Transalp Day Zero

Today was a full day.  MOB and I registered for Transalp, we met our teammates, ate and slept.

We entered the registration area well ahead of most riders -- at the front the peleton, as it were.

Rusedski registers!

Our high placement was confirmed when the results were posted at end of the day.
But as I had warned MOB, the registration site was full of pencil-thin, gaunt-faced 195-200 cm height 29 year-olds with shaved heads (and legs). 

I managed to sneak a photo of one of the more imposing of this rider type.  However, as he left the site, he hopped on a mountain bike 4 sizes too small and pedaled with his feet jammed inward onto the pedals, pigeon toe style.  MOB and I left the registration site 150-200 meters behind him and quickly caught up, just before our routes separated.  He was not so imposing once we got on the bike!  That will be the last time he will mess around with (or ride anywhere near) the Positivo Espresso B Team!

Positivo Espresso Europe

At the pasta party, we planned race strategy.  As the first day's stage route was telecast with a projector at the front of the gathering, using Google Earth, we did it the old fashioned way, modeling the climb over the H.-joch with my mountainous second helping of pasta, the parmesan cheese representing the remaining snowpack visible today when the clouds finally cleared.

Visualize your line
on the descent!

We decided to get out of the pasta party early after the mayor finished his lengthy remarks in order to get to bed early for an extra edge ... but ended up stopping at an outdoor cafe for some after dinner drinks.

Juliane complained that her transponder/number plate that is required to be affixed to the front of the handlebars, facing forward so as to be visible from the front, defeats the aerodynamic advantage that all top competitive cyclists seek.  We discussed countermeasures and, looking at the TOUR Magazine articles about the race, noticed that in all the photos of the top riders, the rectangular sheet appeared to have rounded edges and to be noticeably smaller than the ones we had been provided.  What chumps we must have been in 2009, riding without first getting out the scissors and cutting this parachute down to size.  As soon as we got back to the hotel, we had a little trimming party.

Transponder/front number, cut down to size

Tomorrow, we will focus on racing, not blogging.  And there is no electricity, let alone public WiFi, on the tennis courts of Transalp Camp in Imst, Austria, if memory serves.  We will report again when we can.