It was 2007 and my boyfriend of 3 years (now husband), Aaron Ross, had rented “The Flying Scotsman”. If you know me, well, I am a movie fanatic. I love the movies. I love the stories, the colors, and the art. Good movies, just like a great piece of art, can inspire people. This particular movie moved me in more ways than imaginable. The movie was about a man who was just an average cyclist and decided to go for a world record in track cycling. Anyhow, I won’t give you the details because you should watch the movie, but in the end while the credits were still running, I immediately pulled out my laptop and frantically began typing a race cover letter and resume and emailed it to over 20 European cycling teams. I had to get to Europe if I wanted to go to the Olympics. That’s where the fastest racing in the world could be found.
Aaron Ross and Melissa Doherty (now Ross) at the beginning of Melissa's cycling racing journey.
I was a 22-year-old senior, attending the University of Wyoming, gearing up to graduate in May 2008. The previous season, I was ranked second overall in the Rocky Mountain Collegiate Cycling Conference, which includes Colorado State University, Colorado University, and the national champion time-trial team, Fort Lewis College. I was the only Cowgirl representing the University of Wyoming and, as a solo rider, competed against teams of five or more women. At the time, the Laramie community supported me in many ways - from Mona Gamboa of Happy Jack Software, the Laramie Bicycling Network, and friends and family. I was on a mission to race at the highest level and pursue a dream of becoming a professional cyclist.
This is me, Melissa Doherty (now Ross), racing downtown Laramie at the Collegiate Cycling Conference Finals.
Long story short, by March of 2008, I had a ticket to Europe to race with the newly formed US National Development team under the direction of Jim Miller.
This is my account of jumping in the deep end of cycling, and racing my first UCI Race in Italy, the 2008 Costa Etrusca:
Regardless of the brief disappointment I felt by my results over the weekend, I have come to realize the great complexity of knowledge one must acquire to become successful in the sport of cycling. Talent alone is not a prerequisite for success, as understanding the dynamics of the unforgiving European peloton. This weekend I had my work cut out for me as the fastest women cyclists in the world were racing in the same event as I. But despite their talent and years of experience, the chaotic and exciting commotion of the culture behind European cycling was enough to cause a stimulus overdrive for me. It was as if I had just started a new job; though I had skills, I had yet to learn the new rules of the game.
Picture of me before the race Saturday (just for mom!)
The day started out with a 60-minute drive to the race. I was trying to stay hydrated, but nearly became incontinent from windy roads and the nervousness of my first race. The team had to stop the car, immediately and let me out to relieve myself in the narrow alley! We arrived to a tiny town atop a hill for the start of the race. It was a commotion of many people and cars, all packed onto narrow, ancient roadways. People were bustling everywhere, with excitement for the race. Photographers and many townspeople walked around to admire the riders, and there was much noise coming from the loudspeaker. All the teams had to march to the front to ‘sign in’ and get their pictures taken. A helicopter flew overhead, ready to broadcast the race. Though I couldn’t understand any of the languages, I knew that this would be an exciting adventure for me.
Before the race started, again, my nerves had the best of me, and I had to pee once more. There were no porta-potties anywhere, and I ran over to Jim to ask where I should go. He was busy chatting with Kristen Armstrong (my idol). I briefly introduced myself, but as my bladder was about to explode, all I could say was, “Kristen, where should I pee?” “Over behind that car.” She laughed and pointed at the parked vehicles.
The race started with a cluster of over 170 riders, all of different nationalities. We first paraded through the town and then began our official start. Immediately, the pace was fast, winding through the narrow to wide roads and descending, constantly on and off the brakes. I could smell burning rubber as the bikes would screech to slow and suddenly speed up. Never in my life had I felt such a “rush” of excitement as we were going at such high speeds down descents, dodging cars parked alongside roads, and nearly rear-ending the rider in front. Never before had I been forced to keep my mind so focused while racing. My lungs hurt, my brain was overloaded. I was working as hard as I could.
Because it was my first European race, our director Jim, just wanted this to be a learning experience, and our only goal was to keep each other accountable. Easy said, harder done. The girls were so aggressive and would snatch your wheel in an instant and yell “ochio, ochio” (watch out), and suddenly you’d be funneled straight out the back of the peloton and expend an incredible amount of energy moving up the sides.
But just my luck, I was shot out the back of the peloton, just before an important TV climb (most teams want time on TV for their sponsors), so I was dropped. Contrary to American road racing, in Europe riders are pulled from the race after being dropped. The official sped by and yelled “Stop!”. I had no idea he was cutting me, because they don’t do that in American racing, so I kept riding hard; found a group of girls to ride with, and we eventually found our way to the next town, also the finishing town. At the time, I still had no idea I was done racing so when I found the team car, I said, “Hey, I need some water, quick, I’m going to keep going!” My teammate Emily was standing there with disappointment on her face, changing out of her chamois, and she said, “Melissa, the race is over, you’re done.” I was so confused, “Really, it’s over?! What a short race!” She said, “Melissa, we were pulled!” “Oh, that means I was pulled way back there! I feel like such a fool!” I laughed, and decided to spin my legs out, then go watch the rest of the team finish.
American Kristin Armstrong with Team Cervelo Lifeforce wins Saturday’s stage of the Costa Etrusca.
Too much excitement in one day. New languages, new people, and a whole new rule system to learn. The peloton beat me but I felt that the second day would leave room for improvement. Before coming to Europe, my good friend Mona said to me, “Melissa, always remember that you are in a great position. You have NOTHING to lose from this experience and EVERYTHING to gain.” Her advice cheered me up and I realized that though I had my work set out for me, I’d have a great story to tell, and an adventure to go along with it.
Sunday’s race involved longer climbs, and the peloton was much more aggressive. The roads wound through more towns, and the descents were technical and fast. I quickly found myself working hard, descending, and fighting to move up in the peloton. This time, however, I was more defensive about keeping wheels, yelling “ochio” any chance I could and sticking my elbow out to defend my position. My goal was to stay with my teammates and follow their lead. I held onto Carmen’s and Emily’s wheels, and at one point, all six of us were together in a line. When teams ride together, they receive respect from the peloton, and rarely will other riders take their wheels. This moment ended when we came through town and had to dodge more cars. In no time, I was again pushed to the back when there was an attack at the front of the peloton. I chased, drafting off of the follow vehicles (only legal in European racing), but was slowed due to the congestion of traffic. Again the race official drove by and yelled “STOP!”. This time I knew he was cutting me, so I sat up, defeated again.
After getting dropped, I was out of water and rode towards the town I thought was the finishing town. Knowing I have terrible navigation skills, I found myself on a new adventure. The climb to the town was about 10K and I stopped a few times to ask for directions to the finish. No one spoke English, so I did my best to communicate in Italian. “Dove el finito, per favore?” They pointed, “ah, Castellina, si”. So I rode to Castellina, thinking I was in the right town and stopped to take a rest. After awhile I decided to look for our team car, but didn’t have any luck so I stopped to talk to some cute old ladies. They didn’t understand English and I didn’t understand them, but I got the gist of what they were saying. They asked if I was a racer and if I was in 1st place! I laughed, and said, “No, no, I’m done, sono stop!” But they were so proud of me for being a cyclist and constantly chanted “brava, brava bella!” I asked them where the finish was and they pointed to the center of the town. Eventually I found a race personnel and they told me that the finish would be in Santa Luce! Santa Luce was 20K’s away! So, I began pedaling, still out of water, and stopped as the race came by me. A few of my teammates were still in, so I proudly cheered them on. The race had started with about 170 riders and was only down to about 30. Jim blew past in the team vehicle, saw me and later said he had told our mechanic Andrew, “Remember this spot, we’re in trouble, we’ll be looking for her later!”
Team vehicle with our director Jim Miller at the wheel, after Saturday’s race.
I slowly found my way to the finishing town, following the few arrows along the way. I was only 2K’s from the finish when the SRM car drove by, spotted me, and stopped to give me a ride. When I finally arrived at the team car, Pinot, the SRM guy said to Jim, “I have a present for you…your lost sheep.”
I talked to my dad on the phone that night, and he said, “Melissa, only sheep get cut.” So, I guess I’m a sheep….but one of these days I’ll stay in the flock. The weekend was hard, but an extraordinary experience. We had raced with the fastest women and teams in the world. Our director, Jim Miller, said he wanted it to be like “being thrown in the deep end of the pool, swimming to the shallow end, and finally being able to stand up.”
