yeah, I've been riding too

The last few days have been uneventful. Pedaling in circles by myself is just that thrilling. Headwind, tailwind, hills, cornering all on a ride.

It's also that time of year a cyclist's imagination can be a good training aid. By cyclist I mean roadie. By imagination I mean fantasies. By training aid I mean a means of motivation when you're grinding miles by yourself.

It was 3 years ago when it happened. It was mid-June and I'd been out in western Dane County riding solo and was on my way back through Cross Plains. What little energy I had left I put into reeling in various other cyclists. I wasn't traveling at warp speed but then they weren't either. As I rounded the corner at the base of Old Sauk Pass Road I saw a rider in a US Postal jersey. I suffered through the climb but hadn't gained much ground by the top. I hammered the flat and carried as much momentum up the brute of a climb on Timber Lane. I reduced the gap to maybe 100 yards on the downhill of Old Sauk and was slowly gaining as I big ring climbed. I was feeling better as I came up behind him, but I eased up and tried to ride silently as I began to hear his "conversation."

Okay Lance, *heavy breath* the break is just up the road *heavy breath* beyond the rise. *heavy breath* You just sit there *heavy breath* and I'll pull you up to them. *heavy breath* When we get there *heavy breath* you attack them hard.

I had to try really hard not to laugh.

As I pulled along side him he gave me a mortified look, knowing I'd just heard every word. I smiled and said "Viva Pantani" as I put a little more into a few pedal revs and pulled away. I'm pretty sure he soft-pedaled a bit and let me go.

I'm sure he's not the only roadie to fantasize while riding. C'mon now, I know I've done it, you must must have too. Unfortunately he got caught in the middle of a good one.

Last night I found the Evil Cycling site. Zeke is Evil when he's not flying the BKB colors One of the Evil missives is as follows...

...But let's get one thing straight: even though the L'Equipe 1999 EPO story is, in my opinion, a witch hunt, there's just no way he did what he did without cheating. No fucking way you do that year in, year out, putting out that kind of wattage, with overall speeds continuing to rise, on just training and technology. Ask Greg LeMond. If you think Lance is clean (or any of them in the top 100 are) you're a fucking idiot. You probably also think we went to war to save the Iraqi people from a vicious dictator, and that God exists. That being said, Lance is still superior, drugs and all. They're all on something and Lance still decimates them. Does the Discovery/US Postal crew have access to better drugs? Is it the Bristol Myers Squibb arsenal of chemists that's making the super good shit? Maybe they're crossed the threshold and just know how to dope on a better level. Who knows. But if you took all the juice out of the peloton, Lance would still stomp on everyone. So, just give up like I have. Take it as face value. I coin the oft-used analogy that cycling is now like Pro Wrestling. Just take it with a grain of salt, and understand you're being duped when you watch the big guns at the big races. Just know that we'll be watching, giggling, and laughing all the way. Hey, you're on EPO and god knows what, we're on Pabst Blue Ribbon and pot. So who's worse? Who are we to talk? God, I hope they're talking shit about us. I know they are, in certain circles. Again, we'll be watching, we're fucking everywhere. The sport, with its millions of dollars and huge fan base, will continue to purport itself as reality and continue to hush up the whistle blowers and truth tellers, and continue to look up the chimney at what they think is Santa's big fat ass. Whatever."

Without working myself into a similar frenzy I gotta agree.

Let's get back to Mr Roarke's method of training. Yesterday I found myself on the same road recalling the ride 3 years earlier. It was then it dawned on me I haven't been fantasizing this year, but why? As I rolled through town I surmised it most likely due to my dissatisfaction with the current state of affairs in what is professional road cycling. Where have the heroes gone? Are they waiting in line at the pharmacist? What has happened to the soul of road cycling? The spirit of cycling was in men like Cipollini, Jalabert, Pantani, Roche, Delgado, Chiappucci and Virenque.

As the TdF has lost passion in it's stages, I've lost the passion to watch. Gone is the day of careful VCR programming to record the stage while at work, working, a training ride and a late evening watching the stage "live." Gone is the summer spent driving in Wyoming and Montana only to spend an extra hour looking for a hotel or bar (and bribing the bartender) with OLN. Simply gone.

The tour needs passionate men... without radios in their fucking ears. Fucking Motorola assholes.

I'm doing fine without them in my head on training rides, but for the sake of the sport this shit has gotta get resolved.

Viva Pantani!