Paris-Roubaix was epic as usual. 'Nuff said. Boonen eases up for a half minute to try to get a drink and convince the rest of the lead group to work to stay away from the peloton, and bang! Cancellara goes and it's all over but the crying.
Versus screwed me. Or maybe Verizon did. The P-R coverage was listed in the online guide at 2 hours, starting at 6:00 PM. So I taped it and dutifully began watching at 8:00 PM, right after Son of Rouleur went to bed. I watched it right up until the end... 32 kilometers from the finish. WTF? Seems Versus was actually doing three hours of coverage, though the listing only said 2. Way to go, guys, lovely. Thank goodness for sites like Steephill.com, which archive streaming video of the races online. The slavic voiceover wasn't exactly awesome, but at least I was able to watch.
Got in a couple nice rides this weekend, with about 25 miles Saturday and 55 miles yesterday. These aren't real long by any standards but considering the two month layoff from doing anything physical, they were pretty taxing. The short ride was just fun; most of the way home, I was overwhelmed with a positive feeling about riding generally and found myself riding with a stupid grin. Sometimes, you just switch on in the cycling season, and that's what happened yesterday. My new attitude is "yep, I can do this. It feels good." It wasn't a spectacular ride or anything; it was just a ride across a mental threshold.
In contrast, yesterday's ride was pretty good up to about the 40 mile mark. At that point, I was overwhelmed with a tidal wave of poo. My legs felt like poo, my head felt like poo, and I was riding like poo. It had something to do with a stiff headwind but more to do with it being the longest ride for me since last October. I slogged it out though, finishing the last 15 miles at a very slow pace - like 17.5 average up to that point, 16 the rest of the way in, but I finished. Things got desperate enough that I stopped about 10 miles out from the finish for a 20 ounce Coke. That bit of rocket fuel carried me home, with a constant reminder that it's not all smiles and happy days. You have to work through the bad days to get to the good ones.
Shit I saw on the road:
- A strawberry cheesecake (WTF?)
- Integrated Trek tail bag that was no longer integrated. I was three miles past it before figuring out what it was or I'd have picked it up and given it away as a prize.
- Skyye vodka bottle, crushed
- Canadian Club bottle. Intact.
- Sloe gin bottle. Who the hell even drinks Sloe gin?
- Dead racoon, 3/4 upside down/legs up pose. Either dead, or we found out who drinks the sloe gin.
- Flat squirrel
- Dude driving convertible oncoming in my lane, nearly killing me
- Guy in a pickup truck making the "hey faggot!" call. God, that never gets old, does it?