I’ve been pretty banged up this season. It started in January at Cyclocross Nationals and kind of just keeps on coming. I had a naïve read on the recovery time of the shoulder surgery, so I’m to blame for that. But, all these stupid little falls I’ve had training, on and off-road, were just plain bad luck.

I’ve raced a lot hurt over the years. It all started back when I was an intermediate, (junior 13-14). I broke my collarbone in Superweek and raced the Nationals Road Championships a little over a week later. That probably wasn’t the smartest thing in the world to do, but doctoring and medicine was much different back then.

That being said, during that era, racing bicycles hurt was sort of what was to be expected. In Europe, racing was a blue collar sport. Here in the US, once criterium racing became at least 50% of the scheduled racing, if you did the whole year, you fell, fell multiple times a year.

Back when the Nabisco series was happening, mainly my Schwinn years, we it was two criteriums at weekend, at least, for months. If there wasn’t a guy on our team with a broken collarbone, it was unusual.

I don’t quite understand now when these Pro guys fall, they lay on the ground for so long and don’t instantly get up and get moving. It seems like it is made for TV or something. They obviously do know that there are a million cars backed up and that they can virtually motor pace back on. That usually works, but every once in a while, like when Vino fell at the Tour a few years back, it doesn’t work out great. These guys should just get moving and then figure out how badly they’re beat up.

I was off the front in the Tour of Texas once, descending a blind corner and ran into the Campagnolo motorcycle that was parked in the middle of the road doing a wheel chance for Doug Smith, a future team mate. I hit the ground hard, slid into the guard rail and smashed my front wheel. The field was coming and the guy driving the motorcycle realized that he was “parked in a bad” space and took off. So, I was left standing there with a non-working bike. The field went by and I got a front wheel from a follow car and instantly started chasing. I knew I was pretty hurt, but also knew that if I didn’t get going quickly, I was going to be riding all day by myself. It didn’t matter, when I got to the next climb. I couldn’t use my left arm. I’d broken my wrist pretty badly and it was valueless. I then stopped.

Thurlow Rogers raced nearly the whole Coor’s Classic one year with broken ribs. That is pretty amazing. Mine have been broken for nearly 3 weeks now and every Monday after racing only one criterium each weekend, I can hardly move.

Anyway, what got me thinking about this was reading about Taylor Phinney and Philippe Gilbert crashing in the Eneco Tour and both stopping. They both hit there left knees and Taylor’s was bad enough that he couldn’t remount his bike. I honestly have no idea how badly either of them were hurt. Knee injuries are worrisome. And I do realize that they both have bigger fish to fry that the Eneco Tour. But if this would have been the Tour de France, I assume that both of them would have continued.

It seems like the only time the Pros keep riding while injured is in the Tour. The rest of the season doesn’t seem to matter. There is always another race and there are always other riders that can replace them.

I hated/hate quiting races. Getting hurt during stage racing is not usual. Riding through the injuries sometimes is actually the best thing you could do. It keeps you from stiffening up and after a few days it sort of becomes a non issue. I wish Pro riders would put more emphasis on the race they are currently doing and treat the races with more respect. Obviously no race is getting the respect the Tour receives, but when they are competing, they owe it to the fans and their team mates to compete fully. Part of that is falling down and getting back up.

This is a picture of a car that Andy Paulin and I ran into at the British Milk Race while we were riding on the US National Team. I was hurt pretty badly, broken leg, collarbone and hand. I didn’t get up from that one.

I drove out to Colorado to hang the week at the Pro Challenge. I’m not going to make it to today’s stage in Aspen, but plan on spectating a few days. I’m not that big on watching bike racing live. Especially in cool places. I’d rather be riding my bike in cool places.

Anyway, I was reading the Velonews preview a while ago and they were saying that the race was just “punchy” and there weren’t any mountain top finishes. I agree somewhat. But the implication was the race wasn’t hard enough. I don’t know about that. There isn’t a whole lot of difference between the old Coor’s Classic and the modern day Pro Challenge. Racing in the mountains at altitude pretty much defines it. Sure, the Coor’s race was two weeks long at the end and included a bunch of criterium racing, but that is just bike racing. I don’t think the course necessarily defines how hard a bike race is. I think the riders do. I remember many flat criteriums in the Coor’s race that changed the overall GC.

I was shaving this morning and all of a sudden I thought of a flash back from the first Red Zinger/Coor’s Classic I rode. It was back in 1979 and I was a first year Elite. I think the race was only a week long then, which was plenty long for me. I was riding for a composite team that was sponsored by Anchor Steam Beer. It was the last night before the North Boulder Park Criterium. I was rooming with a Tom Chew, a great guy and good rider from Pittsburg, PA. We were both exhausted. So exhausted that we couldn’t sleep.

We were staying in the dorms at CU and stayed up virtually the whole night just talking. About every half hour one of us would say, shit, it’s 2:30, then shit it’s 3:00…… I think we finally got to a couple hours sleep. Just enough to wake up in total REM.

I stumbled to the bathroom and decided to do my once every couple week shave. I had a brand new razor, hadn’t shaved my legs with it or anything, but it really didn’t feel right. The air and my skin were so dry that it just felt like it was pulling the hair out of my face. That was the cause of the flashback, shaving. Weird what triggers that.

Tom and I rode over to North Boulder Park in a fog. There were so many people there. The course was lined a few people deep. The whole park full of guys wearing short dolphin shorts playing frisbee, waiting for the race.

The race started and I was hardly pack filler. I was hanging on for dear life. Phil Anderson was a honch back then. Already racing in Europe, he’d done the Red Zinger a few times already I think. Anyway, Phil took off alone and lapped us. I was dangling at the back of the pack and as Phil made his way around to lap us, the roar of the crowd keep getting louder and louder. It was amazing. Right when he was connecting to the back, it was nearly intolerable. I had chills. It was the coolest thing I’d ever experienced and I wasn’t even doing it like Phil, I was just witnessing it from inside out.

Flash forward 7 years and I’m racing the Coor’s race for the 8th time. I’m riding for the Levi’s Team and Phil Anderson is a guest rider for our team. I’m much more seasoned, having probably raced 800 more races. Having Phil around was great. He normally rode for Panasonic and was happy not being subject to the “structure” of his European team. I remember the first day when we ordered dessert and Phil asked if it was “okay” to get dessert? He said Peter Post would never have allowed it. We told him we ate dessert everyday. He liked that.

Anyway, Phil had been hurt that year and was just coming back from a knee injury or something. He’d had a pretty bad year. He seemed pretty care free and always was racing at the front, in the breaks. Next thing you know, Phil is in 3rd overall, with only Bernard Hinault and Greg Lemond ahead of him. It seemed normal to me because Phil was a great rider and was always in the correct position when the action happened.

So, the last day we’re back at North Boulder Park. Roy, Andy, Thurlow and I were all good and it was pretty much assumed that the overall GC was over. We didn’t have to control the stage, figured La Vie Claire would do it.

Doug Shapiro, who was in 4th or 5th overall got into a break and went a bit up the road. I saw Phil at the front of the race, riding crazy hard, alone. I was wondering what the deal was. Lap after lap Phil pulled. Eventually Phil pulled off the front and drifted back to where I was. He was frantic. He shouted, “Ride, Steve, Ride!!!!!!!”

Phil was completely panicked. I had no idea why. It wasn’t going to be an issue catching the break. He had been so composed, so at ease the whole two weeks, and now he had lost his shit. I went back and got Roy, Andy and Thurlow and told them the story. So, we went to the front and rode. It wasn’t too long before the field was back together and instantly Ron Kiefel took off solo. Then Roy got away with Van der Poel. So, it was done.

It wasn’t until afterwards that I realized how important it was for Phil to be on the podium with Greg and Bernard, the best two stage racers in the world. Phil had been “bad” the whole season and was trying to redeem himself. Plus, he was more of a one day rider, not a true stage race rider. It was important to him.

I thought how much I’d changed from when Phil was lapping me years before. I was bike race mature, mentally. It made me feel like proud of all “work” I’d done. I thought it was an honor helping Phil with his accomplishment and redemption. Pretty good memory.

We won the team GC overall that year. This is Andy Hampsten, me, Phil, Roy Knickman and Thurlow Rogers at North Boulder Park after the final stage.

I saw Phil a couple years back at the last stage of the Tour de France.