THE AMAZING RACE!

So do you know that show "The Amazing Race"?  Lately, I feel like I have been in my own version of the amazing race. Since I last wrote from Arizona, I have been back to Massachusetts, across the coast to California, home for a day, across the pond to Europe, and back home again. The last few weeks have been a crazy blur, and unfortunately, wireless was hard to come by.  So here I sit, with so much to write about that I am overwhelmed!  I promise to write more frequently in the future. 

Since I last wrote, I was home for a few days and then was off for a big mountain bike race in Monterey, California. I had a SWEET set up in an RV right on the race grounds.  The Adam's family (Tracy, Neil, Madeline) was nice enough to put me up in style.  Though we had never met, somehow they knew that the key to my heart was food!  After a few feedings, we got along famously.  I warned them that unless they stopped feeding me, they would not be able to get rid of me.  Tracy and Neil have a daughter named Madeline.  She was so cool, and amazing on a bike.  The four of us shared the RV, and Neil and Tracy were also put to work as race support.  They were AWESOME! 

The racing went well, and I was able to use my brand new Lynskey Mountain Bike.  The bike is amazing to ride, hands down, the best I have ever ridden.  It is tough though to be upstaged by a bike.  When greeted at the race, no longer did people look at me.  Their eyes were immediately drawn to my beautifully painted titanium bike.  I guess this is not the worst problem to have! 

Sunday night, I flew back to Boston on the red eye. I treated myself to a first class upgrade, threw on my face mask and ear plugs and set off to sleep looking a lot like an alien being.  The plane landed in Boston early Monday morning and my lovely husband picked me up.  Poor Michael then spent the better part of the day tuning and readying my bike for the journey over to Belgium the next day.   

I ran around like an idiot, washed clothing, unpacked, repacked, tried to pay some bills, and slept in my own bed Monday night.  Tuesday, I woke up and continued the repacking process.  I had to be ready for my 3:30 PM pickup to the airport for red eye number two within a three day time period. 

 My mother was traveling with me to Belgium for the first World Cup race of the season.  She showed up at my house and we took a cab to the airport.  Happiness quickly turned to terror as we checked in at the lovely Swiss Air desk.  The nice lady took our passports and her face got all crinkly.  “Excuse me Ms., your passport has expired,” she said to my mother.  My poor mother’s face sank.  You see, my mother has a current passport, but mistakenly grabbed the expired one out of the same drawer.  To make matters worse, no one was at her house which was 25 miles away, and our flight was in 90 minutes.  I looked at her and said, “Geez, I travel a lot and this is certainly a first, I may be seeing you tomorrow, I really have to get on this flight.”   

At this point, things got worse.  I opted to call my father, as my mother was far to scared to talk to him.  After yelling at me (I was not the one who took the wrong passport), he decided he would try to drive home from work (20 miles) and then back to the airport (another 25 miles) to try to get her the passport in time during rush hour.  This wasn’t sounding too hopeful to me.  My mother then squeaked, “Maybe our friend Gary could get the passport and bring it.”  So I called my father back, who was even more irate by this point. “What are you going to do,” he barks.  “UUhhh… I am getting on the plane,” I say. 

So picture this…my mother is without a cell phone (she left it at my house) and I need to go board the plane.  She has her luggage on standby and they have issued her tickets and are holding them.  My father has decided to let Gary rifle through the house, grab the passport and meet him along the way.  My father has no way to contact my mother who has no way to contact me. 

I now leave my distraught mother not knowing whether I will see her on the plane, or have to somehow find her in Brussels the next day (her cell phone won’t work in Europe).  I go through security and am standing by the gate as the plane is boarding.  I keep calling my father for update status and by this time his mood has changed from irate to excited.  You see, this has now become a challenge for him, and he was going to get that passport there in time.   

It was coming down to the wire as they called for the final boarding for the flight.  I was pleading with the gate people to hold a bit longer and my father was telling me he had just gotten to the airport.  After what seemed like eternity, my father called to tell me to say, “the eagle has landed,” he had gotten the passport to my mother.  Now I am really pleading as I am trying to gain any amount of time possible.  As they were about to close the doors, I see my mother running down to the gate bright red and huffing……I still cant believe she made it!!!

We both needed the seven hour flight to calm down.  I tried to sleep a bit and again put on my eye mask and ear plugs.  I was lucky enough to be sitting in the same row as a crying baby…yay….though honestly, he wasn’t that bad.  The poor baby had a face that only a parent could love.  Half way through the flight, my mother leans over and yells (though she thought it was a whisper), “hey, do you remember the show Family Guy? That baby looks like baby Stewie from Family Guy!”  “SShhhh….” I hiss.  I figure they definitely heard that one! 

So after running for our connection in Zurich, we catch the plane to Brussels and finally arrive.  We grab our rental car and are off to the small town of Mortzele to stay with my friends Connie and Erwin and their kids Shari and Soren.  We found our way there and they were wonderful hosts.  We stayed the night and then set off Thursday for Houffalize, Belgium where the first World Cup race of the season was being held. 

Houffalize was beautiful.  A cute village nestled in the Ardenne mountains of Belgium.  Our room was right on the course which was amazing.  The race was Sunday, and by Saturday the quiet village had turned into a crazy zoo.  It was amazing!  These Euros sure do love bike racing.  Thousands upon thousands of people had descended upon this village.  There were so many people that it was impossible to even drive anywhere! 

Sunday morning I woke up and began to get ready for the race.  Erwin was going to man one feed zone and his father would be in the other.  Connie had the video camera and was to take care of my mother who for the first time ever, did not bring a book to my sporting event.  I was really nervous.  There were 130 women starting this race and I was number 120.  It was going to be really tough to move up during the race which started on a nasty pavement hill with grades up to 15% and then filed into the woods after a hard right hand turn. 

I used the little French I knew to try to explain to our host that I needed breakfast at 8am and that I also needed two hard boiled eggs.  After a lot of gesturing, I actually got my point across and at 8am was greeted with breakfast and 2 eggs!  Thank god for small miracles.  By breakfast, I had race face going and my poor mother must have been a bit nervous around me.  I choked down my breakfast, got dressed, and set off for my warm up.  Erwin had washed my bike and picked up my bottles.  My mother was safe with Connie and I was ready to go.   

The warm up proved difficult as there were sssssooooo many people in the village that it was difficult to ride anywhere.  I pushed my way through and began warming up on the road out of town.  This worked out for about 15 minutes until I got to the checkpoint coming into town.  There were so many people coming in to watch the pro races that traffic was backed up for miles and they were actually bussing people in.  This was amazing.  The people that weren’t getting bussed in were walking for miles with coolers, kids, strollers, food, etc to come watch the races.  How cool! 

Before I knew it, it was time to line up.  I found my place at the back of the field.  Erwin was present to collect my clothing and tell me I had good legs and a good head today.  They called everyone up and the may lay began.  I rode as hard as I could through as many people as I could up that pavement climb through town and made the turn into the woods.  There were crazy rabid animals, I mean women, everywhere.  They were screaming in every language imaginable (German, Italian, Turkish, Chinese..) I really had to calm myself down a bit and regain composure as women were jamming into me from behind, whacking me from the side, and flinging elbows in order to try to gain any positions possible. 

Things calmed down a bit, but not much, as the race progressed.  I had squished an evil Italian woman into a tree and I was feeling pretty good and riding well.  I was passing people as the race continued.  Every lap Erwin and his father were perfect in the feed zone.  His father was a well known bike racer in Belgium in the 70’s and knew exactly how to get my bottles to me.  Every lap up one of the climbs I heard Connie and my mother yelling before I descended down some crazy technical single track.  As I circled around to come back up another climb, they were yelling some more.  As I rode the course I heard random people yelling my name (Erwin later told me that he told all of his friends to root for number 120.) 

After 2 hours of this craziness, I was finished.  I was beat, exhausted, dirty, and wanted to know how I did.  After killing myself I had managed to pass 40 people and finish 80^th.  It seems unimaginable that there were still 80 racers in front of me.  These women are amazing and so strong.  Everyone is vying for Olympic Spots in Beijing for 2008 and the competition is intense! 

I cleaned up, and ventured outside to buy sausages, pasta, waffles, etc. from the street vendors, and then started to pack up.  We went back to Connie and Erwin’s place Sunday night.  Monday they took us sight seeing in Brugge and Gent.  We had a great time and Tuesday morning we found ourselves on a plane back home. 

Racing in Europe is always an amazing and challenging experience.  The level of competition is so high and motivating.  To be a part of it is indescribable.  I am really glad that my mother was able to come along to share that experience with me.  I am also thankful to have friends like Connie and Erwin who so graciously took us under their wings and helped us in every way imaginable.  I had such a great time over there that I just booked tickets to race the 2^nd world cup in Germany and the 3^rd in Switzerland so stay tuned. 

Happy trails 

Sara