Vegas: A Loathe Story – The Dirt Field

I managed to write some semblance of a report for every race I did this season, so even though this trip happened nearly a month ago, it’s at least worth putting up a quick summary. Because it was SO AWESOME and I never want to forget these magic moments. And by that, I mean UGH.

The Race: USA Crits Finals at Vegas
The Course: The Mandalay parking lot converted into a course resembling an endoplastic reticulum
The Field: Pro Women
The Finish: Never going to happen

Since the expression “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” probably only applies to people who stay up past 11pm and drink something more exciting than $6 lattes during their visit, it doesn’t feel like breaching protocol to write a report on my Vegas trip.

Once upon a time, Whitney, Mary, Tina, and I went to Vegas for Interbike. It was my first time there and WOW that shit is tacky. Even the grass is fake.

We spent the first night at the Tropicana Hotel and then moved to the Mandalay Bay Hotel and Convention Center, where both Interbike and the race were held. Regardless of where we were, everything cost 300% more than anywhere else in the world. I paid $1 for hot water. HOT WATER. It’s ten million degrees in Vegas; you can make hot water by taking an ice cube outside for five minutes. Yet it cost me $1 to fill a mug.

We ran into logistical headache after headache and at one point, I gave up, sat down on the floor of the Mandalay Bay lobby with my luggage, and ate peanut butter with a spork. I always envisioned that I’d be glamorous and sparkly when I visited to Vegas. And instead…this.

By the time we walked the significant distance from the hotel lobby to the convention center with our boxed bikes in tow, I was spent and it was barely 11am on the first day. It was cool to finally see Interbike after hearing about it for five years, but we packed way too much into the short time we were there and it made everything a bit less enjoyable. Trying to stay fresh, hydrated, and fed in preparation for the race while also seeing and working at Interbike was a big headache and we all started to crack from the stress.

One of the reasons we went to Interbike was to demonstrate awesome new technology in the Saris booth. We took shifts riding the trainer and showing how their software allows you to simulate an outdoor riding experience. It was so realistic: the resistance increases when the route goes over hills and the video simulation was so convincing that I started to flip off a car that appeared to cut me off. That was slightly awkward because there were a dozen people watching me ride.

While signing autographs in the Vittoria booth (HA! Signing AUTOGRAPHS! Because *everybody* knows who I am and wants my ink.) I heard that Mario Cipollini was there. Since I was already wearing one of the Vittoria hats with his autograph on it (an autograph that people actually wanted) and I knew Andrew was a big Cipo fan, I found him and asked for a photo. It was awkward; putting my arm around him was like embracing a telephone pole, only leaner.

After two days of running around Interbike, we kitted up and made our way out to the back parking lot for the 7pm race start. I was honored to get a call up, but could hardly get my body moving when it was time to go. The course was very tight and wound around on itself in a way that made moving up in the field very challenging. I quickly found myself towards the back and had to risk life and limb to work my way up to the front as we raced through the winding turns in near darkness. Since the air was so dry, I was parched but could only manage to take sips from my bottle while parked directly on the front. It was worth it just to get water and be out of the chaos of the pack.

Halfway through the race, the field was ripping through the slight descent into the last corner when somebody ate it hard and skidded into my back wheel. I was certain I was going down; it was a jarring hit and the bike went sideways, but I was miraculously able to stay upright. It was enough of a delay to gap me off the back of the field, though, and I didn’t think I could get a free lap since I hadn’t hit the ground and didn’t truly have a mishap. I tried to chase back on, but was unsuccessful; the field surged just as I lost steam and in no time at all, they were gone. I got pulled after a few laps of circling alone.

It was disappointing, but I’ll be honest: I was relieved. The chaos of the course plus my mental and physical fatigue made me feel like a disaster waiting to happen. I was lucky to have escaped the crash unharmed and wasn’t eager to tempt fate again. My job as a professional cyclist is to overcome obstacles to deliver for my team, and in not doing that successfully, I felt like I had failed them. But my job as a professional cyclist is also to be a smart, safe rider, and I wasn’t confident at Vegas that I could do that. So my race ended with 15 laps to go, and I spent the rest of it screaming for Mary and Whitney from the sidelines.

After the race, Mary got in some quality time with her beloved.

Meanwhile, I put on my best angry pimp face for a perfect Vegas-themed photo. The sculpture was part of a massive wall of plaster body parts that were decorating the outside of a restaurant named “Aureole”. Oh, Vegas. You always keep it classy.

The morning after the race, we did a quick ride around town and then boarded a plane bound for Boston to end our season at the TD Bank Mayor’s Cup Criterium. And that concluded my Vegas experience for this lifetime.