Alpenrose Thurs. Madison 7/20/6
Steven Beardsley offered to teach me how to madison and I accepted. I just always thought Molly would be my first. I thought it was in the stars. But Steveo’s been spending a lot of time with me lately. And he is just so nice. And he asked and asked and I just couldn’t say no anymore. We met early before almost anybody had showed up. We rolled out, I went ahead, I heard him say “hand” and I put my hand behind my hip. Then he had it in his, he came by me for a second, and then I went from 10 mph to 25 mph in about a quarter of a second. I involuntarily let out a falsetto “whahhh!” in surprise and exhilaration. After about 40 minutes of getting used to this, I reminded him, “You know you’re my first, right?” and the tenured track class teacher smirked behind his mirrored sunglasses, probably thinking of the countless times he’s heard that from countless bright-eyed track newbies. Now, I’m drinking a Busch Light, wondering where Molly Cameron is, what she’s doing, who she’s with, what she’s thinking about, whether or not she’s thinking of me and if she’s ever coming back.
So anyways, we raced the madison, and it’s hard. And, then, umm, I suck at throwing my partner in, because… umm, I have no upper body… umm…. strength. And then, umm, well, we, umm, won and then HOLY CRAP how am I supposed to think about anything but Floyd Landis???? We ride bikes, right? That’s, like, what we do: we go on rides. Today we saw The. Ride. It was THE bike ride to redefine what a bike ride could be. That was the single most perfect and beautiful symbiosis between a human and a bicycle in the history of the technology. He and his BMC climbed, they roared across the flats and they floated down the most treacherous descents like nothing bad could ever even possibly happen. And all the while, every last rider with a hope and a team was chasing him as hard as they could. I was telling Molly last night how bad I felt that I wasn’t sad that Floyd cracked. I should like the guy. He’s paid his dues, he’s shown he deserves the world, and, moreover, he doesn’t seem like an asshole, Lance. But when he cracked, I was intrigued, not disappointed. I was entertained, not mortified. He just rides so boring. He forces everyone else’s hand without showing his. I didn’t care. I was even pointing at the TV and joking that he had no idea what to do yesterday since there is no chapter in Lance’s playbook that says what to do if you crack and drop from 1st to 11th. But today he started his own book, and it clearly states in bold type: you get pissed. You get absolutely enraged that anybody in the world thinks they’re winning this… no, not “this”… YOUR Tour. You wake up and say, “I’m brutally murdering EVERYBODY and there’s no stopping me”. You throw Lance’s book to the fans that are gathered at the start line and then you get on your bike and then you straight up ride it faster than anybody else can ride theirs. Floyd Landis is the greatest cyclist alive, in the purest sense of the word.
So anyways, we raced the madison, and it’s hard. And, then, umm, I suck at throwing my partner in, because… umm, I have no upper body… umm…. strength. And then, umm, well, we, umm, won and then HOLY CRAP how am I supposed to think about anything but Floyd Landis???? We ride bikes, right? That’s, like, what we do: we go on rides. Today we saw The. Ride. It was THE bike ride to redefine what a bike ride could be. That was the single most perfect and beautiful symbiosis between a human and a bicycle in the history of the technology. He and his BMC climbed, they roared across the flats and they floated down the most treacherous descents like nothing bad could ever even possibly happen. And all the while, every last rider with a hope and a team was chasing him as hard as they could. I was telling Molly last night how bad I felt that I wasn’t sad that Floyd cracked. I should like the guy. He’s paid his dues, he’s shown he deserves the world, and, moreover, he doesn’t seem like an asshole, Lance. But when he cracked, I was intrigued, not disappointed. I was entertained, not mortified. He just rides so boring. He forces everyone else’s hand without showing his. I didn’t care. I was even pointing at the TV and joking that he had no idea what to do yesterday since there is no chapter in Lance’s playbook that says what to do if you crack and drop from 1st to 11th. But today he started his own book, and it clearly states in bold type: you get pissed. You get absolutely enraged that anybody in the world thinks they’re winning this… no, not “this”… YOUR Tour. You wake up and say, “I’m brutally murdering EVERYBODY and there’s no stopping me”. You throw Lance’s book to the fans that are gathered at the start line and then you get on your bike and then you straight up ride it faster than anybody else can ride theirs. Floyd Landis is the greatest cyclist alive, in the purest sense of the word.
posted by MCB at 1:02 AM
5 Comments:
RE: madison. I'm still a virgin. I'm waiting for the right person, though, despite your peer pressure--your taunts of fun, giggly, falsetto whooping victory. I have morals.
RE: Floyd. Agreed, though it was ouchie to see him toss one bike to the tarmac in favor of another on one climb. Disposable symbiosis, I suppose. No judgement here, though. If he can ride like that (and, uhh, he can), then he can toss off $8K bikes all he wants....JV
Let's just hope we don't see a TT meltdown a la' Riis or Rasmussen.
Then again, it would be amusing seeing a $10,000.00 BMC get thrown into a ditch.
What's up with no entries for over two weeks? There is a void in my life when I visit your page and it hasn't been updated. It's time to start drinking, racing and writing, in that order.
I agree with Aaron. And I better see your pink ass at the starting line at the Twilight crit so you can get dropped like the rest of us. Or at least be in the beer garden giving us feeds.
I agree with Aaron. And I better see your pink ass at the starting line at the Twilight crit so you can get dropped like the rest of us. Or at least be in the beer garden giving us feeds.
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