Liggitisms

Stage 16 Recap, 7/17/09

Today’s stage was from Martigny, Switzerland, to Bourg-Saint-Maurice, France, and totaled 160 kilometers (or in my case today 130K). It took in the high point of this year’s tour (2,473 meters), the “beyond category” ranked, Col de Grand-Saint Bernard, essentially 40 K uphill from the start and the Category 1 climb, the Col du Petit-Saint-Bernard (2,188 meters). These are mountains in the true sense of the Swiss Alps, above the trees, above the clouds, above most of humanity. The environmental changes today were dramatic. We could not start the ride until almost 11:30 a.m. due to torrential overnight and morning rain. It finally “cleared up” but it was a short-lived reprieve for the day of rain that was to follow … mild sprinkles in the valleys that turned into a downright nightmare on the second climb of the day. I’ve had a lot of “alone time” during this trip and I described how the mind occasionally wanders. Today I was thinking about the theme for this summary and I had decided it was going to be about “spots.” I had it all figured out. I was going to talk about hot spots, sweet spots, raw spots, wet spots, black spots, water spots, etc., etc. However, that all changed on the climb today up the Col du Petit-Saint-Bernard. This is where the word Liggitism came into play. For those not familiar with the Tour de France, the commentary team who covers the race for the U.S. broadcast is made up of a British journalist, race announcer and former rider, Phil Liggit; Paul Sherwin, a South African and former pro racer; and, in recent years, Bob Roll “Bobke”, an eccentric former pro from the U.S. This team provides an exceptionally entertaining and informative broadcast to the tour and I have certainly missed their coverage of this year’s race. The little I have been able to watch has been on French TV 2 and, other than picking out the riders’ names, I don’t have a clue what the announcers are saying. Phil Liggit has been covering the tour for well over 20 years and as one might imagine after that long, he has developed some expressions that repeatedly pop-up over the years and within a broadcast. My favorite has always been that “so and so rider is suffering like he has never suffered before.” Usually it is reserved for those special efforts when a rider is in a long solo breakaway and is trying to outrace the charging pack mile after mile into the finishing town. These exploits usually don’t succeed, but when they do, they are epic victories that are well earned and gain the respect of the racers and fans. I have always wondered if I knew what that would feel like. Surely I have suffered on the bike. I have been at my limit many times; every racer, whether they be pro or amateur, regardless of ability, has gone to that spot where the body just says “stop.” The question that is sometimes hard to pinpoint is whether that stopping point is physical, psychological, fear induced, momentary pain, etc? I’m not sure finding the true end point is as easy as it sounds. I was kind of hoping that at some point on this trip I might find that point. A mixed combination of factors that could not be overcome by easier gears, or a momentary break, or even climbing off and walking (god forbid that option). Well today I think I found it at the top of the final climb. I don’t really have the words to paint the picture like it felt in my mind and body. It goes something like this. …

The last 40 K became increasingly cold. The rain became almost like sleet and whipped horizontally across the entire climb, which was mostly above the tree line offering no protection. I was riding with just a short-sleeve jersey and shorts and was soaked from 7 hours of sweat and rain. The climb went on for eternity and I tried long periods of climbing out of the saddle in an attempt to generate more body heat but there was none to be had. I was increasing hypothermic and could not grip my bars tightly or hardly feel my shifters. I tried counting 1-10 with my pedal rhythm but it felt like high level math. I knew that Julie and Gerry would be at the top but where was it? I kept passing motor homes parked for the actual race to follow in a few days but even these fans were bundled up inside. There was an occasional car going up but they just looked at me like I had lost my mind. I knew I needed help but it would only be found at the top where Julie and Gerry waited, and when I finally reached the summit I looked in vain at the motor homes parked in the lot and they were not there. I tried to think what to do and actually started to descend but surely they would not have gone beyond the top. The conditions were horrible and I needed refuge now! I pulled over out of the wind behind a small hut at the top and tried to get out my phone from my seat pack. My hands could barely open the zipper and I had to really concentrate to dial the number and hit the right keys on the phone. Julie answered and they were actually behind me on the climb having just reached the summit moments ago, but assuming I was somewhere below them still on the climb. I think they realized I was in big trouble and made it to me within a few minutes. Julie had to help me out of my clothes and I toweled off and wrapped up in blankets. She made me hot soup and hot tea and I shook like a leaf for over an hour. I’ve swam in Lake Michigan in 32-degree water on New Year’s Day “the Polar Plunge” and I have frozen in tree stands during hunting deer in Wisconsin, but nothing compares to this. I have never been so cold, so numb, so completely wasted that I could not think or act other than to lean against a wooden door hoping that help was on the way. Today I suffered like I have never suffered before. Now I know!

Tomorrow is another day.

Dave