TJDu-@aol.com

Subject: European Mis-adventure, vol. 2 (AdamM)

From: Harry Wolfson <HarryW-@LL.MIT.EDU>

Date: Wed, 29 December 1999 10:05 AM EST

Message-id: <291219991005565338%HarryWolfson@LL.MIT.EDU>



 From: AMye-@aol.comNOSPAM

Date: Wed, 29 Dec 1999 08:09:21 EST

Subject: European Mis-adventure, vol. 2

To: HarryW-@ll.mit.edu



Harry,



Can you post this to the newsgroup for me? And anywhere else you want to

send it? Thanks!



Adam



====================



December 25th



It seems like I just wrote a few hours ago. Then again, I guess that's

because I did. My flight from Boston took me to Paris in about 5.5

hours, but it was 8PM when I left, and 8AM when I arrived. My connection

there then took me to Stuttgart at about noontime. Tobias was there

waiting for me, so we grabbed my luggage and headed for his house in

Luwigsburg, just north of the city. The plan then was to get one of the

bikes together and try to get in an hour ride. Of course, I had only

slept about an hour or two since the night before, and it was still 7AM

for me at this point. I figured I'd lay down for a quick half-hour nap

before we went riding.



When I woke up 4 hours later, it was dark out already, and that was

that. I figured sleep was more important than training at this point

anyway, and I was going to suffer in the race tomorrow no matter what. I

put the bikes together and did 20 minutes on the rollers just to stretch

out a bit. I actually felt pretty decent, all things considered.



Now that I was finally here, all my anxiety about coming was gone. I was

here, period, and it was time to start focusing on what I had to do.

Tobias, his twin brother and I had a great conversation at dinner about

world politics, the benefits of living as an expatriate, and the way

American culture is steamrolling the world under the thin disguise of

"globalization." It was good to use my German again, and we went back

and forth between languages all night. I had some red wine to help me

sleep, and was in bed before midnight, suprisingly. We had to get up at

8AM the next day for my first race in Europe.



====================



December 26th



I think the best thing about Europe is the coffee. Everyone has an

espresso machine, and everyone knows how to use it. I never drank coffee

until I came to Europe the first time, and now I'm definitely dependent.

And any difficulty I anticipated about finding vegetarian food was put

to rest, as Tobi had scoured the local stores for tofu and soymilk,

which is like meat and potatoes for me. Full veganism was still going to

be a problem until we found some more alternative food sources, but I

realized I would have to be a bit flexible at first. A little Nutella

never killed anybody. Steamed chocolate soymilk with my espresso at

breakfast was a glorious way to start the day, though. A day which would

pretty much just get worse from that point on.



It was pouring when we left the house. Pour-ing. And we were going south

to race at Dagmersellen, Switzerland. The muddiest, most hilly country

on the planet. I hate both of those things! On the way down, we realized

it wasn't just raining; the wind was blowing at ridiculous speeds, and

we were in the middle of a landmark storm. When we crossed into

Switzerland, trees were down on the highway, cars were flipped over on

the side of the road, and traffic was crawling. Lovely day for a bike

race!



When we finally arrived, the storm had actually moved through, and the

sun was even shining a bit. But course-wise, the damage had been done.

You have never seen mud like this in your life. It was so muddy, there

was only one hurdle on the whole course. Your were off your bike and

running so much, you didn't need any more. Imagine Satan designing a

nationals course at South Sea-Tac park in Seattle, and you'll be on the

right track. I could only think about Ann Grande all day, and how much

she would love this shit, and then be out cheering for me while I

suffered through my race. And suffer I did. At this race in 1997, I went

off a cliff and crashed half way through the first lap, because my front

wheel got stuck in a frozen rut and my stem wasn't tight enough. I

turned, the bike didn't, and over the edge I went. This time, the ruts

were just deep, soft mud. If the Eskimo have a hundred words for snow,

I'm sure the Swiss have as many for mud. This type wasn't really thick.

It was more aerated and fluffy, like marshmallow. Imagine riding a race

that was either pavement or marshmallow. Even when you were on the

pavement, you were still covered in marshmallow, so how fast could you

go? I was called to the line about 40th out of 50 or so, based on UCI

points. I have all of three of them, so I guess the other schmucks

behind me didn't have any. It didn't matter, because I knew from how I

felt warming up, and how unsuited for the course I was, that this was

going to be a short day. I gave it a fair try at the start and actually

moved up a bit. If there was a special prize for being the best starter,

I'm sure I'd win it. But since there isn't....by the end of the first

long, muddy run, I was second to last, and I stayed there the whole

race. Every now and then I'd sneak a peak at the poor soul behind me,

and I swear the guy was just out training. I was going as hard as I

could, and every time I'd look back at this guy he'd be on his tops,

just kind of soft pedaling.



And so, my mind started to wander. "What the hell am I doing here? I am

such a piece of shit! Why would anyone travel so far to be second to

last?" But I caught myself, and calmed down. I knew why I was here. No,

I was never going to win a race like this. But I was good enough just to

be part of the spectacle, and measure the distance between myself and

the top of the sport. All around the course, people cheered for me, like

only the Swiss do. "Hopp, hopp, hopp, hopp!" It's the best! I was going

100%, and they could see and appreciate that, no matter how slow I was.

On the run up I was simply trying not to walk, and a girl yelled "Go

American tiger!" I almost wet my pants. It was the dumbest thing I had

ever heard, and seemed even more so in the state I was in. But she was

cute, and with her stretched earlobes and dyed hair I knew she was a

kindred spirit. So, I smiled and kept running. I felt more like an

American cow, I told her later, but it was a nice gesture.



It only took 30 minutes for Beat Wabel, Dieter Runkel, and Thomas

Frishknect to lap me. Normally, that would be the end of the race. But

since there were only about 40 riders left, they let me continue. I

wasn't sure if I was happy about that or not, but I made a commitment to

try to finish the race with the best effort I could. The family I had

stayed with in Switzerland in '97 had come out to watch me race and pit

for me, along with Trudi Karrer, the woman who set everything up for me

that year. At the very least, I felt like I owed it to them to finish.

Even though I was lapped, they took my bike every time I came through,

and gave me back a spotless one and a big cheer. It was so nice, I'm

literally crying now thinking about it.



When I step back and get some perspective, I realize that that's why I'm

here. Not to set the world on fire, but at least to see it before it

burns up on it's own. To live in a different country, to meet new poeple

and make new friends. And in the meantime, gain some more valuable

experience to pass on the people that come after me. I may not be

winning any World Championships, but maybe some of the people that I

coach will. My experiences here can only help them with that. So, I'm

coping, and I'd even go so far as to say that I'm happy to be here. Tobi

was 9th today, too, so I'm pretty happy for him. 9th in a Class 2 race

is a pretty spectacular ride.



====================



December 27th



I went to bed last night around 11, and I didn't wake up today until

noon. 13 hours of sleep! I was obviously operating at 50% yesterday. And

if you think about it, since I did 4 laps in the time it took Beat Wabel

to do 5, I was at about 80% of him. Maybe I can then extrapolate and say

that if I was 100%, I would have only been at 90% of him, and perhaps

not been lapped? Hard to say, and not really worth discussing anyway.

They don't put your life story on the results page, only a number.



Today was a rest day, of course, and Tobi and I just rode 2 hours easy

on the flat roads along the river Neckar. The hillsides of the valley

all around us were covered in vineyards for white wine grapes. Pretty

neat. I felt pretty good today, actually, like maybe I was back to

normal. As hard as the race was yesterday, I don't think I was really

even able to push myself hard enough to do any damage. And 13 hours of

sleep is always helpful.



In the afternoon we went to the thermal bath here in town. This is one

of the best things about Europe, and something we really lack in the US.

It's basically a big indoor swimming pool center, with a few saunas,

massage pools, and warm baths. First we went into one of the warm,

saltwater pools where you go from station to station, with a different

massage nozzle at each one. Then we took a sauna followed by and icy

cold shower. Then a little nap in a nice lounge chair. This is what

Monday is all about!



In the evening we went to the grocery store, which is always fun in a

new country. I was able to use my ATM card to withdraw German Marks,

which was fun. It doesn't take much to get me excited, I guess. I told

Tobi the one thing I would really miss while I was here was peanut

butter, and how I wished I could get some. He looked at me like I was

crazy, and took my right to the peanut butter shelf. I don't know what

those US Postal guys are complaining about, but at least in Germany, the

stores have peanut butter. There was even an American flag on the jar.

I'm all set with the stars & stripes, but I'll take the peanut butter.

Tobi was set on buying the Millennium jar of Nutella. 2000 grams! The

thing is huge, about the size of a small baby. I think eating all this

Nutella is going to cost me a place or two in the races.



I have to say that in general, Germany's not that different than the US.

There's trash on the side of the road, everyone's in a hurry, people are

rude, and women put make-up on in their cars. There are lots of pierced

people, and lots of American movies on TV. I'd say the biggest differences

are that everyone smokes, and everyone has a cell phone. Everyone.



====================



December 28th



I couldn't sleep until 3AM last night, so I just sat up reading. I woke

up at 11, though, so maybe I'm getting more on track. A little cereal, a

little chocolate soy latte, and life is good. Except that it snowed a

few inches last night, and now it's raining. Training in the rain in the

spring is one thing, but doing it now, so late in the season, is

entirely another. I think the only reason we even considered going

outside was that neither of us wanted to be the one to back out.



Like most rainy rides, though, it wasn't so bad once we were out there.

And it wasn't even really raining anymore, it was just that the streets

were soaked with melting snow, and the ground was still water logged

from the weekend storm. We did 3 hours with 3 small climbs in the

middle, and I actually went really well. I did an hour at 80-90% of my

threshold, and 30 minutes within 90-100%. I was able to keep the

pressure on pretty much all day, so that was encouraging. I just hope I

don't leave all this good form on the road, and have something for the

race on Friday.



Tobi had made plans with 3 of his friends to meet up with us at a local

bar at 9PM. One of the things that happen when you stay with someone in

anothe r country is that you become a show pony. Everyone wants to meet

the American, and everyone wants to practice their English. So there we

were, sitting in a bar in Germany with 4 Germans and one American, and

all we spoke was English. It was actually pretty good, though, because

when we would drift back into German, I would have enough context from

the part of the conversation that was English that I would be able to

follow the German.



In two separate conversations I had, the first thing each person said

was how much better the beer was in Germany than America. Which I took

real exception to, because one of the things I thought coming over was

that I was going to have to drink shitty, watery Germany beer. Sure,

they were taking about Budweiser and Miller, but who drinks that in the

US other than frat boys and rednecks? The darkest, thickest beer I could

get here was a Weissen dunkel. Basically a dark wheat beer that's more

like drinking Coca-Cola. What I wouldn't give for a nice Amherst Brewing

Company porter, the kind you can stand a spoon up in. That's beer.