well my trip back to the mothership is over and i've returned to San Diego where the weather, (like the majority of the population) maxes up for a lack of anything remarkable by being consistently "pleasant". I've had a fun summer pedalling around europe in what seems to have been a perpetual dirzzle but, like the weather my experiences were punctuated with some exciting thunderclaps and torrential downpours.
The last few race sin Belgium saw some interesting results, notably my foray of the front of a kermis where it was raining so hard we may as well have been racing on an ice rink. My attempts to secure the ultimate prize (or at least a crisp 10 euro bill) were foiled by a chap dressed in green who took a rapid dislike to my ability to go around corners faster than him. He informed me "you will no go up the left" i corrected him and in the next corner i illustrated that i would in fact "go up the left". Seeing his potential career as a fortune teller come crashing down around him.he decided to sprint up to me and inform me once again of my misreading of the impeding corner where i, once again, planned to move up the inside. By the way; if you're wondering why i kept moving up it's because i was moving backwards (not by my own volition) on the screaming fast crosswindy straights. Anyway our leprechaun lookalike decided enough was enough and, as i moved up on his left he hooked my bars and we both made one of the most dramatic entrances into a cafe which i can recall being involved with. Not wanting to hang around and pick up espresso mugs i tried to chase back on. finding the (not so) jolly green gimp in between myself and the bunch i decided to make use of his presence and went for the unsolicited hip sling. This didn't go down well words were exchanged in many languages and Matt stepped in with the night club classic "leave him mate, it's not worth it". Seeing matt and scott slipping off the back ahead of me and the incredible hulk look a like we decided the tactic best suited to our long term well being might be to hop in the corsa and bugger off before the hulk got angry, so that's exactly what we did. Fortunately the field had been shredded so far by this point that i still got a finish in the top half!
the next day my water bottle fell out on the cobbles and mashed my derailleur and put me in the ditch, that was really pants.
Having returned to dear old blighty (and ic an tell you it was quite the trip, but im saving that story for another day). I indulged in some good old fashioned national B chippers. Moments of amusement included the bloke who turned up in a porsche on a 12 grand bike, the porsche was absent at the end of the race, the 12 grand bike, and it's panting owner were absent the second time up the climb: you can't buy speed kids. Another notable James' moment involved my riding of the front of a race, going extra super hypoglycaemic packing in the feed thinking i was dropped, eating sandwiches and a coke only to see the bunch coming along. i joined back in and came a respectable 2nd in the sprint (albeit with a metric shitton of people up the road), nothing like a lunch stop to perk up ahilly road race with 2 inches of rainfall.
the last road race id id at home saw me achieving the unique distinction of being the first human being ever to roll a clincher and i picked a great time to do so. On the start finish climb with a lap to go i found myself 2 minutes adrift holding my ambrosio wheel up in the air (and let me tell you my arms are not optimised for holding anything apart from other people's attention). 8 miles of purgatory and 2 big piles of horse shit later ig ot back into the bunch after an epic effort from the follow car, i got in a good position for the sprint, popped in the clutch lined it up, pressed the button and engaged reverse. lame.
i hope you had as much fun as i did this summer, even if you didn't do everything you wanted to maybe you did everything you needed to. After a few weeks of "proper" racing i've got my enthusiasm back. bring on the time of year for riding bikes on mud :)