ToP Day 2 - Sparkle Skirt

Year after year, Day Two of the Train of Pain rears its ugly fist of fate and crashes down on the heads of the hapless riders – WITHOUT MERCY!  It all starts innocently enough, happy faces at breakfast, all jovial and full of moxie.   Four-top tables crowded with food and sometimes-merciless ribbing – still an hour to go before the shenanigans begin. 

It never fails, all the happy smiles disappear – only to be replaced by sunken eyes and hollow faces by the days end.  Today would be no different, but we’ll get to that.

Tradition dictates that the ToP recognizes a significant event from the previous day – this can come in the form of a heroic ride, ruling the roads, perhaps suffering through some injury or aliment, but stoically pressing on – unwilling to say die.  But more often, it’s that event that we can, in all good humor, make fun of the poor soul for. 

For this year, we introduced a new award to mark this particular category, the Pink Sparkle Skirt.  The rules are simple, each evening, a panel is convened to discuss the possible candidates; events are weighed, and only after full consensus is a winner determined.  Only the Catholic Conclave can claim greater secrecy.  Once selected, the “winner” is required to don the sparkle skirt and wear it with pride through the day’s stage – or, they can take the $20 buy-out, which must be settled by the end of the day.

For 2013, our first Sparkle goes to Bobbo – his exploits the previous day, causing near pandemonium in the peloton.  While his efforts resulted in absolutely nothing for him, it set the tone for the week; temporarily crushed the hopes and dreams of the favorites and set into motion the painful retribution that is sure to come.

Today’s route, an 83-mile loop looked tame enough on paper.  Relatively easy for the first 11-miles where we began the first of two out and back legs.  The first of these was a lovely 10-mile stroll along Lake Lopez – nothing steep, not hot and no wind – we’ll call this the calm before the storm.

It was the second that changed the face of the day.  Huasna Canyon was a 24 mile leg – 12 out, 12 back, with rated climbs each way, and the first real opportunity to score best climber points.

The lead group had thinned by the start of this leg, not because the pace had increased, not because there was a climb to form the selection, nope – it was a flat.  Now don’t get me wrong here, in normal circumstances, a flat tire for the SD crew would result in a group stop, help if needed and back out together.  But this is the ToP, and stopping to help or wait is a sorry sign of weakness.  So after some immediate confusion the word traveled forward that some poor sap had flatted, for those lucky enough to be ahead in the line, this was the opportunity to dash off, the road and conscience clear ahead.

It was only after a quick look around that we realized that is was Haggis who punctured – yup, the only shot for sprint points for the hapless OC/NorCal was out of the hunt – while his teammates were racing ahead.

The canyon leg turned out to be just a bit more effort than was expected.  The mild climbs included some 12% sections; the cool lake weather of earlier was replaced with dry, hot rough roads.  While the lake leg had a clear U-turn point, the canyon was nothing close.  Those in the front crested the third climb, looked ahead at what appeared to be a near cliff and wisely decided that that was as good as anyplace to turn.  The follow-on riders, lulled into a sense of fair play foolishly rolled up and over – and over – and over!  We later learned that no local would ever be so silly as to take on that last section.

Meanwhile Haggis, who was still steaming at his misfortune, was beginning to learn that the ToP rewards initiative.  His ploy became to slow-roll along until the lead group came bombing back. 
Crouching silently behind a crop of shrubbery, he leapt out, brashly making his presence known and daring anyone to say otherwise.  There were sprint points ahead, and he had to in the game to play.

It was as the lead group sped back from the canyon that the first true “incident” occurred.  While there is some debate in the exact details, the consensus was clear – and will be forever known as the ferocious squirrel and the Italian Stallion.  Some would say it was matter of language differences, perhaps the immediate shot of adrenalin as the natural instinct of fight-or-flight kicks in, either way, they say nothing curls the hair at the back of your neck like the sound of a squirrel scream – except maybe the sound of Max’ as the poor fuzzy-tailed rodent darted out, darted back, and finally stood – it’s big black eyes wide with fear.  As the following bikes scrambled out of the way of the impending doom some swear that they heard the poor animal scream out “I’M TELLING THE POPE”.

Now this could maybe have been brushed aside as a one-off in judgment, but upon returning to the hotel, our Red Jersey front-runner Max – who I need to mention was born and raised in ROME (Italy, not New York), passed up an opportunity for a private tasting at Baileyanna’s Winery to dine at the Olive Garden – the OLIVE GARDEN for gosh sakes!  If the Pope was angered over the ferocious squirrel and the Italian Stallion incident, he surely was going to pass some sort of edict over this!

Our route ended with the “Mother of all Climbs” - and trust me when I tell you, that that is the least offensive description for this.  Known as See Canyon, apparently it is a must-do for any hard-core cyclist, and one that Tim Page insisted needed to be included.  While Carter is usually fanatical in his research and relentless in his pursuit of the perfect route, he clearly failed to ask a few pointed questions as just why this is such a must-do.

Nearly everyone had to stop – about half-way up I found a shady spot in the middle of the road, threw down my bike and collapsed to the road.  Sitting there, cursing all that is human that compelled me to even attempt this hellish climb.

All in all, Day Two met all expectations for the ToP; it’s now in the books.  Two down, three to go.


Standings so far
173 miles completed
10,200 feet of climbing
Yellow – Tim Page still leads the pack with his crushing attacks
Sprint points
            Andrew – 14
            Haggis – 6
            Gomez – 5
KOM
            Tim – 6
            Max – 3
            Chris – 2
White – The young kid from West Point, Chris Cordova is the rider to beat
Rust
            Bobbo still remains the animator, but we’ll need to see some true Jerry Cook actions or this one will stay in the box.

ToP Day 1 – It’s not the “Trolley of Discomfort”

The Train of Pain (ToP) actually begins the day before we get on our bikes and roll out on stage one.  It’s the “Pre-Ride” day; the day everyone arrives, the day they begin to size everyone up – who looks strong, who has that look in their eye, who looks like they should have eaten a few less of those delicious Krispy Kremes.

It’s also the day that too much sun, too many Stella's and WAAAAY too much revelry following the kick-off dinner can un-do weeks of training and preparation.

Welcome to everyone to the 2013 Train of Pain – the stomp through Big Reds country.  As a quick update, this year’s fun and games take place in San Luis Obispo County, home of some of the best bold red wines in the nation.  It is also home of some great climbs, strong winds off the cold Pacific Ocean, and warm sunny days.

This year’s ToP will cover just shy of 500 miles over our 5-days of riding, will include 25 riders – and our two brave and some say foolish drivers, Jim and Harold.  We’ll continue our tradition of awarding the efforts with the jersey and team competition (which will once again be judged through some fairly suspect methods, but remain the most sought after award in sport), as well as our daily write-up, guaranteed to contain at least some aspect of truth.

To recap for our past readers, and initiate those new to the blog, though this is a “non-competitive” ride, who are we kidding? There is nothing non-competitive in any of the riders.  So beginning with our first event, a short, fast run from San Francisco to Redondo Beach seven years ago, from the very first hour the game was on.  We quickly developed a hierarchy to recognize who lived the ToP ethos the best each year.  This was done through the awarding of jerseys, each year the categories growing to encompass the feel of the ride.

For this year, our breakdown follows along the historical path of those lesser grand tours, like the Tour de France.

The coveted Yellow Jersey denotes the strongest rider – that stalwart Denison of Virtue that has undoubtedly given up any semblance of social and family life, instead dedicating their waking hours to training, map study and a near monistic dedication toward diet and fitness.

Next in the hierarchy is the Red Jersey – typically awarded to the finest climber – but for ToP, it means that perhaps a little more work and a little less time glued to the “Vampire Diaries” might have made the difference.


Our Green Jersey is the best sprinter – the rider that knows the city limit signs and can jump out of the pack – laughing at danger and throw their arms into the air as they click off another three points for their efforts.

The White Jersey is given to our best new rider – these poor souls rarely understand what it is they have gotten themselves into.  Their success is often the result of their innocence, their labrador puppy enthusiasm, and the ignorance of the unknown.

New for this year, the Rust Jersey will be awarded.  This is in honor of Jerry Cook, who last year – day after day, went to the front and gave everything he had.  Headwinds or hills, he tried in vain to crack the leaders, only to end up with nothing for his efforts.  From this daily self-flogging, the Rust was born.  That rider that continually gives it a go, fights for some small level of accolades, and crashes in epic style will be the one to claim this beauty!

Stage One is now in the books, and with it we have our front-runners for each of the jerseys on the board.

The day began with a horrific wind whipping out of the northwest (though as a true mystery of all mankind, it seemed to be on our faces throughout the day's efforts).  With 93 miles and just shy of 5300 feet of climbing, it was looking like a long day in the saddle.

With less than a mile from the start, the first of the games began.  Our original Yellow Jersey winner, Tom Armbruster, leapt from the back of the peloton - taking Bobbo and our newest rider Steve “Haggis” Ramsey with him.  Quickly gaining a small gap, they were blessed with the luck of the traffic light, when the whole of the remaining group was caught out.

The long light, and the scheming of the break meant that the erstwhile threesome was out of sight and off on their own.  But eight miles up the road their luck ran south.


Haggis, a slow leak in his rear tire forced them to stop.  Realizing that the gig was up, Tom – always conniving and stirring the pot – convinced them to duck behind the nearest building and wait for the peloton to roll past.  The plan, to dash out and chase them down, feigning innocence with a “Hey guys, what’s you doing?”

Of course, the group was nowhere in the loop, and driving the pace in a vain attempt to close the gap.

This is where the threesome’s plan fell apart – as the unknown chase was occurring, the peloton’s pace was screaming as they worked together like a fine Swiss watch.  Mile after mile they rolled, the pace frantic as Tim and his trusted lieutenant Max saw the jersey falling through their fingers.
At the halfway point, the route did a figure eight, peeling off into the steep, dry foothills for a 40-mile, headwind-blowing loop.  The true picture still unknown to the group, they dove into the fight – setting a blistering pace and peeling rider after rider with the speed and fury.

The reality, our threesome was easily 30-mins behind, still fighting to correct their miscalculations.  By this time, the threesome was now a twosome, as Tom – who was the instigator of the whole scheme.  Because of that, he started the long loop even further back, but still suffering from his recent Achilles surgery, decided to play it smarter and turn back.

Arriving back at the aide van, he realized that he was once again ahead of the true leaders – and Jim was unaware of his subterfuge!  Giggling and smirking like Calvin and Hobbes, he quickly remounted and dashed up the road.  15 mins later, Tim, a froth formed and hardened and the 1000-mile stare of too much wind, too many miles and too little water came screaming to a halt like the arrival of the pony express.  After gulping down a Gatorade and a handful of potato chip remnants, he managed to form some semblance of a sentence,
                                             “How”, pant, pant, “Far”, pant, pant, “Ahead?”
As his eyes began to roll back, Jim, as always wanting to help in any way, let him know that he was in second place, but the gap was far and the road was long.

Dejected, and somewhat emasculated – having been riding the high life as the 2013 ToP favorite, he let out a heavy sigh, heaved his leg back over the top tube and pushed off.

It was only after finally catching Tom, only feet before the finish, that the truth was made clear.  Tom, still smirking, looked him straight in the eyes and said welcome kid, remember, this ain’t the Trolley of Discomfort!

One down and four days to go; our standings so far:

93 miles
5300 feet of climbing

Yellow - Tim Page
Red - Max Affarano
White - Chris Cordova
Green - Andrew Lee
Rust - Bobbo

Team Standings:
SD
Army
OC/NorCal

I've been to hell, and it is cold and rainy . . . .

Day 4, the queen stage. This is the term that denotes the hardest stage of a race - and it was supposed to be today's. However, Mother Nature had something all together different to say - but more about that in a bit.

Today's route took us from our hotel in Grass Valley, out into the hills, eventually bringing us back to town and a well-deserved feast with Andy De Meyer's family. A table full of grilled meats, homemade beans, salads, cookies, fruit and more than enough beer and wine to keep everyone fat, dumb and happy. Added to that was true hospitality and Great Pyrenees dogs – two of them, and they weighed more than most of the riders.

As it turned out, Andy's family lives right along the course, just 4 miles from the hotel. They pulled out all the stops and opened up their home to 34 starving men – all I can really say is what the heck were they thinking!!!!!!!

As to the ride, while the weather did not cooperate, the course was spectacular. Saw tooth terrain, tall trees, rivers, covered bridges, and absolutely beautiful country. Of course, there was also the rain - the cold, wet, really cold rain. This is the kind of rain the soaks straight through. It dribbles down your neck, it stings your eyes, it soaks your feet and turns your hands to clumps. But all that pales when compared to the pad in your bike shorts. The pad that was so carefully prepared with chamois cream before the start of the ride; the pad that soaks up the rain, mixes with the cream and seems to stick and slosh with every pedal stroke. Ah, the pad!

That evil rain held off for the hour anda half, but then came on with a gusto - dry, than downpour, with almost nothing in between. To add insult to injury, Carter had designed today's route so that it passed directly in front of the hotel at the 70-mile point, 24 miles of hills and that cold, wet rain to go.

Now folks, I think of myself as a hard man, a guy that embraces the suffering of both work and sport. An individual that can put up with almost any discomfort. In fact, this is how I think of all the riders on the ToP; remember, this is the Train of Pain after all. So knowing this of myself, you can imagine how I must have felt when I got to the hotel, still with miles to go, and instead road straight into the lobby, set my bike aside for Matty-Matt to deal with, and staggered up to my room and strait into my shower.

Well, you'd be wrong, because I didn't feel the least bit of guilt – in fact, almost everyone else was making the same decision. Remember, I said almost - yesterday's black jersey winner, Jerry Cook, was our lone, stalwart hero; the only one to continue on. He reached the hotel, changed into dry clothes (again, the soaked chamois picture); once dry and relatively warm, he jumped back on his bike and finished off the loop. An hour or so before this monumental decision, as he and I were still finishing off the first loop, he said, "this is the best vacation, all I have to do is ride my bike", apparently he wanted to get his miles worth. Rumor hasit that his gloves iced up as he crossed the 4000-foot elevation - sure, he's hard, but the way I see it, that shower sure felt nice.

As has been the case each day, there were the occasional missed turns – those moments of inattentiveness that result in extra miles, climbs, and curses. Today was no exception, the big difference is that it involved the route planner, Carter, our map savant, who was among a large group made up of Tyler Borgwordt, Dave Crowe, Mike Armbruster, and Scott Duncun. It seems that Carter had made a mistake on the route card – listed a left turn when we needed to go right. An innocent mistake that is completely understandable when you stop to consider that he has listed hundreds of turns over the course of the trip. And while by and large, everyone was able to figure out where to correct, it was Carter, of all people that led his group astray. This little snafu added miles to their trek - again, miles in that rain.

Eventually, the group fell apart, mutiny ensued and they went their separate ways. This left Tyler and Dave to find their own way. As they rode, the temperature continued to drop, the rain to fall, and the joy of the open road to disappear all together. Spying an awning in the distance, they saw their temporary salvation, Any Port in the Storm as they say.

While huddling together, a few moments of respite, the owner of the shop they had chose as their salvation opened the door a few inches; handing Tyler a large cup of hot water, and with the sweetest of grandmotherly voices said, “This is to warm up your hands young man.” This pretty much sums up our experience in Grass Valley.

So, what of this morning’s Black Jersey presentations? Today we had two winners; as you might recall from last nights write-up, the NorCal express took off at mile one, ripping the legs off the rest of the group. This plan was hatched the night before in a closed-door meeting – a meeting called by the team leader, Tom “Dr. Evil” Armbruster. For hatching such a devious, and painful plan, he truly personified the spirit of ToP.

Our second winner, Paul “the Tard” Gruebel was a rider who is back after a couple years away – years that included a significant increase in waistline and only slightly less of a loss of power on the bike. His last ToP was the infamous Portland trip, a trip that included 4 of 5 days in the pouring rain (maybe this weather has something to do with him, but I digress). That Portland edition, he was continually in the mix for the yellow Jersey, battling day in and day out – a never say die approach.

Now back on the ride, his weight once again where it belongs, he began the week with dreams of yellow. As the NorCal train left the station, he sat up, smiled, and threw in the towel. Deciding instead to pull the main group for the majority of the route, content that there was nothing more to prove. He left here an angry rider, arrogant and proud. He returned the rider of the people – we’ll call it Tard 2.0.

Our Jersey hunt continues, with the Yellow and Red mostly decided; the Green is the hot competition for tomorrow, with several opportunities to capture some much needed points.

Grass Valley to Grass Valley

• 70.7 miles (91.8 for Jerry), 347.3 total
• 6,385 ft of climbing, 27,476 total

HAVE FUN STORMING THE CASTLE BOYS

What a day; battles on the road, stunning countryside, and a moment or two to ham it up!

Today’s route took us from Jackson to Grass Valley, covering some of the most picturesque and challenging roads yet. The ride rolled out the first 5-miles of Day-2 before heading Northwest towards the high foothills. Along the way we were treated to a crossing of the Foresthill Bridge, which spans the North fork of the American River. This the highest bridge in California, third highest in the country and the seventh in the world. At 730 feet, this thing is TALL!

When we first looked at the route map, it seemed that the bridge was built to avoid the descent and climb out of the gorge. After yesterday, everyone was glad for that. Of course this was not going to be the case; while it does span a large section of the gorge, it still required a screaming descent of 1300 feet, followed immediately by a long slog up the other side – then we got to cross the bridge. This was obviously some engineer’s idea of a great joke, let’s send the poor sods into the Pit of Despair and see how they do!

As always, the day began with the Black Jersey presentation – this was a tough one – throughout the group, everyone had an epic day, everyone rode at his limit, but not everyone could get the jersey. So we had to look for something special, and in this we found Jerry Cook. Jerry had a less than desirable first two days of his maiden ToP: on Day-1 he broke his rear wheel – now this happens, after all, it’s a machine, and machines break. No problem, he was able to borrow a spare wheel.

Off he went on the monster Day-2 ride. Six times, he made wrong turns, sending him over hill and dale; six times he added miles and elevation gain; six times he could have thrown in the towel. To add insult to injury, at some point he managed to break the borrowed wheel as well. Finally making it back to the hotel, he got a third wheel from Matty-Matt and set back out on the route to do the final lap – alone, in the wind, and with no support vehicle. So for his never-say-die ride, Jerry is our Day-2 winner.

Today marked the middle stage of the ride; with only two more days to go, the boys from NorCal/Pacific Northwest, Nate; the brother’s Armbruster, Mike and Tom; and the ever-young Scott Duncan hatched a plan. Only a mile into the day, they leaped off the back of the group and made a dash for freedom.

It was like a freight train heading up the side of the group and off the front. Zach, who has been edging closer to the coveted Yellow Jersey hesitated thinking they were just messing around, after all, there were still 88 miles and thousand’s of feet of climbing to go. But after the fifth or sixth shout to him to chase, he finally headed out. Young and strong, as fast as the NorCal guys were going they weren’t going as fast as he was. Within what seemed like a blink he had closed the considerable gap and joined the breakaway. For the rest of the riders, it was sweet scene to see the small group rocket away – now they could sit back and enjoy the day.

Five to Six hours after setting out from Jackson, we arrived in Grass Valley – WHAT A COOL TOWN! The town is filled with extremely nice people; some fantastic restaurants; and nice historic downtown to wander through. Of course, no one seemed to have much gumption for sightseeing. So instead it was check-in and stagger off to rooms for much-deserved showers.

One of the great treats of the ToP is that we get to eat as much as we can consume. A day like today will burn 6,000 to 8,000 calories, which is nearly impossible to get back down. This means that as soon as we reach the hotel, get a little cleaned up, it’s off for the first seating. Three or four hours later, it’s off on the hunt again. Tonight, that included a stop to see Bob and his awesome crew of Alex and Vickie, of Gold Rush - Burgers, BBQ and Ice Cream Parlor, who opened up after hours for a large group of us on the search for milkshakes and Hobbit Dinner. Smoked burgers, never had them before, and BOY have I been missing out.

Finally, I need to call out another birthday, Jeff Theders. With the pace and pain of this year’s trip, there were no gifts for Jeff this year – but wish him happy one all the same.

Jackson to Grass Valley

• 90.7 miles, 276.6 total
• 7,749 ft of climbing, 21.091 total

BLOOD, SWEAT and TEARS!!!

“Hey, here’s an idea guys, what say we all get together and spend a week riding our bikes. Will shoot for 90 miles or so a day – maybe string 5 of them together – that sounds like fun. “

“You know, if we head up to the foothills below Lake Tahoe we can get a little climbing in – that should really make it fun.”

On paper it all sounded so good – problem is that pesky 2D just doesn’t quite capture the roads that we spent the better part of the day bombing up and down upon. And when I say up and down, please keep in mind that is more often than not the former vice the latter.

Carter once again sold us a bill of goods - with a measly 6000+ feet of climbing; we normally figure another 10% just for giggles – but 50%, what were we thinking.

Now to Carter’s defense, it wasn’t his entire fault. Though the route cards were correct, the tendency to change names, eliminate signs, and generally make navigation in the foothills seems to be in a world of it’s own. The planned route went by the wayside for all but two of ourgroup – Bob

Davidson and Pat Scanlon were the only two to actually find their way. For the rest, we were all over the map, it was carnage on the road today, and the riders rolled back to the hotel from every direction possible.

Since by-and-large, everyone still put in 90+ miles and well exceeded the climbing, it all becomes a wash – but congratulations to both Bob and Pat, I guess we know who takes the lead should we have to set sail for a new world.

As usual, the day began with a gentle roll-out - which lasted all of 100 yds, then it was 20 mile

s an hour through the historic downtown of Jackson. 10 minutes into what would be more than 5-hours on the road, Ken Rodriquez looked over to Andrew, his heart rate already beginning to spike, “these guys never warm up, it’s on the gas from the start”, he gasped, but then, thinking aloud, he thought, “what the heck, have you ever seen a jaguar warm up either!”

The day was not without it’s tragedy; our first crash of the day occurred on a steep descent with about 25 miles to go. It was a rock, a skid, a blown tire, and bike and body sliding across the tarmac. While he will have to give up his

dreams of a career as a leg and cheek model– it is only skin – the bike survived relatively unscathed.

Can you guess who this is?

The first Black Jersey of the week was awarded to Scott Duncan just prior to the start of today’s rollout. As a reminder, this is a daily award that can be for any myriad of reasons. In order to paint the picture of our Day-1 winner, I need to take you back to ToP IV as Scott is repeat winner. Last year, day 3 of the epic Santa Barbara to San Diego edition, Scott experienced two flat tires, one only minutes after the other. This occurred in one of the most inopportune times, just as the front group ramped up the pace on a long climb. Only one rider stayed back with him, helped him get his tubes changed and towed him for miles up the side of a mountain – occasionally dropped, this selfless rider would slow enough for Scott to get back on – encouraging him all the way. A brief descent after the apex of the climb brought them to a van stop where another small pack of riders was getting set. Riders were getting water, food, and cokes – all prepping for the next hard section. Our selfless rider – the protector of Scott – went around the back of the van looking for a private place to do a little personal business. He returned minutes later only to find that not only had all the riders left, but Scott had rode away – thinking only of himself. He was awarded his black jersey because this is the Train of Pain, not the Train of NICE!!!

Flash forward a year and a whole new Scott. Yesterday, as we blasted along a hard and windy section of narrow road a huge explosion of a tube sounded off – a terrible time for a flat as the road was too busy and narrow for the pack to stop – the poor sod would be on his own.

But nope, Scott would not hear of it, he had learned his lesson – and while the rapture may not have happened, he was not taking any chances with Karma – he stopped, helped him change out and towed him for 25-miles to rejoin the group by the next van stop. For showing us the true Yin and Yang of the rider, we congratulate you Scott – now don’t be getting all soft and cuddly on us, this is still the ToP!

Yellow/red is looking like a two-way fight between yesterday’s strongman, Nate and the quiet man Zach Scheetz, who dominated the toughest climbs (topping out at 13%) and dropped the lot of them.

Green – still not locked up by any stretch, but Andrew has begun to make his mark.

• 94.7 miles – 185.9 so far
• 8,972 feet of climbing – 13,342 so far

FAST, HARD, and SO BEAUTIFUL

Well, day 1 is in the books – it seemed so much easier on the route card. There, it was a nice flat first 60 miles, followed by a few easy rollers in route to the town of Jackson. Course, nothing is ever as easy in real life as it is on paper.

We rolled out of thefantastic Hyatt across the street to the Capital Rose Garden where Bobbo was setting up for the requisite photo op. This happens every year, and every year we argue, tease, stomp around like children, and basically do our best to get Bobbo to the point that he will yell at us like he was back in to his early days at Sear’s Portrait studio, trying to capture the semblance of calm in some doting parent’s bratty 4-year old.

Still, he once again managed to do us proud – which shouts out that he’s the man to call on for that all important Christmas Card pic; trust me, he’d love to help you out (and could really use the work - it's been a slow year).

Once we were done glamming it up for our adoring fans, it was officially time to get the circus moving. And moving we did; just a couple easy miles down Capital Hwy we hit the bike path for a 25-mile jaunt along the American River.Though I think jaunt might not be doing the pace any real credit; we really flew through this part of the course, which was made even more fun as we dodged bikes, runners, strollers and the occasional tourist that just had to get one more picture of some silly flower – and needed to be standing dead-center in the middle of the path. Now, before you start to think we were riding with reckless abandon, fear not loyal reader, this bike path is actually for BIKES! The rest of the path users are supposed to be on their own portion, safe from the melee.

25-miles of, “bike left; bike right” “Runner”

Now it was during this blast along the river that the first of what would be many cycling faux pas took place. To paint the picture, I need to explain some strict bike tradition, specifically where it comes to multi-day, or better known as stage races. The leader, in this case the yellow jersey wearer, Andrew Lee, had a flat tire 10-miles into the assault. Now tradition states that you never attack the leader when they suffer a mechanical issue. But this is day one, and the OC and NorCal teams smelled blood (meanwhile the San Diego riders were r

eally just trying to hang on for dear life). So here we were arriving at the first van stop, 30 miles into the day, and realized that Andrew was nowhere to be seen – off the back, alone and unafraid – and with a lot of work to get back on.

The next 35 miles were one headwind road after another – I swear, no matter what point of the compass we headed, the wind decided to play out it’s fantasy of that painted wagon’s “Maria”, continually shifting to another face shot. Still, the country was spectacular.

Along with the headwinds, like last year we experienced another minor issue resulting in lots of missed turns, wrong turns and stops where everyone pointed a different direction and looked totally confused. The first thought would be that Carter’s painstaking work in building exquisite turn-by-turn route cards must be off. But no, it’s just the pace and desire has gotten so high that no one pulls their route cards out to take a peek until it’s TOO LATE!

As to the competition, it heated up from the start, but some clear winners showed themselves; the standings as of day-one:

For both the Red and yellow jersey’s of climber and overall, Nathan “the destroyer” Spear showed th

at an entire year of focused training has paid off. He rode everyone off his wheel in a dominant display of strength on the final and toughest climb, bringing him into the Holiday Inn Express the clear winner.

The Green Jersey is hotly contested with the front runners all gaining points:

• Steve “The Lion King” Quinn
• Andrew “El Heffe” Lee
• and Paul “The Tard” Greubel

Now today’s blog will not be complete without a special shout out to Zach’s wife, Maurin, who celebrates her 29^th birthday today. Though she refuses to acknowledge that the ToP is going on (this due to the fact that she wanted to be with us, the opportunity to smack down the majority of the peloton is almost more than she can stand). Sorry Maurin, our old and fragile egos simply can’t take it – but we wish you a fantastic birthday all the same!

• 91.1 Miles down
• 4367 Ft of climbing

I don't know about the end of the world, but . . .

Now if you’ve been following the news of late, there are a few points to be paid attention to. Sure, there’s the economy, the floods, the mid-east strife. You could focus on the playoffs or the fall of heroes. But if you’re joining us here this week, all those things pale in comparison, tonight we stand at the eve of the most important sporting event of the year – THE Train of Pain.

Thirty-four grown men; average age of 50; majority level of, oh, maybe 15. Or at least that was how it looked to the poor patrons of Pizza Rock, our kick-off dinner for the 5^th annual ToP. With the rollout of Sacramento, our poor state capital never knew what hit them as the riders arrived throughout the day.

This year’s ride will take us over 456 miles and more than 24,000 feet of climbing over 5-days.

There have been many approaches to the upcoming ride – as in the past years, there are not only bragging rights once you’ve completed the epic adventure, but also more importantly there is the all-important competitions.

To bring you all up to speed, there are six awards on the line.

The end-of-ride jerseys:

• Yellow for the overall strongest throughout the week
• Red for the strongest climber
• Green for the best sprinter
• White for the strongest new rider (first year on the ToP)
• Each day the Black jersey is awarded – this generally is handed out to someone that does something heroic, something silly, or maybe something just side of shameless

Finally, there is the “Team” competition. This is a perpetual plaque that is contested by San Diego, the OC, and the NorCal/Pacific Northwest.

This last award has been the focus of the day; well rea

lly the focus of the last month. No more so than for the boys from the OC – they have been honing their plans, choosing their points of attack, andmaking their game plan. In fact, rumor has it that there was a team meeting, a thorough power point, and some very stern direction!

YOU WILL ATTACK HERE . . .

YOU WILL ATTACK THERE . . .

As for the promised end of the world, well it seems the Rapture’s been delayed by the Train of Pain – course there’s always next year with that pesky Mayan calendar.

Friday 20 May: THE JOURNEY NORTH

TEAM SAN DIEGO

It's early. Pre 4:30 am early. I roll out of bed (although Margaret says roll is just

wishful thinking -- it's more like North Dallas Forty). San Diego to Sacramento. A mere 488 miles straight up the 5. The early rise is to try and beat the LA traffic. My co-pilot? Steve Burke. A Jersey-native who never holds anything back. Nothing.

We're lucky. Sail through the grapevine by 9am. Then, a couple of hours later, it hits. We need to fuel the machines. We look for an organic, raw food restaurant – after all, our bodies are our temples. Blast the luck, we're in the middle of nowhere. Convenience will win out, just this once.

TEAM OC

Shh, don't tell but we're going rogue here. A supposed stop to watch the Amgen Tour of California is actually a super secret training day for the two of us. A top trainer has met us at Ballard Canyon to offer last minute pointers.

Thursday, 19 May: THE LOAD UP

San Diego to Sacramento bound

1 cargo van (thank you Enterprise)

15 bikes

18 sets of wheels

4 cases of food & drink mix

2 cases tires and tubes

Day 5, 26 May: HOMEWARD BOUND (but the hammer will fall)

Grass Valley to Sacramento

92.3 miles with 1950 ft of climbing

After the tough hills of the past three days, the final stage is set to be a fast and furious descent back to Sacramento. With a net drop of 2300 ft and only a few bumps to keep things honest the battle for the climber’s jersey will be behind us. This day is one for the sprinters and descenders. We should roll back into our original downtown hotel with the residual lactic acid spun free from our legs.

Day 4, 25 May: THE QUEEN STAGE!

Grass Valley to Grass Valley

91.2 miles with 7128 ft of climbing

Another first for the greatest stage event on the calendar: day 4 will be mark the queen stage with a monstrous day topping out with more than 7100 ft of climbing. Rolling out for another two-loop stage, as a little bit of cruelty, Carter has us passing our hotel for a TOUGH final climb and a bombing downhill finish. e’ll also be passing by Andy De Meyer’s parents and sisters homes, so expect a little cheering and offers of refreshments as we roll through.

Day 3, 24 May: THE WEE MEN OF THE MOUNTAINS WILL COME OUT TO PLAY TODAY

Jackson to Grass Valley

89.6 miles with 6027 ft of climbing

Leaving the wine region around Jackson, we head north into the steep foothills that form the base of the Tahoe Mountains. Our shortest day at just 89 miles, nevertheless, this one will be a kick in the tail. A relatively mild first half is broken up by series of climbs gaining the bulk of our 6000 ft of altitude. With two tough days behind us, Day 3 should prove to be a decisive stage as the sprint and climbing opportunities are fruitful.

Day 2, 23 May: Remember, yesterday was nice and flat

Jackson to Jackson

93.1 miles with 6083 ft of climbing

Day 2 marks a first for the ToP, two loops pass us through the picturesque town of Volcano at roughly 18 and 76 miles. Up and down throughout the day, log more than 6000 ft in elevation gain, marking day 2 as number 2 in altitude.

Day 1, 22 May: LET THE FUN BEGIN

Sacramento to Jackson

90.3 miles with 3255 ft of climbing

An easy roll out through the downtown and across the valley floor leads us through the first 60 miles of gentle rollers. This will be the gift to the sprinters, with multiple opportunities for City Limit signs to rack up some early points before we hit the first of the climbs. With only 3200 ft of climbing, it comes in the final 25 miles.

Kick-Off Dinner Saturday May 21st

Pizza? You're kidding right? Everyone knows how much Kevin and Carter can't stand the stuff. Yet peer pressure wins out and the kick-off dinner will be at Pizza Rock:

Taking Pizza to the next level, Pizza Rock is the first of its kind. From creative gourmet pizzas paired with specialty cocktails and an extensive imported beer and wine menu, Pizza Rock is THE destination pizzeria in Sacramento for guests looking for a new and fun place to meet friends.

Our outdoor patio features a double sided wood burning pizza oven. This allows patrons to also enjoy the art form of championship pizza throwing – the kitchen staff is trained by the world champion himself: owner/partner Tony Gemignani.

The environment is energetic and artsy. Think: "pizza artisan meets nightlife energy." This is not your traditional pizzeria. Also open late, Pizza Rock caters to the needs of the emerging entertainment district in downtown Sacramento.

"Pizza artisan" sounds perfect for this group -- but "nightlife energy???"

It's Official. 2011 Train Of Pain: May 22-26

And the trip is finalized:

Day 1 Sacramento to Jackson
Day 2 Jackson to Jackson loop
Day 3 Jackson to Grass Valley
Day 4 Grass Valley to Grass Valley loop
Day 5 Grass Valley to Sacramento

Each day is guaranteed to be all downhill with a tail-wind…

"SERIOUSLY"

Finally a day of rest on the ToP – or at least an easier day than the past week; we still managed just shy of 100 miles, climbed more than 4300 feet and turned in the fastest overall speed day of the week. Still, it at least felt a little easier. Today’s route took us from San Dimas to Temecula and included Bonelli Park and raging waters, through some exceptionally fragrant livestock areas, finally landing us at Chronic Tacos for the post ride feed. Now, being from San Diego I’ve eaten my share of tacos and burritos – but trust me when I tell you, this place is magical. Each burrito weighed in at a healthy pound and a half of rice, 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 - surely 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 – Thank 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 miles
4393 feet of climbing

BOY, YOU’VE GOT TO CLEAN THAT UP!!!!!

I know I’m sounding like a broken record – but today was another tough day of riding. The route took us from Santa Clarita to San Dimas and included major climbs through the Little Tujunga Canyon and eventually onto the Glendora Mountain range, providing a leg snapping 8000 feet of climbing.

Like yesterday, the plan included a gentlemanly rollout for the first five or six miles. I say planned, since Tom and Marc thought it would be funny to sprint off the front and see if anyone would react. Unfortunately, no one told Andrew that is was only supposed to be in fun!

But first the Day Two black jersey winner, you’ll remember from yesterday’s report that the rides caboose was egged on by Mike Witt – much to the dismay of his riding cohorts. Now this, in and of itself is nearly worthy of receiving the jersey - this is, after all, the Train of Pain. Yet when asked why, he simply hung his head and said that it was better than listening to his brother Rich’s disappointment if he’d quit. The power of the brotherhood, the pain of the climb – it’s really pretty much the same.

For today, the tough early climbing broke the riders into several smaller groups. Off the front Andrew, Tom and Marc had committed to a long, hard day; meanwhile, the chase took off in earnest with Mike Armbruster leading the splintered remains up the early pitches. Behind them, two main groups formed – misery loving the company it brings.

It would largely remain this way throughout the day; with the jersey hunt beginning to solidify. Andrew attacked throughout, eventually managing to uncork Tom and Marc to take the day – this moves him into the lead for the yellow. Steve Quinn still holds a grip on the sprinter’s jersey. The red remains hotly contested – with Torrey Pines on the final day likely to decide it.

For last year’s Red Jersey winner, Scott Duncan, this should have been a stage tailor made. With three long climbs and good recovery in between – repeating his climbing dominance was in the bag. That is until he began what would amount to four flat tires, leave him an hour behind the leaders and forced to make the final near 20-mile climb all alone.

If you’ve been keeping up with the blogs leading up to this year’s ride, you’ll remember reports of the demands on Scott’s time following his unprecedented win last year – the starlets, the parties, the Wheaties box photo shoots – its a wonder he was able to show up at all. Still, with youth on his side, he may be able to claw his way back into the fight.

So what of the rest; well it wouldn’t be the Train of Pain if someone doesn’t throw up somewhere on the road. This is a tradition that Carter began on day three of our first year’s ride. It scared a poor family from ever taking a vacation again, but established another competition all of its own.

This year’s newest inductee into the “I gave my all for this darn ride and now I have scrape it off my bike” club is Tyler. After digging deep to get himself over the first two climbs he finally rolled up to the van stop. It was here that he made his tactical mistake – it seems that eating everything that he could get his hands on while downing it with lukewarm Pepsi may not be the best “Eat to Win” dietary choice.

After about 20 miles of gurgling, all while rolling through one of the nicest neighborhoods of today’s route the cork finally came loose. Have you ever shaken a soda, pointed it at a friend and pulled the stopper? If you have, you’ll know what poor Mike Witt felt like. There he was in his prize jersey, riding along and minding his own business when suddenly he got to know a little too much about Tyler’s eating habits – last word was that he was still in the shower, scrub brush in hand and mumbling something about finding his happy place.

So there you go, three days down, just two remaining; so far the ride is living up to the hype.

ToP IV 2010 Day 3
93 miles
8000 feet of climbing