Groudhog Day, unlike for Bill Murray, there is a day after
Ever sine I was a kid growing up in
Minnesota, where temperatures regularly reach -20 (when its that cold, Celsius
and farenheit are pretty much the same thing: cold, as in your spit could
freeze before it this the ground cold). Now that I’ve escaped from North
America’s version of Siberia to Verona, in Northern Italy, I’ve realized I
dislike winter about the same amount. It’s not so much due to the cold, but seeing as the reason I’m here
is to race bikes, I just want the spring racing season to start. Back in Minesota,
where winter will have been too present since mid November, everyone is looking
forward to spring and hoping that the groundhog won't lie yet again saying that spring will come early (in Minnesota its always late March, regardless of what the rodent says on February 2).
Much like my childhood days when I learned to hate that pathological
liar of a groundhog, I have another month of hard training and final
prepartions ahead of the season.
Life as a cyclist living at the foot of the
Italian dolomites entails a daily routine for me. Wake up and look at my
“ilmeteo” weather app to check the weather at Latke Garda, The Lessina
mountains, and the Valpolicella wine region just outside of Verona. Depending
on which area’s weather prediction sounds least unpleasant I
decide my route. Mostly this
consits of drinking enough coffee to motivate a move toward the door and into
the ever present fog of the Val Padana.
Verona, just below the Dolomites
Preparing for a season on the world cup and
international MTB race scene doesn’t end on the bike, however. Holding an elite/pro license in Italy
requires a slew of health and blood checks. Nobody likes going to the doctor’s office, but going to our
team doctor’s office was more like going on a villa sight seeing advenure. Instead of the typical Nixon-era office park that usually accompanies a
doctor visit, we awaited our medical checks inside an 18th century
villa that tourists would pay to see.
Once inside the doctors office, the check
up was more or less what a family practitioner would do with one exception: the
cyclometer. Electrodes are placed
to your chest and a blood pressure monitor strapped to your arm while you pedal
progressively harder. If you pass,
you get to go onto the next step of the licensing process: blood alalysis. All of these tests are in place as much to determine that you are healthy enough to race as it is an
anti-doping tool. In fact, most of
the tests that are run I’ve never heard of, nor do I know why I have my vitamin
B-12 levels tested. Much like my
days at the University of Minnesota, where I once wrote a paper on the the
effect of 13th century
wool trade on the 100 years war between France and England, I’m not thinking so
much as to why these exams are important, but rather thinking about when I can get the tests out of the way and start
riding.
Testing on the cyclometer
After months of hard preparation and
tedious, though definitely entertaining, medical testing, the season full of
international racing is just around the corner. Thankfully, in my
case, I don’t have to await the verdict of a groundhog to tell me when
the fun can begin.
