neck. This was a tough effort and there was no relenting during this climb for fear of getting started again. Over the last few kilometers, I had also been leapfrogging with another De Rosa rider named Marco (or so his bib said). He had caught us on the climb and was now matching climbing capabilities with my friend on the Cervelo. I was encouraged that I was able to stay as close as I did.

The climb out of Borry was brutal.

This was the last climb and I had to leave something for the run into the finish. It was a good 10km to the finish line, and I had to assume that being a little conservative here would mean a better chance of having a tiger in my tank for the run in. As I got over the top, I passed my new friends and began to use the last of what I had. And I didn’t stop. I kept pedaling, and for the first time since the morning was back in the 53 to give it all I had at a high RPM. If my heart rate got away here — so what. But the difference between the time I wanted and the time I would get, would come from here, those last couple of minutes where, had I played the role of survivor instead of aggressor, would have left me back several more places in the standings.

As the finish line crew finished providing me with my medal, my new friends arrived at the finish line. Dropped is a relative thing. If you are trying to place above someone, you can’t turn your back on them for a second without pedaling like you stole it. Had I relented, I realized that they were close enough to have caught me. Not that it mattered, the placement, but surely that would have made a demoralizing difference in the time.

6:23 — Clock Time, 6:20 Garmin Moving Time

With a finish of 6:23, and a moving time showing 6:20, I couldn’t help but think that my 6:19 instincts were pretty close to spot on. I had beaten 6:30. I had beaten my best GFNY NYC time from 2014. It gave me the feeling of rounding into a better rider, a different kind of fitness, and full of confidence for the week that lay ahead in our epic adventure.
As I write this, I am in Provence, and packed for Portugal. GFNY Portugal will be up next on Sunday, and I am feeling like there is nothing I can’t handle. The inspiration of racing the GFNY Double-Double provided the motivation and measurement required to kick my cycling up a notch. We won’t stop now!

Up next, Abbott and Costello meet the TGV

by Chris Geiser

Well it’s about that time. We have had a great couple of days discovering Hameln, visiting the expo, riding the bike roads, checking out the course, and finding a bratwurst, which took longer than we thought it would. We have discovered, that Hameln is the only city in the world where if you say the word “rat” in a restaurant, no one gets upset. Since it is race day morning, and I have finally gotten up on time, I will keep it short so I can get to the start line.

Jack and Aleksandra get signed in.

We hit the expo as early as we could given my propensity for oversleeping. Tried on jerseys, talked to the mechanics, and caught up with some of the folks we have been meeting along the way. As usual, people were from everywhere, maybe living here now, but once lived in New York, we had a number of interesting conversations before heading back to do a little leg loosening out on the farm roads surrounding the city.

Marking the start line on the way out of the expo.

With the day being relatively short, and knowing we would want to have a more normal schedule, we would keep the ride fairly short and pretty easy. We went out via the course markers, and onto the bike roads, and did a few zigs and zags to see what was out there. At a certain point there were a few tourists and e-bikes out there so we had to keep the speed to a dull roar as some of the roads are narrow, but that gave us a chance to soak it in. The weather could not have been more perfect.

Back to Hameln, back to the expo, and back to get to the supermarket to buy food for the morning, and for the train trip on Monday. We wandered through the squares of the city on the quest for a quick bratwurst, and finally found the perfect place. As we got to the front of the line — they were out of bread. We waited while the baked the next batch, and it was worth it. By this point I was so hungry, I was ready to order two. Somehow the more reasonable sector of my brain took over and corrected me. But that may have been because while we were walking and following the Pied Piper tour guides, I was sneaking cookies out of my grocery bag. Sue me.

The Preparations

With the last of the preparations underway, pumping tires, putting numbers on jerseys and doing a cleat change. This was not a good time to find out that my worn cleat on my left shoe was so hammered-up that I couldn’t get it off. Luckily my spare shoes, saved the day and I put the new cleats on those. But not until 45 minutes of trying to get the last screw out proved fruitless without a bigger screw driver. I would not have gotten that far, if Clarence had not arrived with a more diverse set of tools. Clarence is a triathlete, runner, cyclist, and all around good guy who lives part of the year here in Germany. He was with us at the Gavia camp in May right before GFNY Championship NYC, and was staying at the same hotel here in Hameln. We got in touch, and he mentioned that he recognized the De Rosa SK from all the photos, and he and his friend Philip came back to the garage to finish prepping with Jack and I, before we all headed to a pre-race dinner. Half-way around the world, we run into people we know, and create great times.

Dinner at the same Italian place as Thursday evening. L-R, Clarence, Philip, myself, Aleksandra, and Jack.

Well — it’s about that time. A quick shower, something to eat, and off to the start line to get it done at GFNY Deutschland! There may be more after the finish, but definitely more as we make our way on the train tomorrow morning!

Tschüss!

by Chris Geiser

We are here! It is very difficult to believe, that all the planning has panned out and we are actually here at the start of our #GFNYDoubleDouble adventure. Three people, three airports, three different cities, bike cases, luggage, and a rental van, and the only kink, was a slight delay on Jack’s flight from Las Vegas (connection from Seattle), to Frankfurt. The best way to have a trans-Atlantic flight is for it to be uneventful. Upon my arrival in Frankfurt, I flew threw immigration, and upon walking outside, saw my bike case sitting at the oversized luggage waiting for me, like a loyal pet. Luckily Tom’s booster seat was right there with it! It took a careful evening and early morning of packing to get it right. Many things put in places where they couldn’t be forgotten. Garmin, pedals, pedal wrench, tool kit, helmet, shoes, spare cleats — oh wait, I need to change my cleats — spare cleats — fudge, no spare cleats, put it on the list. OK, what else, helmet, gloves shoe covers, jerseys, kits, socks (yeah that’s right — I own a few pairs), floor pump, spare tubes, take cartridges out of flat kit, and let’s see, what else, oh, right, BIKE!

The art and science of bike packing. The trick is to offload weight fro your other bag, into the case, because they are going to charge you for the bike no matter what. On the left, the loyal machina awaits my safe passage through immigration.

All the way to Philly, I am thinking, “did I put my pedals in the bag with the seat post? Did I put the seat post in the bag? Where did I put the bag? Is the Garmin in the bag or is it in my pocket? Will I be recording the damn race on my damn phone — don’t laugh it could happen! Passage through Philadelphia was fast and easy, confirming in my own mind the good choice that it is for flying internationally. It takes just as long to get from Staten Island to Kennedy, and there are more spacious and direct flights from Philly. #winning. Dear EWR (Newark), there is a lesson here for you!

 

Dear Newark — have you seen this?

Arrival in Frankfurt

I am having trouble finding humor, sarcasm, irony, or anything remotely objectionable or troublesome in the next sequence of events. I picked up a van I had reserved, and set out to find Terminal 1. Oh wait, there was that thing about getting lost trying to find the airport — FROM the airport. #Meta. Ask your Google Maps app to find Frankfurt Airport as you are pulling out of the rental garage! #Hijinx. I twisted around the roads surrounding the flughafen for about 15 minutes before realizing that the small sign that said terminal 1 was actually pointing at, yes, you guessed it, terminal 1. So I stopped ignoring it and pulled in. With a minimal amount of texting Aleksandra and all her stuff were in the van and we were on the road to nowhere. With two hours to kill before Jack arrived I tried to find us someplace to sit quietly and have coffee. But there really is no such place within earshot of the airport, so we drove around for a while. Both of us had only gotten a little bit of sleep during the flight, so I could tell this would be a long day. We finally made our way back to the airport, parked in the short term lot (best 10 Euros I ever spent), and got sandwiches at a cafe inside the airport while we waited for Jack. We bought a sandwich for Jack and water for the road so that we could get going as soon as he arrived.

Sidebar

At the risk of offending my fellow Americans, please skip down if you run the risk of being offended by a story describing how stereotypes are created. If you’ve ever wondered why the American image in Europe is what it is, we can start with this little ditty.

On the way into the airport to find food, and friend, we passed a number of signs for a small mall within the airport. There was a sign for a MacDonald’s in there. We continued past those signs and found a lovely bakery (that is probably a chain here, but I am over it), and proceeded to order lunch. As we ordered, I spoke English to Aleksandra about what we were ordering:
Passer by: “Oh do you speak English?”

Me: “Yes, we do”

Passer by: “Oh, thank goodness, do you know where the MacDonald’s is?”

Me (to self): Really, because I am American you think I know where the fucking MacDonald’s is? (but that’s not the point of me telling you this)

Me: “I don’t know, I think I saw a sign, but I don’t remember.”

Aleksandra to me: “Maybe it was in that little mall we saw the sign for”

Me to Passer By: “Oh yeah back there those escalators go down to a little mall, it could be in there, maybe”

Passer By: “Over that way? (emphatically) ARE YOU SURE?”

Me to self: No, I don’t fucking know, so I was trying to be nice, and I now have no fucking idea what to tell you. Oh wait. I have an idea.

Me to Passer By: “No, I am not sure, in fact, I have no idea where it is, and I am sorry that I can’t help you”

Karmatically speaking, I will pay for that. I HAVE TO. But, come on! I just completed a wonderful exchange of money for food with my broken German to a person that spoke no English, and had food and coffee to show for it. Now I am going to have the piss taken out of me by one of my countrymen for not knowing where the god damned MacDonalds in the Frankfurt airport is? Karmatically speaking, I am very lucky, that I didn’t say “oh yeah, it’s in terminal 2, I am sure of it.”

Gruppo Compato — Now Get in the Van!

With Jack in hand now, we re-packed the van and were on our way. We caught up with each other on the ride, and Aleksandra did some power napping as we made our way toward Hamelin. Run of the mill traffic and a little bit of rain hampered our speed a little, but we were progressing and not too far behind any schedule we might have had. We made a quick stop on the highway as it had been well over 2 hours since my last cup, and I was starting to feel the imaginary withdrawal bugs crawling all over me.

Some very nice food for an airport — although we never did figure out where the MacDonalds was. Bottom right the menu at the highway joint was pretty impressive — for a gas station — real plates, and side dishes.

Our arrival in Hameln was right around rush hour, and with the various zigs and zags it took us a bit to get oriented. I dropped Jack and our bikes at our hotel and drove Aleksandra to hers. The super narrow and cobbled streets were awkward with such a big rig, so I pulled us on the sidewalk so we could get her checked in. After check in we lugged her stuff up three flights of stairs, and I headed back to the hotel Jungestild so that we could get our bikes together. With a key operated garage, that was for all the cyclists in the hotel, we had a nice, clean, dry place to get things together and do a mini shakedown in the street outside.The key operated automatic door felt like I was opening a missile silo. Cases were unpacked, and bikes together very quickly. It was time for dinner.

“La Machina” De Rosa SK Pininfarina, Campagnolo Super Record 53/39–11/29, Bora Ultra wheels Continental 4 Season Grand Prix 4000 tires, Powertap P1 Pedals, Selle Italia Saddle, FSA stem and handlebars. Now you know.

Closing Time

After putting things together it was time to forage. We let Aleksandra know we were coming, and started across the medieval square that makes up the beautiful town centre of Hameln. What we didn’t realize was how late it had gotten. Probably because in places like New York City, and Seattle, 21:00 isn’t really late when it comes to food. So we didn’t think about it. But they were rolling things up in Hameln, and after a little walking we were able to find an Italian place that was open until 23:00. Interestingly, my German is soooooo rusty (after little to no practice-impressive right?), that I managed ordering better in Italian than in my attempt to order in German. We were so hungry, it felt like we ordered everything on the menu. I think we came pretty close. All of it was good. But the best part was that a gentleman from across the room realized that we were here for GFNY, and came over to talk to us. We introduced ourselves to him and to his wife, Philippe, and Jackie are here from Costa Rica for the full #GFNYDoubleDouble! Bravo! Ironically (or maybe not), we ran into them again tonight at dinner at a different place.

The Shakedown

With a shakedown ride planned for this morning, an important step would have been waking up at a decent hour. My alarm set to 06:00, I got up, read a few emails and fell right back asleep. I awoke at ten for a work call from some colleagues up in Denmark. With the call finished, I texted Jack and realized that he had also overslept. Meanwhile, across town, Aleksandra was awake, had eaten breakfast, and was dressed and ready. We had a great, late breakfast of pickled herring, small sausages and bread and jam, and walked over to meet Aleksandra. We brought one of our foot pumps so she could finish getting her bike ready. Mission accomplished, we set out for more coffee — I managed to get the order right in German, but realized that I may have been doing more harm to our cause than good. This was the third or so conversation that I started in German, reasonably thinking if, I can say what I mean, and mean what I say, the rest will take care of itself. But then they answered. Quickly. Like I lived here and spoke German every day. Not like I run the Babel app a couple of times a month on the bus.

Der Langsame

That’s me. Der Langsame. “The slow one”. Not on the bike, not on the walk, not in general. But when I realized that my conversations were going nowhere as fast as they could speak, I said “Langsam, bitte, mein Deutsche ist nicht sehr gut!” This always stopped them dead in their tracks, put a light smile on their faces and prompted the reply “would it be better for you in English?” I really hated to admit that it would, but yes, thank you, it really would. I aspire to someday be able to consider myself a multilingual citizen of the world. But that takes time and effort, that I need to put in the same way I put in hours on the trainer. If I want to go faster, I have to train. It’s a universal rule. It applies to, basically anything.

Coffee, a change of clothes, and bikes out of the garage, we were on our way. I navigated us down as many bike lanes as I could to the start line of the GFNY, but we also had to find a bike shop and some CO2. We found a couple of bike shops, one called Fun Corner. It was a huge layout, with a friendly staff that delayed their lunch to help us out. We found the cartridges, and I asked about the cleats — they had them. We paid, and were on our way. We navigated back to the route start, which didn’t yet look like the route start and decided to follow the route markers until we were out of town, and see if we could do a little of the course.

With traffic on the roads, we made sure to make full use of the bike paths and farm roads that seem to be the accepted way of riding here. Lidia Fluhme had emailed me and clued me in that the place to be is on the bike/farm roads and that drivers know it is GFNY time when they start to see road bikes actually traveling in traffic lanes. We got about 20km into the route, making a nice pace, and ran into a really nice little berg, only about 800 meters long, but relatively steep, and on a beautiful road. Most of the roads here in Hameln are spectacular, but this especially so. We summited the first little bit of it, and pulled aside to let a tractor go by before we headed up the steep bit. After another small climb we realized we were starting to get late in the day, (waking up at 10AM will do that to you), and headed back to Hameln.

Well let’s see now, I am trying to find out where the route goes on my phone but seem to be missing the big-ass “route this way dummy” sign dead ahead of me. Strecke = Route

The Despe-Heyen was a 2KM effort with about 800 steeper meters at the end. It was a good reminder of the type of climbing we will face on Sunday.

The Hardest Working Man in Show Business

As we rolled into Hameln and past the expo area, I shouted “let’s go see Maciej — Maciej and his crew keep GFNY races all over the world running smoothly, from getting the expo set up, to marking courses, and doing everything that allows thousands of riders to be pros for a day. We didn’t want to take too much of his time but we were able to meet his crew, including the gent that was driving the broom van in Italy last year and followed my friend Massimo and I to the finish line. Hmm, Massimo, I wonder if he is riding on Sunday?). We could see how the expo was shaping up, and after a few minutes, I heard my name called. It was Kenny Abel the race organizer. “Mister Double-Double, you are here, welcome!”

Kenny and I had a great chat about the race and how Hameln is the perfect place for it. The roads, the people, this will definitely be a special day of racing (especially if the beautiful roads we were on today were any indication). I let him know that we got about 30km into the course, and gave him our feedback on how beautiful we thought it was. To be racing that with not traffic — that will be something.

Maciej, the Hardest Working Man in Show Business

And now onto a late lunch, as we rolled back to the town square. We found an outdoor cafe, with great food, and soaked in the atmosphere and the people watching.

I will condense the rest of the day. Because it’s primarily concerned with eating. But the eating was fabulous. A beautiful, light lunch, spaetzel, pretzels, wurst, and nice coffee. For dinner, one of the best Jager Schnitzels I have had, thank you Lidia for the recommendation. For all the charms of the food, the charms of this city are 10x as amazing. The town centre is so picturesque, you really do feel like you are walking into an Aesop’s fable, or a Grimm fairy tale. The Pied Piper is everywhere. On every wall, a painting, or a picture, or a plaque. There are Pied Piper tour guides, and even “rat bread” a lovely rat shaped piece of bread being sold at the front desk of our hotel. The cobbled (not Roubaix cobbles), streets are beautiful, and clean, and the people are very friendly. We have only scratched the surface, and so the plan for tomorrow is to get to the expo at nine — packet up — and get cracking on a short ride (maybe 90 minutes), and then back for a timely lunch, and some exploration of Hameln. We will be rolling out early on Monday to head to France, meet Tom, and climb the Ventoux (#subtoux — meaning I would like to beat my PR of 2 hours), then off to Lisbon on Thursday for GFNY Portugal. It’s a busy itinerary but we will take tomorrow afternoon and evening for seeing as much of this beautiful place as we can.

Auf Wiedersehen — and please allow me to leave you with some gratuitous photos of food, and food consumption, as well as some even more gratuitous Pied Piper themed photos. I plan to take a lot more tomorrow.

It’s 5 o’Clock somewhere, but not what you’re thinking…

by Chris Geiser

The phrase “it’s 5 o’Clock somewhere” haven’t meant much to me for almost wo years now. Or at least, it hasn’t meant the same thing. As I am writing this, I am somewhere over the Atlantic. We are wheels up to Frankfurt, and the GFNY Double-Double adventure, has officially begun. Jack was delayed in Vegas, Aleksandra boarded at JFK, and the GFNY Deutschland crew of the GFNY Double-Double is on its way. En route, finishing up some loose ends for work, emailing Tom on the West Coast, texting #Toto and the whole Gavia crew on the East Coast, and giving Uli a hard time about Cozumel, while he is wide awake somewhere in Asia, made me realize, that it is indeed 5 o’Clock somewhere.

That means that somewhere, a group of GFNY jerseys are rolling out on a group training ride — it’s 5 o’Clock — AM — training time! Or maybe a solo training ride. As we start on Sunday in Germany, they will be complete at GFNY Indonesia — halfway around the world they will be racing, while we toss and turn and think about the wake up, the first cup of coffee, and the start line. I have been meaning to get back to this, for over a week. With the special editions in the books, life gets in the way. What are you gonna do? Well, you collect your thoughts, get on a plane, put on some Alice Cooper, and get typing.

We are a little photo shy, on this one — Sorry!

In my haste to get something out, I neglected to think about how Medium and airplane wifi would get along with respect to uploading images. Again, what are you gonna do? Collect your thoughts, keep typing, and promise better visuals throughout the trip.

But back to the important stuff. A few posts ago, we got into training. How would this go, this epic trip, with two GFNY races back-to-back, Sunday-to-Sunday? I decided to apply a little Lean Six-Sigma to this gig, and made the assumption that whatever I wanted to achieve would be a function of what I put into it.

Y=f(x) — yes of course — that must be it! It is!

In this case Y is the output, or how we hope to do in both GFNY events. Our results in the GFNY Double-Double. The variable x represents the training effort since publicly declaring the following on July 12, 2018:

As an aside to this — accepting where I am in the process, while part of the process, is not the end of the process. With every pound lifted, every kilometer pedaled, and every minute that I don’t take the two GFNY European Double (double-double) races ahead for granted, I am working to change the situation in my favor. If you know me, you know that I will be happy to be in both races. If you know me, you also know that, being there, while an epic adventure, will not be enough. While DFL is better than DNS, and DNF, it’s still not where I want to be, and I am in control of that. There is a little bit of AYFKM to all of it! (you’re welcome Jeff).

There you have it. For every byte of data I have collected, wattage, calories, beats per minute, meters climbed, kilometers pedaled, TSS, IF, CTL, Fatigue, Form, whatever! None is as important as Y=f(x). Without that equation, and without understanding that equation, more attention paid to what the results said (good or bad), as opposed to effort put in. “Believe in yourself, believe in your training”, it’s a great way of saying Y=f(x). (Thank you, Maestro). For every night that I got home late, or had to be up early, or traveled, or had a family event, and managed to find a 10 or 11 PM window, or a 5AM window (it’s 5 o’Clock somewhere — see what I did there), we are building x. We are hopefully building x into what we want Y to be. But what is that? Is it elapsed time, average watts, moving time, average speed — NO!

Getting on the trainer, getting out to Gateway, getting to the weight room, and putting the time in. There is a severe loss of control that comes with race day. Tires puncture, chains fall off, rain falls, the bonk decides to visit. We have all been there, and we know we can’t control it. We stoop over our handle bars at the start line and hope that none of that will happen today. When we accept our Lean Six Sigma equation, we understand that our output, is a function of our input. It is not a function of that which we do not control. Our result is measured via our output. As non-professional racers, we have to accept that view that while we can’t control our place in the standings, the strength of the field, the conditions on the course, those things cannot matter. What matters in our result are those things that we control and how we make our own luck through what we put into it.

Y, the result of the effort put in over the last 8 weeks has to equal a much more important stat. How close we can get regret to zero. When all is said and done, in both races, with the effort put in over the last 8 weeks, no matter the elapsed time, average watts, moving time, average speed — it will all equal zero regrets. We’ve done our best to prepare, we have done our best to plan, we are with the right people, in the right places at the right time.

SO LET’S GET IT ON!

Let’s do this GFNY Double-Double thing! (and it’s definitely, definitely a thing now — told ya!) Look for updates from Europe on a daily basis. They may be shorter, but I will get them out day of, to make sure every highlight is captured and crystallized.

Next Up: GFNY Double-Double — Day 1 — Frankfurt to Hameln

by Chris Geiser

Busy schedules abound! My own, in family, full-time work, and planning an epic GFNY Double-Double experience, and also Kenny Abel’s — the driving force behind GFNY Deutschland and my very gracious contact for informing the folks on this side of the pond about the race. We are now less than two weeks away, and with our travel plans all but finalized, that gives us some room to talk about the race- — the whole reason for the trip. I was able to catch up with Kenny recently to get some insight into the third year of the GFNY Deutschland, which is also the GFNY European Championship. The race takes place in the Lower Saxony region of Deutschland, in the legendary town of Hamln, home of the fabled Pied Piper.

I inquired about the history of the race and how Kenny got involved.

GFNY Deutschland was a huge success in its first two years, and is the GFNY European Championship race. Please tell us, how did you get started with GFNY? What inspired you to create the race?

This is a long story. The originator of GFNY Deutschland is Paul Fasse from Eldagsen. He rides a lot GFNY races all over the world and get in contact to Uli and Lidia. I met Paul and we have put the idea into action in 2016. We visited some GFNY races in NYC and France and spend a lot of time to discuss and talk with other GFNY organizers, for example, Alex from Indonesia, or Shaun from Mexico, and Jerusalem and learn a lot about GFNY and the special spirit of the races. We grow up from year to year and now we see a lot of GFNY jerseys all over Germany and we are very happy, that so many other riders like it and feel the same spirit like us.

For anyone who wondered about the town, and the area for the race, I asked Kenny to give us a feel for the region, and what to expect.

Please tell us about Saxony as the location for the race. We are very excited to visit, but what was the inspiration for having the race in this area?

The Pied Piper doing his legendary work.

The region of Lower Saxony, and the Weserbergland, are a typical kind of landscape in Germany. We have on the one side, big cities and on the other side some beautiful green areas with rivers and a hilly landscape. The northern part of Germany is mostly flat but we were able to create a hilly course in a beautiful landscape. Furthermore is the town of Hamelin a very historic town with old houses, and, of course the most important story — about the pied piper — In the near of Hamelin are a lot of castles and palaces. There is much to discover in the region.

Please tell us about the course. For instance, what is the most challenging climb? What should the riders expect in terms of challenges?

The course of the GFNY Championships Europe are a hilly course, like in GFNY NYC Championship, or the pro courses in the Ardennes. The course is flat at the first 30km and then the climbing starts. The first long climb of the day is the Roter Fuchs (in english red fox). This is a climb about 5,4km and a maximum grade of 16%. The Gran Fondo rides the Roter Fuchs a second time. After the first climb of the day the next mountain is after a short flat part. The Lauensteiner Berg is the second challenge of the day with 5km and 3,6% grade in the middle.

The Gran Fondo rides after them a second loop and the Medio Fondo goes back to Hamelin. But for all riders the last 10km before the finish line in Hamelin is the steepest part of the race. After the small village Börry the street climb over 19% to the last final kilometers. With a good endurance and the right speed the Gran Fondo and the Medio Fondo is possible to finish. (editors note: perhaps reminiscent of Cheesecote or Queensbury). Next to the track you have the whole time a very nice view in the Weser valley with a lots of green hills, small villages and a very beautiful landscape. Enjoy your race and get a small view away from the course to the nature and the countryside.

GFNY Deutschland is unique in that it races on 100% closed roads. How were you able to achieve this?

We spent a lot of time with the officials at the town, villages, the police and the local townspeople. We have a fully closed route for all riders after one hour behind the leading rider. By the second lap there are a lot more riders inside the first-rider window of 1 hour. The people here are very happy about the race, and proud, that riders from all over the world come to Hamelin, visit the Weserbergland region and spend there time racing and exploring.

Please tell us about your volunteers?

We have a lot of enthusiastic cycling fans. Germany is in the past, not a cycling sports country. But the scene is evolving, and new races are coming to the cities. Also the GFNY is a platform or tool to grow and mature the German cycling spirit. We have in every town and village a small group of volunteers. They support us and some students use the GFNY to improve their foreign language skills.

Who else is involved in GFNY Deutschland? For instance, the moto crew, volunteers, towns, celebrities?

We have, on race day more than 450 helpers at different parts of the race. A big part of the volunteers are the firefighters in the towns and villages. They are very organized groups and the have a lot of fun at the races. The police are the important part for the security at the race. A lot of officers get the security of the course by car, moto or blocking off the routes for the riders. We are very happy about the huge support and we are growing with the police, the authorities and the town. We are happy when the race is started and all riders live their own dream and their own special race on German roads.

My gratitude to Kenny for the time he took to answer my questions as we are now so close to the race, he must be as busy as the Pied Piper himself.

The GFNY Deutschland is the kickoff of our GFNY Double-Double, and will make for a great test for a recovering athlete, hopefully #ridingintoform at just the right time to put on a great performance. I know those of us that are tuning up for GFNY Deutschland can’t wait. We are wheels up for Frankfurt on August 29, arriving the morning of August 30, and then making the 3.5 hour drive up to Hameln, so that we can do a shakedown, explore the town, and hopefully host an evening for wayward travelers in one of the local establishments
Hopefully, we will see you there. If you are coming — please get in touch with me through Facebook, or through Medium, and we will get you connected with the rest of the group.

Until then — PROST!