TWO TEARS

Another one to go down in the books as one of the Worst races ever… my first official bottle feed without the supervision of K’s dad. 5-Mile Pass 2002. If you have been so lucky as to meet K’s dad, Cid, you would know that he is a little “intense” at the races. He is usually the loudest one to cheer on riders (of coarse it’s after he asks me the names of the rider to cheer for,) but he is also the one who took me on as an apprentice to learn the ropes of bike race support. To this day when Cid is at a race you will notice me standing back and letting “the man” do the feed.

After 2 years of dating K it was my turn to take a feed alone. K’s dad wasn’t at the race and I was left alone to set up the bottles and do the feed. The problem? I was also in charge of the “water table” that hands out small cups of water to the racers who don’t have a feed. K started the race after stashing our cooler in the bushes at the feed zone and I was supposed to get there and prep the bottles for hand-off. I got to the feed zone just in time for the pro riders to start their second lap and I looked down the dirt path to saw K climbing his way up to me. I thought I was so prepared as I had a small paper Gatorade cup ready to hand him as he approached. K started yelling “where’s my bottle!!!???” and I started to panic! I had forgotten to get the water-bottles from the cooler that was stashed away in the bushes! I kept telling K “Keep going it’s OK!” We hollered back and forth while he got off his bike in the middle of the climb to rummage through the weeds for the cooler. He swiped a bottle finally and took off for lap #2. All I could say was “I’m sorry” during the lap 3 and 4 feeds. On the way home I begged K not to tell his dad what happened because I knew that I would never be trusted with a water bottle again.

Most of my feeds since then have been pretty uneventful until…

Norba National at Deer Valley 2006. I was assigned to feed 6 riders. I thought I could handle it until the racers started lapping really close together. The feed zone at the national race was really crowded and completely chaotic as the racers passed through. It went down like this…..

I was in position with two bottles; 1 for BZ and 1 for Boffelli. I spotted BZ on the climb into the feed zone and he was right on the rear wheel of the racer in front of him. Eye contact was made (important during a feed so you know that the racer sees his bottle and knows your there) and my arm was outstretched with the bottle. The idiot in front of BZ took his bottle right out of my hands! I don’t really remember details after that point but BZ rear-ended the dude in front of him and had to clip out of his pedals and stop in the middle of the climb. I tried to run after him and catch up to get him another bottle but the “official” yelled at me. (Rule: you can’t take more than three steps with a rider during a National Race feed.) I threw out a few cuss words at him then started crying again. In the midst of all the confusion Boffelli rode by and didn’t get a bottle either. It was not good to eff-up a feed at a national series race but luckily BZ and Boffelli were quick to forgive me and didn’t hold a grudge. Although neither of them have asked me to feed them since that race.

This is the jerk that was on a power-trip… we hate him.

The official from the Norba series that yelled at me.

COMING UP… Best race stories.

P.S. THERE WILL BE A “TERMINOLOGY” PAGE COMING SOON AS WELL AS THE “DO’S AND DONT’S” OF BEING A CYCLISTS WIFE. 

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