Arms are getting sore from pointing out all these potholes

Back in 2008, Vampire Weekend was definitely like, “dudes, the harpsichord is SO back.”

OH NO! A NEW APARTMENT COMPLEX?!?! THE COVENANT'S RURAL ATMOSPHERE IS UNDER SIEGE!!!!!!!

I guess SoCal’s just rainy now.

Today I found out about Kratom

Sabugal —> Torre

Ya know, as much as you want to think "Oh, I'll just try and conserve energy today, cruise the pack, position our climber into the base of the climb, pull the chute, roll'r in, bob's your uncle, that's the day," that just isn't really possible when the day ends on 23 kilometer climb. I know I know, I said it was 30 kilometers yesterday, but the brain tends to exaggerate when it's scared and blow things out of proportions. For a day to be truly truly properly unequivocally easy, it has to be absolutely flat and have absolutely no crosswinds, neither feature being offered today. 

It was a classic case where maybe it might have actually been easier to be the in the break than it was to be in the peloton. There was some fighting for maybe the first 30 minutes, but then the main GC teams fanned out across the road after Cade was last guy out of dodge to attack out of the group and bridge the escapee squad of 12. From there, we were on bottle duty for Kieran and Ricky, and just trying not to get pissed because it was one of those days where there was just slight enough crosswind where the pack would be riding single-file along one side of the road and folks would be getting gapped after the tiniest little acceleration. Honestly, days like these are the absolute worst in my opinion. It's death by a thousand cuts because you find yourself doing a bajillion micro-accerlations just to stay on the wheel in front of you, but because it's a slight crosswind, you're not actually getting as good a draft as you would want. Nobody is! 

Beyond Cade getting into the move, there wasn't all that much to report from today. It was pretty straightforward. Everyone was gearing up for the climb up Torre, and when we hit the base, I was out the ass instantly, and just rode in with the gruppetto while Kieran and Ricky duked it out with the rest of the climbers. I wish I could offer some more swashbuckling insight into the day, but sometimes that's just how it goes and sometimes there just isn't that much to tell. 

With that, some more observations that I'm taking note of: I am getting dumber. We all are. I honestly think that's what this sport does to you. You are ground down to a pulp each day such that you have barely any capacity for much else besides eating, sleeping, and the actual bike racing itself. At least that's how I feel. I have not read my book in a couple of days because I lay down in bed and I simply can't track the words for more than a couple lines without wanting to close my eyes, which I guess in the glory of reading. But I find that I just become so simple-minded during bike races. Deep into a bike race like this there is a level of dissociation from the realities of the world outside this event that is kind of stunning. I generally listen to the news via podcasts or read articles when I'm at home or do something to stay caught up or informed, but right now I am literally just existing in silence half the time because the adrenal fatigue I feel after 5+ hours of whirring cassettes, people yelling, and the stress of making sure I do my job, stay fed and watered, and not crash leaves me thick as a fucking brick with little to no ability to appreciate anything that isn't just the white noise of the bus AC. 

I genuinely think that the dumber you are, the better athlete you become, and I have felt myself improve at my ability to float through the pack and read the race so I can be as efficient as possible, but the amount that I am giggling at things that aren't funny or the ever-increasingly inability to summon certain basic vocabulary when my chatting with my teammates is becoming alarming. WHERE IS MY MIND! WHAT IS THIS EXISTENCE?!?! I also couldn't really with confidence tell you what day it is, as time has because an illusion. I am deep in my Rust Cole mindset right now. Time is a flat circle type shiiiiiiii. This is bike racing for you. I am forcing myself to play Wordle just so my synapses don't dry up. FOLKS! GIVE ME 5-LETTER WORDS. 

It occurs to me that as I type this I literally haven't worn any other footwear besides my cycling shoes or a pair of slides since I touched down in Portugal more than 2 weeks ago? I simply cannot be bothered to put on socks or to tie shoelaces. I mean, a knot? Are you fucking joking? May as well be asking to do calculus. Too much. We are on a strict gym shorts and 2 t-shirts protocol. I also haven't worn pants in more than 2 weeks either because the heat simply doesn't allow for knees to be covered, lest I melt. 



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Sam Boardman

Volta a Portugal: Etapa 7

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Arms are getting sore from pointing out all these potholes

Back in 2008, Vampire Weekend was definitely like, “dudes, the harpsichord is SO back.”

OH NO! A NEW APARTMENT COMPLEX?!?! THE COVENANT'S RURAL ATMOSPHERE IS UNDER SIEGE!!!!!!!

I guess SoCal’s just rainy now.

Today I found out about Kratom

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