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Team Canada's Michael Barry reports on his Olympic road race.

Published: Aug. 16, 2008

The motorcade of team cars raced through downtown Beijing, the usually congested roads virtually emptied for the Olympics, to the start. In each unbranded white car, the riders were piled in the back, as the directors drove. A small flag on the side was the only thing differentiating each team. On the roof, the bikes were covered in tape and the carbon wheels logo-less to appease the Olympic rules that control which companies can be featured in their event. The air conditioning blew a strong wind through the warm car as we sat, nervously, in our national team clothing, anticipating the start of what was predicted to be the hardest Olympic race ever. I had trained in the heat, ridden in the mountains daily for weeks, and had thinned down to improve my climbing. Despite the work at home, the unknowns and different variables ahead that were out of my control made me anxious to get the race started.

The start area was fenced in, separating the fans from the riders. The plastic cabins, where we prepared for the race, were a sharp contrast to our professional team buses. The port-a-potties were an oven of filth that riders lined up in front of as photographers took pictures of the champions of the peloton patiently waiting to use the facilities. The heat outside the air-conditioned car was oppressive. Immediately, I was sweating, and I waited to put my jersey on until the last minute, with an ice pack placed on my back to keep my body temperature down.

The start was slow and the first attacks quickly formed a two-man breakaway, gaining fifteen minutes. Standard in any long one-day race, the breakaway forms early and the peloton settles into a steady controlled rhythm behind to slowly reel them in. In the heat, the peloton was lethargic and conservative, knowing we would need every watt of energy for the final hour. It would surely be a race of attrition, as predicted.

But, after 50 kilometers, unhappy with the situation and wanting to make an impression on a race they might not even finish, groups of riders began attacking. Without a team in control of the peloton, a large group formed in front, gained time quickly, and the pursuit began, making the race nervous and fast long before the protagonists and their teams would have planned or desired.

Having missed the breakaway, the US team took charge and began chasing quickly with intensity. The gap came down and then, as we reached the circuit, it ballooned again as we climbed the long ascent for the first time. Jason McCartney began a long pursuit, towing the peloton, and riding impressively, setting a steady yet stiff tempo. After 50 kilometers he had the group strung out and the breakaway back within reach of the peloton. Prior to the Games, several people ignorantly questioned Jason’s place on the team. Any of his past teammates know his strength and any leader would like to have him riding for them. He is a true domestique, never questioning his job, and always riding for the team until he can no longer pedal. He was an asset to the US team and without him their race could have been over in the first 100km.

Under the pressure of the pursuit, the heavy heat and humidity, the peloton began to thin quickly as we entered the last third of the race. Riders picked up ice packs for cooling from the feed zone and grabbed waterbottles on each of the seven 24km laps.

This was a race unlike most others as the small teams had to rely on the strength of individuals instead of their strength in numbers, as we usually do in Europe. We had to be conscious not to attack, or accelerate violently and repeatedly, as in a race this hard patience and caution are essential as even the strongest rider can quickly fade if he squanders his energy at the wrong moment.

I sat in the bunch, stayed near the front but in the draft, and waited. With only two teammates in the race we had to be cautious. Ryder Hesjedal had made the early breakaway, which was ideal, while Svein Tuft rode in the peloton, protecting me from the wind, and placing me on the right wheels, near the front before the climb. With only a few cards to play we raced conservatively and intelligently.

On the final ascent, riders attacked in the first meters of the climb while I decided to wait in the group, until the break was a sure bet, and then would try to go across. It was a gamble. Bettini, Valverde and Cancellara were still in the main, yet small, peloton and I bet they wouldn’t want to end their race at the back, out of the action. I bet right, and soon the four of us were chasing hard to make it to the front again. Over the top of the climb we joined the front group, while a few riders were within sight, just off the front. I sat back, drank, and waited for the final kilometers. In our group the US riders, Christian and Levi, tried to chase but there was no cohesion, and then the attacks started. One by one riders attacked and were caught, the front of the race dangling within our reach but never coming back.

Cancellara made a final dig, his acceleration violent and too fast for anybody to even think of following. He quickly gained ground and caught the leaders as they reached the last kilometer. Behind, I attacked with Botero and Gesink, hoping to catch the front in time for the sprint. We came up short — 16 seconds short. I was happy with the result but finished with good yet empty legs, content with my placing but annoyed that I hadn’t been there in the sprint for a medal. It felt good to again have the legs to be there in the finale, animating of one of the hardest races of the season. And, as it took place in a unique spot of the world, under the Great Wall, it will be a lasting memory.

Michael Barry, is a member of Team Columbia Professional Cycling, husband of Olympic medalist Dede Barry and author of VeloPress’s “Inside the Postal Bus”