So Saturday morning I find myself sitting off the back of a giant group of ragtag cyclists pushing up Highway 1 on the California coast. From where I am sitting I can see just a sliver of the rider on the shiny red Trek bike at the front. He appears to be chatting up a storm and waving to anyone and everyone standing on the side of the road.
The tail-end of the group is made up of dude in an AC/DC jersey and a guy riding an “adventure” bike with a giant canvas seat pack, all being pulled along by the friendly guy on the front, retired pro peleton favorite Jens Voigt.
Jens appears to be perfectly happy sitting on the front, plowing into the scenic coastlines famous headwind and chatting with anyone brave enough to join him at the head of this less-than-pro paceline.
The night before, I was sent into San Francisco’s bustling financial district to shuttle Jens from a business meeting to his cottage in Mill Valley. I waited for him in the plush, dot-commie offices of FitBit as young casually-dressed and well quaffed FitBitters wandered in and out of the glass-encased conference room where Jens was meeting with his sponsor.
“Oh my god, he is such a nice guy,” mutters the young woman leaving the room.
“Totally,” says her co-worker.
And this is going to be the theme all weekend. He really is a profoundly nice human being.
He finishes his meeting with FitBit and after the third “just one more photo and then we will go,” we pack up. He grabs his bike, his backpack, another backpack filled with the newest toys from FitBit for him, his wife and his six kids. I mean, you should always bring something home for the wife and kids.
And he grabs a giant plate of foccachia sandwiches. “You don’t want to have food hanging out of your mouth while you’re talking to people,” explaining why he waited to grab a sandwich.
I ask him on the car ride across the Golden Gate Bridge if he is worried about ballooning up after retiring from the pro peleton, ala Eddie Merckx or Greg Lemond.
He says he has a theory about how after retiring you are just replacing your body muscle with non-muscle and so you can still look pretty good for the first year. But then you have to be careful.
He says he tries to watch what he eats and he stays away from drinks. “There are a lot of useless calories in beverages,” said Jens.
He thanks us profusely for the ride and you get the impression he actually means it. What a nice guy.
Fast forward to Saturday morning and I have joined about a thousand other people on the inaugural Jensie Fondo. I don’t figure I will actually run into Jens on this ride, but I am wrong.
At the start and at rest stops along the way, he is signing jerseys, race numbers, and taking photos with anyone and everyone.
“No. No. You just swipe up and the camera comes on. Then you can press the shutter and away you go,” said Jens. “It is super easy in case you want to get a quick photo of the kids when they are doing something cute.”
He explains how this doesn’t actually unlock your phone, but just lets you have access to your camera with a single swipe. “Yeah, you just press this little icon in the upper right corner and the camera switches around to selfie mode,” says Jens.
And this is how it is at every single rest stop.
I am asked by more than one person if other pros act like this on these charity rides and I have to say no. I have seen pros pose for photos and sign autographs, but I have never seen anyone with this much commitment. Or this much energy for the fans.
It is clear we all experienced something special that day. Jensies first fondo is not a massive event just yet. And so those who signed up for the inaugural spin got to experience the niceness first hand. They got a moment to not only see their hero, get an autograph and a photograph, but they actually got to ride with Mr. Nice Guy himself.
So as long as no one talks, we might all get the chance to grab his wheel, snap a photo, and get an autograph again next year.
Shut up, indeed.
