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| This was me and some of the crazy teachers I work with putting on a KISS concert for 800 middle schoolers |
First things first, The Tour of The Gila.... This was my first bike race since 2005 when I used to ride for the local Zia Velo bike team. We were sponsored by an RV shop in the Tucson area so we would race there whenever possible and it was there where I wrecked, tore my MCL, broke my tibial plateau, broke my fibula, and my tail bone (most painful).yeah it was a bad wreck and I vowed never to bike race again. Somewhere between the fear of wrecking again, the need to conquer my fear, and a few fast "Heater Rides", I seemed to have signed up for the most difficult amateur road race in the nation. I tried my best to train for the race, but there are just some things I could not simulate, fortunately I do posses the ability to ride hard (solo) and not quit and these traits would serve me well....yet again..
Day one: To say I was nervous about this stage would be a humongous understatement! The stage started with some pretty intense downhill portions including the famous Sapillo descent. To be honest I was scared shit less, rode way too easy on the descents, let the main pack get a sizable gap on me, thought I could close by riding solo in the valley, and still be in the race...WRONG! At first I wanted to keep the main group in striking distance and actually started the Sapillo descent in perfect position, but three bad (witnessed) crashes later and I backed way off and descended solo. I did ride as hard as I could in the valley trying to get back with the leaders, but those dudes are way too strong to pull back by myself. I ended up riding solo behind the main pack of about 20 guys and ahead of the chase pack of 12 riders for about 50 miles. The only reason I knew there was a pack behind me? On the final climb of the day (@2000 feet), they passed me as I was cramping so bad I doubted myself being able to complete the 4 day event!
Day two: After going back to my buddies house, licking my wounds, and downing a few Negra Modelos, I was feeling better about day 2! Day 2 was the individual time trial, a stage I knew I could do well in if I rode like a beast! There was nothing easy about this course, a little over 16 miles, big climbs, scary descents, and 45 mile per hour cross winds. That morning I made a decision to save face and ride hard, even if it meant turning myself inside out in the process. We were sent off in :30 sec intervals so I knew there would always be someone to catch and pass (something I tend to do quite well on a bike). The winds made it extremely difficult to control the bike especially on the descents. I tried to stay in the aerobars as much as possible and push the biggest gear I could still spin. Half way through the race I had already caught about 10 people and knew I was having a stellar ride! Reality struck on the return trip, that's where I came up on a really bad accident (about the 5th one I had seen since day 1) seems like a leading female had lost control on a 40 mph descent and crashed. She was already receiving medical attention, but I could tell she was pretty messed up. There was blood on the side of the road, her bike was in pieces and she was yelling in pain. The officials made us slow way down, move to the opposite side of the road, and encouraged us to not to push the descents beyond the point of safety. Luckily the finish line wasn't too far away so I just rode hard to the finish line. A guy who started ahead of me rode up and was all excited. He was like, "Dude you just ripped that course up, I think you won the whole thing"! I told him thanks, but I didn't think an overall win was possible (the dudes in my category were ripped and rode very strong). Results would not be posted until 8 pm so I figured go back to town, have a few beers, sleep, get a massage, and check the results later. It was a little surprising when I made it back to town to check the results, I found my name at the top by :45 seconds! I immediately let out a big holler and felt the old familiar rush inside me that usually only happens as a result of winning something really big! I was ecstatic to say the least! Key points of the TT stage: forgot my TT helmet and rode with a normal one (@:20-:30 sec loss), wore my one piece tri suite from trisports.com which had no sleeves (apparently against the rules until about a month ago and the only person in the race who went sleeveless), and the last thing is that I can still throw down on the bike at 41!
Day 3: Saturday and a very busy day for the Montoya family. First off the downtown criterium then to Cruces for Monique's First Holy Communion, then back to Silver by 5 am for the final stage on Sunday. The crit was nerve racking with 75 riders sprinting for cash prizes, screaming downhills, and four 90* left hand turns. My goal for the day was to survive the crazy course and squirrely riders. I managed to lead through the prize line a couple of times so the day was a success. I also managed to stay out of a pretty bad crash with about 4 laps to go. A funny thing about the stage was I wanted all the practice as possible on the course, so before they officially sent us off I managed to get in one more lap. As I rode up to the start they were just about to go, everyone was lined up, and I was way in the back. This is a recipe for disaster in a crit so I made my way to the front. Getting there was a challenge and at one point this one dude (dumb f***) told me, what the f*** get to the back. Before I could tell him anything, this other dude stepped in and said, Naw man that's Mike Montoya and he just kicked every one's ass by a minute yesterday in the time trial! The dude shut up and I grinned and gave my new friend a fist bump.....right in dumb f***'s face...
Day 4: The Gila Monster. I made it back to the start line with the help of my little brother Steven. I knew this stage was going to be the most difficult so far and I was hoping for a strong, cramp free day. My ultimate goal would and should have been to stay tucked in the pack all day and then unleash up the final hour long climb of the day. See, to do that would mean to me basically ride like a little bitch all day, never take turn up front, let everyone else do all the work and try to take as much credit as possible.....not my style, personality, or something I will ever believe in doing! From the very beginning of the race I wanted to test my legs and they were responding quite well. I took numerous turns up front pushing the pace and trying to get someone to go with me, but it wasn't happening. After some 55 mph descending with a group of 30 or so riders, the valley section was approaching. The race leader needed to relieve himself so everyone pulled over for about 5 minutes and took a leak. After we resumed riding the pace was disgustingly slow it was conversational pace at best. The race official informed us that the B group was only 2 miles back and if they caught us we would be put in neutral while they passed. The only person (besides me) in the entire pelaton who seemed pissed about this was the race leader he yelled, come on guys lets work! No response, he was the only one pushing the pace. Pussies, I thought, what the hell! I jumped to the front and told him, I'm here let's ride! Immediately I went to the front and pulled at least 26 mph (I am estimating because I have never ridden with a computer, wattage, or any other device except my heart and emotions for 20 years) in three minute increments with about one minute recovery efforts. I kept this up for the next 20 mile, where, at the sprint bonus point the very guys I rode my ass off for sprinted past me to gain some extra swag! Punk ass roadies! I went again and got third in the sprint bonus. You know at this point in the race I made a decision to continue to ride as hard as possible, not to sit in, and see how much stronger I could get for the upcoming tri season, that's the reason I was doing the race in the first place. Yeah I could have sat in the pack and saved myself, maybe I would have have picked up enough places for a top ten finish in the GC, but why??? What's the difference between top 25 and top 10 in a road race, especially if you're the TT stage champ, I thought to myself. Not a damn thing! Push it to the start of the climb then see what's left in the tank. Cool, sounds like a plan I can live with, something I can be proud of, and something I will tell all my bros back home. A cool thing happened the last day and on the final climb none the less, I rode up on an old friend, Terry Moore, who was having her own nice little race. Well when I caught her she was in a little trouble, off her bike in a climbing stage, ready to lose huge amounts of time to the leaders, and just about ready to throw her bike down a cliff. I yelled at her to get back on and I would pull her right back in the race. She did and she rode strong the rest of the ride. I remember yelling back, "just like old times Terry" and hearing in return, "thanks bro". Although times change and people often travel down separate paths, moments like those bring things full circle and it's just two old friends enjoying the hell out of themselves pedaling through some truly remarkable landscape together... again..
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