I have been writing this blog for just about six months now and looking back, almost every single post has to do with alcohol.  You all must really think I am an alcoholic.  And that’s fine, since I probably am, but I do also ride my bike a lot.  I thought when I started, I would be writing a lot more about cycling, but really, nothing all that interesting happens when you are riding a bike.  You pedal, you go up some hills, you go down some hills, on occasion, you fend off a rabid dog.  Not all that exciting, unless you are really into cycling, or road kill.  Nonetheless, I figured it was time to write about cycling….

I really enjoy living in Philadelphia for the most part (with the exception of the PLCB, of course).  One of the many reasons Philly is a great place to live for a drunken cyclist is the bike race that happens at the beginning of June.  It seems to have a different name every year, based on who buys out the main sponsor.  For many years it also used to be the U.S. Pro Championship and has had many prestigious winners (Eric Heiden, Lance Armstrong, Sean Yates, André Greipel).  The US Pro went away a few years ago and with it went some of the luster, certainly. The crowds still come, though, but mostly as an excuse to start drinking at 9:00 a.m., which I can respect, I think.  The biggest crowds are on the famous Manayunk Wall or on Lemon Hill.  The people on the Wall seem to be mostly the 20-30 somethings that appear to take a lot of joy watching the riders suffer up the 20% climb while thinking “That’s why they made cars, bro.”  On the less treacherous but perhaps more decisive (since it is much closer to the finish) Lemon Hill there tends to be the more knowledgeable bike racing fans also drinking tons of beer while professing “Dude, that so could have been me a few years ago if I had only trained harder, do me a solid and toss me another brewski.”

Up until this year, the men’s race was 10 laps of the course and 156 miles long and the women did four laps and just under 60 miles.  They shortened the men’s race this year by about 40 miles to ‘allow’ (for a mere $90-100) the general public to ride the course in the morning. In years past, I have ridden a couple of laps of the course early in the morning with a few people on my team, but not this year–I’d punch myself in the head if I were to pay $100 to ride the roads I ride every day.

For the last 8 years I have ‘watched’ the race from a unique perspective:

That’s right, I watch their butts for about 6 hours. I have been in the Head Commissar’s car, ‘working’ as the ‘Radio Tour Guy’.  Essentially, as the Radio Tour Guy, I relate everything that is happening on the road to both the team cars and the race commentators (‘Rider 111 from Liquigas has a rear flat’ or ‘the break currently has a 1:45 advantage over the peloton’).  Basically, all the time splits you hear, or the info about crashes that Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwin spit out comes from Radio Tour.  Sometimes, at the rather boring stretch of the race, I’ll even announce that the peloton has decided to take a ‘nature break’ which means that the pack has slowed down so that a couple of dozen of them can pee while still riding.  Usually the Head Commissar doesn’t like when I do that, but hey, I’m bored (by the way, before you ask, I have not seen the women ever do this—just the men).

So, you ask, why me?  Good question.  Basically, the dude (or dudette) serving as Radio Tour Guy has to have some knowledge of bike racing (check—I still shave my legs in the summer) and has to be fluent in two of the UCI (the official cycling governing board) official languages: English (check, I think), Italian (could order pasta with the best of them, but not much more), Spanish (nada), German (ein bißchen), or French (bah, OUAIS!).  The first year I did the race, the organizers stressed that I needed to make sure that all of my announcements were in both English and French.  OK, no problem.  Half way through the race, the Head Commissar let me in on a little secret: “You know, I am zee only one in zee race who speaks French, no?”  Well, I did not know that.  In fact, I did not even consider him a ‘French’ speaker since he was from Québec.  After that, I stopped repeating everything in French over the radio.  I don’t think anyone noticed.

After years of doing the men’s race, this year, for no apparent reason, I was assigned to the women’s race.  That was fine since the race is a lot shorter, which means a lot less time folded up in the back of a Mini Cooper.  Unfortunately, the women’s race is also incredibly boring.  No, it is not because I am some sort of misogynist pig.  The reason it is so boring is that there is almost never a breakaway in the women’s race since the stronger teams have a good sprinter and they make sure that no one gets away.  Part of my ‘job’ is reporting those breakaways.  Thus, I really did not have to do much this year so I decided to try and take a few photos.

So here are some that I snapped with my iPhone this year.

PRE-RACE PHOTOS:

Women ‘staging’ before the race. Even though a lot of the women in the race are not professionals, some play the part better than others. Placement of the numbers can tell you a lot. Some place their number like Pros, others place them like Rookies.  Having an empty bottle at the start just screams “Rookie”.

Mavic Support Vehicle. I always ask for free samples. They always laugh but I am sure everyone asks them that and they roll their eyes as soon as I turn away.

Neutral support vehicles. Mavic vs. SRAM. Not like anyone cares, but I like Mavic (they are French, after all).

Race about to start, better find my car…

DURING THE RACE:

I sit in the back seat of the Head Commissar’s car (also known as ‘Comm One’). We also eat a lot during the race.  Drinking a lot is not advised since you can’t really pull into a gas station to pee.  During the six hour men’s race, this could be an issue.

Going up the Wall… These folks at the back are not happy.  Those spectators behind the barriers are getting loaded.

ONE LAST PHOTO:

Found these guys out on the town the night before the race…. Any guesses?

One last note, the race really missed the influence and the presence of Jerry Casale, one of the nicest guys I ever met—he always made you feel like you were the most important person in the room.