Posts from — May 2007

So, my fabulous weekend came to an abrupt halt this morning, quite literally. As I was flying though the air, I thought, yep, weekend’s over. Lemme back up a bit.

I was riding to work, about to join the Foothills bike path when this dude making a right onto the Boulder Creek Path decides he’s just going to use the entire bike path to make his turn. Problem was, I was thinking I might just use the right half of the path myself.

We collided, I went flying up and over him and ended up on my back, thinking “what the hell just happened?” By the time I got to the office I was a little light headed and was starting to sense that I’d done some things that are definitely gonna hurt in the morning, and the collection of scrapes and bruises all over my body are testament to that. Worse than that is my right index finger, which apparently acted as cushioning for my brake lever when it slammed into the other bike. It’s swollen, purple and stings like hell, four hours after the incident. Gonna go get it looked at, I think.

I hope the other guy is alright. He seemed fine, but so did I at the time. My trusty On One commuter bike is fine; the front wheel is a little out of true and the saddle lost some leather, but otherwise it’s ready for more action.

I also think Boulder is rubbing off on me; instead of ripping him a new one for ruining my morning, I showed genuine concern for the guy, even after he fully admitted the crash was all his fault. If this was Jersey, I’d have been spewing expletives before I’d even landed.

What a bunch of idiots these guys are. With the Floyd Landis Show currently unfolding at Pepperdine University, complete with tales of Greg LeMond’s weenie and an obsfucatory defense that would make Johnnie Cochran proud, now it appears that Oscar Pereiro — the man who finished second to Landis in the 2006 Tour de France and the man who stands poised to claim a belated yellow jersey if Landis is proven guilty of cheating — is also mixed up in the Operation Puerto scandal, the scandal that has already forced Jan Ullrich out of the sport and brought Ivan Basso into the darkest point of his career (and hopefully will rid the sport of Tyler Hamilton once and for all).

Doping has been going on for years, this much is clear. For me, the wake-up call was in 1990 when I read A Rough Ride, by Paul Kimmage. Kimmage, a former pro, saw first hand what was going on and was one of the first to come out (after retirement) and say how dirty the sport of cycling was. But business as usual remains the order of the day, and it only seems to have gotten worse. The Festina affair and then Marco Pantani have come and gone, and then the biggest mess of all: Operation Puerto blows up the ‘06 Tour, and then Landis with the manufactured testosterone coursing through his veins.

Puerto is kicking some major ass; Ullrich, Basso, Hamilton. And now with Perriero implicated, we have the loser-was-doing-it-too scenario. Which begs the question, “where does it end?” It sure as hell seems like no one is clean in the sport. And what pisses me off is that they all take us for a bunch of fools, with their explanations for all these drug test failures. Landis has the Jack Daniel’s defense, Hamilton has the hilarious chimera defense. But so far my favorite is the latest from Pereiro:

“…if I have to use DNA to demonstrate my innocence, I will leave cycling, because it’s obvious that cycling like that isn’t worth it.”

Cycling like what? Like an honest competitor? Like a guy who has nothing to hide? Or do you mean cycling under a system that has an ironclad method of catching all the dopers? Yeah, proving you’re not an outright cheater (and a contract violator and a fraud) via a simple drug test, remaining in the sport you supposedly love, getting paid to race a bicycle — just isn’t worth it. What an ass.

I don’t know what the answer is — and cycling sure as hell isn’t the only sport that is completely suffused with drugs — but I’m just sick and tired of these guys offering lame-ass excuses for their results. In some ways, Ullrich has shown more stones by “retiring” than any of these other guys with their nonsense.

This morning I went for a ride in the mountains, an activity I have just recently started doing and I realize I am remiss in reporting on here. Suffice to say, it’s amazing. All the splendor of the mountain scenery that I witness when I go hiking, plus high speed descents and the camaraderie of the road. Opportunities for nature spotting abound; often there are raptors circling high above the canyons I ride in, and occasionally one can see a deer up on a hill, or a squirrel will dart out across the road. A couple of weeks ago I even saw a fox run cross the bike path with breakfast in his mouth. But today, I was treated to an even more unique nature experience. Today, as I started ascending Left Hand Canyon Road on my way to Jamestown, I caught a glimpse of a black bear. Actually, it was a really fucking good glimpse. Specifically, I almost hit him.

I was riding along, minding my own business, when I heard a rustling in the bushes just up ahead and to the right side of the road. As I searched the area of the rustling, imagining a rabbit or squirrel was about to make an appearance, this brownish furry mass just exploded out of the bushes and lumbered onto the road. He was dripping wet — must have just taken a dip in the stream that I was currently riding over — and he seemed about as surprised as I was: he, to be standing in the middle of the westbound lane of Left Hand Canyon Road, and me, to be staring broadside at a black bear that was about as big as my Volkswagen and galloping across the street about 15 feet in front of me. I hit the brakes for a second, but since it appeared he was determined to make it across the street, I picked a line behind the bear, between his ass and the edge of the road and — this is the slow motion part — I rode right behind the galloping bear as he made his way across the street. If I’d reached out real far I could have touched him as I passed. This didn’t seem like a great idea.

Luckily I was going uphill; I was only going about 15 miles an hour, so I didn’t have to hit the brakes too hard to avoid hitting him. But if I was coming down the hill and he’d come out from that side of the street, things would have been very different. Food for thought.

Another Colorado memory that I will remember forever!

Well, what the hell do you know. One of my little old blog posts has been quoted in the Wall Street Journal!

Something tells me that a lot of WSJ readers who may ultimately ferret out my website will not be entertained by the majority of my content, however…

Well, we’re back. Got back last night, after 23 hours of westbound travel. Emma was initially delighted to see us, then she pretended to be pissed off, but then she woke us up every two hours throughout the night to purr her happiness. Today I dug out from two email piles — work and personal — and went for a bike ride. I missed the mountains.

I loved the city of Paris, the Orsay Museum and the Chartres Cathedral. Steak tartare, camenbert and wine from the south of France. Loads to talk about and pictures to process. I hope to post something soon. For now, this:

Today Brenda & I celebrate seven years of marriage. Tomorrow, we head to Paris. That’s all for now. I need to pack.