Mat Hayman got the flowers in Roubaix. A fine ride indeed, but he can’t have these. They’re mine. And I didn’t have to bounce over no cobbles to get ’em, either.
Dude was in the break, riding his 15th Hell of the North, and just barely got ‘er done in front of four-time winner Tom Boonen (Etixx-QuickStep) and Ian Stannard (Sky).
Charles Pelkey and I called the race at Live Update Guy, and I’ll congratulate myself for mentioning Hayman as a man to watch.
OK, so I also have to take the rap for saying I thought he was doing too much work to win. But still.
Meanwhile, poor ol’ Fabian Cancellara (Trek) intercoursed the penguin on the Roubaix velodrome, dumping it while riding with a Swiss flag. That had to sting.
I dreamed the other night that I was racing cyclo-cross, and doing pretty well at it, too, which was how I could tell it was a dream.
Sleep has been in short supply lately, with Herself off visiting friends in England. The menagerie is used to her schedule, not mine, and if you can sleep through reveille as sounded by Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment), I regret to inform you that you died during the night.
Thus, instead of dozing until 6 a.m. I’ve been up and at ’em around 4:30, not least because Mister Boo has been suffering the usual separation anxiety, which manifests itself in peeing in the house and bouts of diarrhea alternating with constipation.
Also, and too, sniveling. Nobody snivels like The Boo. He wants that lady who gives him things, and I’m sure he suspects that I have finally driven her away for good, perhaps to some other, younger Chin with two good eyes and no incontinence issues.
Once everyone’s gotten fed and watered, I’ve been logging in at Live Update Guy with about half the voices in my head still clearing their respective throats. This annoys my colleague Charles Pelkey, who like me enjoys a quiet hour to himself in the morning and has come to expect me and my diagnoses to arrive 7-ish.
After a few hours of Vuelta bloggery I’ve lost interest in other blood sports, like politics, though it’s impossible not to notice that Hillary seems hellbent on topping Fritz Mondale, Michael Dukakis, Al Gore and John Kerry in the Worst Democratic Candidate for President In My Lifetime Sweepstakes. I’ve rarely seen a coronation go so horribly sideways, and I’ve watched all five seasons of “Game of Thrones.”
Speaking of the White Walkers, Interbike starts next week, which probably explains why I woke up no fewer than three times last night, the final time with the Son House version of “John the Revelator” playing in my head, which, surprisingly, remained attached to my neck.
I should be in tip-top shape by the time I hit the show floor in King’s Landing with the Adventure Cyclist mob. Hey, those aren’t bags under my eyes, pal. Those are panniers.
The old Old Guy kit. My new jersey, as the fella says, is in the mail.
Got your Old Guy jersey yet? Me neither. But then I screwed up and ordered a jersey plus some bibs that turned out to be out of stock, so mine didn’t ship until Saturday.
Give us a holler when your kit arrives and tell us whether it meets your expectations, and in particular whether it fits as intended. Include a pic if you dare. Don’t worry, we won’t show it to anyone. You can trust us. We’re in the media.
Meanwhile, that little race around Frogland is finally over and done with, which means that tomorrow I can wake up without fretting about how I’m going to be funny before coffee. Thanks to Other Pat for joining us at Live Update Guy during the Tour, and for offering up a couple of pint glasses to help us keep the Tip Jar filled.
It’s hard to believe, but the end of the Tour — for me, anyway — means that the year is on the big downhill slide. La Vuelta starts August 22, and three days after that wraps Interbike kicks off in Las Vegas. Then Bicycle Retailer and Industry News goes back to once-a-month publication, and before you know it, boom! Cyclocross season.
Better start running, y’all. It may be in the 90s now, but before you know it the snow will be flying.
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