Fog

Giro Comments: I’m still finishing the tapes from last Saturday and Sunday –
1. Why does the OLN voice-over dude keep saying the “Mag-la-ia Rosa”? Do they have no-one in their production department who speaks Italian?
2. The climb over the Finestre (next to the last stage)- Dirt frickin’ roads! How cool is that? Real bike racing, not like that wussy race in France where every road is freshly paved.
3. The crowds at the top of Finestre – WOW! thousands of folks clinging to the top of the mountain, absolutely insane. Liggett summed it up perfectly “It’s like they’re clinging to the top of the world”.
4. With no disrespect to Mr. Armstrong intended, I am so looking forward to the post Lance era of cycling. This Giro has been absolutely tense, with DiLuca coming from nowhere to be a contender, Simoni being brilliant, and Paolo Salvodelli doing amazing things with a stripped-down Discovery Team.
5. Why is it that Italian cyclists have the best nicknames? “Il Falco” is about everything you could want in a nickname – the whole inspirational imagery (falcons), the Italian article (not just “Falcon”, but “the falcon”), and the echo of bad ’80’s euro-pop.
6. Bike racing beats the snot out of car racing because (given a few thousand dollars) you can run down to your local bike shop and pick up the exact same machine. No way could I pretend to be Michael Schumaker or Bobby LaBonte by heading down to the dealership.
7. The ProTour may be what kick starts cycling, especially with Armstrong’s retirement. Having more of the big guns at the big races grows interest, and being able to narrow down the field of names to follow makes the sport more accessible.
8. Am I the only one who laughs out loud when Phil and Paul do the promos for Bull Riding and bad reality TV?

in any case, if you haven’t watched it, Stage 19 was everything that could be imagined in a bike race – gorgeous day, fierce competition, breathtaking scenery, man vs. nature, the harmony of man and machine. Yeah. I’m going to get a lot of mileage out of this stage.

Salvodelli had a huge grin on the Sestriere, even though his lungs and legs had to be completely bursting. The beautiful thing about sport is that, even though my (slightly less than it used to be) fat butt will never even be worthy of carrying Salvodelli’s musette, I know exactly what was going through Salvodelli’s head, because the same thoughts were going through my mind today as I rode on Jamestown: “Wow, this is suffering. I cannot wait to get home and let the RBF know how I pulled through.”

Cool came back to New England today. It dawned clear and damp, then between 3 and 4, the fog rolled in off the North Atlantic. There was a pretty decent breeze blowing out of the south, so I parked at the soccer field and started out south, into the wind. The ride down to Beavertail was good – not really fast, but it was into the wind, challenging, and the legs felt decent.

Turning around and heading north, with the wind, was amazing. I had the spin going, had lungs that wouldn’t quit, and was loving life. Passed a guy going the other way just after the turn – he was on a decent bike, but looked like the 20 lbs ago version of me. Threw me a big wave, I waved back and flashed a bug-eating grin. I kind of wish I’d chased him down and told him about the RBF – he had the look– seemed like he had the general hunger to get fit, and he looked happy as a clam.

The three miles after the turn south back to the car were way too short. Bob Roll started screaming in my ear again, except this time he wasn’t telling me to ride it like I stole it. No, this time it was “Allez, Allez! Ride it like you own it!

Completely flew back up the short hill and into the parking lot, bug-eating grin intact. The 20 or so miles was done in 70 or so minutes, so pacing is coming back. I really ought to switch wheels, or get another computer magnet, I’m actually interested in times again…

Hope everyone else is running and riding like they own the course…

The Look

First, true confessions: I did not successfully complete my penance, unless a bath counts. Ah, well, such is life.

Saturday – great day! I ran the base perimeter. Somehow, on Friday night, the heat finally got turned on for the summer, and what had been a cold spring, with temps rarely hitting the 60’s, turned into bluebird skies and 80 degree weather. Ouch. I did not know it at the time, but I was running into the same wall Jon did. He did better with it than me, but hey, that’s life.

The run started off great – good stride, good legs, good breathing over some decently tough hills up from the gym, behind the Sub School officer training building, past the commissary, and over to the beginning of the perimeter trail. About halfway up the last long hill (as opposed to the steep hills that were still coming up), I ended up stopping for a while as base security pulled one of their trucks out of the ditch on either side of the road. After stopping, I was kind of thrown for a loop and never really got the rhythm back on the tough section of the run. But, the birds sang, the breeze blew, and the sun beat down on my ears. Life was good.

When I got home, the wife and kids were hanging out in the yard. I was starved after my run, so we ate an early supper. Then, I was able to talk my lovely wife into riding the bikes into town for dessert! She’s always been a gym/machine kind of person – cars and roads kind of spook her, so her agreeing to do the 5 miles each way was a big step. Especially since it meant spending at least some time in public with helmet hair!

The ride into town was great – the birds were still shining, the breeze was still blowing, and the sun still beat down on our ears, though a cool evening breeze was coming off the sound. We were locking up the bikes in the public parking on the Groton side, just off Main Street, and Melissa said “You know, that wasn’t bad at all.” My heart went pitter-pat…

On the way back, we made the turn back into the neighborhood, headed up the first small hill, and the next thing I know, Melissa’s up out of the saddle, and heading up the hill. I about died laughing (and I really mean died – dragging 100 lbs of boys and trailer up a hill really tests the whole VO2MAX thing) after she gives me the look.

Yeah, you cycling fans know which look I’m talking about: the one that Lance gave Jan

For you non-cycling fans, let me expound.

The 2001 Tour was where Lance Armstrong became Lance Armstrong and not just some American who’d won the Tour. Yeah, there was the whole cancer survivor thing, but 1999 and 2000 had been kind of weak tours overall. Armstrong taking those two – sure, the kid’s got potential, but let’s get him some real competition, and he’ll crack.

In 2001, the whole cycling world was in pretty good shape (at least they thought), Armstrong hadn’t had the best off-season, and all the big guns were firing. Stage 10 ended atop l’Alpe d’Huez, a classic climb. After bluffing like he was struggling up an earlier mountain in the stage, Armstrong and Ullrich were in the second group on the final climb, trailing Joseba Beloki (who biffed hard on a downhill in a later tour, breaking his pelvis and essentially ending his career) and Christophe Moreau, who at one time was the next great French Cyclist, and has since been replaced at least twice).

About 10 minutes from the finish, Armstrong looks over his shoulder, locks eyes with the German, and then ups his cadence and pulls ahead without breaking more of a sweat. On TV, it couldn’t have been clearer – Armstrong was looking to see what Ullrich had left, and inviting him to bring it. When he launched, Armstrong was gone and Ullrich didn’t even flinch.

In short order, Lance passes the two leaders, and wins the stage, takes a commanding lead in the Tour, and leaves no doubt that Americans, for the entire 20th century and into the 21st, have always been better at kicking butt in France than anyone.

Until that point, Armstrong, while surely to be listed among the best riders to win the Tour, hadn’t really established himself as a Great. With the Look, with the win on l’Alpe, and several other wins that year, Armstrong pedaled into legend.

In any case, the same look is what my lovely wife flashed me as we hit the smaller of the two hills approaching the house. And, like Ullrich, all I could do was sit there and take it.

Plus, I didn’t want to ralph delicious Kona Ice Cream.

So, I ended up with 2 hours of running (give or take), an hour on the bike, and no swim, but an hour in the bath. Close enough.

The old Trek frame and fork is repainted. I took both down to bare metal with aircraft stripper, steel wool, and elbow grease. The “aircraft stripper” is extremely important – I tried some other stuff from WalMart, and it worked like crap. Picked up the right stuff at Auto Zone, and the paint peeled off. The other trick is to only work a small part at a time – coat a tube, wait 15 minutes, rub off the paint, and move to another tube. If you don’t the stripper and paint dry back to the frame, and more stripper is required to get it loose.

Washed both with water. Primed both with auto primer, and sealed with primer sealer. I painted the fork using auto paint – it looks GRATE! The frame I did with Rust-Oleum, since I wanted a nice, bright blue, and there wasn’t auto paint in that color. Doesn’t look bad, but not quite so flash as the fork. I’ve hung both of them in the space with the furnace – warm, low humidity, should cure the paint really well. Later this week, I’ll smooth out any runs with fine grain sandpaper, and put on auto clearcoat. Should work fine.

In the future, though, I’ll probably try one of those places that strip and do Imron for $150 + shipping – this has been a PITA.

Proof of Concept

There’s not much more to be said about the Bluff Point Trail Race from Friday. I ran hard and finished without too much left in the tank. Could I have gone harder? Yes – there’s this guy in a blue shirt that passed me at about the 4 mile point who I trailed until the last water stop, but then let go who I think I really could have caught. Oh, and the high-school cross country runner who passed me right before the last water stop. But, I can’t be upset – I met my goals, met the Running Chicks, and had a great evening.

And it turns out I did tweak my left ankle on the absolute last bit of bedrock at about mile 3.5. Jake was down hopping on the bed at 7:01, just like every Saturday morning (He’s such a great kid – he’s got a wake-up time, just like he’s got a bed-time, and won’t get out of bed until his digital clock says “seven-oh-oh”. Though some mornings about 6:45 we hear a thump-thump-thump over to the bathroom, a flush, and some playing in the faucet as he washes his hands, gets a drink, gets another drink, etc. Then, he’ll sit and play quietly until 7, at which time he’s down the stairs like a shot.) I pretended to talk to him until the baby woke up, and about fell over when I put weight on it. It got better, though.

Saturday was complete and total rest. I went through the annual ritual of “Crap, new rock – let’s go get a new mower blade” thanks to frost heave. AND we had folks over for burgers and s’mores, courtesy of the trees I dropped last weekend. Mmmmmmm, s’mores. It was downright cold Saturday evening – everyone was huddled around the fire. Which is interesting with small children. Especially when they’re fascinated with new categories – “what will burn” and “what daddy will freak out over before I can see if it will burn”.

Today – I got the virtual elbow in the ribs from my wife (I was in the foyer with the baby and a runny nose) when the preacher mentioned how he was at peace with his 5 year old bike even though there were shinier ones out there. (Little does she know – I do still like my bike). Legs were feeling better, so after Jake and Melissa got back from a youth orchestra thing (she’s trying to get him the music bug, mostly by keeping him as far away from me as possible when I sing), I hitched up the trailer to the MTB and dragged Jake and Nate to downtown. We went and picked up a new helmet for Jake, gave his old one to Nate, and pitched the lid that was on its fourth baby. Then, we went to see the drawbridge, and to play on the playground downtown. Rock on.

Ride back was good. There’s still the one hill near the house which is absolutely brutal, but I managed to drag the trailer up, with two kids, and with the front deraileur unable to move the chain out of the center sprocket. Yeah, baby, I’ve got legs. Stats: Who cares? Probably about 5 miles each way, about 30 minutes each way.

Allez Allez Allez!

Came home after lunch today. Baby was down for a nap, boy was having a little quiet time since he was a bit cranky, and my lovely wife said “Hey, why don’t you take out the bike?” So I say … Well, I didn’t say anything, since I was OUT THE DOOR!

Headed up Pumpkin Hill Road towards Ledyard. Great temps, grey skies with sun breaks and occasional sprinkles. Rain that probably shouldn’t even be called rain – it barely even spotted the pavement.

In any case, it felt like I was hammering. Uphill for a couple miles; hung a right when Pumpkin Hill ran into Shewsville Road, and a left at Town something road, just before I got to the elementary school.

WOW! So I’d been going up-hill, right? Pretty consistently for a couple miles. The road was downhill, like steep enough to ski down; twisty, and probably 3/4 of a mile long. Man. Honestly, there were a couple of places where I was laying on the breaks out of fear of dashing my head upon a stone wall. Very nice; can’t wait to run it again.

That wasn’t quite all. Turned north again on some road I can’t recall, and continued on. Hit a relatively well traveled road, turned east and hit another HUGE climb. Dadgum. Almost clipped out to walk for a while, but ended up dragging myself up, without even bailing out to the 25 cog. I didn’t get to enjoy the downhill like I should have, since I wasn’t sure where the turn back south towards the house was going to be. Made it almost all the way to the casino – not a bad ride.

The road back south (Long Pond / Lantern Hill road) was all that and a bag of chips. The whole thing is along a couple of lakes sitting down in a valley that the glaciers gouged out 20,000 years ago, and features about a half mile or so on a cliff overlooking the lake. Very, very nice.

The ride back to the house was good but tough. There wasn’t a lot of wind, but enough to be apparent. Nonetheless, I was pushing, flying, and generally amazed at the sustained effort I was able to generate. When I was almost back, I hung a right, and kind of jogged northwest to add another couple miles. Great decision – the road kind of opened up into pasture land – verdant green, horses, good stuff.

Spring’s a hoot. I’d never really noticed before, but spring’s kind of like fall in reverse. As the leaves start coming out, there’s pale reds, yellows, greens – very nice. And it’s getting to the point where there’s an entire spectrum, separate from the regular spectrum that consists only of shades of green.

Great ride.

Next week should be fun. Work is going to be tough, but I need to put a couple of tough days in tomorrow and Tuesday, run easy on Wednesday, and either rest or ride easy so I can keep up with TRCWTOH and April-Anne on Friday. I’m psyched.

Allez Basso!

I haven’t checked the standings in the Giro other than catching the headlines at Google News (I am so digging on a customized Google News Page) and a scan of the cycling blogs I follow, so I’m not quite sure how Ivan Basso is doing. You may remember Basso from his stellar showing at last year’s Tour de France, where he accompanied Armstrong to most of the mountain finishes, and beat him soundly at the end of one stage. Basso seems to be an agreeable fellow, more so after I caught this VeloNews interview:

VN: Many believe you’re poised to win the Tour, so why race the Giro now?

IB: It’s not easy to win the Tour next year. I did a very nice Tour, a very strong Tour, but not near the win. I still lost five, six minutes to Lance; that’s a lot of time. I think it’s better to talk about winning the Tour when you arrive near the winner, not six minutes away. That’s a big difference. …

VN: What is your impression of Armstrong?

IB: He’s the strongest rider in the group. He’s incredible and he’s the best professional. I see him at least one more year as strong. Every year is not the same, but Lance is amazing. I have much respect for him because he is a very big professional.

VN: How is your relationship with him?

IB: With me, he’s a big man, because he helped me in the Tour and after the Tour with my mother. His foundation helped my mother. I never had a problem with Lance. The problem is the riders that don’t respect Lance – he won six Tours – the other guys, shut up.

There’s more good stuff, like his bit on CSC Director Sportif (think Manager/Coach) Bijarne Riis’ view of life: “The most important thing is the confidence in yourself. That’s what Bjarne teaches us, then it’s no problem. You have to believe in yourself always. I focus on what I have to do, train, race, rest, it’s all okay. This is where has Bjarne has helped me a lot. He’s helped me so much with his philosophy. You believe in yourself always. You have to be a killer, but it’s not possible to change like this to that so fast.” Stuff like that is why I love cycling – most of the riders get “it”, the necessity for the long slog and hard work.

(And this would be a perfect place to rehash the classic Lance Armstrong quote – “People keep asking me what I’m on. You want to know what I’m on? I’m on my bike six hours a day, busting my ass. What are you on?”)

Skipped the run today, but had an absolutely beautiful ride yesterday. Temps in the low 60’s, bluebird skies, and strangely, no wind. Did about 12 miles in about 40 minutes, which is cooking pretty well. I was at a meeting near the Aquarium; headed over to Stonington via various back roads, then headed back to Mystic proper on US 1, crossed the drawbridge, absolutely FLEW down River Road on the Groton side with visions of LeMond on the Champs Elysses and either the 2003 or 2004 TdF Team Time Trial where they headed down the Normandy Coast running through my head, then turn around at Old Mystic and back to the Aquarium.

Great ride, but I ended up wishing I’d started by heading up to Old Mystic and taking the rt. 214? hill south-east out of town. The climb’s a bear (It’s the one I posted pics of last year), but the more often I do it, the more often I want to do it, just to see if I can do it faster or in a bigger cog. What a great feeling.

What are you on?

Dueling Sunsets

I have taken the most extraordinary pictures of sunset this evening but alas the margin of this blog is too small to contain them…

Sorry, it made me chuckle. But then, I’m a math kind of guy.

I really did intend to post east coast sunset pictures tonight to do kind of a dueling banjos kind of thing with Jeff, but I cannot find the cable to connect my camera to my computer. I’m not quite sure the pics from tonight are going to come out, but it doesn’t matter. Not one tiny bit.

I’m still a little strapped at work, but my head’s above water, not just my nose. I’d only done one extra night at the office, mainly because I needed to decompress a bit, but also because I got a revised schedule that does not include my getting a peptic ulcer. I was going to head straight to the office late this afternoon after I finished up with my client today. But, it’s drill this weekend, and supposed to rain Saturday and Sunday again to boot, and the grass has been growing like crazy. So, I swung by the house to chew on some pasta salad and cut the lawn. The lawn ended up being festive – the five year old was chasing me, then running away when I’d swing around for the next stripe, and baby and mommy were playing in the swing. Finished up (ahem, you ran out of gas with about a quarter of the back yard to go, says the wife) at bathtime, and while Missy went to tuck the kids in, I headed off to the office.

Via Bluff Point. I got to the parking lot just as the sun’d gone below the horizon. Hit the trail toting just the camera. And almost instantly felt just plain good.

Everything Tuesday’s run was, today’s was the exact opposite. The muscles felt loose, the ground was rising up to meet my feet, my breathing was good. Cosmic alignment, I’m guessing.

I’d left the iPod in the car, so had nothing but my thoughts to keep me company on the trails. Oddly enough, my mind turned to music, specifically meter. I’ll preface this by saying I couldn’t carry rhythm in a bucket, and my knowledge of music theory stops after trebel clef, bass cleff, and “This one goes to eleven”. But, while planning this entry in my head, I thought back to one of the runs last year at Pequot Woods where I’d mentioned that jazz went best with trail running, since both involved improvising around a regular meter. In Jazz, it’s called swing; in running it’s called trying not to trip.

Anyway, the thought tonight was in musical development. I started wondering why most “popular” music throughout the ages – rock, R&B, blues, even many hymns – had 2/2 or 4/4 time. The question popped up just as I’d come to a flat, wide section of the trail, and a song had popped into my head, and my feet were providing the bass drum line. Hmmm, go figure – most people used to walk a lot; it’s the rhythm in their heads.

So I started thinking about waltzes. Not sure if it’s accurate, but I associate them kind of with something-teenth century European aristocracy. And I started wondering – maybe they spent lots of time on a horse galloping from place to place. And started hearing and picturing a gallop in my head – front feet, back feet, glide, and hearing how that could work out to be 3/4 time.

I’m sure I’m smoking crack, but it was an interesting thought experiment.

As I came around the point and started heading back to the car, something lifted. I was leaning forward, and somehow, I was running FAST. I did it for a while, and started expecting the usual lung ache, gasping, pounding heart, etc, that I get at this speed, but there was just a nice, measured effort. clearly I had more in the tank. Good stuff.

I’m logging 5 miles for the day since i mowed.

Oh, and it is springtime in Connecticut – ran through some tall grass, and found two deer ticks in the shower.

OH, and to put the icing on the cake: I got a cool, cool, Einstein Brother’s Bagels jersey off of EBay today. Dig the pics:

Failure

Yet strangely, I mark the week as an enormous success :)

I didn’t run today, so I’m capped at 15 or so for the week running miles.

Today dawned grey, and stayed that way through lunch. About 1, the baby was asleep, and I knew I had to bite the bullet and do something. Been following the Tour de Georgia all week, so I threw on the shorts and jersey and jumped on the bike. And as I dropped down the hill towards the New London turnpike, the clouds broke, and the sun came out.

Today was climbing. Took Pequot Trail up (way up) and out of Old Mystic, then looped down past Mystic reservoir and down to RT 1. Stayed on the coast to Groton Long Point, and took the long climb up to RT 1, quick downhill past the church, and a climb up Flanders Road to Yetter and back home. Quality ride – 1 hour, 17 miles.

The Forerunner let me down – between hills and trees, it was not keeping a good GPS signal, and listed 11 miles when I hit the driveway. Bleh.

In other news, today’s Liege-Bastigone-Liege was a schweet race. First, Liege is a great town – they’ve got these waffles that are freaking great – super sugary so you don’t need anything on them. They’re kind of doughy instead of battery, and they’re served straight off the iron. Yum.

The race had a great conclusion – Jens Voight (CSC) and Alexander Vinokourov (T-Mobile, hence known as Vinko) broke away about 50 km from the end and stayed away til the end, over some pretty decent climbs. Both long-time, hard-working riders, both worked hard to keep the break away. Vinko took the sprint. Wow. The other eye-opener was Caldel Evans, former MTB racer turned roadie, leading the attack off the last climb to try to catch Voight/Vinko. He ended up coming in fifth after dragging a couple other guys, but watching him make the last climb made me realize that I’ve got to have another level down to which I can dig the next time I feel tapped out.

Hope everyone else had a great weekend, too. Sounds like Jon’s luck has turned. And the news isn’t so bad – the local coverage ended with a skydiving accident in Halifax and a boat fire (like a 20′ power boat) in Florida. Not to make light of the misfortune of others, but if we’re heading hundreds of miles north and south to find something bleeding, life is good here.

Wuss

Is what Houston Bill would be calling New England Bill. (New England Bill would counter “lardass”, but that’s neither here nor there)

Why all the harshing? ‘Cause today was hot. Seems like we jumped straight into summer. Lunchtime run was 5 miles in about 43 minutes in a temp of about 80 degrees. I wanted to do the 5.4 that I did last Tuesday, but the relative heat really did a number on me. Blah. Still it’s a 5 mile run at better than a 9 minute pace, so I’ll keep it. ‘Especially since I’ve only got 4 days left to run 15 miles to hit 20 for the week.

Tuesday was a rest day after Monday’s bike ride. As pumped as I was after the ride, I didn’t realize how much it’d taken out of me until I started waking up Tuesday morning. I wasn’t sore, just really, really tired. I grabbed a decent breakfast (coffee and granola bars), and headed out the door. By 10 I was starving. Like crazy hungry. I was hungry all day – must have really tapped into fat stores by pressing past my typical endurance threshold and going about 90 minutes instead of my regular 40. Again, I wasn’t sore, per se, but I was starved. I did avoid the monster, though.

Five is still the new three – today’s run, while tough, was not a huge stretch. Tough, but just right.

Responses: Jon – I do the shorts and jersey for much the same reason I do running shorts and shoes when I run. Good gear takes away at least one excuse. I do not, however, go whole hog for current team kit. Why? ‘Cause I’m cheap. I’ve got a couple of beer jerseys, a UTexas jersey (family connections, not that I went there), and a couple of jerseys from the team I rode with in Houston. I am, however, thinking of picking up a Kappa/Saeco 2004 jersey
1) It’s got trucker chicks on the sleeves
2) Saeco makes coffee makers. I like coffee
3) I was a Kappa (frat boy) in college
4) Cippolini rode for Saeco. Gilberto Simeoni rode for Saeco. Cunego rode for Saeco.
5) My shiny road bike is a Cannondale
6) Saeco’s not sponsoring the team any more, so it’s like a Houston .45’s or Brooklyn Dodgers jersey.
7) Did I mention they make coffee makers?

Susan rocks. Running to the gym is oh-so-much-cooler than driving. (But driving still beats the snot out of sitting on the couch)

Warren – I’m pretty aggressive about “On your left”-ing as appropriate. And as a rule, I avoid “multi-use” paths when cycling. Multi-use is f’n hazardous, especially when you’re talking orders of magnitude differences in speed such as between bikes and runners/walkers especially. My gripe was about peds randomly wandering off the sidewalk onto an actual street, like in a downtown kind of area. In the case of your running group, a stick to the spokes (of the rear wheel for safety’s sake) would likely be appropriate if there was no warning.

Chris – sucks to be you :). Lance? I’m really not disappointed that he’s retiring. He won the Tour six times. As I see it, he had two choices: retire, or go completely psycho this year and next and try to do a year in the mold of Eddy Merckx, trying to win everything from the spring Classics to the Giro, the Tour, and the Vuelta. While I am completely amazed at his drive and success, and could care two shakes if he’s really a jerk or not, and admire his contributions both to the cancer community and cycling in general, Armstrong’s continued presence in cycling brings the words of Kevin Costner in Bull Durham to mind: “Strikeouts are boring, and besides that they’re facist. Throw some ground balls. They’re more democratic.” What that means, I don’t know, but it seems appropriate.

Tyler – Frankly, this breaks my heart. First, it took the USADA way to long to rule on the case. Second, there’s a decent amount of dissent to his 2 year suspension. BUT on the whole issue of doping, I’m completely in favor of failing really conservative. IMO, it’s better to ban some innocents with freaky blood from sport than to risk letting some cheats through. Yeah. Register all the mutants. In any case, it’s not like sport is something that requires equal access – by definition, almost everyone in the world is excluded from being a professional athlete by some genetic reason. I’d still like to think that Tyler is innocent – I cannot fathom someone making as big a deal out of charitable foundations as he or Lance do, hold himself out as a poster child for youth racing, etc, and risk staining all the people he touches by cheating. Call me naive, but people that evil just do not exist in my America.

Lee – Sorry for leaving you out. Warren’s really got me thinking about the whole ped thing and wondering if I’ve been one of those riders who turn people off from cycling. And I really hope not.

He’s completely right, though, that the responsibility for looking out and avoiding conflict really does fall on the cyclist. I don’t know that you need baseball cards in your spokes, or a bell or horn, but do be vocal early. And I’d even recommend taking some time to learn how to jump curbs, ride on grass/gravel/dirt, and even practice taking a dive off the bike at a decent speed to avoid hitting pedestrians.

TTFN!