, bean, meat and salsa heaven. One of the great things about 5-6 hours a day of hard riding is I no longer have to worry if the bike shorts make my butt look big!!!
So what of our Black Jersey winner for Day Three, this one was tough; we learned yesterday that the second rider on the Glendora climb, Marc Lundgren, was riding with a cracked femur – surely this would be worthy of the jersey. Tyler had developed the mother of all saddle sores (picture a 3” long blister in a place no blister should be), yet he soldiered on - sur
ely this would be worthy of the jersey. Both of these were in the realm of personal heroics – herculean efforts that are worthy of our admiration – but alas, this is the Train of Pain – and a mean year at that. Our jersey winner for Day Three can also stand proud beside Marc and Tyler, the victim of a poorly timed flat at the base of the first climb, he lost contact with the lead group and would not see them for the rest of the day. Still, he persevered, he powered on, and he made the final climb alone.
Now, I know what you’re thinking – how can this top the injuries that the other two suffered through? Well, what I failed to mention is that he did have one rider to help him, one selfless person to tow him up the early climbs, lead him through the headwinds and to guide him down the treacherous descents; and how did he thank him for his sacrifices, he ditched him at a van stop while he was making a nature stop. He jumped onto another group of riders leaving the poor guy alone – a sad and questioning look in his tear brimming eyes. So for reminding everyone that the ToP is about the pain you dish out on others we congratulate Scott Duncan, Day Three’s Black Jersey winner.
For today, though the pace was high, the ride broke into two main groups. Nathan had planned well and made a strategic break at the first van stop and soloed in for the stage win after close to 75 miles alone. Meanwhile, in the main group the fight for the green jersey was hot and heavy with Steve Quinn and Andrew leaping out for the city limit signs – the unofficial sprint locations for cyclists the world around.
Within the other half of the group things were heating up in their own fashion. Poor Mike Witt; yesterday, resplendent in his new jersey ended up wearing Tyler’s lunch; this was trivial with what he wore today. He stood up to power over a small climb and in an instant found himself over the bars, his now broken chain wrapped around him in its own impersonation of a boa constrictor. Covered in bike grease, his elbow skinned and his pride now thoroughly left beside the road. We’ve had a lot of firsts over the years – but never have we had a rider $&@$* slapped by his own chain!
Steve Burke’s pride had its own bruising; as they were approaching an intersection the light switched to yellow. John rolled through, but the remainder of the group was forced to stop. Not wanting to let a gap form, Burke prepared to roll through the red (a no-no in any city) – he looks left, he looks right, he preps for the dart across when he has a second thought. You know how we all have those voices – the one that tempt us to do the wrong thing, and the one that tries to make us into a better person; well it seems in Steve’s case his voice of right and good comes in the shape of a 200 pound policeman, his finger ready to hit the blue lights, and a deep and authoritative voice that simply asked “SERIOUSLY?” Steve, now properly chastised put his foot to the ground and hung his head – Than
k You, O’ voice of reason.
So there we are, four down and only one more day to go. It will be long, it will be hard, and it will be worth it. Stay tune tomorrow, I’ll wrap it all up for this year.
ToP IV Day 4
95.5 miles4393 feet of climbing
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