Where to begin. It’s been a hell of a couple weeks for me.
To start, today’s my 40th. I’m not all emotional about it. I am kind of proud of it. I started telling people I was 40 two months ago. Plus you know, that race age shit. Anyways. No big plans. I am actually working all day. From home. Dominic made me breakfast and walked the dogs while I got in a ride before clocking in.
It was a pretty weird ride. OB had me doing some intervals. I ride in the city a lot, especially for these shorter rides before work. I headed downtown and through the west end and then onto a flat busy street called Spring Grove. Some crazy bitch in an SUV honked at me for no reason at all, which I am used to. But then she started hollering some shit at me I couldn’t hear because I had headphones on. She kept driving along side me, on this busy street in fucking morning rush hour, yelling at me. I flipped her off and ran a couple red lights to get away from her but she caught back up to me. This went on for a good 3 miles. I memorized her plate and yelled it out to her, pulled out my phone and proceeded to pull over and call 911. She took off and I gave the 911 operator her plate # but they said all I could really do is file a police report against her. So then it was time to go get those intervals done. I ventured into Northside and found a flat side street. One minute fullonblastallballsout and one minute recovery. Up and down the street I did this x15. The little taste of puke in my throat on the last effort made OB happy. Then I headed home, which was only about 7 miles away. About a 1/2 mile from my house, while fucking with the cable to my front derailleur, I crashed into a tree. I went right into it. I jumped up really fast to look around and see if anyone saw, and a bunch of dope boys come around and asked if I was ok. Then we all started laughing, and one guy with a phone said he was putting it on You Tube.
Wild ride for sure.
In other news, I made a kind of big announcement on my blog. I am pretty stoked. I even got a tweet from Bill Strickland asking for an invite.
I also found myself in a church basement last week. Sometimes I gotta check myself because shit happens and my head is always going to be fucked up. It felt good to be there. I am going back again very, very soon.
Oh, and I started therapy. Good times, good times. Even Gnome agrees I am angrier than him.
That’s all I got for now. Have a great weekend.
Dominic got me this cool little airplane gadget thingie for my birthday. It’s gonna make me fast.
Pennslyvania style.
I got out on the bike today. And I brought my cellphone with. I snapped a few pics, but could only send a few as the cell coverage is spotty at best. It’s like I’m in a Verizon black hole around here.
It’s so humid. Unreal. Coming from Arizona, where it’s, ahem, a little dry, it’s an eye opener. It’s like a mist, a blanket of sweat. Swimming in the pool seems to help a great deal, go figure. I’ve ridden all of three times this week, and not in excess of an hour for any. I just haven’t the time to get away for more than that. That’s ok, catching frogs and fireflies with my daughters and nieces is a pretty damn good time. My wife caught a crayfish. The kids were impressed. Did I mention we’ve been eating the shit out of sweet corn? Oh man, so good. Sure we’ve got “corn” in Arizona supermarkets. But it ain’t the same. Not by a long shot.
We’ve also been plowing through cases of Yuengling as a matter of course.
And I plan to stay the course.
This flag is hanging off the side of a bridge over the Delaware river. I put my wheels into New Jersey for about ten minutes and turn around and rode across. Good times.
God Bless America.
I’ve had little motivation to write lately. I’m uncertain as to why. I rationalize time and time again that everything has been said, and otherwise there is nothing worth the effort. But, that is probably because I have not been riding any further than Pay ‘n Take which is 400 yards from my door. I think that has a lot to do with the decline in any ability to put cycling logic to print. It’s been a bummer of sorts personally. Riding use to be everything. Now, not so much. C’est la Vie n shit.
Fortunately, an overnight ride with my friends from the valley and Tucson had been ‘on the books’ for some time. It was to be a trip around the Cabin Loop over on the Mogollon Rim near Strawberry/Pine. As I said though, I had not ridden in weeks, maybe months. As that was, all my bikes were in some form of disrepair all the way up to the day prior. Thus, the evening prior was spent first determinng what I wanted to ride. Then, upon deciding to go single, cobbling together a onie out of an old xc Titus frame. 34×20 was the gear. Four hours after the thought, I got it finished at about 2am. Here it is a week later and still quite perfect in its simplicity:
The next day, after a round of errands to finish supplying for the ride, I was two hours late to the rendezvous point by Blue Ridge Reservoir. The holmies were already set to pop, so we made our way to the trailhead and out from there onto the ride. Although I took a few pics, I’ve been unmotivated to record or document any aspect of life so the pics are ultimately unispiring and I’ll sample a few shots from Yuri @ upsideout here.
It's more of a hike, than a ride
From the above pic, you might think that there was some hiking involved, and you’d be right. For every downhill, there seemed to be a hike back uphill in return. The deal maker however, was how lush the area was. One of the dankest (yes, I said it) areas I’ve ever seen in Arizona. So dank in fact, it might have been the northwest had I not known.
Foggy Morning at camp
The preceding photo is of the fog on Saturday morning at camp. Thing is, you don’t often see fog here, so it was pretty cool.
DC socks dry in the sun
I said it was dank right? It was. Mid day on Saturday we set up for lunch at one of the many historical cabins on the loop. There, everything was set out to dry in the midday sun prior to the next deluge that would occur that evening like clockwork. The springs all around us were gushing. Lush I say.
Of course, no pictures were taken of the brew on hand, but a sample of Bavik was provided by Yuri and it was some of the finest canned beer I’ve sampled thus far on a bike trip. Essentially, as it passed my piehole down to my gullet, I had a dream that I was experiencing Budweiser before it became “an american original”. It’s a Belgium Pilsner, and like Budweiser, it has a similar flavor, but it’s cranked up to eleven on the flavor chart. It comes on clean, has a heavy pilsner mid punch, and leaves with only a whisp of an aftertaste to remember that last glug by. Delicious. Being a canned brew, it’s perfect for packing on the rides. I highly recommend it if you can find it.
Upon returning to the trailhead, I was overcome with a desire to sleep, and ultimately stayed horizontal until the morning upon which, I bugged out back to home for more sleep. I suspect this was due to not riding at all for the past few months, then singlespeeding (and hiking) with a full overnight setup for that day. Nonetheless, I’ll recover and more importantly, it sure felt good to ride a single speed once again. I look forward to the next outing.
Aside from that personal endeavor supported by friends, I’ve been stuck in a post Tour slump these past weeks. I don’t think I got enough while it was in session. This was my own fault of course, which was due to my lackadaisical effort to watch it. It has become so formatted, that nothing new is garnered. Sure, Schleck, Contador, in with the new, out with the old… All that. It was good fun, but it was like a massaged script that already ran last year, and the year before, and the year before that, and so on. Like a bad sequel again and again, so it was boring until those sporadic yet underwhelming moments in the mountains. I wanted it to be more than dude’s in a studio pumping Lance, or the race itself, but it seemed there were never any significant insights, or perhaps I just missed them. I was blinded by Road ID advertisements instead. That, and dreams of Odessa. Regardless, over the last few days as I search for the scraps, the images, opinions and whatnot of this year’s Tour strewn about the web, I happened to stumble on a few videos worth their mimutes. The interviews of Horner are top notch. I’ve never heard that guy speak, but only know of him through his actions (less talkie more doie) until now, and for the record he’s a fantastic and simple minded cyclist, both on and off the bike. Proven through strength and dedication to his team. Always the American dark horse. I hope he prospers through his remaining years…
Another thing, I know everyone’s all ‘yee haa’ or ‘fuck him’ when it comes to L.A. But, I’m alright with the dude on a ‘that’s cool’ level. I don’t care about the doping issue he’s up against. Well, actually I do care. It’s no way to send off the greatest American cyclist in history. He really has done too much good to be taken down in such a way. He should be commended, and respected. He did everything everyone else was doing, only he did it better, like we expect from any American champion. And if’n we need to be offended because he is brash, I take the attitude with the grain of salt it needs. He’s American, and more importantly, he is a Texan and who can deny him the right to be as he is? I can’t imagine what it is like to stand on top of the cycling world for essentially two decades, and receive what he has been given. Indeed, there are millions of dollars and fame around him, but much of the time, nothing but shit is thrown at you while you are the king, and I believe he has had some shit thrown at him. Regardless, I think he’s done an excellent job navigating his endeavors as a cyclist and, perhaps more importantly, a businessman. We all should wish that for ourselves as well. I’ll never understand the contempt anyone has for him unless it is wholly derived from his omnipotence and the envy it attracts.
And just to keep the tab on the dope..
Petacchi won’t talk:
The Italian ANSA news agency, quoting informed sources, previously alleged that two banned substances were found at the 36-year-old’s home — PFC (Perfluorocarbon), an alternative to the banned blood booster EPO, and human serum albumin.
source: velonews
With that, the rain is subsiding and my singlespeed is calling.
Keep the cheddar schredded,
g
Ride till your legs are numb. Go until you cant feel your hands. Ride so when you look around you get dizzy because there isnt enough air going to your brain. Climb till you taste blood. Climb till the air is cold and your looking for a jacket. Ride till you know what it means to suffer. Ride till you bonk and go beyond it. Ride when all others wont. Go to the front when no one can. Ride.
Today I got the call from Asian Bob. He is always busting my balls about not posting stuff on time and he is the first to ask whats up when I skip a week. This week was just a simple case of not having enough time to give it my all. I haven’t been riding enough and the world outside my window seems to be going bat-shit crazy.
My state is erupting over their immigration law. I have spent the past two weeks playing bullshit corporate games trying to save my job. I am discovering more and more people around me are lacking integrity all in the name of getting some action. Some douche actually hit me in the chest with a rotten orange while I was riding home from the pub the other night. I even had some random drunk guy come up to me and slap me for no reason. When I took him down to teach him a lesson, he still had enough fight left in him to pull out a clump of my hair. I tried to get an espresso the other day and the elite hipsters at my local coffee shop refused to put it in a to-go cup. Fuck you. I was in a hurry. It isn’t a fine Bordeaux it is a cup of coffee. Then yesterday I had a homeless guy walk up to me and hand me a lasso for no reason. Maybe it is the heat of the AZ summer, maybe it was the full moon. All that I know is that people are acting like they have lost their goddamn minds. My buddy Maximum saw that I was having a rough time of it, so he made me go climb some rocks with him. It looked like this:
That helped quite a bit, and everybody needs more friends like that. As for this weekend I am going to do what any red blooded American would do when he needs to get away…I’M GOING FUCKIN’ SURFING.
What kind of crazy stuff have you guys seen lately? Leave it in the comments, this could get good. Until next week, SURF’S UP! …and keep it dirty
Here is a quick photo that I snapped from yesterday’s ride outside of Stanley, ID. Once more photos and videos are collected, I will have a chance to provide a proper posting of the riding from the past few days. The final verdict is that you need to get to Sun Valley, ID and Stanley, ID to ride your mountain bike, the longer you put it off, the dumber you are. Happy Hump Day.
Galena Lodge Don riding up Boundary Creek trail, Sawtooth Mountains are in the background
Our man Dave is doing his part. And he would like your help.
From: Dave B.
Subject: Help me get injured soldiers to the starting line!
Jonny,
I’m taking on the challenge of a lifetime (2.4 mile swim, 112 bike, and 26.2 mile run) and I’m writing today to ask for your help. You see, by donating to my fundraising effort and helping me reach my goal, you will help people with physical challenges realize their dreams. Your donation will go to the Challenged Athletes Foundation, an incredible 501(c)3 non-profit organization that provides funding and inspiration to hundreds of physically challenged athletes each year so they can participate, compete and live life to the fullest.
When I arrive at the 2010 Silverman Nevada, I’ll bring my wetsuit, my bike and my running shoes. But the money I’m raising – and the funds you are donating – will support athletes who can’t always get to the starting line: swimmers missing limbs, paraplegics who use handcycles to bike and runners who race using artificial limbs. Just like me, these challenged athletes want to participate in athletics and feel the rush of competition, but they face a major obstacle. They don’t lack fitness, desire or skill. It is only a lack of funding that stands in the way of their dreams.
High-tech running prosthetics are very expensive. Learning to swim when you lack a limb (or limbs) requires special coaching. And handcycles can cost upwards of $2,500. But with our help, challenged athletes can bridge the financial gap and overcome funding obstacles blocking their path to athletic achievement. That is why I am challenging myself to make a difference in their lives. Please partner with me by making a donation through my web site link below. Join me in making dreams come true for challenged athletes. Give the gift of sports and help get challenged athletes off the sidelines – and into the game.
Thank you for your support,
Follow This Link to visit my personal web page and help me in my efforts to support Challenged Athletes Foundation
David Bednar
We can all make the joke about having them. Some of us more than others. (I’m looking in your direction, BJ.) What makes this site special isn’t just the beer, bikes, boobs mentality; it’s that we all stick together when shit goes sideways. Info about Jonny went up all over and people responded with well-wishes and sympathy galore.
We hear all too often about bikers down, so I’d like to share a close call and a ‘Damn, I’m glad I saw that’ that happened recently.
My good friend Michael (aka : wunnspeed) went down in a race and spent some time in ICU. I’ll let him tell the story, as I wasn’t there to see it.
For those who haven’t already found out, on Sat. July 17th my buddy Andre’ and I were racing as a duo team at the 12 Hours of Külsheim in Külsheim, Deutschland. Andre’ had already done his two laps and off I went on mine. Through the first bit of single and double track, down the tricky decent and back up the long hill which takes you to the Tank/Panzer practice range. I rode through all of that at a pretty good pace, while passing people every 1/2 km or so. Then I rolled up in to my favorite section of singletrack and passed two more people. I then rounded a corner to a fun descent (when it’s dry) and spotted two riders ahead that I wanted to try and catch………
This Curtlo wont be seeing any more dirt.
The next thing that I remember was being lifted into an ambulance and looking down to see the front end of my bike missing (yes, the Curtlo is dead). Somehow, some way, the head tube (where the fork goes through) snapped off the front of my bike and from everything we can patch together, I went face first into the dirt and rocks. Strangely, 90% if my injuries are in the facial area.
You can read the rest here.
Now on to the too close for comfort stage. I try to ride. I really do, but I have a 2-month old son who needs a bit more TLC than my Karate Monkey. So I’m limited on time right now. Hell, even the missus wants me to get out, as she sees me getting stir crazy when I don’t. I was raised to step up and take responsibility, and in this case that means being present, as many of our own dads weren’t. I’ll be damned if I do that to my kid.
Looking good there, champ.
So I try to ride to work and back. If I have late shift, I try to get in some riding before heading home. Monster is probably sleeping anyway, so let’s git ‘er done!
So the close call comes in when I get home, shower and get some sleep.
Next morning I find this as Im adjusting my lights for night riding.
better not push my luck...
So there you go. Check your equipment regularly, wear a helmet and don’t be a dick. Drink beer, ride bikes and listen to Slayer. Go to a punk show. Kiss who you love, and fucking live a little.
—bp.
Edited to add : Looks like I’ll be taking Wunnspeed’s place at SiS. Wish my fat ass luck.
Alberto Contador returned to a hero’s welcome in his native Spain after taking out a third Tour de France on Sunday, the fifth Grand Tour triumph of his career.
and:
“Congratulations Alberto, now [it's time for] the fourth Tour, because I’m sure you’re going to win [again].”
- Spanish Prime Minister José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero
In his mind, Contador must have said “¡pinche armstrong!”. I digress. He can handle the pressure. I believe he is familiar with being desperate.
What’s to say of that? Fault it? Drugas? Novice? Dude is 29. Not young. Perhaps that will be his issue, but ask for a fourth? Worthless. How about eight. That is the measure. That is, unless Pharmstrong is undeniably implicated. Then everyone from here on out will have an excuse as to why they caint win seven tour de frances in a row.
linkdump:
What the fuck is this?
tdf pictoral. Because it was a good time.
Zenyatta – undefeated female horse. Known to be DFL for most of the race and then comes up and smokes every other horse in the last lap. Sits in until the end. Has there ever been a bike racer like this? She toys with the other horses, flirts with a pre-race dance… it is said we may never see another horse like her in our lifetimes. VERY inspiring. This is the sensationalism: 
This is the actual race: 
I got this ones from the top of the Columbine climb up in Leadville, Colorado. Jackass rode my old frame up there and sent me a photo. I either sold/traded/bartered the frame for something or the other, I’m not even sure what it was. We are prone to do such things, he and I. And, often at that. Nice frameset. I rode that the first time I did Leadville.
My time at the top of Columbine (I’ve been there twice) was usually a hurry-the-fuck-up-eat-something-and-get-off-this-rock deal. Not much time to look around and enjoy the view.
From the top of Columbine.
i know you’re all reluctant bottoms just looking for that special someone who will let you finally give the back rub. well lay back down, jerks. Jens is in town, and if you could just release your vicey grip pinchey hold from andy & berto’s uniceps for one second, you’d see that there is a real reason to bite the pillow, for its goosedown depthiness will silence your unworthy screams.
enough blab.
and DO click on him, downhuffers…..
There’s just not really anything that beats catching the pelican on a junior bike with completely incompatible shoes. Jens = Wens.
just to twist the dagger,
he’s why bike racing will ALWAYS be better than dope.
Because Lief said to do it.
es mi quien estás buscando?:
Pretty much nothing can top that, eh? Nothing but perhaps a double rainbow.
Got this one here.
Is it over yet?
The 2010 edition of the Galena Grinder is in the books, and let me tell you, it was a fucking awesome time. Seriously if you have never had the chance to try this race out, mark your calender for some weekend next year in July, and plan a trip up to Sun Valley, ID to take part. The course is brutal, but will be a true test of ones man or womanhood, the sights are sublime, and the course is off the charts good. First things first, huge props to Greg and Rebecca for putting Self, Dejay, and Emma up for the past couple nights in Ketchum, Rebecca made some quality chow last night as a pre-race feed, and Greg is currently being kind enough to let us polish off his bottle of Rouge Dead Guy Whiskey, life don’t get much better than that.
Anyway, onto the race, we toe the line at 9 am for 45 miles worth of mountain bike racing, and while I’m not positive on the exact numbers, there is probably somewhere between 6000 and 7000 feet worth of climbing. Basically this course is fucking harsh, and no matter how strong you are, there will be some form of attrition and survival on the plate for each and every racer. We are told to go, and I somehow manage to grab the holeshot. Kinda pointless seeing as though this is a four hour racer for us singlespeeders, and I also have a tendency to go out too hard on longer MTB races. The course is a good mix of loose doubletrack and singletrack, with plenty of dust getting kicked up to help burn the lungs even more. I finish up my climb on “heart attack hill” on the first lap, then start the descent, and my problems on the day begin. I come out of switchback, and don’t recognize the right turn I need to make onto another switchback. I continue to descend down a double track road for a little too long, until realize I have gone the wrong way. Big ups to Evan Plews, who when I was going the wrong way, and asked him if I was off course, he said, “no”, that guy is a dick in my book, so in conclusion, “Fuck Evan Plews.”
After fixing the mistake and dropping from first to fifth, I put in a big effort to get myself back up to second in the SS group. Sure enough I will pay for this later in the form of dead legs and cramps. Yes, after riding strong for 23 miles, the Gods of cycling struck me down with a vengence, and I was beaten down like a rented mule. I spend the second lap fighting cramps, walking more than I should, cursing at myself for going out too hard, but still the whole time was able to enjoy my time on the course. In the end I wind up in 3rd place in the SS group, with traveling partner Dejay taking the big W. His prize was the “Beer” Hat that I have had the pleasure of owning for the past year, and a weedwacker. Following the race, we cool down in a creek, drink some hooch, eat some chow, and enjoy the awards ceremony. I was lucky enough to pick up a jersey from the fine folks at Club Ride Apparel, and am excited to test out how it feels on some long rides here in the Sun Valley/Stanley areas in the days to come. Enjoy the pictures below, a 12 pack of beer just got dropped off that we need to get to work on.
Grabbin the hole shot
Flying the colors at awards
Enjoying the finish
Presenting the Beer Hat for the SS victory
Trip back to town with Master of Puppets playing in the background.
In case anyone is wondering what I’ve been doing – I’m still STILL deployed to maintenance camp and soon SOON I’ll be breaking this rusty cage and running down the road.
2 months of my life have been dedicated nearly entirely to one thing: getting my box truck home ready to live in and running. Most recently, I had to re-wire the entire truck. That’s nearly completed; a few switches are still no op, but all the lights work now.
This comes after a month long ordeal with the engine, and most of the problem with timing the points system, which I knew nothing about and now I know everything about. Yesterday, laying under the rig, with shit falling into my eyes (because it’s too hot to wear goggles, they’d fog up) running wires to the back, I started to lose it again. Yelling. Frustrated. In pain. Dropping things. Fingers too worn out to hold little things like zip ties. Every single bulb has been a hard won battle. Crud, rust, frozen nuts, getting the hacksaw out… many holes drilled, many fingertip searches through containerized hardware collections… it never ever ends, the date just changes. It’s almost as though I forgot how to live any other way but to get up and fight with the machine, put up with constant noise, and be alienated from any sense of ‘community’ – the sign I had by the road that says “BICYCLE REPAIR” has gotten ZERO hits.
New version of the same old scene
This is the penance of owning a 38 year old vehicle. What I have in this rather large truck is everything I own: boxes and boxes of tools, four bicycles, a bed, a chainsaw, 50+lbs of bike components, a fridge that is off the grid (the solar system is holding steady) It came insulated and with some cabinets. I changed ugly green to cream.
Weather lately has been grueling. Sun – all day, every day. No hint of clouds. If I wanted this kind of weather, I’d be in California. I get my best work done after 10:00, when the continual noise of this place dies down and I can think. I get out for one break, every day, riding my bicycle two miles to get coffee and talk to someone – usually the employees of the food coop here in Mt. Vernon. I got a flat two days ago from a nail that someone threw into the bike path. I have not taken the time out to go out on the road for any long rides, as continually going in and out of the truck, being on my knees and back at times, and tripping over extension cords has worn me out more so than I think I’ve ever been. Last night, after hours and hours of stowing everything away and sorting parts/tools/hardware, I took it out for a ride, about 1/2 mile. It overheated. Smell of burning motor oil. Throttle cable came disconnected and I got it reconnected. Dog freaking out because his house is moving. I pulled back into the driveway I wish so much to leave, opened the vent cap and a massive movement of water took place, leaving a big space in the radiator for more coolant. This was 12:45 AM – and I went to sleep so exhausted after one more hellish day of this shit. Imagine your office is a car seat and you have to lean into a steering shaft as you cut,strip, crimp, pull, untangle, and zip-tie. If you’ve never re-wired a classic vehicle for which no wiring diagram is available – don’t… The phone has stayed silent, no emails for me, just one clumsy bastard, the dog, and this truck.
In a matter of 24 hours I’ll be driving this thing down the road and I hope that it doesn’t leave me stranded. The dude that sold it to me made a list of about a dozen problems that I’ve repaired, but there were about 2 dozen more problems that I found, some of them his mickey mouse bullshit that didn’t stay good. It seems that I’ll be spending my entire life inheriting mechanical nightmares – both bicycle and automotive, and eliminating mickey mouse, which keeps popping up and I need to just expect that. Now I find that most of the old wires are loomed with asbestos, which crumbles at the touch. Rotten 2 year old gasoline, diesel fumes, dust, unrelenting sun, and having to do everything 4 times before it gets right. “Welcome to the suck.” I sure would like to be watching Le Tour, going on a tour, or even working just 8 hours a day!
On the up side, I’m really happy with the living space I’ve created (it is free of flies, unlike the house I’ve been at) and prefer it over an apartment with shitty carpet that I have to cover up with plywood in order to do my thing: working on bikes. Only thing is, I’ll need a month to recover from this exercise once it is done – if it ever gets ‘done’. I haven’t been drinking… been so busy I forgot to. For heavens sake, I need to STOP WORKING. So today I’m taking a step back from this massive project, myself and Abel Clement are going to sit down and get out of the heat. It says right on the bottle: Vin Pays. (that’s a joke) When I REALLY live in this rig, and it’s not parked by a house with a kitchen, shower, washing machine, and internet; my drinking days will have to mostly end.
A wrench in the hand...
As Joe Biden is prone to say, “This is a big fucking deal.”
Floyd Landis took his accusations against Lance Armstrong to the airwaves Friday night, slamming the seven-time Tour de France champion with his most blunt attack yet.
“I saw Lance Armstrong using drugs.”
. . .
“Look, at some point, people have to tell their kids that Santa Claus isn’t real,” Landis said. “I hate to be the guy to do it, but it’s just not real.”
nydailynews.com/sports/…floyd_landis
If you are like me, and having a rough day at the mill… watch this. It should make it a little bit better.
I could watch that all day.
Thanks to Sara in NJ for that one.
Get a load of this:
In the ultimate drubbing of an embattled man, they are ridiculing him as a wimpy has-been, a ceremonial rider, a hapless greeter who shakes hands and kisses babies, just another spectator watching the race he used to dominate. All through France, all through the cycling domain, Lance Armstrong is seen now as a wobbling legend who stuck around much too long and, by doing so, faces dire consequences that might not have arisen had he simply stayed in retirement.
jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com.
We’re using kid gloves around here compared to that.
Headed off in search of adventure. Enjoy the weekend.
