Bolivia.

I arrived in Cochbamba, Bolivia about three weeks ago to do some study-abroad development work over the summer. Soonafter finding out that I would be spending six months of this year in South America, I started to worry about how possible it was to keep riding. A few months before leaving, I had learned that Cochabamba has a velodrome and had emailed with a few local cyclists about joining a club team, so I figured I could just start there and see what happened.

After two days, I went to the velodrome, which happens to be in the worst part of Cochabamba. The building itself was only half constructed and seemed sort of abandoned. After walking around the barbed-wire perimeter, I saw the silhouette of a guy walking in the shadows of the bleachers, so I called him over to open the pad-lock. He had one eye. I was alone and very much creeped out, but decided I should probably check it out anyways. The track itself was nice, and he said that sometimes people used it on the weekends. So I decided I´d go back on Sunday, probably with a few friends and pepper spray.

I also re-emailed my cyclist friend, and he said they all meet for drinks once a week at this one bar and that I could meet everyone if I went. After looking through some of his club-team pictures on his¨"Cyclist of Cochabamba" blog, I realized that his team was a masters 50+ all mens team that was the creepiest option yet. I gave up on cycling in Bolivia after that, and instead joined a gym that had spinning class every hour. That would have to suffice.

After about a week at the gym, I was walking through one of the main plazas when I saw two beautiful bikes. One was a BMC and the other a sea-green Bianchi, both with Ultegra shifters. A group of five 40 year-old-ish men were holding them, dressed in regular clothes, just chatting. I guessed it was my last chance to ask about cycling, and they seemed like they might be somewhat serious. After talking to them for a few minutes, I found out that they were on a club team that road mostly on the weekends, usually about 40 miles, sometimes through mountains. Again, it was all middle-age to older men, but they seemed nice enough. Once of them, nicknamed "Conejo¨(or "rabbit"), said he had several bikes that were my size, and the I could rent one from him for the time I was in Bolivia. Yay, things were looking up. He gave me a SCOTT bike, and it fit, and I liked it.

When I went to pick up the bike, Conejo asked me if I had ever heard of a velodrome. I mentioned that I had been on one in Chicago a few times, but never on a track bike. He told me I should take my roadbike to the velodrome that afternoon so I could maybe try track. It was more popular in Cochabamba, and much safer than riding on the city roads. Since I hadn´t been on a bike in about two weeks up until that point, I decided I could just show up and ride in circles and that would be better than nothing.

Once I got there, Conejo pulled me around for about 45 minutes at a pretty fast pace. The altitude was affecting me, but my legs were feeling strong. Once we finished, he led me over to meet the director of Cochabamba track cycling. The director asked me what experience I had and whether I´d be interested in track racing. They were having a race that day, and there was only one other girl signed up, and I could do it on my road bike. I figured it would be a good experience, so I signed up for two events: 500m sprint and a 3K individual pursuit. (Note: all of my track terminology is in Spanish, so if parts of this don´t make sense, that´s probably why.)


After the 500m event, I found out I came in only shortly behind the other girl. I was happy, since she specializes in track racing and I had a slow start. Then I did the individual pursuit and was happy to not have her pass me. Still, I lost to her in both events, as expected. I started messing around on a random track bike that belonged to the velodrome, and found that riding fixed gear bikes is pretty fun. While I was doing that, Conejo called me over. The director told me that this race was actually a qualifying race for Bolivia Track Nationals, and that I had qualified. Nationals was going to be the following weekend. I´d have to learn to ride a track bike, but if I did that I´d get a free Cochabamba kit and probably earn some points for the team. Obviously, I died.

I spent the next few days going to the velodrome after work and figuring out how to not fall on the track. By Tuesday I felt secure enough to do both events with the track bike, and told them Tuesday night I was in. I missed work Wednesday to train a little more. I woke up Thursday morning with my only hope being not to fall during the race.

I spent the morning napping and watching, since my events were in the afternoon. During our lunch break, I started warming up, feeling slow. At that point, nine of my friends showed up to cheer for me, and all of the sudden I started feeling some pressue. I kept wondering what I was doing at Bolivia´s Track Nationals, especially since I had gotten on my first track bike less than a week earlier, wasn´t Bolivian, and could barely pronounce my event names in Spanish. I felt especially out of place once the inauguration ceremonies began and I couldn´t sing the Bolivian national anthem nor recognize any of the provincial politicians that came out. Eventually, I decided it just was an experience and not a big deal. The race was running 3 hours late, but they finally called my first event, individual pursuit, and I went for it.

It was only nine laps, but it was the most exhausting 3K of my life. I´m not sure whether it was because my child-sized helmet was too small or because of the altitude, but I couldn´t breathe. After the first kilometer, I really didn´t think I would finish. Eventually I decided I couldn´t just get off the track at nationals, well, because it was nationals. I kept thinking I would either fall or finish. Finally, I finished.


Because of further race delays, they postponed my second event until the next morning. I couldn´t take another day off work, so I ended up just calling it a day.

Anyways, I met a bunch of locals, and had a lovely time. It was really random, but now I´m interested in track racing in the US. That was probably my first and last nationals experience in any country, but it was really fun, so I´m happy.