My summer pretty much looked like this. No shit, 80 hour weeks. Stress was supreme. I came out of it weighing less than I did in high school. In a word, it was grim.
Snake texted me one day and said, I need your street address, and nothing more.
A few days later, I get this:
I have been told this is one of the two Giro number’s Chad Beyer brought back. He even signed it.
I set it on the desk next to me for the better part of a week. Right on top of the envelope it came in.
When life felt like ass, which, honestly, was most of the time, I would look at that number. I has holes where it was pinned on. And I would think to myself, Chad worked for years to get to that point. He busted his ass for years. And he pinned on that fucking number every morning and he finished the mother fucking 2011 Giro d’Italia.
I can do this. You’re got damn right I can do this.
When I had a chance, to went in a Target store near where my daughter’s went to daycare and bought a frame. Then I put the number on the wall. It may seem a bit presumptuous to put young Chad up there next to Landis, Merckx, Hampston and Lemond (which you can barely see on the right). I take my heroes where I find them. And I am very proud to know Chad Beyer.
And, yes, that’s Landis up there as well. I’ve taken the piss out of that guy over the years. But, let me say this – he manned up, admitted what he did, and he took his lumps. Floyd Landis can hold his head up high as far as I’m concerned. He was a willing participant in a fucked up system. And that system burned him. Badly. It took everything from him. Respect, money, spouse, friends. You name it. That guy got beat up. He went through a hell of a lot more than I did finishing law school and studying for the bar exam.by