Sunday, July 16
Hot diggity, I just won the sprint today! I suppose it doesn't mean much, since 16 were already up the road and the French officials messed up the results, but hey, C'est le vie.
Monday, July 17
The team has me on the "Gain 5 Kilos" program, so I rode to André's house to be stuffed full of potatoes, the next Belgian food staple behind beer, french fries, and chocolate. Strawberries were ripe, so they bought a carton for dessert. André gets the runs after three strawberries, and Anna doesn't eat much more, so they insist that I finish the box myself. After
an hour of indigestion, they bring out biscuits, cookies, and chocolate to add a few more pounds to my GI tract. This is the normal routine on recovery days, and so far there's been no change on the scale.
Tuesday, July 18
My legs felt good for the first time in weeks, so I'm stoked for tomorrow's race in Westroozebeke. It's bloody hot in Belgium now and I laid in bed sweating until the wee hours of the morning. Eventually fell asleep and dreamed I was a penguin in Balboa Park.
Wednesday, July 19
I was woken at 5am by the first rays of light piercing in my room looking for its next burn victim. Belgium is two-thirds of the way to the North Pole, so in the summers it's only dark about five hours a night. Rode down to André's house to load up on five pounds of noodles and a table spoon of brown sugar-yum! I miss eating three bowls of Frosted Mini Wheats for pre-race nutrition. But they don't sell Frosted Mini Wheats in Belgium, and even if they did, that's not what the Eddy Merckx ate before racing, so it definitely wouldn't fly with the old school directors.
It was 38 Celcius at the start, and everything was in slow motion. Guy Smet raced, which means Guy Smet was going to win. The race blew and I found myself in the middle of nowhere between groups. I eventually found a big Frenchman and this forty year old guy with huge legs and an odd shaped face to ride with, but the old guy became delirious and ran straight into the side of the Frenchman who let out a string of Français expletives which sounded a lot like the Chipmunk cartoons. I finished 19th so at least I made a few euros and got my name in the paper for risking heat stroke. This was my fifth race in a week and a half; this was Guy's fifth win in a week and a half.
Thursday, July 20
Laid around sweating all day. A bunch of elderly people are dying in Britain from the heat. Picked up my new supporter's club tee-shirts from the shop in Gullegem.
Friday, July 21
Rode to André's to fatten the calf and sing riddles dedicated to the ghosts of cycling's past. Tomorrow is a hilly race in Geluveld, so no reason to skimp on the lemon bread.
"Faber heft zeer op zijn knien
Hij kan niet meer rijden
Maar Fraeiche Dam is een man
Die goed rijden kan
Ja hij wint de Tour
En in Fraeiche zit een poer.
Zeker zij Odiel de Fraaie."
Todd
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