Mexico Training
By: Ben King
Hope you all have enjoyed a relaxing holiday break, and are ready to return to the real world. I am personally very enthusiastic about the new year, but will probably remain a bit further removed from the “real world”.
With no school holding me back this year, my only tasks are related to business obligations. I felt like a goose on the icy runway, preparing to migrate to a climate more conducive to my work. Snow flurries whirled around the ground crew outside the plane, igniting a spark of excitement. After spending the holidays in Virginia with my family, where close to three feet of snow had piled up outside, I began my base training with a 27 hour week in sub-freezing temperatures. It took plenty of gas station white-trash mochas, warm fire places, and a knucklehead mentality to push through it. However, there was a carrot, no make that a frosted carrot cake, dangling in the future. Having arranged a very important “business trip” to Aguascalientes, Mexico, I was sure to be greeted by hot weather, hot food, and hot senoritas. But you thought that all cyclists living anywhere but California went to Tucson Arizona for winter training, so why leave the country? This would be my first solo international trip which is very different than receiving an itinerary from the team that accounts for every hour of the trip. To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect besides warm weather and altitude. I had contacted a local cyclist through a mutual friend, a complete stranger, and he had agreed to host me for the week and let me tag along on his training rides. Three years ago I was in Aguascalientes for the junior world championships, but familiarized myself only with our hotel and the race courses. Apart from these the only other thing in Mexico that I knew well was a girl named Vanessa. Ahh, ulterior motives.
Last year, my first season with Trek-LiveSTRONG, our first competition was the Vuelta Mexico Telmex. So after a year of sporadic emails, I saw my Mexican pen-pal again on the final day of the Vuelta. Afterwards we kept in contact and she boasted about her mole recipes. Now you know I wasn’t joking about hot food and a hot senorita. She met me at the airport and we launched into the initial awkwardness. Of course those anticipated clumsy moments evaporated shortly as we sauntered to a local street vendor selling extremely greasy hamburgers.
“Do you have a hard stomach?” she asked me.
“Uh…’ I didn’t want to sound rude, and realized she was giving me fair warning, but why not show her what kind of man I am right off the bat.
“I guess, I mean, sure.”
We ordered, and I was committed.
“People who aren’t from here often get sick. It’s good that you have a hard stomach.”
Actually this observation made my stomach turn nervously, because I knew how true it was.
Soon I met Flavio De Luna, my host and training partner, quickly realizing that his program would exceed my highest expectations for training quality. I am extremely grateful to him and his family for welcoming me for the week. Flavio’s coach, Clement Kapliar, has groomed an incredible amount of talent through his holistic approach to training and recovery. He followed a small group of us in a car, timing intervals, periodically offering fuel, and monitoring our work for up to six hours a day. As we cooled down and stretched, he sped home to prepare a soup with the perfect blend of nutrients to maximize the benefit of the day’s specific training. Flavio would return in the afternoon for a massage and dinner, and I couldn’t help picturing Mickey monitoring Rocky Balboa’s mountain training for that epic battle with Ivan Drago. Clement, a man with wispy white hair who wore sweats, a facetious 100% Agave Tequila jersey, and a confident smirk, certainly matched the profile. The weather was actually crisp. I was told that it had been the coldest week in Aguascalientes that year. However, on the last day a distinct burn appeared where leg warmers, gloves, and sleeves had been. I felt absolutely nude absent of all this gear.
My semi-spontaneous trip developed into the ideal training camp. After long strenuous days as Rocky Balboa, we would stretch, then slam a few bowls of delicious homemade soup and bread. While Flavio relaxed at home and rejoined his coach in the afternoons, I took a cab to meet Vanessa for some quality people watching downtown, coffee, movies, and local flavor, which turned a potentially mentally draining training camp into a restoring vacation. Also, her mole was savory. It was a perfect way to briefly stand away from my passion and prevent it from becoming an unhealthy obsession so far in advance of the actual racing season. A few times I actually felt like a normal business man working a 9-5 with afternoons free. Then I realized: I was on a voluntary “business trip” to Mexico, I hardly speak Spanish, the competition was supporting me, and my office had about one hundred speed bumps and eighty five cows in it depending on the day. Out of my element in a foreign country, the bike and familiarity of pedaling sourced a comfort zone. However, had I been completely unsuited for this territory that street vendor selling hamburgers on the first day would have been the first indicator. The ironic thing is that Vanessa’s whole family had food poisoning the next day, and I was literally the only one left standing. By the end of the trip, I had even argued with a cab driver in Spanish.
Leaving Mexico was bittersweet. Despite having a magnificent time there, I was on to another best possible training scenario, this time with the whole Trek-LiveSTRONG U23 presented by Radioshack (have to find an abbreviation for that) team. Rejoining my teammates, new and old, was a little like coming home. I’ve suffered with these guys on the road, and these experiences have brought us closer. As for the new guys… well you remember how it was to be a freshman. Actually, considering that most of the new guys are older and more experienced than me, hazing was minimal and initiation looked more like teambuilding through videogames, coffee shops, crude dinner conversation, and hot tubbing than pledging a frat. The only thing missing was Aussie, Tim Roe, who was racing in the Tour Down Under. Tim took the King of the Mountains jersey on stage one giving me enough motivation to fuel the rest of my season.
Axel and Allen Lim pulled together a solid training program for us and we dove right in on the first day with a sunny 4.5 hr ride, nice and cruisy. However, the next day was dreary. We banged out some TTT practice on rain slick roads, but the clouds were ominous. For the rest of the week, rain gushed from the heavens and wind gusted up to fifty MPH. Our mechanic Bill, set up trainers indoors as an option, and Axel revealed his top secret Canadian backup plan involving chainsaws, axes, and huge logs. Actually, structured group rides were cancelled due to the dangerous winds and standing water in the roads. Instead, we headed out in small groups, and managed a solid workweek. The soigneurs, Rachel and Reed, worked extra hard to accommodate our irregular hours on the bike, so props to them.
One particularly grueling day stands out. I rode out into big sopping rain drops and a strong headwind, up to Figueroa Mt., a steep 15 km climb, and despite my better judgment stomped it through the fog, past fallen boulders and mud slides to the top. On the decent I came to a low spot between two ridges. The wind funneled through this saddle blowing me off the road. I got off to push my bike to some shelter, but ended up holding the bars while my bike flapped in the wind like a kite. I moved between gusts and made it down. 5 km from the bottom, I past a few more guys and advised them to turn around. At the bottom the sun came out, so we went 5 km back up, turned around, and they split off. On my way back to the hotel, I ran into Phinney, Kyer, and Merckx. Taylor’s I-Phone got us lost on some beautiful and steep roads for two more hours. On the outskirts of Solvang, Axel bought me a cappa-frappa-homo-latte that was sweet and sissy enough to nullify the 5.5 hr. hard-man ride.
The next time we ride together it should be a bit sunnier and drier, but the rain seems attracted to me this season. Could it follow me to Qatar? If so, call me Jonah and throw me overboard, I think there’s a big fish waiting.
Vanessa & Me