I waited as long as I possibly could, but it was the start of April.
The cycling season was now in full swing and I still didn't have a team.
I started sending in my applications to find another job to support myself.

After learning my family's history, I truly wanted to follow in his footsteps,
but it looked like I was going to have to sit out the first season.
I was unwanted and not worthy of anyone's time to train.

Until... I got my big break. April 11, 2035. The Crash.

It was gruesome and caught on live television for everyone to see.
Historians compared it the crashes of legendary sprinter Mark Cavendish.
A young and rather reckless HTC sprinter smacking the pavement viciously.



The trident struck. The Tirreno-Adriatico was the last race of his season.

Did I feel sorry for him? Absolutely. That's a horrible way to lose everything.
The young man from South Africa, Steven Ntanga, deserved better
for being a role model and encouraging the growth of African cycling.

It's heartbreaking and I benefited from it. Such a cruel world we live in.
At least Ntanga was able to get back on bike and continue cycling.
He rejoined a few seasons later after his complete recovery.

I got the phone call 2 days after the crash, waiting in line at the grocery store.
HTC straight up offered me a job to join their team for the rest of the season.
Of course I accepted and ironically my debit card was declined at the register.

I walked out of that store empty handed, but had got myself a job.
Employment. Check. Food... Shelter... Protection... Coming Soon?

Just two more races and then finally my first objective of the year would come.
Sure, a lot of people had been breaking my balls about my "pointless" attacks,
but I was just building up form for this great race: Giro d'Italia.

But first, I had to survive the cobbles of Roubaix and the hills of Liège.

The cobbles of Roubaix were, well... Hellish.



I dropped off the back fairly soon, and finished outside the time limit.
At least no frenzy attacking today. A sprint of five decided the race.



Liège - Bastogne - Liège was the final classic before the Giro.
My legs were ready, so I just wanted to use the kilometers
to get those final percentages necessary to compete in
the most beautiful race in Italy!



I was on water bottle duty during the second half of the race.
Later I heard my dad pitched the idea to the team management.
"That will refrain him from attacking," he had said.

My dad, ladies and gentlemen.



No FDJ in the finale, I finished 39th and was ready for the Giro d'Italia.
Now my career could finally really begin. Bring it on, I thought!

Since I had nothing holding me back in the United States,
HTC flew me out with their team to Belgium for Gent-Wevelgem.
No, I wasn't allowed to race. Only watch, take notes and meet the team.

I didn't mind at all. It was like a mini-vacation and sight seeing tour.
It was rather surreal considering I had never left North America before.

Chloe, Zooey and Travis had all these cool stories about far away places.
There I was in the moment living it up, taking in my own experience.
Then again, it was a business trip. I couldn't have too much fun.

The team keep tabs on me at all times. I was there to learn, not goof off.
However, I didn't learn much. A few teammates names and the friendly staff.
And what I remember the most was the ruthlessness of these so called cobbles.

I had heard about them, but that was my first time seeing them in person.
Some cyclists love them, while other cyclists absolutely despise them.
I didn't even have to ride them that day to know that I hated them.



Why you may ask. Well, I could barely ride a flat 230kms race.
So why make the road bumpy as well? I felt bad for my teammates.

None of them were exceptional good or even liked cobbles either.
Logan Richardson was the team's best finisher, 70th place.
Thor Mortensen won the event for Maersk-Saxo Bank.

After the race, DS David Tanner informed me that San Sebastian,
the next CT race nearly a month away, was going to be my debut race.
They said I could stay and train in Europe or head back to the United States.

Without hesitation I said I'm staying in Europe and I picked up my phone.
I knew exactly who to call. Hopefully she could make room for a visitor.

After a terrible start at the Giro, things could only get better.
The Team Time Trial left us in attacking position.
What do you know, that's just what I liked!



I remained calm until we hit the mountains, then I attacked every chance I had.
Unfortunately, I wasn't gaining any time on the favorites. I lost more time...
By the time the first week was over I was in 21st position, 8 minutes down.

But I wasn't giving up. On stage 8, I went on the attack!
I picked up some valuable points for the King of the Mountain classification.



I picked up some more points here and there.
And then came stage 12, a brutal mountain climbing stage.
I jumped away from the peloton, which was reluctant to let me go.



Nonetheless, I managed to get away.

I kept gaining time and when the favorites
started attacking in the background,
I managed to keep quite a lead.

To my own surprise, I won my first Giro stage!



The following day, fueled by adrenaline, I attacked again.
This time, the peloton kept me in the ranks.



I did pick up some more KoM points, though.
Bradley won the stage, showing his supremacy in this Giro.



30 kilometers from the finish, my efforts
from the previous days started to get to my legs.
I lost quite a lot of time that day, and with one week
left in the Giro, I was in 12th position, 18 minutes behind.

Things looked over. But there was still one week left.
And I was only getting better, I thought!

It was different having Joseph around again. But a good different.
I missed him. We talked a lot on the phone but that's nothing like seeing him.
And seeing him happy, made me happy. Life was finally starting to go his way.

He stayed with me in my single room apartment in Spain for a month.
Training and preparing for his first professional race: San Sebastian.
Before I knew it he was packing his bags to head back home.



I managed to take this picture of him in his first race.
He told me before the race that it didn't matter where he finished.
So long as he finished the race. And he did, taking 72nd place, +16'01".

We hugged, said our goodbyes and he went back to Kansas to be with mom.
Life returned to normal for a few days before I ended up on a plane to France.
More time off from work, I wasn't that surprised they fired me when I got back.

Honestly, I didn't care. I went to school to be a nurse, not a translator.

FDJ got two more victories from the breakaway,
But now it was time, they were working more on my
General Classification and obtaining the coveted KoM Jersey.

The Mountain Time Trial didn't bring what I had expected of it.
It was cold and snowy and I lost more than 2 minutes on Bradley,
who was only getting stronger and was completely out of reach.



The next day, I was a bit lost as to what was expected from me.
I panicked and did what I did best: Ride up those mountains.
I tried to get away but failed. Still I continued to pace up the mountains.

I didn't even care that the peloton was hanging on my back wheel.
I picked up some KoM Points and at the very least and wasn't losing time...



Until, of course, my legs ran out of juice.



I gave up my GC ambitions right then and there.
The next day I went up the road with a teammate, Fayette.
The French National Road Race Champion. I jersey I wanted to wear.



We crossed the 2nd climb with a 10 minute lead.



By the third climb, we had 20 minutes. What was the peloton doing?
Yes, I was 33 minutes behind Bradley in the General Classification.
But still... Could it be done?



I left Fayette behind with 47 kilometers to go and
I was in for the toughest hour and a half of my life.
I gave it everything I had to get 13 more minutes, winning the stage!



But it wasn't meant to be. Bradley survived comfortably.
Yet I had conquered the KoM again, and I had won my second stage.

The Giro was coming to an end, now.
The last mountain stage, I didn't have the legs to attack.
I followed as long as I could and managed to sneak back into the top 10.

The Giro ended with breakaway magician Oleg Volkov taking Stage 21.
I had won the KoM jersey, 2 stages and finished 9th in the GC.
Not a bad Grand Tour debut, I reckon!

The Tour de France was a month away, and I felt I had learned a lot in Italy.
Would it be enough to go to France to win the greatest race in the world?
We'd find out soon enough!

Tour de Suisse was my next race. It started with a 7kms hilly time trial.
My father taught me a lot of things before getting sent to prison,
but the most important thing was time trialing technique.



Something many cyclists at that time after the War didn't have.
I spent months perfecting it as I waited to get try-out opportunities.
So when the time came, I didn't hold anything back and the clock didn't lie.

I took second! Everyone was stunned. Even myself.
I didn't do anything special. I just rode like I was taught to.

The next day was a flat stage with time bonuses. You know I went for them.
I was just two seconds off the leader, whose name I can't remember...
I think it started with a K, from Europe... Anyways doesn't matter.



I got enough seconds and became race leader at the end of the day!
My second pro race and I was leading the competition. Incredible!
Too bad that feeling didn't last. Stage 3 was mountainous.

I suffered. Lost everything I had gained. It was fun while it lasted.
I finished Suisse 37th overall. But hey, I got to wear the leader's jersey!

After a Grand Tour debut
I was about ready for my first Tour de France
Jimmy Licina was the top favorite. A French talent.
As for me, after a KoM Jersey in the Giro, I was
ready to go fully for the General Classification
here in the Tour de France.

Unfortunately,
the Tour didn't start that well.
On a hilly profile, I already lost
over 4 minutes on the other favorites.

The Team Time Trial was another
big disappointment. FDJ
finished dead last.




On stage seven,
Jimmy Licina came to power.
With two weeks left, the Tour
already seemed completely over.



The very next day, I decided to go for it.
I went up the road and flew past the
breakaway of the day.



But it was no good. I had gone too early.
Licina and Stone went right past me,
followed a bit later by another duo:
Craeymans and Rizzo.



After that,
I remained quiet
for just a little while.

Until...

On stage thirteen,
I acted on instinct by following
an attack lead in by Miller. Licina
followed, too. By this point, I was so
far behind in the GC Licina only had one
thing on his mind: going head to head with me
and take the French crown of cycling once and for all.



Pride is a tricky thing.
I couldn't let him get away,
and so I hung on. For as long as I could.



But like Bradley in the Giro,
Licina was untouchable in this Tour.

He came and he conquered. All I could do
was stand there and watch.



I had gone over my limit and lost an
astonishing 14 minutes on the
following day.
Game. Set.
Match.