Just like everyone else.
Here at the Ironclad Reform School for Beginning Cyclists and General Miscreants, we’re puttin’ on the foil and getting ready to throw punches. While the rest of the cycling community is preening and crying, we’re getting into fist fights with bums. Nothing makes you tougher. You go ahead and measure your watts and weigh your food. You, like us, are not going to the Tour next year. You want to get tough? Fight bums. You want to get fast? Try running from a pack of pissed off bums. Want to get even faster? Tempt said pack of bums by attaching fifths of various alcohols from your person. That will make you move.
Just remember: no Tour, no Giro, lots of fun but plenty of bad breaks. That goes for you, him, her, everybody reading this. Here we train as best we can without sacrificing a real life, prepare as best as possible, execute to the best of our abilities, and accept the result as is. We’re the Hanson brothers, pray you’re not #12. And from a humanist level, we hope you’re not Hanrahan. We’ll lose a hell of a lot more than we’ll win, but we’ll have damn good time doing it.
Things in the office here are good. We’ve returned riders from far off lands (training in black kits, getting injections from long needles from shadowy doctors, etc) and we are preparing to sell off the excess debris at the Velo Swap this Saturday at Roots. Will you be there? Then it’s another long slog of a team training ride on Sunday. We’ve been averaging about 15 folks per ride. Not too bad for a bunch of folks who want to do this. Lots of the new faces, and some of the old. The new folks are adjusting well, getting used to the climate here slow but sure.