Thanks, Mr. Bush!

It's so nice to be an American abroad. Everyone gives me the benefit of the doubt. Everyone asks eager questions about my homeland. Everyone bends over backwards to make me feel welcome!

Thanks, Mr. Bush!

The graffito at left was on a strange little structure at the top of the "Coll de Rates" (prounounced, very appropriately, "RATS"). To be fair, the "tourists" in this part of Spain are overwhelmingly British, so perhaps this little bit of venom is as much directed at our English friends as at us Yanks. Perhaps.

Anyway, for the three of you that are keeping tabs on this blog, I thank you, and I apologize for not keeping it up quite as regularly as I'd hoped. A reliable internet connection is very difficult to come by. (Our hotel ostensibly has a wireless router, but it works maybe 10 percent of the time. Let's hope it's viable when I click "publish.") There's a local internet cafe, but the machines are ancient and I have no way of uploading pictures to the blog (I realize pictures are really the only thing that makes this blog worth the bandwidth).

One of the reasons I haven't felt super compelled to do daily updates is that they would all read quite similarly. Tuesday: "Another beautiful day here in Spain. The riding was fantastic. Really tough climbs across a couple of mountain passes. Legs ache but in a good way." Wednesday: "Another beautiful day here in Spain. The riding was fantastic. Really tough climbs across a couple of mountain passes. Legs ache but in a good way." Thursday: "Good work, Westly. Well done. I'll most likely kill you in the morning." Etc. Plus it seems a bit mean to write about the heavenly weather when most of my friends and family are suffering through another east-coast February. So I'll not write, AGAIN, about how amazing it is here. I'll not.

Peta continues to impress with her uncanny strength and ridiculous natural talent. At right, she takes a brief rest at the top of the "Rates." Later during this ride, she attacked a guy who'd be a really good Cat 3 in the states. He was not about to let a woman get away (know the type?), but it took him a good while to catch her. That's my girl. :)

Okay, enough for tonight. Thanks for reading, as always. More soon if the wireless gods allow.

--DvB

Two rides down, two legs tired . . .

The photo at left is from yesterday's ride to Moraira, a really nice little coastal town with some fantastic outdoor cafes (one of which served as our lunch spot). Yesterday was a mild intro to this region's riding, as we basically hugged the coast and stayed on the flatlands. We rode from Albir, to Altea, to Calpe, to Moraira, up one serious (9%) climb to Teulada, then back down to Moraira (for lunch), then back down the coast to Albir. Fifty or so relatively easy miles, with one "lump," (about two River Roads back-to-back, with another 2% of grade thrown in for good measure). Peta was, as expected, a rock star. Four of us guys (we thought) were playing cat-and-mouse near the end of the ride, attacking each other while basking in the feeling of still-fresh legs. Then out of nowhere . . . WHOOSH . . . Peta flies by, making us look positively stupid. She's become quite popular here with the cycling nerds.

Today, we ventured inland and hit some pretty serious climbs. Did the same 9% lump as yesterday, then crossed two more ridges (one gave us a 10%, 1.5-mile toughie) before a brief rest stop in Denia. On the way back we did the type of climb that's hard to find in NY Metro area. It wasn't TOO intense (less than 6% on average), but it lasted for a good 35 minutes. All told, we did about 70 miles in a little over four hours. Not bad considering the terrain. Thankfully, I remembered to eat today, so I didn't bonk. Went through four 1-liter bottles of sports drink, a package of Cliff Shots, a package of GU, and a package of some weird European cookies. Whatever . . . they did the job.

Anyway, time for rest. Tomorrow is another big day. Slightly fewer miles, but bigger climbs. I'll keep showing off the OrganicAthlete kit with pride!

--DvB

Quick hello from España

Hello teeming millions:

Just a quick hello from Albir, España (the actual town in which we´re staying). I was hoping to upload some pictures of today´s ride (which was gorgeous), but we´re having computer issues.

Suffice it to say that I understand why so many European pro cyclists live around here. It´s just a cycling Mecca. Today it was sunny, 75 degrees, and we had amazing views of the Mediterranean Sea pretty much the whole time.

Anyway, more soon. I´ll post pictures, details about today´s ride, and summaries of all our subsequent rides, when I´m not using a 1988 IBM PC-XT at the local internet cafe. Until then, adiós!

--DvB

FLOYD!

First of all, let's get it out of the way that yes, Duke lost to arch-rival UNC Wednesday night. All Duke naysayers, rejoice, blah blah. But my Blue Devils worked their butts off, and it was a hard-fought, clean, well-played game. The Dukies should be proud of their effort, and Carolina should be proud to have beaten them. Wait 'til next time, as they say. And I'd hate to be Maryland right now (Duke's next foe, this coming Sunday).

Lucky for me, I took something before the game to dull the pain. What's the wonder drug? I got to meet, shake hands with, and joke around with, a Tour de France champion. How many people can say that?

Floyd Landis came to New York (Brooklyn) Wednesday, as part of his "Floyd Fairness Fund" fundraising efforts. I'm normally not easily star-struck, but I admit it: I just couldn't get over the fact that I was 10 feet away from a Tour de France champion -- and one responsible for one of the most legendary rides in the race's history. Awesome stuff.

There was a "town hall"-type question-and-answer session, which went on for quite a while. Floyd answered all questions with his usual candor, eloquence, and wit. He's clearly a bright guy, and having spent time with him only makes me more certain that he indeed raced clean. Some of the questions he fielded were a little uncomfortable, such as one from a supposed European journalist asking pointed questions about his financial situation. (For the record, he answered it straight and reported that without generous outside help, he'd be bankrupt inside of several months.) Some questions were quite passionate, such as that from an avid cycling fan who said that though he believed Floyd won the Tour fairly, he was disappointed that Floyd didn't display anger -- even rage -- when initially faced by the press with allegations of cheating. Floyd's response, which sounded decidedly unrehearsed and sincere, was basically: What's the point of getting angry at the questioner? People in the press were just doing their jobs. At the time the controversy erupted, he said he was just as confused as anyone else. He was trying to make sense of it like everyone else. He knew he raced clean, so he felt there must be a mistake and that things would work themselves out.

Prior to the meeting, I felt much the same way as the questioner: I really wanted to believe Floyd, but I needed a stronger denial -- not a "non-denial denial," like those made famous in All the President's Men. I too was bothered that Floyd didn't have fire in his eyes, and venom in his voice, while staring at the camera and saying, "I didn't do it." But maybe I'm just used to that response because that's how a certain other American cyclist always did it. And in retrospect, I now see Floyd's response as much more like that of an innocent man. Maybe I'm just blinded by his heroics, but the more I learn about the science, about the behavior of the lab in question, and about Floyd himself, the more innocent he appears.

After the Q&A there was an auction, through which one could bid on items that Floyd would personally sign. There were the usual jerseys and posters, but there was some clever stuff, too. For example, a bottle of Jack Daniels. And a book called High Impact Quotations, edited by -- you guessed it -- one Richard W. Pound. Guess who won THAT auction! (Floyd was great when I had him sign the book -- he laughed and immediately said, "Here, let me fix that." He grabbed the book out of my hand, and with his sharpie he deftly crossed out the "Richard" on the cover and wrote in D-, well, let's say, a not-unusual nickname for "Richard. " He was hilarious.)

Great way to get psyched and inspired for a week-long training camp that's gonna kick my butt.

Looking nice in A'town!

Alicante is looking like the place to go to escape my seasonal affectiveness disorder (SAD). (Link courtesy of Brian.)

Countdown to Alicante

Only four days until our next adventure (that's Peta and me posing in a Maori village in New Zealand last year).

We're going to Alicante, Spain, for a week+ of training at Marcel Wust's cycling camp. Really looking forward to escaping the arctic freeze that's gripping NYC (and much of the northeastern corner of the country).

The trip marks a lot of firsts for us. We've never traveled by plane with our bikes before. We've borrowed cargo crates from two very generous friends of ours. I'll post any lessons-learned from the process of disassembling/boxing up our bikes. Anyone flown their bikes on American Airlines before? Are they in any way accommodating? We're figuring to have to pay about $80, each bike, each way, for the privilege.

Neither of us has ever done a training camp before. Luckily this one has three rides per day, of varying length and difficulty, so hopefully we'll be able to keep up with at least ONE of the groups. I'd been getting in lots of good training with all those warm weekend days we saw in January. But lately I've been limited to spin classes, stair climber sessions, and the weight room. We'll see what happens . . .

Finally, for me, it'll be my first visit to Spain. Peta's an old pro, but I've never been. The only other European countries I've yet visited are England, France, Switzerland, and Czech Republic. After Spain, Italy and Belgium will hopefully be next on the list.

Okay, back to lunch. More soon.

--D

A newbie takes the plunge . . .

Okay. I've finally gotten it through my head that you don't actually have to be either: (a) a 15-year-old girl; or (b) a megalomaniac, to publish a blog. It's with trepidation and extreme self-consciousness that I begin this new endeavor. Be patient with me: I've never really kept a journal, and I'm not the most forthcoming human on the planet. But I find I'm getting more and more of my "news" and entertainment from blogs or blog-like entities, and I also find that I (and others I've spoken with) actually often enjoy reading them. So, with that, I welcome you to the inaugural post of my inaugural blog.

The focus (I think) will be travel and cycling -- my two hobbies most likely to pique the interest of others. But I'm also incredibly curious and opinionated, so I have a feeling a lot of other silliness will be included as well. I hope to see comments -- particularly disagreements. There's nothing like a good argument (even the on-line variety).

--DvB