Andrea’s Weblog

Last weekend was a very exciting weekend for us. We skipped work on
Friday and headed to the North Georgia mountains to watch a
professional cycling race featuring riders as famous as Lance
Armstrong, Mario Cippolini, Jens Voigt, Bobby Julich, George
Hincapie…

http://homepage.mac.com/fhmiv/PhotoAlbum25.html

We planned our trip very carefully to accommodate my “condition.” This
entailed packing a full cooler and plenty of snacks, folding chairs,
etc. We arrived in the rural town of Dahlonega for the finish of stage
5 around noon, staked out a spot at the finish line and waited 3.5
hours for the riders. I would say we had an ideal set-up - we were 300
meters from our hotel room and within view of a line of what the Brits
call sight-a-lous (porta-potties).

The riders whooshed by and the stage was over in a matter of minutes,
so we headed over to the team cars to catch glimpses of our favorites.
As fans mobbed the postal RV, the equally well-known in Europe, CSC
team changed clothes in their mini-van. I jumped at the opportunity for
autographs. There wasn’t a mob scene at the CSC car, so I didn’t have
to use my pregnant-chick status to belly my way to the front. I’m still
thrilled to have the autographs of such amazing cyclists as well as
Johann, the USPS team manager.

Saturday, Stage 6, was a big day. The finish line was high atop
Brasstown Bald, the highest peak in Georgia. We decided that the only
place to watch this stage would be from the steepest part of the climb,
near the top. So, Saturday morning we woke and headed straight for the
mountain to stake our claim. I donned my only pair of comfortable
walking shoes and my “future biker” T-shirt, stocked up on provisions,
ready to attack the mountain. Boy was I in for a surprise. It seems
that breathing for two, at high altitude, is hard work. I have never
huffed and puffed so much—we had to keep stopping so I could catch my
breath. Fortunately, we found a great spot 320 meters from the finish
(and potties), in the shade, where we could set up chairs with minimal
fear of rolling down the mountain.

We decided to go back down the mountain to have our picnic lunch.
Walking downhill hurts the legs more, but at least I could breathe!
After lunch we decided to take the hiking trail up, thinking it might
be easier. Turns out that the trail climbs 500 meters in a half mile,
so it was steeper than the road. I just focused on breathing and taking
small steps. I couldn’t believe how out of shape I felt and I could
definitely feel the weight of the baby in front of me. (How many years
will it be till she starts carrying her own weight?!)

Frank, being the good husband that he is, had carried up our chairs, so
I flopped myself down and rested until nature called and I had to hike
up the rest of the slope to the bathrooms.

We chatted with other cycling fans around us, the majority of whom
thought we should name the baby Lance if he is winning the Tour de
France on the day the baby is born. (We’ve nixed that idea by the way.)

Around 3:30, we heard the helicopter filming the riders and learned
they had begun the climb. I borrowed a cow bell from a neighbor and
rang it as I cheered on my favorites, as well as the other riders who
were struggling up the mammoth climb. Suddenly, my hikes up the
mountain didn’t seem so difficult.

http://homepage.mac.com/fhmiv/PhotoAlbum26.html

I’m surprised that I didn’t get any kicks from the baby, because I
realized I had been ringing the cowbell at belly height. I can’t
imagine anyone sleeping through that!

I think we’ve done all we can do to turn the baby into a cycling fan,
so hopefully the baby won’t arrive in the middle of the Alp d’Huez
stage of the tour de France. (I guess there’s always Tivo to record it
for us though.)