So because the Tour was so diverse and each rider had their own tour, I've asked everyone to write their version, as follows.
Davey Davis
As an ardent fan of bicycles and masochism I feel qualified to comment on the Tour de Alpine and say that it was miserable. Miserably fun, yes, but miserable nonetheless. It's very scientific. Suffice it to say that a 5 hour ride turned into a 20-30 hour one, with one case of attempted aggravated assault and one case of vehicular property destruction. Also, it was cold in a way that reminded you, every time you ventured outside, of how stupid you were being.
All in all, I would do it again, on a fixed gear. But let's be real here. I hate myself. To all that came, you're incredibly self-hating and impressive, how's about we reward ourselves with a nice barbeque and alleycat in May?
Joergen Trepp
Coming soon.
Matt Delporto
At least a few blocks behind the rest of the pack, I decide I need to take a piss. Standing in some dude's driveway, melting some of his snow, I see him come out of his house to throw out some trash. I comment: "Hi. Sorry." He clenches his teeth and looks at me. I pretend that he says "It's okay," and ride away. Catching up to the rest of the riders around 7200 south, I wonder if homeboy will try to catch up to me in his gas guzzler. The majority of the rest of the ride is numb toes, cliff bars, and brief moments of rejoice when I catch up to the rest of the riders. Cranking my pedals through another King of the Mountain, I find a moment to admire the mountain, as fog (or is it a cloud of pollution?) collides with it's slope.
My admiration is short-lived: still dead last, I refocus on hauling salmonella, a salmon-pink mountain-bike-turned commuter, up the side of a mountain. I find reprieve as I bomb down the other side of the slope, hunkered to my frame, swapping 13th and 14th place and words of encouragement back-and-forth with Jessica. By the time we're halfway done with our expedition, I'm ready to go to sleep. I've already planned to draw naked people at 3 o'clock back in Salt Lake, so I hitch a ride back with Ari and Kit in the pace car (muchas gracias). Despite stepping out of the race, I still get to watch Davey get into in a "contest" with a rageaholic in military uniform who decides he needs to get out of his car and challenge a bunch of kids on bikes. Testost-o-holic gets back in his car, and the ride goes on. Viva la Alpine.
Kit Spencer
Being the SAG wagon is supposed to be an easy job, right? Well, for the Tour de Alpine, my hands (and car) were definitely full! I joked that I had blocked out all of the day for the ride, but it was a good thing I did. The morning half went fine, with a pick up for a flat tire, and then an exhausted new-ish rider. Along the way, another stop or two for water refills, an eskimo-apparelled street fan, and a cheering fan from her porch who was ecstatic and said, "They raised their arms at me and yelled back!". Reaching Alpine about an hour later than expected, all was well, and snacking ensued.
The afternoon was far more eventful. Two riders went back with me and were dropped off in the middle and at the end of the ride. I got ALL the way back to downtown Salt Lake when my phone rang. Joergen: "Kit, I need you to come get me. My bike got ran over." Kit:" Holy ****. You ok?" Joergen: "Yeah, I'm at IHOP. See you soon. I gotta go." I turned around and headed back to Sandy. Along the way, I see Jessica riding on her lonesome. Upon arrival at IHOP, I find the remainder of the riders waiting for the cop to come back. We all split, and head toward the finish. Joergen never did get to finish the race, but still won a ton of stages. Jessica finished, but only after a tire explosion and a bus ride. Moral of the story for the Tour de Alpine? ALWAYS have a SAG wagon. :)
You can put mine up Tom
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