In 1996, soon after joining a local cycling club and winning a state championship, I qualified to participate in training at the U.S. Olympic Training Center. After winning the GP Des Nation under 23 category in 2000, I was invited onto a pro-level team. Ironically, the sport I had turned to for escaping drugs turned out to be rampant with doping. I chose not to focus on that. I was young, everyone was telling me I had a great future – and I knew I could do it clean. From the beginning, I always had.

After distinguishing myself in an important race, management presented me with drugs and instructed me on how to proceed. I was devastated. I was shocked. I had never used drugs and never intended to. I questioned, I resisted, but in the end, I felt cornered and succumbed to the pressure. After one week I stopped. I subsequently succumbed in less than a handful of confined instances never making it a systematic part of my training practices or race routines. But it happened and I couldn’t be sorrier. It was a violation – a violation not only of the code I was subject to, but my personal and moral compass that I had set out to follow. I accept full responsibility and was happy to come forward and tell USADA my whole story; I want to do my share to help bring this entire issue to the fore and ensure a safe, healthy, and clean future for cycling.

I returned to being 100% clean long before the Anti-Doping Commitment was issued for riders to sign in 2007. I was one of the first to sign. I embraced complete transparency. When Slipstream surfaced I was eager to join for all that it stands for and its unwavering commitment to clean cycling. I only wish a team like this had existed when I was a neo pro. Cycling started out as a refuge for me and I want to play my part in making it the sport I had always hoped it would be and know that it can be.

Read more: http://www.velonation.com/News/ID/13038/Garmin-Sharp-and-its-riders-comment-on-their-parts-in-USADA-investigation.aspx#ixzz28vxZuhOO

Surprise Delivery
I was out on a training ride last week when a delivery truck pulled up to the house. My wife, Randi, greeted the driver with a surprised look, quite certain she had not ordered anything requiring a truck delivery. Just as she was attempting to send the driver away they had this exchange:

“Zablinsky?”
“No.”
“Zabronsky?”
“No.”
“Zabasky?”
“No.”
“Am I close?”
“Not really.”
“Can I buy a vowel?”
“You have all the vowels you need.”
“The paperwork’s just not clear ma’am.”
“I’m really not expecting a delivery.”
“Well, I’m out on a bit of limb here ma’am, but someone here named Zapruder ordered an outdoor sauna.”

I Know That Look
The sauna came as a kit and prior to the delivery I convinced myself I could put the sauna together on my own. It would be a good project for me. Maybe I’d even get the boys involved. At 2 and 4 years old that means they’d love it, right? It’s really a perfect project for the do-it-yourself dad, I explained to Randi when I returned from my ride. Her look was suddenly priceless. “It’ll be a fun project,” I explained, “and now I won’t have to go up to the spa any longer to use the sauna there.” Randi was noticeably unmoved by my logic so I headed for the shower. When I returned she reported that a contractor friend had been scheduled for the following day and made me promise that I won’t let the kids touch any tools.

We Need Power, Man
With professional help, the sauna went together without a hitch. I asked the contractor to save me a screw or two to drive in so that I could tell guests, neighbors, wife and anyone else who might be interested that I helped build it. But now that the new sauna was out in the back of the house we’d need to somehow get power over to it. Electrical work is where I draw a hard line. Experts are required. I remember a friend recommending an Irishman in the area. Real pro. Thick accent. I phoned him to survey the job and he came right over. Nice gentleman and fun for me to hear the Irish brogue in an unexpected place. Things got off to an interesting start with this exchange:

“Hey Dave what do you do for a living?”
“Race bikes.”
“Professionally?”
“Yup.”
“Ever race in Europe?”
“All the time.”
“Ever do that Tour de France?”
“Yup, more than a few times.”
“Far out. I went to school with a racer back in Ireland.”
“Really? Who’s that?”
“Sean Kelly. Ever hear of him?”

Nearly two weeks ago I loaded the family in the van and sprinted north. Destination, Berkeley. It would be a 6+ hour drive so with some reluctance Randi and I introduced the boys to the DVD player in the van. It may only be funny to us to know just how conflicted we were about starting that habit.

Berkeley is home to a lot of great memories for Randi and I. When she was a student at the university there I had a small apartment in town and spent quite a bit of time on campus. I know the campus and the town well and it was a welcome treat to reconnect with my past. I rode some of my old training routes and then hit some of the coffee shops I favored back then. I prefer Cole Coffee and Caffe Strada, but to each his own. At Strada I spotted a student in Lycra who suddenly recognized me. He got such a charge out of the unexpected encounter that I felt especially welcomed to be back.

We eventually drove to Santa Rosa where the team presentation would be held and the race would start. Prior to the Garmin team presentation I was chatting with George Hincapie. Suddenly, BMC was called to the stage so I just decided to walk up with George and the BMC guys. I was planning to leave after a few moments but it seemed funnier the longer I stayed. Finally Paul Sherwin looked at me strangely and asked, ‘what are you doing here?’ and I made my exit to everyone’s amusement.

The first four stages were bumpy and frustrating. They would each end in field sprints where we were working to get our guy Heinrich Haussler a win. But Sagan was truly special this past week and amazingly Heinrich would finish 2nd to Sagan on each of the first 4 stages. I’m not sure that’s ever happened before in the pro peloton where the same two guys finish 1-2 four days in a row.

I’d been looking forward to Stage 5 all year. It was a target for me and I wanted to win. I felt the Bakersfield TT course best suited me and I was aiming to prove it. I had studied the course, ridden it in preparation and memorized it. The course was FAST and a perfect one for my skills. I didn’t have to get out of the aero bars much at all and I loved the downhill start. I think I caught 3 or 4 riders in front of me and that gave me extra motivation. I left it all out there and could hardly breathe when I crossed the line.

There’s always the rush of reporters to get an interview after the finish but I was spent and had some trouble catching my breath let alone make an intelligent statement. I felt confident about my ride but Tejay was starting after me and he was the only rider I suspected that had a chance of besting my time. I retreated to the team bus to rest and wait. Tejay would falter in the second half of his ride and eventually take 3rd on the day.

It was so cool to be on the podium with Jens Voigt (who took 2nd with an amazing TT ride). Strangely, I find much of my inspiration to train and race outside of the peloton, except for Jens. He is one of the very few in our profession who truly inspire me. He’s a legend for his iron will but what many fans don’t get to see is his genuine good guy nature, his sincere friendliness and his good humor.

My Stage 5 win moved me into first on GC and now a real threat to capture my first overall win at the Amgen Tour of California. Having finished 2nd three times before I was anxious to finish on top. But there would be climbing days to come and the more pure climbers would surely attack. The thought of that reality raced through my head when suddenly and unexpectedly, as if he could read my mind, Jens put his hand on my shoulder and told me ‘you can do this. You can win.’

Back at the hotel with the team it was calm. No celebration, no champagne, no trophy. My win had put so much time into contenders that our strategy might have to be re-thought. I had entered the race aiming to win the TT not the GC. With Big Bear and Mt. Baldy stages again this year I discounted my chances. Now I was re-thinking it all with the kind gesture of Jens playing on a loop in my head.

I felt strong all week and wasn’t terribly worried about Stage 6. I’d ridden well to Big Bear last year and expected that it would come down to a sprint finish again. But its normal to have our doubts until the legs and the body prove otherwise. At the start I spied Jens intently looking at me. He said nothing but simply nodded his head at me. It was the confident gesture of a man who knew better than I, a man purposely reminding me of his comment the day before. We rolled from the line and I felt as strong as I’d ever felt. I rode the stage well and my confidence for riding with the leaders up Mt. Baldy grew. I told myself I could climb with the best.

My night before the Baldy stage was restless, not because I was anxious but because I was fired up. I felt charged, ready to go, ready to battle. I would not concede the leader’s jersey without a fight. Doubt me if you want but I was ready to turn myself inside out on that mountain stage. I suspected it would be 3:30 to 3:45 to cross the finish line and I would ride it with the mentality of a time trial. I would concentrate, stay focused and ride beyond the pain. But at the start line I felt the nerves building, creeping, making a final assault. Doubt was edging through the thinnest of cracks. Again, that iron man of the peloton (who is not on our team) made his way over to re-shape my focus. Jens squared up in front of me and calmly said, ‘I believe in you. You can do this.’ You can’t imagine how much those words meant to me.

My team rallied in front of me through the first several hours as we locked in on a blistering pace. Riders on the front were going full gas until they dropped off. It was an uphill time trial and everyone was hurting. Horner was out front on a valiant effort to go for broke on the stage but would eventually be caught (finishing 6th). The real pain would come as the pitch turned further upward near the finish. Robert Gesink attacked. Tejay and Tommy D went with him. Not wanting to blow I rode my own pace hoping to bridge further up the road. The crowd was hugely supportive and they inspired me. Suddenly, a heckler spewing hatred and questioning my will to climb surprisingly took me to another level. Nearing the finish I spotted Tejay. I pushed hard to close and finished a few seconds behind him. But where was Gesink? When had he finished?

It wasn’t long before the calculations came back to me. I lost the leader’s jersey to Gesink and I was crushed. As professional cyclists we become conditioned about dealing with defeat. But this hurt and I was upset. After a brief recovery I turned around and headed back down to Baldy Village a few miles below the finish. Heading down I passed some of my teammates who earlier had buried themselves for me. We shot each other that knowing look that said, ‘this was a battle we did not win.’

My makeup is such that it affects me more to lose than to win. I usually find myself even tempered with my wins, surely satisfied but not ecstatic. But when I lose I feel devastated. I expect a lot from myself and falling short is hard to take. So there I was, on stage on Sunday, my boys in my arms, the three of us soaking up the love of the fans, for an admirable 2nd place finish.

In all of the mixed emotions since Sunday’s finish I find myself returning to gratefulness. Grateful for the chance to do what I love, race my bike. Grateful for the work that my teammates did for me. Grateful to Barb and Chris who were our awesome chef’s during the week. And grateful to all the team staff that helped make the week special (my TT bike literally came together the morning of Stage 5).

I thought AEG and Amgen put on a great race this year and I look forward to returning. And I would be remiss to not also thank USA Network for running Law & Order every night. That awesome show, and the unflappable support of Jens Voigt, were my evening decompression.

Photo: Casey B. Gibson

Circuit la Sarthe is 5 stages over 4 days in France. Stage one was quite odd. A breakaway went away and got eight minutes on the peloton. A couple of teams pulled as hard as they could and brought it down to two minutes. But there was a lot of racing left to go so they were like ‘whoa’ we are so strong we better stop pulling. But then the break got another big time gap and almost made it to the line. I can only imagine what the riders in the break were thinking when they saw the time gaps see-sawing on the chalk board. But it ended in a sprint finish and a Katusha rider took first place.

The following day we would ride a double, a road race and an individual Time Trial. The morning stage was the same race that Michel Kreder won last year with my help when I strategically insisted he watch Wolverine vs. Hulk for preparation. That win last year was his first pro victory and I knew he wanted to repeat that feat (and so did I). Close to the start it wasn’t raining but the threat of rain was looming. I wanted to wear the famed Castelli Gabba jacket which is almost impervious to all weather conditions, but everyone was like ‘no way’ and suggested I just wear a vest. But by the time the stage started we had all talked ourselves into the Gabba jacket. Damn good thing because it got cold and rainy.

The field was coming into the last lap of the finishing circuit and there was a big crash right at the front of the field. Maybe only about 12 guys made it through and they thought that was cool so they were drilling it. For safety, in the crash area but upright, I had to unclip and with Andy Shcleck in front of me I shouted, ‘GO ANDY! GO ANDY!’ We got booking with the first group chasing the lucky ones. My big teammate Sebastien Rosseler was giving chase but he looked like he needed help. Michel was there, so I went to the front and welded the group together. At that point there was about 2.5km to go. I looked over at Michel and he looked at me. There was the subtlest of nods between us. We knew the work to be done and we got to it. I went to the front again and pulled until 700 meters when the rest of the guys took over and Michel won again, big time! It was pretty cool, a real team effort that paid off and I couldn’t have been happier for Michel.

Later in the afternoon we had an individual Time Trial on the same circuit. It was only 7km and I’m not really sure you can call that a TT. I had a bad ride and that’s that. Happens. I was still happy about the morning stage though and I didn’t let that feeling get spoiled. A young Luke Durbridge won the TT from team Greenedge. Now Durbridge is leading the GC after three stages with two to go. But Greenedge sent two riders packing for Roubaix and now they have the leaders jersey and a team of only three riders. That’s a predicament. So what to do? How about telling the press that Luke has tendinitis and is going to drop out. Genius. But Durbridge stays in for the 182km stage the next day and retains his Yellow jersey. And Durbridge would hang on during the final stage to win the overall. It was pretty impressive of he and the team. But we would enjoy some more celebrating as well. Thomas Dekker from our team won the last stage into Sarthe. Unfortunately, Michel hit the deck on the final stage. He’ll have to engage his healing abilities now and hopefully make a quick recovery.

At the moment I’m in Andorra, doing some altitude training, and getting snowed on. I might have to fire up the Wolverine vs Hulk to get through this.

I had a spare battery charger I hooked up and that gave it some juice. Once we had a long stretch of highway we turned it off thinking the last hour would be the most important. Our easy pass for the tolls was not working either so we had to give it to the toll agent at every toll booth with the eloquent explanation of ‘mucho problemo’. That was always good for a few laughs in the van.

After 40 minutes of driving I wanted to find this elusive Starbucks I had heard about so I pulled off the highway and into some shopping outlets and lo and behold there it was. I instantly get that feeling like I’m back in America. The guys seemed quite pleased with this pit stop. All I wanted to drink was a simple black coffee. Now I’m not entirely sure but once inside I think the workers said they didn’t know how to use the drip machine or they were out of filters. OK, I’m flexible, so I switch to the aptly titled, big Americano. Pit stop complete, so we’re back in the van and on we go. We reached the hotel without incident but at check-in the receptionist did not want to sell me the WiFi code for the Internet. I went all ‘big Americano’ on her and she quickly realized it would be easier for her to just make the sale. As laid back as I am, there’s only so much ‘Spaining’ I can take.

At the race which honors Miguel Indurian it was pretty cool to see the 5-time Tour winner, the ‘Big Mig’ himself, cutting the ribbon for the start. That will get you motivated. I threw in a few early attacks and was feeling pretty good. A small group got away and the Euskatel team took control of the race. It seemed like we were going in circles all day as the 179 kilometer circuit criss-crossed itself quite a lot. Most of our team was there in the crucial selection and I was riding tempo up a climb for Christophe Le Mevel and Fabian Wegmann. I was going to take the last pull to bring back Karpets in the break. At the top I was pretty cooked so I pulled off to leave it to the guys we were working for. Wegmann yelled stay there so I jumped back in the line and recovered for a bit. Le Mevel was chasing now and I was recovered so I took over the chase again on the downhill. I caught Karpets and we came out onto a big road and it dropped down and then shot up. I decided to hit this stretch with a lot of speed and next thing I know I’m by myself. I think I’ll just keep drilling it and the guys can sit on whoever chases me. I got caught by a small group but unfortunately my guys didn’t make it. So now I had to stay with this group going into the finish for the win.

When I had looked at the profile it said the race finished with a Cat 3 climb. So I was racing with the expectation of this climb but with 2km to go I thought maybe there is no climb. Then ‘BAM’ there it is with 1km to go. We had done part of this road earlier in the day so I remembered some of what to expect, but my legs were pretty blown, so I just suffered as much as I could to the top. Nearing the finish I was passed by a rider and I suddenly thought of Jens Voight always going for the money spots. Strange what comes into your mind at different race moments. But I thought I can pass this guy, so I did, and I’ll take one of the money spots. I finished 9th. Satisfied but not entirely, as we could’ve done better. But this day was a big improvement over our recent racing at the Criterium International.

Shortly after the finish I’ve got that rental van pegged for Girona at 160 Kmh for quite a long while, just jamming out on the iPod. We make great time and I only have to avert one near crash because of some fake pay toll and my windshield is covered with dead bugs so I couldn’t see very well. We’re all back home by 11:00 pm Saturday night. Now how’s that for a crazy day?

I just had a relaxed Sunday at home but I’m off again tomorrow for the Circuit la Sarthe in France. I think the Team’s handling the logistics for that one a little differently though.