I've moved the story to a new thread so it's easier to read January 10 - California, USA
Well, this is it. The big time. Professional cycling. Everything I've always wanted, and now I've got lucky. Great, except I'm lost in a taxi (sorry, cab in America), with some kind of deranged lunatic in front talking about throwing off the Communist spies. Not what I'd exactly expected.
After a 10 hour flight from London, with a baby somehow managing to keep up screaming for the entire trip, I touched down in California, ready to join up with my team, Health Net, as a neo-pro. I'd already been told a contact would pick me up at the airport. I arrived nervous, and it didn't help when someone covered my mouth, and yanked me into a dark corridor. "Are you the one they call Robinson?" He questioned.
"Yes," I stammered.
"I reckon your lying." he snarled. "Prove it!" He demanded. I handed him my passport.
"Documents can be forged," he told me. I'm going to ask you some questions. If you get any of them wrong, your going to end up like Johnny Jones." he threatened.
"What happened to him?" I was really scared now
"Well, nobody really knows. This just found half his head in a trash can."
He proceeded to grill me on every aspect of my life, and I was sweating nervously. This guy was a freak, but he knew everything about me. After ten minutes questioning, he seemed satisfied I was Chris Robinson, and proceeded to take me outside to his cab via the back entrance. He then set off with tyres squealing, and I was on my way to the Health Net HQ in Oakland. At least I thought I was.
Halfway through, and suddenly my driver, who wished to be known only by his code name, Red Fox Delta 1, asked me if we were being followed.
"I don't know." I told him
"This is a two man job, CR, you should be watching. Right, evasive action required!" SN then proceeded to drive erratically and shrug off these apparent chasers in a surprisingly good display of driving, all the while muttering about, "Those filthy Communists." 30 minutes later, and I'm now in the middle of nowhere, and my driver is a raving lunatic, with no idea if I'll make it to HQ, or if I'll make it alive. Send help if you get this, I can see the road sign, I'm on...
Edited by Crommy on 03-06-2007 10:07
Oakland, California
Well, after a 2 hour detour, Red Fox Delta 1 was certain we were no longer being followed, so the deranged driver finally got me to the Health Net HQ. It's a shame that as I got out of the car, with my new manager coming to greet me, the driver tackled me to the ground as he hadn't, "checked me out to see if I had managed to obtain any dangerous weapons during my time outside of the car," (all of 3 seconds), and apologised profusely to my new manager. So, here I was, with my new manager, my teacher for the next year or more, and he greeted me courteously.
"It's Chris isn't it. Welcome! Sorry about old Red there, he is a little bit erratic."
"A little bit?" I spluttered
"Yes, well, he used to be in the CIA, and it sort of hasn't worn off. Anyway, we keep him round, he is useful. Anyway, my name is Brian Stephens, and I'll be your manager. If you'd like to step inside, I'll talk to you about your role in Health Net."
He took me inside to his office, a cold, sterile thing, with no pictures. He seemed overly fond of the colour white.
"Now Chris, we're delighted to have you with us, our scouts have been adamant you'll be a great rider, and I've got full confidence in you. Your day will begin at 6.00 am every day. Sharp." He emphasised that last word. "You'll work hard for the next three hours, otherwise it'll be my boot up your backside." I grinned. A wrong move as it turned out.
"Do you think I'm joking!" He exploded. "If you don't train and give it 110%, you'll be out of this team faster than you can say Tour de France. I do NOT allow any mucking about, relaxing, taking it easy or easing off. Do you understand." He was right in my face now.
"Yes," I replied nervously.
He paused, looking at me intently. "I'll be watching you, Chris. I don't like you, but your rave reviews are what's stopping me throwing you out of this door right now. You better get your act together sunshine. You've gotta impress me quickly, because I want you to fail." And with those parting words sinking into me, he outlined the rest of my daily schedule, whilst I nodded, trembling. This guy was a firework waiting to explode, and I was a bloody kid with a lighter. This might not be the fun experience I thought it would be.
I stayed in a nearby hotel that night, as Brian didn't want my attitude to disturb the rest of the team until he had prepared them for it. Tired and lonely, I settled into a very cheap hotel room, with nothing to do but hope that it could only get better. Surely it couldn't get worse...
Oakland, CA
So, I met the riders in the morning (very early morning) after a terrible nights sleep, and most of the seemed fairly hostile to me. It seems they took the boss's speech to heart, and really don't like me. They were exceptions though. Kirk O'Bee came forward and greeted me pleasantly, and already it seemed like he wanted to be like my tutor. Karl Menzies also greeted me warmly, and already I started to chat away with these two, finding they liked the same taste in music (The Killers, Guns and Roses), when Brian Stephens walked into the room.
"Right lads, onto your bikes, you know what to do!" He shouted, and that was my training begun. God it as hard work, and I wasn't the only one struggling. Nathan O'Noill was at the back with me as we laboured up some tough climbs. Encouragement came as expected:
"Come on you miserable girls, get a move on!"
5 hours later, and I arrived back at HQ absolutely exhausted, and collapsed onto a chair. The rest of the guys were chatting idly, looking as though nothing had happened. I couldn't even stand up. I will get better with time, won't I?
Oakland, CA - January 20
Well, 5 days of tough training has seen me struggle throughout, and just when I thought I could have a nice rest, Brian announced we had the team presentation in 1 hour. Just enough time to get cleaned up and into my suit, which Gordon Fraser told me I needed to wear. I arrived at our venue, and was immediately greeted by the angry face of Brian,
"Chris, what the hell are you doing? Why on earth are you not wearing you team kit. You are a disgrace, get changed now!"
So I had to run back and get changed into my team strip, and arrived just in time as they were announcing the riders. Just made it. Unfortunately though, psycho guy was doing security, and wouldn't let me in.
"No one is allowed in until after the event has finished," he told me emotionlessly.
"But I'm a rider!" I declared
"For all I care, you could be the Pope, your not coming in. Your not allowed in until after the event."
That's when I grew desperate, and tried the oldest trick in the book. Of course, this guy needed little suggestion to put him in attack mode.
"Look, a communist spy!" I pointed out to him.
"Quick get in, I've got you covered," he told me, "Get in. I'll take care of this filthy red scum." And with that I was in, as he cackled manically and began to question passers by.
As soon as I entered, I saw Kirk O'Bee off stage signalling to me to hurry up, and I joined him just in time to hear my name being called out.
"What happened?" Kirk asked.
"It's a very long story," I replied, as I nervously walked onto the platform as Brian told the waiting press and dignitaries about me and what I would do for the team. I was then forced to stand on stage for another hour, as the rest of the team was introduced, had a couple of photos taken of me with the team, then was allowed to go. A distinctly boring affair, but Karl Menzies, or the Big Unit, as he likes to be called livened it up with running commentary on the riders as they joined me on the platform. In that hour, I got to know who would be my friends, and who would strive to get rid of me. I wouldn't be having many friends.
Oh yeah, I've also managed to rent a flat. It's very small, but it's all I can afford, I'm not exactly rolling in cash at the moment
Albufeira, Algarve, Portugal
Well, I'm in not so sunny Potugal for my first ever pro race. I'm so nervous at the moment, I just hope I don't finish last. I've had lots of good luck messages from my family and friends, and all my team mates are telling me just to relax, and that it doesn't matter how well I do. The boss has other ideas, although his assistant, Sean Yates, is a much nicer bloke.
"Don't listen to the boss," he told me yesterday, "Just give it your best, and don't worry if you don't do well, I fell over three times in my first race, and ended up coming in 20 minutes behind everyone in a flat race. They'd already started packing up! Anyway, just ignore him, and tell me if it gets too much."
A lovely speech, but I'm still nervous as hell. I just want to get it over with. The race starts tomorrow
Voltaao Algarve Albufeira - Tavira Can I feel any worse?
Well, I woke up bright and early this morning to prepare for my first ever Pro race. I put on my jersey, and wandered outside, where it was bitterly cold, so I went back in and put on my arm and leg warmers.
I joined team manager Sean, who told me to calm down and relax, and begin to warm up through some light stretching. When the whole team had arrived, he gave us our duties for the day, and mine was to just Jeff Louder, one of our team leaders. I was barely listening though as he went over the profile for the fifth time though, already getting into the zone. Before I knew it, I was on the start line and we were under way.
Things were going really well early on, I was comfortable, Jeff was encouraging me along with Hayden Roulston, the other man designated to protect Jeff, and the break was up the road. Everything was fine. A mild, long incline halfway through troubled me only a little, then on the descent, Unibet.com had had enough, and upped the pace. Then I understand the difference between amateurs and pros. I could barely keep up. We then hit a climb of 4 km at 6.3%, and that was it for me, I was dead. It was hard to watch as I went backwards through the peloton, giving it my all but failing miserably, and at the top, I was at the back then out the back, all alone. The worst part of it was when the team cars went pass, and then I really was alone. Our car didn't even pull over for long, just asking me if anything was wrong, then off with a squeal when I replied to the negative.
After that it was sheer and utter hell, as I just rode tempo and tried to catch the few riders going out of the back having been on the break. I caught a glimpse, but nothing more, and finished, teary eyed, in last place, my worst nightmare, 13'33 behind winner Olaf Pollack and 5'12 behind second from last.
Sean looks a bit startled at how poorly I did, and if this is how he reacted, then God only knows how Brian Stephens will react. I think he might even hit me.
Things can only get better, surely.
Pic of the day Me at the start looking smart but nervous in my kit
"I love him, I think he's great. He's transformed the sport in so many ways. Every person in cycling has benefitted from Lance Armstrong, perhaps not financially but in some sense" - Bradley Wiggins on Lance Armstrong
That is kinda funny. Ive been to Oakland many times but have never seen an ex-cia taxi driver. (we call them taxis, Cab is soooooo eastcoast) You should have gone into deeper detail about how ghetto Oakland is and included a driveby or a gang fight (they actually have those all the time). But good job. this could be an interesting story.
Volta aoAlgarve Vila do Bispo - Lagos
Things CAN get better...two more better to be precise
After my disaster from yesterday, the call came through from Brian Stephens that I was meant to give him a reason for me to ride again. So I attacked.
Unfortunately, 11 other riders joined me, so we got nowhere. A lot of energy wasted for nothing. The rest of the team gave me cold stares as I rejoined them in the peloton, this was definitely not part of the team plan. Then we enetered three tough climbs, one after the other, and that was it for me.
I wasn't the only one though, and managed to link up with three other riders who were struggling as much as me, plus there was a couple of riders behind me. Come on not last!!!
I got a little too excited then, I realise that now, and pulled along our little group far too quickly. I was exhausted with 8 km to go, and has to drop off. Now it was all about staying in front of the two behind me, and I was aware just how slow I was going. One of them overtook me, but I was not having that, so got into his wheel and took it easy, then overtook him in the dying stages, to come in 130th. Not last is all I care about.
Afterwards, my team mates just blanked me out cos of my attack, and Sean was none too polite as well. I didn't care though, today I was not last!!!
Marco Zanotti won the sprint finish.
