I killed a squirrel earlier. And I’ll never be the same.
Ventured out for my first mountain bike ride since racing in Brazil and loved the reminder of why I am living the dream – when this little chap charged from the left side of the dead still Prosser Dam road like something from a why did the chicken cross the road joke. Having Katerina to my left and the curbside to my right and brand new yet to be worn in brake pads below, what could I do as he hesitated from left to right, right to left, tripping over his undersized sellout legs. I’m hoping the little chap got up and did a shake of his limbs as if trying to dislodge a turd from his trowsers (a pre-run habit of mine), but I doubt he’ll make it back to his misses. And that means I’ll never be the same again.
But there have been better moments:
This is from my long ride climb up mount Rose on Saturday. My route is along the small bay in site, and then over the hill to Truckee – to the right of picture. When I man up, I’ll be able to drop down the other side towards Reno, a perfect long steady sustained climb.
Havent done an update on my Pretty Princess – Ellabella. I’ve not changed over the four years I’ve been coming out here, not one bit as far I can tell, but she has…
This was with 200m to go. Think Cavendish, second wheel, could have let his lead out man take it for getting it so right. Incredible to see the cycling buzz in the USA, and just how much Armstrong has done to mainstream the sport.
The guy between the two baby seats is my hero, and the reason for the commute to Sacramento. How odd?
Got to meet him after stalking his hotel? Dont tell. Dont even remind me of this tomorrow. But this is Kate, Rhea, Gia and I outside the lobby on a bench…
