Cuddles Coming to KOM: Retirement Insufferable, 2011 TdF Champ Embraces Suffering

A quick note from the Taiwan KOM Facebook Page: Cadel Evans, the cyclist who won the 2011 TdF, which was probably the most exciting and entertaining Tour de France in recent years, has announced he will be coming up from Australia to get a taste of a real climb. Dubbed "The Lung" for having a higher lung capacity will get an opportunity to throw his 40yo. to the top of 3275m. in 90k.

It has been a pleasure to watch this race grow in stature.

Registration is still open: Register Here!

Never Say Never: Never Stop Wuling Hill Climb 2014

It was two thirty in the morning and I was wide awake stuffing my face with a peanut butter-honey-raisin-banana sandwich. How's that for the beginning of a blog post? 

Once again, I was signed up to do the Never Stop Wuling Hill Climb; a quad-snapping ascent to 3275m. over the highest mountain pass in East Asia. I have done this ride before, but never as disastrously epic as this one.  

 

I joined with Team Mosaic and met at the T-Mosaic store on Taichung's Liming Rd. It had been a while since I last rode with Mosaic and I was missing several of the familiar faces I had grown accustomed to racing with. 

By half-past three we were on a mini-bus headed down the freeway toward Puli, where the race was set to begin.



The last time I rode this race, I finished in pretty good time despite not taking things too seriously and taking lots of pictures along the way. That race was also going to be my last Wuling race as the organisers had flooded the course with over 6000 riders and another thousand unregistered riders who had come to join the circus. 

That day ended with dangerous traffic jams near the finish and awful delays on the return trip. This time was much better. The race was pared down to only about 1200 riders with delayed starts by age group. This was also my first race in the 40-45 age bracket. 

The riders all milled around trying to be all Cool Hand Luke while preening with the latest, lightest and newest gear. 

I was especially impressed with Team Poo. I can only imagine how their day went (Insert string of obvious puns here). 



The starting pistol sounded over some awful roadside hip hop and I was underway. The first time in a long time. 

I spun easily all along the flatter introduction to Taiwan's Central Mountain Range. y legs felt fine, despite being insane enough to make another attempt on this mountain with a 53/39 crank. Well...it worked before....

One of the highlights came when a group of about twenty ancient baddasses in the "Over 45" bracket came roaring by in a blazing train of fury and spite. It was obvious that being pushed to the back to make way for the young guns had rubbed a few in this group the wrong way and they were going to put the hurt on some young hotshot further up the mountain. Don't mess with experience. 



I made ground on the first real ascent up to Wushe, but lost it just as fast when I couldn't shake the cramp in my left calf. I surrendered and pulled into the Wushe 7-11 to stock up on liquids. You see, I had been sipping on water that had been sitting in my bottles for almost a week. I had erroneously assumed we would be stopping at a 7-11 before the race...just like before. Nope! We simply went to the middle of nowhere and waited. 

With water bottles filled with something better than brackish water and a good stretch, I was back on the road. With a 39-tooth crank, I couldn't help but make time, despite being overmatched for my level of fitness and training. I did briefly consider ditching the race at Wushe and heading off for a lovely ride down the Route 88 to Wujie, but pride kept me in the saddle on a course set for the top. 



It was all pretty ho-hum up the lower ramps, which is where suddenly, in the middle of the pack, the ride turns into a grunting crawl. The action is so slow that a heavy cloud of B.O. lingers over the roadway making for an unpleasant climb if you are anywhere within 10 meters of another rider. All that stank just hangs there and you are unable to move away fast enough. 

I skipped over the lower water and feed stations feeling pretty good on my morning while making time calculations based on elevation and memory. 



Left and right riders were stopping to stretch, rest, pee or smoke. The 7-11 proved to be a popular hang out for many riders who were lacking the energy to continue. 



I felt some fatigue, but I was still climbing at a pretty good pace-- good enough for a respectable time. The views were staggering. I had been preparing for a day of clouds and sprinkles, but the sky was crystal clear. 



The open view of the ridge line is a heart breaker. 



The torture was enough to elicit an unfriendly gesture (in the UK) from some participants as I snapped photos on my way up. 



I had passed 2000 meters and it was almost as if someone had instantly pulled out my batteries. 



I needed to stop and stretch my back...then my hamstrings...then my calves.



I was grinding up the hill on old muscles; muscles that had been built up years before, but nothing new. I had no endurance and kept wondering how much longer it was going to take. 



I thought about calling it a day and letting the team know I would be waiting for them in Ching-jing or Puli or Taichung. Still I kept grinding upward. "It is the altitude fucking with you", I kept telling myself over and over again. Hell, it probably was. 



I knew the team bus was waiting in Kun-yang. If I could only get to Kun-yang I could accept my defeat and declare a DNF. 



I knew my time was well beyond disappointing for a competitor like myself. I watched larger and then smaller waves of riders slip on past up the mountain and I was a touch jealous at the ease in which they were able to climb. 



Te first riders started dropping from Wuling with their time certificates in hand, while I was still well below the death ramps of Kun-yang.



The roadside carnage was mounting as the shoulder began to fill with hobbling and disabled riders. 



I stopped to rest and snap a few pictures. I figured a few more minutes wouldn't make that much of a difference at that point, so I might as well record it. 



Just under Kun-yang the road lifts up like the rungs of a ladder-- one lane stacked upon the next. 



On the last ramp to the Kun-yang parking lot, I was forced to hike. Yes, I was walking my bike up the penultimate ramp on the mountain. 

For my teammates this was the ultimate vision of absurdity. After I had finished at the front of just about every other clime we had done together, I was suddenly the picture of futility and defeat... almost. 

They delighted, this one time, in my moment of painful despair and I played along with it because I knew better. It is a sight I hope they can chew on and enjoy for a little while. 

I almost put my bike down and for the day... but that is not what I am about. I could see the finish line within a kilometer up ahead, so clenched my jaw and slung my leg back over the seat with the deep tightness in my muscles pulling my body apart. 



It was a slow grind up the final ramps before the road levelled off at the finish line. 



The clouds that had been threatening the ride all morning had finally pulled a foggy hood over the pass and the temperatures dropped. 



Riders were milling around, taking pictures with the famous sign, smoking, and some were even tang in some extra oxygen. My final score was a lowly 5hr and 50min.



I was lucky. I had made it. There was one fatality on the day as one 33yo. rider succumbed to cardiac arrest and was pronounced dead later in the afternoon.



While my team and other riders who know me or have followed my riding when I have been healthy, might make light of my less than impressive time, I sorely rode away with the victory I had been looking for. 

Almost one year ago I was unable to climb out of bed. I could barely walk let alone stand for any more than five minutes. I was in a state of excruciating pain for over three solid weeks and constant pain for the better part of a year. I was forced to give p all forms of exercise for eight months and even wondered if I would ever be able to ride a bike again with or without pain. 

I have been slowly training my body back into shape. This all happened at the worst possible time in my life to get back into shape, but now that I have put this mountain beneath me, I don't see any reason why I can't continue to train and bring myself back to where I was at my peak. 

My team is already on notice: Next Year!

Trouble in Paradise: Tour of Taiwan's Future In Doubt

Last week a report appeared in the Liberty Times questioning the future of the Tour of(de) Taiwan, Taiwan's premiere UCI sanctioned stage race. 

The entire report is posted below:

〔自由時報記者葉士弘／台北報導〕2013年環台賽昨天畫下句點，卻傳出自由車協會有意吹熄燈號，明年可能停辦環台賽。副秘書長王美香表示，比賽自去年升級為2.1級後，各方面要求都明顯提高，尤其國際轉播需要大筆經費，來自經濟部的贊助卻可能在明年取消，續辦將遭遇極大困難。 

環台賽因寶島地形特殊，總能吸引世界各地車隊參賽，卻不是一路順遂，也曾在2001年因經費募集困難停辦一次。去年升級為國際車總2.1級賽事後，大幅增加的國際轉播費用，車協依靠來自經濟部的經費挹注，但今年贊助只剩三分之一，明年甚至可能取消。王美香說：「降級太難看，如果找不到錢，可能會停辦。」停辦環台賽，引來車界不同看法，申騰美利達領隊邱朝雄說：「每年就一場比賽，這是最能代表台灣的比賽，停辦可能讓車隊找不到贊助商。」 

南寶樹脂NOVATEC車隊教練郭文進則強調，當初升級就太倉促，環台賽都是國外車隊曝光，與國內車隊有距離。 

Liberty Times/ Reporter Yeh Shin Hong 

2013 Tour de Taiwan ended yesterday. However, it’s rumored that the Chinese Taipei Cycling Association is planning to suspend its role as host for the Tour de Taiwan next year. The TCA deputy secretary, Wang Mei Sian (王美香),  stated that the requirements for hosting games have been raised ever since the race was promoted to class 2.1. In particular, international broadcasting rights are quite expensive. However, the subsidies from the Department of Economic Affairs might be suspended, making it difficult to continue hosting the event next year.  

The Tour de Taiwan is famous for its special geographic landscape, always attracting teams from all over the world to participate. However, things are going as well within the Tour de Taiwan. In 2001, Tour de Taiwan was not held for a year due to the lack of sponsorship and financial difficulties. Beginning last year, the Tour de Taiwan was promoted to class 2.1. The increase expense in international broadcasting has been relying on the support of Department of Economic Affairs. However, the amount of money from the Department of Economic Affairs that went to the event was slashed to one-third of what it used to be.  

What’s even worse is that the Department of Economic Affairs may be planning not to allocate funds for the race next year. “ Instead of being demoted in class, it’s possible the race will be postponed for a year if not enough financial aid is provided.  

When asked about the possibility of postposing Tour de Taiwan, various comments have appeared. The manager of Team Senter-Merida Taiwan said that “This is a yearly event, which best represents Taiwan. Postponing the race may put teams in danger of not able to find sponsors.” 

On the other hand, the coach of Nanpao-Novatec Cycling Team emphasized that the promotion to class 2.1 was too rushed. It turns out that most teams participating in Tour de Taiwan are foreign, while local teams are not provided with enough opportunities.

My first reaction is to assume the issue will come to naught. My guess is that this is part of a play by the sponsors to pressure the government and taxpayers into picking up a greater percentage of the tab. 

The chief beneficiaries of the Tour of Taiwan, besides the chiefs in the UCI, are the large bike companies that routinely use bike festivals and events as a sales tool for generating greater streams of domestic revenue. 

Although there is another part of me that feels the influence of the sponsors in route planning really hurts the Tour of Taiwan's ability to market itself for broadcasting. 

I mean, who really wants to tune in to watch the peloton cut through polluted and industrial Dajia for the simple reason of swinging past the Giant factory to pad the company's ego? It may play into the whole "King and kingdom" motif they have built up around Giant and King Liu by having riders pass the headquarters and pay homage, but it does not make for very compelling racing or marketable television for the amateur cyclist. 

The race has been in existence since 1978, and recognized by the UCI since 2005. It may be high time to step up and focus on repositioning the race on the race calendar as either an early season stage race to condition climbers and other specialists for the grand tours, or position the race as a season ending option for a few riders who failed to live up to their hype and earn a few more points before the World Championships. 

Moreover, organizers are going to have to resist those tempting industrial wasteland loops in favor of parcours through Taiwan's more challenging interior. Taiwan has the terrain to become a bright spot on the cycling map, but the Tour de Taiwan lacks the confluence of timing, geography, weather, and willpower.  

For starters, the organizers can replace "de" with "of". 

Related: 

Lee Rodgers has a nice article in Pez Cycling about the Tour de Taiwan.

環化屎!：My Crappy Day on the Tour of Changhua

 Mugging for the Pre Race


When Rocky Huang of T-Mosaic can running over in to my idling car in the early morning darkness with the remains of my front wheel in his hands, I was more than ready, even eager, to take it as a bad omen and simply show up in Changhua as press and support.

Somewhere in the droopy-eyed haze of pre-dawn departure, I had left my wheel resting against my car and blindly pressed it into the curb. The remnants of the wheel resembled my impression of what would happen if Pete Townsend looked crossways at a banjo. The spokes popped and twisted under the release from immense pressures.

Before I had even been given a chance to forfeit an inch of parcours out of self pity, Rocky had already presented me with a working spare.

I shrugged my shoulders, thanked him and followed a weaving train of riders through the blackness of morning to the gate at the Changhua Athletic Center.

This would be my third Tour of Changhua, and I would be riding for T-Mosaic again. This time I was joined by my buddy Dom, who was looking forward to completing The one holy mission of the riding season and the focal point of his training. We had been doing a fair bit of ridding, but Dom really buckled down with an organized training plan. The results were evident. He was just coming into fitness and form before the race. I was interested to see how he'd do.

As for myself, I have had a rough year. After a speedy finish last year I had really spent too much time off the bike between weather, injuries, illness and an infant at home. Every week became the week I was going to get back into my regular training. Put a few of those together and be in serious riding shape.

I had had to miss every other race this year and I was looking to reprise my performance and tactical prowess of last year.

Always fighting the last war.



The Tour of Changhua is an open Fondo style race, where anyone with a bike may participate. The event attracts serious amateur (and some professional) athletes, as well as children and oldsters with full stereo gear modded to the frame.

This year the crowd was estimated to be around 7000 riders. The draw becomes both part of the fun and part of the danger. It is great to see so many enthusiastic riders out on the road with their gear. Everyone is in the same world of hurt, just some hurt more than others.

Of course, everyone says the whole this is just for fun, but everyone tries their best to put up some good numbers.



The crowd nervously milled about cracking jokes to shake off the pre-race jitters. I don't care what kind of race it is or what your prior experience is as a racer, there is always a bit of nervousness regarding the unexpected.



Several minutes after the official start was sounded, the mass of rolling humanity lurched forward like a heaving slug. This is one of the most dangerous parts of the race as slower and faster riders are riding on top of each other to equalize the field.

The race opened with a climb, which suited me just fine. I made good time up the first incline and felt good as I successfully picked my way through the bunch and made ground in the corners. Climbing is my strong suit, and I hoped to gain my time in the hills and then catch a fast train through the flats to the finish. My legs burned as I clamored up the inclines. I kept expecting the soreness to fade into a smooth, measured cadence as I shook off the cobwebs.

It was about at the third little climb that I saw my first puker. The noise bellowing from his gut as he wretched himself green on the side of the road was unworldly. It reminded me of my freshmen year in college.

I felt I was ticking a kph or so slower than when I had done the ride last week, but I really wasn't worried. I was still making pretty good time where I thought I could make it. I accelerated into the descent as I dive-bombed Songboling and Tian Zhong.

Last week I had put out a warning over the road conditions coming off of that hill. Sadly, I was proven correct and I was rattled by the sight of an ambulance hauling a fallen rider off to the hospital. The uneven patches in the tarmac can quickly pop your hands off the grips leading to a crash. There is also less available braking surface. Not a well planned route by any standard.


As we got into the flats, I started to feel tightness and discomfort in my butt and hips. I wondered if the new front wheel was causing a heightened level of discomfort, or if I had stupidly overworked the week before and was paying the price when it mattered. Every pedal stroke felt like a kick in the ass.

I figured I could ignore it for the remaining 80km of race.

Over the past week I had put in a very good day over a large section of the route with a very strong, fast outing. That ride gave me the misaligned confidence that I could do the same in the Tour of Changhua.

Then on Wednesday, I did a hilly 160km. Maybe that wasn't the best idea on the planet. I felt pretty good that day with pretty good speeds and climbs, until about the 150km mark. That was still plenty for the 120km of the Tour of Changhua.

I beat a pretty good cadence through the flats and was quickly asked to join a train of independent or lost riders. I took them up on the offer and gave them some fantastic pulls.

And then my race really started to fall apart.

After one particularly long, hard pull I dropped to the back of the paceline to rest. As I fell back to recover, another rider slipped in to the line. I gave him space to hold to the line, and adjusted my speed.

It was a few seconds later that I realized he was fading from the back and the other guys in the group were quickly pulling away. After a long pull and in the face of the most spiteful headwind on the planet, I realized I didn't have the gas to bridge back onto the group. It was at that moment the panic set in.

I tried to maintain a good speed to catch the next train of riders passing by, but after a few minutes of pugilistic riding against low barometric pressure, I turned my head to see only a scattering of a few individual riders stretching into the distance. My heart sank as if I had missed the last lifeboat off the Titanic.



I am not sure how long I battled out there against the two fisted headwind by myself, but it had been long enough to wear me down to the point of being unable to grab any other groups that came by with any momentum.

Finally, Dom came up behind on the tail of a good group of riders. As the group fell apart in the middle, I again failed to make the jump.

For the next hour or so I would find myself amid one disintegrating group after another as the headwinds ground us to our knees.

Finally, around Fuxing and Lukang, a large group came rumbling up the tarmac like the Great Khan and his bannered horde of raiders from the steppe. A few of my teammates were snugly nestled into that group and we rode together for some way. At that point one of my teammates recounted how he was the first one to give up. It gave me a great idea. I realized I was not going to set any records and I pulled off to stretch my back and legs. I have not been this uncomfortable on a bike in a very long time. I felt like I hadn't ridden in months.

It felt amazing.



I fought on through the wind with a couple more stretch stops to the foot of Bagua Shan in Changhua. I had run out of water and gels at the 3km mark.

We heaved through a dangerously narrow part of the route along a steep creek.

By that time I had caught up with Team Bright, a team I had marked earlier as a potential express train to the finish. They were receiving some unsportsmanlike help from their man on the scooter who was giving lifts and motorized pulls to the team riders.

I was finally reenergized by the hill climb to the finish line. I switched into climbing mode and passed a number of riders. I felt like a bucket of curb-stomped misery.

As I crossed the finish line I had no illusions of a great performance or spectacular numbers. Still, I exaggeratedly raised both hands to my lips and gave the lonely photographers a victory salute with a kiss in the air and arms raised in a trumpeting celebration of mediocrity.

Time: a disappointing 4h:10min. Bah!

From then on, it was just about enjoying the shade and recovering a little bit. I felt like absolute crap.



The best part of my day was in seeing my daughter's face light up when daddy crossed the finish line. I give up a lot of training hours for her. And that is one reason my performance had dipped. It is also one reason I suffered so greatly on the roads of Changhua.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Wuling: A Cycling Icon Hiding In Plain Sight

Lee Rodgers, the Taiwan based British cyclist who writes for Velonews, has another report from the Tour of Langkawi in which he looks for another excuse to mention Taiwan's famed Wuling ride.

Iʼve mentioned this hill-climb before, but permit me to drone on. Itʼs a 90km beast of an event that lives in central Taiwan, and goes from a sleepy town that goes by the name of Hualien, meanders through the rather magnificent Taroko Gorge amidst and sometimes through enormous slabs of ancient rock so delightful that entices riders even mid-race to utter ʻooh wow!ʼ and up and up and up to a small makeshift stage where a septuagenarian Robert Plant look-a-like is doing an acappella version of Stairway To Heaven in a string vest, leather speedos and Uggs — and then up a little more, all the way up to 3,275 meters.

I mentioned this climb (named Wuling) to one of my Peloton Buddies the day before the stage up to Genting and he actually said that he found my tale hard to believe — as if Iʼd make it up! Ok, there is no septuagenarian Robert Plant look-a-like is doing an acapella version of Stairway To Heaven in a string vest, leather speedos and Uggs. Heʼs actually 64, but the rest is true.

I raced up it late last year alongside Euro-peloton veteran Michael Carter, and he, of the Grand Tours of Spain, Italy and France, said he had never seen anything like it.

So Gending, Stage 6. I suffered, yes, and my time wasnʼt knockout, but it wasnʼt really that bad. I have, as maybe you can understand if youʼve tried even jogging for a few hundred meters at close to 3,275 meters, had worse days. Yet it wasnʼt easy by any means. Itʼs very beautiful up there in the Highlands and the mountain deserves respect, with the bottom 8km close to 16% average and the same for the top 4km or so.

I think I understand what Lee is really trying to say. When you have such a badass climb in your backyard that you know would gain the respect of the sport's most talented climbers, you take a little local pride in it and then wish you could bring Marco Pantani back from the dead, just to hear him whimper about the final grade to the top.

I get the sense that Rodgers, much like myself, wishes the sport's elite riders might one day discover the climb to Wuling and validate it as exactly what it could represent to cycling--an iconic climb.

Today, the climb to Wuling gets little respect or recognition beyond our fair island. Sometimes it doesn't even get respect from local organizers.

The climb that stands to cement Taiwan's international reputation in competitive cycling as a place where legends are born, is again left out of the Tour of Taiwan (Maybe the Tour of Tai-Yawn might be a more fitting moniker).

So, in reverence of Wuling and in gratitude to Lee Rodgers for his continued salesmanship of my adopted home and its magnificence, here is a pictorial look at the 90km of climbing that makes Hualien to Wuling a must for any cyclist looking to test their mettle.

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Also:

If you are interested in racing to Wuling from Puli, the Nantou Cycling Association will be holding the Wuling Cup 6/17/2012.

The event will divide the field into a race group and a recreational group. If you can finish the climb in 5hrs 30min. you can qualify for the race group.

This might be a better alternative to the Neverstop Wuling Challenge, which saw 7000 riders converge on the mountain at the same time creating conflict with motorists and potentially dangerous conditions.