Redlands, You Beautiful Bastard
The race I love, even when it hurts.
I’m empty and close to tears as I roll around the Sunset Circuit alone. This is far from the biggest race of my life, but it means an awful lot.
In a half hour, I’ve gone from gambler to nothing. Hours upon hours of training and prep seem worthless. I want a hug, that’s all.
The second half of Redlands didn’t exactly go to plan.
You last heard from me here after Stage 3. Two stages remain: the crit and the infamous Sunset.
The crit was the crit. It’s ten corners and everyone thinks they’re a hero. I found myself in a nice little bubble of GC riders hanging out near the back for half the race, then it was full gas for the second half and I was on the ropes and out of position. Not ideal.
We got to ten laps to go and the crash floodgates opened as per usual. Once one guy went down, three more crashes took place in quick succession. I finished with all my skin and without losing any time - a success.
Game On…
Only Sunset, the fifth and final stage was left to decide GC. Sunset is a place where anything can happen. The circuit is half climb and half descent and GC has changed hands on that stage countless times.
It’s a circuit that favours a strong man who’s willing to gamble. It’s all or nothing, a Hail Mary.
On the second lap, a little move started to get off the front. I was in a decent position and punched over to it. I check my shoulder: no peloton - game on.
I ride the climb hard forcing the move away and rely on my breakaway companions to rail the descent and technical corners.
The break becomes established. Twenty seconds becomes thirty, thirty becomes forty and then a minute.
It’s the perfect scenario. Maybe I’m not going to win GC from here, but a move into the podium and a gamble for the stage?
45-minutes later, I start to feel bad out front. My power meter is reading 350w but I feel like I’m doing 450w. Maybe it’s just low on charge, I try to tell myself. I bluff myself, I lie to myself. Game on Joe, just push. All of a sudden, our minute evaporates.
I get on the radio to ask for the gap, my answer is a group of GC guys racing past me some five seconds later. Shit. I slip out of position. Suffering from the effort of driving the break but hoping to take a couple of laps to recover before trying again.
I start to dry heave and retch on the descent. The only time I’ve ever had this before is when I had a head cold mid race. I’m like a cat with a fur ball as I try and hack some phlegm up - lovely, I know. I’m still in the group at the bottom of the next climb. The group goes at normal race pace, not too hard but pressy. All of a sudden I go off the back. My power meter’s reading 320w. Damn, I really am fucked. I hack up some more furballs. The retching is some more. My legs are empty.
There’s been sickness in the Good Guys camp since Stage 2. It’d been brewing more and more all week. We were drinking emergency VitC like it was going out of fashion. Unfortunately, it seems it got a hold off me right at the wrong time.
I’m writing this from LAX heading to Santa Rosa, I’m both congested and got a bit of a cough. There’s something wrong.
The beauty of being super fit is that you’re right on a knife edge. Sometimes, that knife edge slips.
I love road.
This week reminded me how much I love road racing.
Road racing is like high-stakes diplomacy. You make alliances of convenience, betrayals are often and timing is everything. You can make a temporary truce that aids you all, simply to cancel it out minutes later. There are psychological games where true intentions are hidden. The strongest doesn’t always win, it’s the smartest and the strongest.
Gravel on the other hand is poker on wheels. You’re constantly making bets on your legs, but you’re relying on your luck too. Maybe you get a bad hand and your tyre blows up, maybe that bluff when you’re on the edge pays off - but maybe it doesn’t. When you play it right it’s beautiful, but there’s always that little something out of your control.
I miss road. Going all in with a group of boys behind you. The hugs at the finish line. The back room staff or supporters who have late nights and early mornings to clean bikes and would kill for you.
Gravel gives me so much, but road is my first love and I’m okay with admitting that.
I’ll be back
Redlands is a bugger. Back in the heyday of US racing, winning a stage or GC at Redlands would set you up with a nice contract on a road team, or even get the attention of lower World Tour teams.
These days, it’s very different. However much I don’t want to admit it, my road dream is done - unless the scene changes. You need to be racing pro conti level to be making a living off racing on the road.
Equally, Redlands is my favourite race in the world. It’s a race I very very very much want to win before I’m done in this sport.
The community behind it is incredible. The host houses, the volunteers, the organisers, the race committee. It’s a proper community feel and I love coming to California to race it.
If I win Redlands, it won’t change my life, but it’ll be a big tick on my racing life.
I’ll be back, you beautiful bastard.
What’s Next?
Next up, it’s Levi’s in Santa Rosa. It’s the richest one-day race on the calendar, and I’m all in for the win. Equally, health comes first. If I can’t shift this cold, I’ll be on an early flight back to Europe.
A win at Rattlesnake, and a stage win plus a day in yellow at Redlands. This block has been a success, there’s no need for me to push the limit - I learned that the hard way last year.
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Congrats on the TT win and being in the hunt for GC. Yea it’s “only Redlands” but it’s something, which is Something!
Lovely bit of kit this race looked and the photos showed that beautifully 🥹📸🔥