From Strasbourg
6/29/06
Getting to the start of the Tour de France was akin to torture. Things seemed to be going quite smoothly. I even bumped into Tim Foley and his wife Mary, who were going to Paris on the same flight to celebrate their 15th wedding anniversary.
When we were an hour east of Boston, over the Atlantic, word came back from the cockpit that the fuel gauge was not working. Rather than ignore it, as is the case with the “check engine” light in my 19-90-something Ford Explorer, the pilot was going back to Boston to get it fixed.
Everyone accepted the news. Forty-five minutes later, we were informed we were going to JFK instead. Apparently, all of the mechanics were too busy watching Pedro play the Sox.
JFK at eleven o’clock at night was exactly as you would expect. While the City never sleeps, the people who run the food stands in our terminal surely do. Everything was locked up, and there wasn’t one stale saltine to be had.
But there was another plane, and we were encouraged to be patient and switch to that one. All of the bags and all of the passengers were shuttled aboard the new flight. But they couldn’t just move the food from the old plane, to the new plane, so we waited for new food. It was a long wait indeed. At 1:00 am, the wheels came up and we were on our way to Paris.
At Charles de Gaulle, I brushed up on my sixth grade French, thank you Miss Cyr, discovered my four giant-sized bags and figured out how to get a new connecting flight to Strasbourg. Miraculously, Air France got me, and my bags there.
That night, we enjoyed a team dinner. Many people had lost their bicycles on route, but somehow, they all ended up in Strasbourg. After the 18-hour journey, I collapsed into bed.
Friday 6/30/06 190 kilometers, around 106.34 miles, 150 watts average, 17.2 mph average, 5:44:35, 72 avg cadence, flat
On the day that the great Jan Ullrich and the amazing Ivan Basso, as well as countless others, were suspended from the Tour for suspicion of drug use, we rode from France to Germany and back. This was a major test for me, as bicycle riding was verboten since my interesting condition became a crisis just ten days ago.
Here, it should be noted that many co-workers reached out to me in my moment of need to comfort me. Many said kind things. Michael J. Sheehan called from his cell, as I was home soaking and sleeping, to say, “Hi, Joe. It’s Mike. I just want you to know that I just ate a hot dog, and a bowl of ice cream. I feel great. And I don’t have a boil on my ass!”
Point taken. Mr. Sheehan is a four-year sponsor of the Lance Armstrong Foundation, as well as the Yellow Jersey Donor of the Year, so he may say anything he damn well pleases. I showed him a picture of the interesting condition, and he turned white and scurried back to his office.
Here, special and sincere thanks are extended to Hill, Holliday client Cindy Holloway, who works for Tyco Healthcare. She got me some great Kendall Healthcare wound-care products.
“Wound” and “care” are two words you seldom speak. Until you have a wound. Then it’s all you talk about.
She sent me some gauze, some paper tape, and best of all, ten Kendal Curagel Island bandages. The advanced bandages isolate the wound, and ensure it doesn’t get worse while you sit on the bicycle and pedal for 8 hours in sweaty bicycle shorts.
We took care of the first ride in a business-like manner. I felt great until three hours into the ride went the lights began to flicker. The power didn’t go out, but it was definitely diminished. My endurance isn’t quite back yet, and popping antibiotic pills on the bike at noon reminded me that I am still recovering.
The roads in France are different; smooth, narrow, and less predictable. Sidewalks appear in the middle of the road, and I ran one over by mistake. The commuter skills came in handy as I rode it out.
For lunch, we stopped in a parking lot somewhere and wolfed down some nice sandwiches from the hotel. The food is good and the crew is doing a great job. Coach Josh, as you would suspect, can ride forever. He sits up on his bike pretty as a picture. Jimmy Railey is tough as they come. Joe Tonon, our director, joined us as soon as he could. Bryan, my masseus, has a world record for riding a stationary bicycle 82 consecutive hours.
My teammates are great guys. Paul Rady is a geologist, and the most senior member of the team at 52 years old. Alberto is a strong rider and a nice guy. Dr. Rob Kantor helped me get better, so I’ll do anything he tells me to do. Mark is a former linebacker, and he goes down hills at the speed of sound. I’m the fifth guy. We have at least three Destination Cycling people on bikes, and it’s nice to have the support.
The Destination Cycling team gets you water, sports drinks, whatever you need. Collectively, we went through 130 bottles today.
I was happy when the ride ended. The wound survived. The engine still runs. Once the antibiotics are over, I hope to be stronger.
It’s good to get out of your cycling clothes when the ride ends. I forgot my civilian clothes, so I changed into my boxer shorts. Nobody in France looks at you twice when you walk around in a pair of lime green vineyard vine boxers with little yellow mermaids on them.
We had a team dinner at 8:30 pm. Tommorrow, we take a one hour recovery spin, watch the real Tour, and relax. I hope to post this story tomorrow. I may not get to post pictures as I am poaching internet service where I can.
Best to all.
-JWB
-Strasbourg, France, Hotel Diana
Getting to the start of the Tour de France was akin to torture. Things seemed to be going quite smoothly. I even bumped into Tim Foley and his wife Mary, who were going to Paris on the same flight to celebrate their 15th wedding anniversary.
When we were an hour east of Boston, over the Atlantic, word came back from the cockpit that the fuel gauge was not working. Rather than ignore it, as is the case with the “check engine” light in my 19-90-something Ford Explorer, the pilot was going back to Boston to get it fixed.
Everyone accepted the news. Forty-five minutes later, we were informed we were going to JFK instead. Apparently, all of the mechanics were too busy watching Pedro play the Sox.
JFK at eleven o’clock at night was exactly as you would expect. While the City never sleeps, the people who run the food stands in our terminal surely do. Everything was locked up, and there wasn’t one stale saltine to be had.
But there was another plane, and we were encouraged to be patient and switch to that one. All of the bags and all of the passengers were shuttled aboard the new flight. But they couldn’t just move the food from the old plane, to the new plane, so we waited for new food. It was a long wait indeed. At 1:00 am, the wheels came up and we were on our way to Paris.
At Charles de Gaulle, I brushed up on my sixth grade French, thank you Miss Cyr, discovered my four giant-sized bags and figured out how to get a new connecting flight to Strasbourg. Miraculously, Air France got me, and my bags there.
That night, we enjoyed a team dinner. Many people had lost their bicycles on route, but somehow, they all ended up in Strasbourg. After the 18-hour journey, I collapsed into bed.
Friday 6/30/06 190 kilometers, around 106.34 miles, 150 watts average, 17.2 mph average, 5:44:35, 72 avg cadence, flat
On the day that the great Jan Ullrich and the amazing Ivan Basso, as well as countless others, were suspended from the Tour for suspicion of drug use, we rode from France to Germany and back. This was a major test for me, as bicycle riding was verboten since my interesting condition became a crisis just ten days ago.
Here, it should be noted that many co-workers reached out to me in my moment of need to comfort me. Many said kind things. Michael J. Sheehan called from his cell, as I was home soaking and sleeping, to say, “Hi, Joe. It’s Mike. I just want you to know that I just ate a hot dog, and a bowl of ice cream. I feel great. And I don’t have a boil on my ass!”
Point taken. Mr. Sheehan is a four-year sponsor of the Lance Armstrong Foundation, as well as the Yellow Jersey Donor of the Year, so he may say anything he damn well pleases. I showed him a picture of the interesting condition, and he turned white and scurried back to his office.
Here, special and sincere thanks are extended to Hill, Holliday client Cindy Holloway, who works for Tyco Healthcare. She got me some great Kendall Healthcare wound-care products.
“Wound” and “care” are two words you seldom speak. Until you have a wound. Then it’s all you talk about.
She sent me some gauze, some paper tape, and best of all, ten Kendal Curagel Island bandages. The advanced bandages isolate the wound, and ensure it doesn’t get worse while you sit on the bicycle and pedal for 8 hours in sweaty bicycle shorts.
We took care of the first ride in a business-like manner. I felt great until three hours into the ride went the lights began to flicker. The power didn’t go out, but it was definitely diminished. My endurance isn’t quite back yet, and popping antibiotic pills on the bike at noon reminded me that I am still recovering.
The roads in France are different; smooth, narrow, and less predictable. Sidewalks appear in the middle of the road, and I ran one over by mistake. The commuter skills came in handy as I rode it out.
For lunch, we stopped in a parking lot somewhere and wolfed down some nice sandwiches from the hotel. The food is good and the crew is doing a great job. Coach Josh, as you would suspect, can ride forever. He sits up on his bike pretty as a picture. Jimmy Railey is tough as they come. Joe Tonon, our director, joined us as soon as he could. Bryan, my masseus, has a world record for riding a stationary bicycle 82 consecutive hours.
My teammates are great guys. Paul Rady is a geologist, and the most senior member of the team at 52 years old. Alberto is a strong rider and a nice guy. Dr. Rob Kantor helped me get better, so I’ll do anything he tells me to do. Mark is a former linebacker, and he goes down hills at the speed of sound. I’m the fifth guy. We have at least three Destination Cycling people on bikes, and it’s nice to have the support.
The Destination Cycling team gets you water, sports drinks, whatever you need. Collectively, we went through 130 bottles today.
I was happy when the ride ended. The wound survived. The engine still runs. Once the antibiotics are over, I hope to be stronger.
It’s good to get out of your cycling clothes when the ride ends. I forgot my civilian clothes, so I changed into my boxer shorts. Nobody in France looks at you twice when you walk around in a pair of lime green vineyard vine boxers with little yellow mermaids on them.
We had a team dinner at 8:30 pm. Tommorrow, we take a one hour recovery spin, watch the real Tour, and relax. I hope to post this story tomorrow. I may not get to post pictures as I am poaching internet service where I can.
Best to all.
-JWB
-Strasbourg, France, Hotel Diana
posted by joe berkeley at 9:16 PM
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