So there I was, instantly an eternity off the back of the group on the most petrifying descent I've ever ridden. Only one thing was blocking 2 Team CSC cars from their entire team: A solitary, brake-happy Cat 3 in Competitive Cyclist kit on a pimped-out Cervélo twice the cost of any CSC rider's bike that day. Fleeting images of my children flashed through my consciousness as I absurdly tried to make up time on CSC. Getting the cars up to their charges felt like a moral obligation. That, plus the notion of being mocked in the least -- it spurred me to tuck deeper and brake much, much less. I've raced at varying levels of seriousness over 20 years, but this was my first ever true combat jump. No race I've ever done felt so important, and none pitted courage and fear to such an excruciating extreme. Getting to the bottom was more exhausting than climbing to the top. I could probably never do that again.
Read a fantastic first-hand account of riding with the world's number 1 team at Competitive Cyclist. Funny, intimidating and educational. And whatever you do, don't call Fränk Schleck a faggot..."
A Ride with Team CSC: What We Learned in LA"