l'enfer du Nord

Chiseled from stone,

their marbled legs all scarred

and cut to the bone,

their calling in life was chosen

by their bloodline and place of origin . . .

they press on, driven by the romance

of a victory on the cobblestones

of northern France.

The peloton travels on indifferent,

their surroundings seem so insignificant,

their pain is all that really matters,

their bodies all worn and torn and hammered!

Mother Nature rises up

and rears her ugly head,

she disembowels the peloton

and nails the coffins shut

on those already close to dead!

It's not a pretty sight to see

these proud men in misery

strung-out like a chain gang

on the road to victory.

The selection can be mighty cruel,

only the strongest are fit enough to rule.

To dream of winning this epic race

a rider must find the inner strength to forge on . . .

oblivious to the pain and hail

that cloud his vision 

of the hell in front of him

and of past races ridden.

The cobblestones exact a heavy toll,

great warriors succumb

their steel mounts fold!

From the carnage a champion emerges,

in his quest for glory he breaks,

then surges on to victory.

His body covered in blood and grime

and piss and sweat,

this gallant warrior cannot forget

the pain and suffering he had to endure

to mount the podium in this sadistic race.

To claim victory in this hellish race

a champion must set an infernal pace.

To claim true victory in this monumental race

a great champion must win with class and grace.

What drives these men of steel to pedal endlessly for their meals?

G_‘95

My last races in Europe were Piemonte and Lombardy.   On the way to Piemonte, we had to catch an early flight.  In the taxi on the way to the airport the driver informed us that there would soon be a 20 dollar Girona/ New York flight on Ryan Air.  Ryan Air is like the European equivalent to South West, but cheaper.  Sometimes you can get flights for one euro.   I don't think this guy knew what he was talking about, but we'll see.  Not sure where we landed but it was a long drive in our little team camper to the race hotel.  Walking into the hotel, I smelled something that reminded me of these old hot springs I used to go to down in Southern Utah.  As it turned out, they have some sort of spring under the hotel they use to fill up baths in the basement -- it smelled pretty rank and for some reason there were lot of old ones walking around in robes.  After all the travel we were quite hungry so Lucus and I went to find some food.  Just as we walk out of the hotel an old man rolls up and gets out of his car.  He didn't speak any English but I could tell he was asking questions about cycling and seemed really enthusiastic.  I'm pretty sure he asked if Bjarne was around because there were CSC cars at the hotel.  I asked if he had any food in Italian,  at least I think that's what I asked.  Next thing I know Lucas and I are in his car and looking at each other with a little bit of what-the-    had we just done.  The old man lived just up the road and he took us to his house.  He showed us around.  He had a nice dog and even a couple goats outside.  There Lucus and I were - kickin it with some goats in Italy.  It's times like those when I really have to stop and ask myself WTF is happening, but I just roll with it.  The man is frantically making calls on his cell.  Finally, his wife comes home and thankfully she spoke some English so she could do some translating.  So she does a little translating and invites us back for lunch after our training.  We figure why not and agree to go back.  We find some breakfast, join the team for a spin and then Lucus and I cut the ride a little short to make it over to the man's house.   We end up having a traditional Italian meal and nice conversation.  I spoke what little Italian I could but most things had to be translated by his wife.  It was a nice experience.  As it happened, we left the training ride just in time as some of the guys got into an altercation with some cars.   Some of the riders were getting hasseled so apparently Cozza starts getting into it with one of the drivers when the driver takes off his jacket to reveal that he's some sort of police officer.  I guess Cozza starting laughing at him.  Not sure how they got out of that one but we kept waiting for a bunch cops to show up at the hotel and give us a hard time, but it never happened.  

I’m finally back in Europe racing. It hasn’t been easy to come back this year from my broken back, but here I am. I actually came back into competition with the Olympics, which has been a lifelong goal of mine. It was a really great experience. After that, I went back to the U.S. Nationals where I won the TT for the 3rd time. Then there was Missouri where CV won the overall, which was a big result for the team. I came back to Europe for Worlds.

I got 3rd in the TT -- it is a race that I really want to win someday. After Worlds, I drove to Belgium with my old National Team Director Noel. It was a long drive but I didn’t really mind as it was nice catching up. I started reading a book called The Story of Edgar Sawtell. It’s really good. Driving in Europe isn’t so bad. People move over and let you pass when you want to and they never pass on the right. It may just be because there are only 2 lanes most of the time and left is fast moving traffic or passing and, the right, is for slower moving traffic. Nevertheless, In America this kind of orderly road conduct, even when there are only 2 lanes, is not something you see very often. It was quite a shock to see the house that I lived in 9 years ago in Belgium. It was actually under some construction and there was dust everywhere so I opted to stay at a hotel the first night. I hung out a lot with a 20 year-old rider named Tee Jay. It was a good time just sitting there talking and making jokes like in the old days. Most of my nights are occupied by watching episodes of the Showtime series called Dexter. I use to think Twin Peaks was unbeatable but Dexter is great.