(no subject)
For the first time in many, many months, my life has seemed to take a turn for the irregular. Yes, the good kind. I just got back from Portland. Dug and I biked there, and it was possibly the most rewarding experience I've had in a really long time. You would be amazed how beautiful the countryside is when you're not flying past it at sixty miles per hour. I'll have to do it again sometime, next time with a camera.
I met one of the most interesting people a few weeks ago through work. He came here from Ireland fifteen years ago as a professional cyclist. He competed against some of the best hillclimbers and sprinters in the world for ten years before coming here. Anyway, we got to talking, and after I told him I'm going to Ireland for a few months next year to bike the country, he offered to give my bike a look-over to see how I was streamlining on it and whatnot if I brought it to his house over in Kirkland. While this sounded like the beginning of a bad molester story, I went over anyway. This guy has eight thousand dollar Colnago bikes just laying around his living room like they were pieces of furniture. He might as well have had a garage full of Ferraris. Needless to say, he knows his shit.
Long story short, he's been training me for the past two weeks to be a racer. If this works out, I just might shit my pants. Finally, something I can be excited about...
I met one of the most interesting people a few weeks ago through work. He came here from Ireland fifteen years ago as a professional cyclist. He competed against some of the best hillclimbers and sprinters in the world for ten years before coming here. Anyway, we got to talking, and after I told him I'm going to Ireland for a few months next year to bike the country, he offered to give my bike a look-over to see how I was streamlining on it and whatnot if I brought it to his house over in Kirkland. While this sounded like the beginning of a bad molester story, I went over anyway. This guy has eight thousand dollar Colnago bikes just laying around his living room like they were pieces of furniture. He might as well have had a garage full of Ferraris. Needless to say, he knows his shit.
Long story short, he's been training me for the past two weeks to be a racer. If this works out, I just might shit my pants. Finally, something I can be excited about...