Estimated read time: 8-9 minutes
This archived news story is available only for your personal, non-commercial use. Information in the story may be outdated or superseded by additional information. Reading or replaying the story in its archived form does not constitute a republication of the story.
BOUNTIFUL — For one week every summer, small towns and main streets in Utah play host to the hardest stage race in America.
Bikes turn back roads and mountain tops into stadiums showcasing the grit and moxie, oxygen-carrying capacity and bike handling skills of hard men and women.
While bike racing might be a relative stranger to most American sports fans, cycling is a sport of rugged beauty. Unbeknownst to most, a Utahn's roots in the pro peloton go back to the beginning of America's foray into the most European-dominated of sports. In 1981, Moab-born Jonathan "Jock" Boyer raced in the grandest of bike races, the Tour de France.
Thirty-four years after Boyer put American cycling on the map, I'm sliding into the co-pilot's chair of Team Jelly Belly-MAXXIS stage 3 of the Tour of Utah. Behind the wheel is Boyer's contemporary and three-time Olympian Danny Van Haute.
'A Jelly Belly rider is riding off the front'
Minutes after rolling off the start, the animated action from the front of the race comes rolling through the team radios — "A Jelly Belly rider is riding off the front with a slight advantage, traveling downhill at 40 miles an hour."
"No, no," Van Haute says to no one in particular.
In a pre-race meeting, Van Haute, the team's director and resident tactician, gave four riders in his team of eight the green light to attack early and position themselves in an early breakaway. Just not this early, two miles into a 109-mile stage with 6,400 feet of climbing.
Behind in the back seat, team mechanic Ralf Medloff sounds less concerned. "Maybe he's just testing his gears," he replies.
Ahead of the team car, cyclists snake back and forth across the country roads outside Clearfield, Clinton and Hooper. Eventually three riders break free. After their advantage grows to 20 seconds, the pace of the main pack slows down. Instead of chasing, they are content to let the three go it alone.
Breaking away: three riders ride away from the peloton
"The peloton likes the composition of the break," Van Haute said. By this he means the three riders are not contenders for the overall crown to the fastest man after seven days of racing.
The main pack of over 100 riders will let the three competitors get a little time and distance on them. Then, as the finish line approaches, the main group will chase this smaller group down with fresher legs with the aerodynamic advantage of not having had to break wind for 100 miles.
As pace lulls, minor mayhem ensues
Then, just as the pace lulls, minor mayhem ensues. Riders start throwing their hands in the air, an announcement to their teams that they are in trouble. Jelly Belly's Lachlan Morton is one.
Seeing the team car approach, he pulls to the road shoulder, then loosens the quick release on his rear wheel as the team mechanic sprints out from the car, new rear wheel in hand. With clockwork-like teamwork, Morton changes wheels and is chasing back to the main pack less than 20 seconds later.
The domestique's role: teamwork in cycling
Three teammates spotted the trouble and soft pedal just up the road. Along with Gavin Mannion, Morton is one of two team leaders. Instead of seeking personal glory, the job for riders not named Morton or Mannion comes in protecting their two team leaders any way they can. Pacing Morton back into the main group is just one of the roles of a cycling domestique.
'We go through about 150 bottles a day'
Picking up water bottles from the team car is another duty of the domestique. In addition to replacing the two water bottles on their own bikes, the worker bees of biking stuff their shirts with up to eight extra bottles at a time. They stuff four or five down the back of their jerseys, giving them the look of a hunchback. They then stuff another two or three in their front.
"We go through about 150 bottles a day," Van Haute said. "We fill five coolers full."
Sometimes riders throw out empty bottles as souvenirs to fans cheering along the road. "Last night we reused maybe 50 of the 150 bottles we started with," Medloff said.
The Jelly Belly team really eats jelly beans (along with rice cakes)on their bikes
While a candy company best known for making jelly beans might seem like a curious choice for refueling endurance athletes, the team really does down handfuls of jelly beans infused with B-vitamins and the like.
According to independent research, a sport-specific jelly bean is as good of choice as any.
Before every race, the team's massage therapists also make rice cakes. Riders eat either sweet mango rice cakes or savory, bacon-and-egg filled ones.
Team riders started the day with four small bags of jelly beans and two rice cakes. During more than four hours of racing, only one rider came back to one of the two team cars wanting more food.
Soigneurs, the 'ones who provides care'
At the end of the stage, rider recovery starts immediately. Like most teams, Jelly Belly employs two soigneurs. French for the one who provides care, soigneurs massage, feed and look after the riders. While one soigneur is at the finish line with a protein recovery drink and a sandwich for every rider, the other cleans up the motorhome that will drive them back to their hotel. Inside the team's motorhome, the rice cooker is going again.
Once back at the hotel, the soigneur's signature work begins. Every evening after racing, each rider receives a 30-minute massage.
Idyll, interrupted
As the peloton sweeps through Eden and seems to float by Pineview Reservoir, the dangers of cycling could hardly have seemed farther away. Not long after climbing out of Weber Canyon and cresting the top of state Route 167 following closely behind the peloton, we reach 50 miles an hour.
The idyll interruption is accentuated by Van Haute repeatedly slamming his hand into the steering wheel.
"Damn, damn, damn — I hate high-speed crashes."
Van Haute slows the team vehicle to weave between broken bikes and battered bodies. From the backseat, Medloff the mechanic spots a team rider on the ground. It's Gavin Mannion, one of the team leaders. His rear derailleur smashed between frame and wheel, the bike is beyond immediate repair.
Medloff rushes back and pulls a near replica off the team car. They have Mannion's spare bike sitting on top just for occasions like this.
As Mannion hops onto his backup bike, the toll a 50 mph crash can take becomes perfectly vivid. His racing kit is tattered, exposing raw, bloody flesh. It could be worse. Just beside Mannion holding his shoulder with a look of intense pain is reigning U.S. national champion Matthew Busche. His Utah tour ends on this stretch of road, done in by a broken collarbone.
'Falling at 50 miles per hour, that can take a little sting out of you'
After getting back in the leading pack, Mannion pops on the final climb, losing contact with the leaders on the last quarter mile making up the category 3 climb along Bountiful's mountain bench. Jelly Belly's bid for its team wearing yellow after Sunday took a hit.
"Falling at 50 miles per hour, that can take a little sting out of you," Van Haute said. "Still, our plan hasn't changed. We're racing for Gavin and Lachlan. Right now, Lachlan's only 14 seconds back of yellow.
"They both have a chance on Sunday, and that's the queen stage. That's where the tour will be decided."
Back in the saddle again: two American cyclists return to the pro peloton
In bike racing, it's when, not whether, you'll crash. Peter Stetina and Taylor Phinney, two of America's biggest cycling talents, returned to racing this week after career-threatening injuries. After crashing into an unmarked pole in the finishing straight of Spain's Tour of the Basque Country, Stetina said he was lucky to be alive. The scar running down his lower quad and over his knee is the most gruesome scar I've ever seen a professional athlete continue to compete with.
"It's very nice to have Taylor and Peter back," BMC teammate Kilian Frankiny said before stage 3. "Both are very strong and impressive riders. But when you see what Peter and Taylor are coming back from, that's even more impressive."
Winning by half a wheel over more experienced riders
After 109 miles, the explosive burst left in the legs of 20-year-old Logan Owen proved the day's difference, winning by half a wheel.
"America's future in cycling looks solid; we got a good foothold here," Van Haute said. "We've got lots of younger guys in the pipeline that, in five or six years, have what it takes to really make the jump to the pro tour. And the women, the women are stronger and historically at a higher level than our men.
"Who knows, maybe there's some kids out here watching the Tour of Utah today and getting inspired," Van Haute added. "Maybe watching all this is what sparks their interest in cycling. Isn't that how it always starts?"
