My love of cycling started at the age of 14 and coincided with the epic 1989 Tour De France win of American icon Greg Lemond. While Greg had been the first American to win the Tour in 1986, his 1989 performance garnered much more attention. This was largely due to his recovery from a near fatal hunting accident a year earlier, and his dramatic battle with Frenchman Laurent Fignon over the yellow jersey. His efforts culminated in an impassioned battle during the final day’s time trial in which he recovered from a 50 second time deficit to win the race with 8 seconds to spare.
Greg Lemond ushered in a new era of cycling where technology played a greater role in a cyclist’s ability to perform. During the final time trial of the 1989 Tour, Greg would utilize a low profile bike frame equipped with a controversial set of Scott triathlete aero clip-on bars, a full rear disc, and a large 52 by 12 gear ratio setup, to power himself to a record average speed of 54.5 km/h. (To put this record in perspective, one need only compare this to Levi Leipheimer’s win during the 2007 Tour De France's final time trial. He rode a state of the art Trek Equinox time trial bike, made out of boron/carbon fiber, with an average speed of only 53 km/h. Greg Lemond's time trial bike was 10lbs heavier and made out of steel.) Design cues from Greg’s setup are still visible in the bikes used by today’s champions including Lance Armstrong and Alberto Contador.
(Greg Lemond's 1989 time trial bike repainted for the 1990 season.)
(Levi Leipheimer's Trek Equinox in 2008 Team Astana Colours.)
My first bike, a steel Systema Scene, was manufactured by a small Japanese company and equipped with Suntour components. I had begged for a bike from my parents for a few months and had given up hope of ever getting one. One afternoon my father and younger sister arrived at my friends house to pick me up in my Dad's truck. When we arrived home I glanced into the rear cab and there sat the bright red Systema. I was elated!
I still remember how it felt to swing my leg over the down tube, slip my feet into the clip pedals, stand on my brake hoods, and churn my legs into a frenzy. The bike responded like no other bike I had ridden before and I was off and flying. I was instantly addicted to that sensation. I have not recovered from it since.
After a relatively minor crash a few weeks later, I swapped out the standard tires for a pair of Schwinn performance slicks. I also added the 1990 reworked model of Greg’s Scott clip-on bars and a Schwinn Paramount Gel saddle. I was so skinny back in those days that I wore a sweatshirt to fill out my Team Reebok (on long term loan from my good friend Shem Aguila) acing kit which was already a size small. By today's standards, my cycling helmet was way to big and the 6 vents it had did little to keep my head cool.
I enjoyed cycling around Madera and Fresno California. In those days, there were long stretches of road with very little development surrounding them. A cyclist's dream. I could feel my legs getting stronger the more hours I spent in the saddle. I was not necessarily training to race but just enjoying the sensation of speed but my young body responded to the pressure and my lungs began to develop.
One day towards the end of the summer of 1990, I found myself in an informal race with another cyclist: Darryl Abriol. I must confess that I didn't like him very much. So when we sped up in and passed me as we made our way around the 5 mile circuit in Woodward Park, (a popular summer veune in Fresno) I gave chase.
I had never raced before and Darryl set a mad pace. However all the hours I spent in the saddle started to pay off and even though he was ahead of me, I was able to keep up. Finally we reached the final mile of the course which led up a steep hill. I rose out of the saddle and began to desperately climb. My lungs burned, and my feet ached but I kept pushing myself onward.
I beat him.
Time seemed to move slower in those days but this chapter of my cycling story finally began to end when my Dad recieved a call to pastor in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. No matter how much my sister and I begged, he would not relent and we finally resigned ourselves to the inevitable.
The story continues in Chapter 2.
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