Life On Two Wheels

Along the river and toward the mountains a morning shadow shimmers across the road. The rays of the first light jet through the trees and across a figure gliding upon the road. His breath trails in short spurts, petrified as it hits the icy air. All is quiet except the slight sound of the athlete as he summons himself for yet another days work. Soon the rest of the world will bustle with life as well and the brief simplicity of cyclist and nature will disappear into the everyday struggle of life in full motion; the errands and intervals, the appointments and intersections, and the deadlines and finish lines OutPaceTheRace

Friday, March 21, 2008

I don’t cry no more, don’t look to the sky no more…

… and then I moved into the new apartment. It’s great, it gives a feeling of home in an otherwise foreboding alien place. In fact, I don’t mind it at all. The location’s perfect with 12 cafes within 10 meters and four grocery stores plus a dozen odd meat shoppes and dealerships… not to mention the underground gun running facility and the local gangsta’s paradise. No seriously though, most of the people are from Morocco/Egypt/Iran* and walking outside past 8 is dangerous. But aside from that it rocks, doing life behind bars never sounded so good.
…and then I did this race called Paris-nice. It has a great name but it’s not for the solemn of soul. It throws the wrath of hell at you everyday, so if you’ve ever done anything bad in your life you’ll be left repenting. The first three days everyone was walk’n around with a chip on their shoulder and a clip at their waist… anyone who moved was covered in blood. I had never done a race where not once during the 8 stages did I finish with the front bunch, but there’s always got to be a first… and I fear it may not be the last. The true definition of sporting finally revealed itself. If someone thinks dog fighting should be illegal, then… how can this not be? Certainly it’s inhumane… but? Okay. Enjoy your Easter.

*according to the Boston Globe, 92.8 percent of the south side of Girona, Spain is from Morocco, Egypt or Iran.

Sunday, March 02, 2008

This is life, this is what I know...

Girona, Espana
Until now

Time has come and gone and the world has changed so much since the last time I stopped to take a look around. I went home for such a short period of time to train for the tour of California that the last 3, 4 or however many weeks went by without a second glace. Brilliant how time flies when you’re not paying attention. Then all of a sudden I’m down in Solvang riding the tt course, spending time in the sun and confronting the reality of the moment… the off-seasons over, training camp is gone, the Bahamas flew by like it’s been years since… and the first big race of the year is front and center… again. The weather in Solvang for our little race was fantastic and I haven’t a regret about it. The tour of California went by well, it was too bad we didn’t catch Levi on the way into Santa Rosa, but that’s life. Maybe in the future he’ll be chasing us!? Regardless, it went great and I think we were all pleased/surprised about the outcome; and certainly more people than not are excited for the year to come. Following California I went home for two speedy days before boarding the flight to Barcelona- one of which was as miserable as any flight I’ve been on, though the flights themselves were logistically spot-on. Unfortunately 12 hours in the air is generally grim regardless of the logistics. Since landing I’ve been bouncing around waiting for my apartment to open so I can start living a normal life. Odd isn’t it that my first apartment would be in Spain? I’ve got a week to settle down, relax and ready for Paris-Nice, the biggest race of yet, but more to come.

Keep'n it real

Ya'll gonna make me act a fool? up in here? Provost, 0-85 in 10 seconds.