Life is Like That

“Oh, life is like that. Sometimes, at the height of our revelries, when our joy is at its zenith, when all is most right with the world, the most unthinkable disasters descend upon us.” [line by the narrator in A Christmas Story]

Yesterday was a good day for me. I managed to achieve a goal that I had set for myself back in January. When I took on the name Fat Archaeologist, I did it to force myself to lose weight and get riding my bike. I set out two simple goals. One was to lose 30 lbs before the Tour de France and the other was to be comfortable enough on my bike to go on long bike rides. As I’ve said before, I haven’t lost 30 lbs—I’ve lost about 22 and I’m pretty happy with that.

The other goal was contingent on losing the weight—going on long bike rides. I’ve never specifically defined a long bike ride. Before yesterday I had gone about 24 miles and I thought that was pretty good, but I really wanted to be able to go further. More recently, at the urging of my cycling friend Clem I decided that I could do 30 miles before le Tour and 40 miles before its end. Yesterday I got up extra early (5:30) and prepared to shoot for 30 miles. (As an aside, I’ve always maintained that if you get up any time before 5:45 am you actually are getting up the night before.) I ate some yogurt, made a sandwich out of zucchini bread and honey, and drank some water. Then I set out on my ride.

Most of the time I ride a 7-mile loop through town and just do laps depending on how far I want to go. Each loop starts with a short flat, then a nice long downhill, followed by a long flat, then a long incline that is followed by a short flat, a short downhill and a short and nasty hill that finishes with a nice, long flat. Yesterday I did 5 loops. During the first couple I felt tight and a bit uncomfortable. Then after about 12 miles I felt pretty good. As I finished off loop 4 and saw that I had gone roughly 28 miles I felt good. I decided that rather than just riding circles around my house until I did those last two miles that I would do another loop. It sounded good at the time and I was fine until I got to that long incline.

My legs had pretty well had it. If I had made two sandwiches I might have felt better, but I didn’t and I didn’t. Near the bottom of the incline I started to feel a little sick and by the time I got to the top I almost threw up. There is only one good thing about almost throwing up and that is the fact that you didn’t actually throw up. I struggled my way home to find my kids waiting for me on the sidewalk outside my house. They were amazed to hear that I had gone 34 miles. I was amazed that I had gone that far. To me 24 miles sounded far, but not that far…anything over 30 still sounds far to me. I realize I am a novice and that 100 miles is REALLY far…I just took a little ride yesterday. Still, I was pretty happy about it. I felt like crap all day yesterday and my legs are still sore today, but it feels good to achieve.

I woke up early this morning to write a post for this blog. I actually have some advice I wanted to dispense. Before I could start, my son came into the room and said, “Daddy, your bike is gone.” Sure enough, my bike is gone. We drove around the neighborhood just in case some drunken fool took it and rode it until they got tired and just dumped it. No luck, though. I am afraid that bike is long gone.

Now I live right on a busy street in a downtown neighborhood and I generally leave my bike near the back door to the house. It is visible from the sidewalk but we always have some flood lights on out back. My wife has warned me that I should lock it up, but I just didn’t really listen. Oh, I’ve been talking about buying or building some type of shed to house our bikes, skateboards, scooters, etc. So far it has been just talk. Anyway, so you could argue that I had this coming. That I was stupid for assuming someone wouldn’t come through my fence and into my back yard to swipe my bike. At a certain level you could be right. Still, at another level I refuse to live my life as if there is always someone around the next corner ready to screw me.

I realize that is foolish and naïve and as long as I continue to think that way I will pay for my unwarranted faith in the goodness of humanity. I wonder what it will be next time?

Pre-Father's Day Lesson: Gone Fishin'

My kids have been begging me to take them fishing for…well, almost a year. And that makes me ask a timely question--what kind of father am I? Every kid needs to go fishing--at least to try it out.

Yesterday, my kids and I drove to southern Virginia to visit my parents and celebrate my father’s birthday and father’s day. And we took with us a couple of fishing poles and some basic tackle. Today was that fateful appointed day--the day I took my kids fishing. My dad bought night crawlers yesterday--shipped fresh from Canada! We packed some hot dogs and grilling supplies and headed to the boat ramp near Long Island on the Staunton (or Roanoke) River. The river was running a bit muddy and it was hot. There were a few people there at boat ramp but not the rural Virginia block party I was expecting.

Earlier in the day I had given both kids a chance to practice their casting skills with partially loaded rods. They had bobbers but no other tackle. Casting is a tricky thing that requires some hand eye coordination. Since I didn’t get my kids rods made specifically for kids, they also had the disadvantage of using equipment made for adult hands and arms. In order to cast, you have to push the button down hard and hold it so the line doesn’t go out. Then, while holding the button hard, you have to cock the arm back then flick the elbow and wrist while letting up on the button at just the right time. Needless to say, this set of skills took a bit of practicing to master. Bobbers and line flew every which way for a little while, but really both kids caught on pretty quickly. I had a reputation, well earned, of being a bit of a wild caster so I was pleased to see that my kids hadn’t inherited the gene from me.

When we got to the boat ramp, the kids were really excited. I quickly put the swivels and hooks on their poles and wormed ‘em up. Then we walked down to the boat ramp to try out some live casting. It was a bit hairy at times because they both wanted to cast at the same time and the ramp was set down into the bank enough that space as a little limited. Still, it was a better location for beginners than a bushy bank where tumbles into the water are all too easy and bushes await to steal worms and tackle. The river was moving just fast enough that a good cast really lasted only a couple of minutes before the kids had to reel in and cast again. This created a less than ideal situation for novice fishers. They ended up having to cast pretty frequently. And if a cast didn’t come out just right, the line was reeled in and redone until the perfect placement was achieved. Lots of casting, in a somewhat constricted locale with novice casters…a recipe for at the very least a stressed out dad and at the worst a fish hook in kid flesh.

Oh and the worm carnage. Lots of casting makes for lots of lost worms and therefore lots of reloads. We burned through a bunch of worms in pretty short order. Unfortunately, there were no fish biting. To their credit, my kids fished their butts off for a good hour before abandoning their poles for a nice grilled hot dog lunch. Then after lunch, they got back out there and tried some more rapid-fire casting. All to no avail. In all, they probably logged almost 2 hours of fruitless fishing. That is pretty good considering the attention span of most kids…including mine.

The day was rescued by one simple fact. The place where you fish can be converted quickly into the place where you go swimming. We ended the afternoon with the kids running down the boat ramp doing splash-downs into the river. They loved it and, despite the fishing failures, will be left with a positive memory of their first fishing trip.

As for me, drag-foot dad, it turned out pretty good too. I only got one hook into me the entire time and managed to keep the kids from hooking one another. We burned through the worms but only really lost a couple of sets of hooks and swivels. I am disappointed that my kids didn’t get to catch any fish, but that may be a blessing in disguise. As soon as they catch one I suspect that they will lose all interest in fishing. After all, fish are wiggly, slimy, smelly, and not very cute. Fishing to actually catch them, as opposed to just fishing, is an acquired taste that asks you to get beyond all the reasons why you don’t want to catch and touch a fish. I don’t think my kids are there just yet.

This experience confirmed something that I have been thinking about a lot lately. I grew up living outdoors. So far I haven’t given my kids that same experience and if I don’t start they won’t in the least bit interested in ever doing things like fishing and camping and canoeing. It is high time for me to father up.

Forrest's Momma Was Right

Earlier this week I had decided to try to go on a ride every other day. I went on Tuesday and got the chance to go again today. Up to this point, I have been getting in two rides a week so this big plan of mine was really bumping things up a notch. Things were very different today, though.

For one thing I started out in the afternoon, during the hottest part of a hot day—stupid, but it was my only chance. It didn’t take me long to realize that today wasn’t going to be like other days I’ve ridden. Usually when I start riding, I feel good and excited. Today I felt like a silly old man…and it hurt. I started my usual loop but found I wasn’t looking forward to it—I didn’t want to ride it. So I changed up at the last minute. I headed out on a route that I had been saving for my 30 mile day. It is flat and straight and, relatively traffic free—at least that is what I thought. The route does go through some congested areas, but I was surprised to find that the traffic never died down—the bike lane did, but the traffic didn’t. I also was surprised to feel like I was going up hill the entire time. In fact, the entire day it felt like I was riding in sand.

I had been looking forward to a straight, flat ride—one where I could just put my head down and pedal at a good, steady pace. Instead of just powering on down the road, I found myself concentrating on all of my discomfort and pain. My legs never really got going and my butt hurt. My hands started going numb at a couple of points and the only thing that helped was shifting my weight. I was really a mess out there. Rather than being comforting, the monotony of the straight, flat was a little boring and it allowed me to focus too much on how bad I felt.

I used to run long distances in high school track and 10K races in the summers. I spent a lot of time running. There were times when I didn’t feel good and lost confidence and then the will to keep running. It is a terrible feeling to get to the point of giving up, even if it is just to walk for a few minutes. You never really recover from that during a run and it sticks with you for a long time afterward. There were many times when I had to talk myself through a race or a run—to keep myself going. It is a gut-wrenching thing to make yourself do something you don’t think you can do or want to do.

In my short cycling career (the last few weeks) I’ve always felt good. I’ve always wanted to be out there and have always been confident that I could do what I was trying to do, and, more importantly, wanted to do what I was trying to do. Today was different. I felt silly and out of place, like I didn’t belong on a bike trying to ride a measly 25 miles. When you start out in that kind of mental state, you are in for a long, hard ride. And today was a long, hard ride.

I only went 22 miles and it took me about 1:40, so it was a lot like most of my other rides. But today it hurt and today it was a struggle and tonight I am really tired and really sore. I am not sure what made the difference, but I really want to know. Was it the heat? It was pretty hot today and I usually don’t ride in the middle of the day. Was it the route? I was looking forward to a flat, straight route. Maybe I am too used to getting a break during the downhill sections. I didn’t have very many of those today. Was it the softness of my back tire? It seemed a bit low, but I haven’t checked it to see how low. I really felt like I was riding in sand, but that could be because my legs didn’t want to go today. Is it because I rode 23 miles the day before yesterday and I am not ready to do a 20 mile ride every other day?

I don’t know for sure, maybe it was all of those things. I am going to find out, though. I’ll ride that route again, not in the middle of the day and on properly inflated tires. I won’t be able to go on a ride again until early next week, so I’ll be plenty rested, too. We’ll see what happens.

You never know what you're gonna get.

Strictly Man Stuff

Men, I am here to talk about something that most of you don’t want to think about; something none of you ever want to have and something you never, ever want others to know you have. Yes, I am talking about man boobs or moobs. It is an all too common problem among men of all ages. I, being a fat archaeologist, live in fear of developing a full-fledged set of my own. I don’t want a manssiere (aka the male bra or brossiere). So to head off that fate before it befalls me, I have consulted the source of all knowledge—the brainchild of Al Gore—the internet. I am here to share with you what I learned from my time with WikiAnswers.

There generally are three reasons whey men develop moobs (outside of a hormonal condition called gynecomastia). The first, and I am guessing most common, is because they are overweight. Somehow that just makes sense, doesn’t it? The threat of getting them provides just one more incentive for keeping the weight down. As if the protruding belly (and concomitant obstructed views), extra chins, and pants wider than they are long don’t provide enough of an incentive. One more Twinkie is one more step toward the manssiere, my friend.

But, even fit men cannot be safe. Apparently, if you eat the wrong (or right) kinds of foods you can increase the amount of estrogen your body produces or reduce the amount of man stuff (testosterone) your body produces. Either way may start you down the road to moobville. It seems (at least according to WikiAnswers) that certain foods, supplements, and herbal teas can all affect the presence of moobs. Now the herbal tea one just begs for typical homophobic, juvenile male humor. Just snicker at the possibilities and move on. When it comes to supplements, Saw Palmetto and Vitex have powerful man stuff blockers—so if someone is slipping those things to you, they are trying to “man you down” a bit. Food, too, can have an impact. Did you know that soy has phytoestrogens in it? Yep, plants make estrogen. Enjoy your Tofutti, your soy milk, and your Tofurki but watch out for the moobs. Not surprisingly, some meats, particularly chicken, end up with estrogen in the fat deposits—a wonderful by-product of the industrial production of edible animal flesh. Ironically, participating in the manliest of activities—gorging on fatty meat—can start you down the path to moobs. Sad, isn’t it? Take heart fellow meat lovers because organic meat isn’t filled with hormones. Your colon and cholesterol won’t thank you, but your pecs will.

Moobs may also result from the decay of well-developed pectoral muscles. If you’ve worked out a lot and really built up those pecs, you’re setting yourself up for moobs…or a lifetime of anti-moob maintenance. The solution here is to keep exercising to maintain at least some muscle tone. Or, if you are like me, just don’t ever develop those pecs in the first place. The smaller they started out, the less they’ll sag and the less work you’ll have to do to perk them up.

I particularly appreciated the comments of one answerer on WikiAnswers who warned against the ill affects of lavender. Apparently smelling too much lavender can inspire the growth of moobs…so watch out for aromatherapy, fru-fru soaps, and potpourri. Again, the jokes that could come out of this line of “reasoning” are fun but too easy and kind of stereotypically male. So I’ll refrain.

I, for one, plan to stay far away from herbal tea, aromatherapy, Saw Palmetto, soy, and non-organic meat…and as much potpourri as possible (I like nice smells). I also have started on an exercise regimen that includes push-ups, presses, and some shoulder exercises. Join me, men, and fight the good fight against the development of moobs.

And if you are not a man and you read this…what is wrong with you, have you no boundaries?

Morning with the Shandonistas

After 10 days of not riding, I finally went on a serious ride this morning. I left at 6:30 and did my normal ride that takes me from Shandon, through Rosewood, down to Owens Field, back through Rosewood and into Shandon again. Being out early in the morning was great. I am a morning person. The funny thing is, so is half of Shandon. The legions of the fit were out jogging, walking, walking dogs, and yes, even biking. The funny thing was that they often traveled in packs. There wouldn’t be just one soccer mom, there would be three. Instead of one grandma walking along the roadside, I encountered five—yeah five. And they were walking side by side…and they had no intention of yielding the road to me. I had to swerve into the middle of the road to avoid them. In fact, everybody was in the road. No one was using the fine sidewalks of Shandon. You know how sidewalks get bumpy as roots push the slabs of concrete up, making the surface uneven? Well, here in Shandon they have ground down those bumps and made the sidewalks smooth again. Yep, they ground down the bumps in the sidewalks. And still the morning walkers and joggers clog the streets, refusing to yield to passing bikes. The mean morning streets of Shandon are no place for the faint of heart. When you go out there, strap on the helmet and smoke ‘em if you got ‘em because it’s a war and you might not make it back.

The funny thing is, when you cross Rosewood Drive into the Rosewood neighborhood the walkers and joggers disappear. Now it is no secret that there are some cost differences between living in Shandon and Rosewood. To live in the nicer parts of Rosewood, it costs an arm and part of a leg. To live anywhere in Shandon it costs an arm, a leg, and a kidney. Rosewood is inhabited by a range that runs from families to professionals to working class people and students. Those who live in Shandon are professionals, the inherently rich, and privileged students. So, why is it that the neighborhood with the higher mean income has more people out exercising? Is it that people of lower socioeconomic statuses are lazy and stupid? And conversely, those of us on the other side of Rosewood are motivated, smart members of the ownership society? As flattering as that is to me, I have a hard time believing it.

I did notice a lot more people out getting ready for work and school in the Rosewood area. That makes me wonder if the kind of job you have and the amount of disposable income you have somehow affects your ability to spend hours each day exercising. Could it be that if your job requires you to work early in the morning or late at night, or if both adults in the household have to work and find childcare, or if you are a single working parent then exercising is a luxury that is difficult to afford? Could it be that in our society, health is actually a luxury? Capitalism is an economic system that provides opportunity for all, so this couldn’t be the natural consequence of an inherently unequal economic system, right? I’m confused, but then again I am just a fat archaeologist.

My ride was great considering I haven’t ridden in over a week. It took longer than usual to get my legs warmed up, but by 15 miles I was in that zone where it feels good to pedal and you don’t want to stop. I quit at 23.62 miles after riding for an hour and three quarters. I burned over 1000 calories before breakfast…that means I can positively stuff my face all day today!

Here is a bit of a check in on my goals. Before the Tour de France I wanted to lose about 30 lbs and so far I’ve lost about 22 (183.8 today). I may lose the other 8 lbs before the end of the tour, but it will be a challenge. I’ve been at 184 for quite a while. I will keep trying. I also wanted to be able to go on long bike rides. My longest so far has been around 25 miles. I want to make 30 before the end of the month and I am pretty sure I can do that. I’d also like to ride 40 miles before the end of le Tour. With some work, I think I can do that also. After that, I’ll learn to speak Italian and take up ballroom dancing…or not.

Riding in the rain, what a glorious feeling

There I was. It was 7pm. My wife was at work and my kids were at a friend’s house playing. If ever there was a perfect time to go for a bike ride, this was it. Rarely am I presented with such an unencumbered gift. Usually, I have to pawn my kids off on friends and steal time away from my wife to go on a ride. There I was, with a gift. The only problem was that it was lightly raining outside and the weather radar showed a thunder storm cell approaching.

Now riding in the rain has a romantic appeal to it. And being able to say I went on a ride in the rain has a nice, manly vibe to it. So on a theoretical level, this sounded like a great idea with lots of potential for self-aggrandizement and ego inflation. I have to admit that I had another motivation as well. A friend had just left a smug post on Facebook about how riding in the rain was a nice change but then he had to wash his bike. I mean does anyone else see that this clever little comment was a way to brag about riding in the rain? I surely wasn’t going to be out-manned by him. That dude shaves his legs. What is up with that?

Anyway, just a few minutes into my glory ride reality began to set in and I discovered some problems with going for a ride in the rain.

1. Grit
Yeah, grit…dirt from the road. It flies up with the water and gets in your mouth. Now, granted a little abrasive on the teeth is good for you; it helps clean out hard-to-dislodge plaque and tartar. But this isn’t any ordinary dirt. And I’m no stranger to dirt. I’m an archaeologist. I am not afraid of dirt. I like dirt. Dirt is my chosen medium. Hell, my name in Hebrew means man of the red earth. If ever there was a person destined to spend his days in the iron-rich Piedmont soils of the American South, it was me. But this isn’t any old dirt. This is road dirt…and not just any old road dirt. It is road dirt washed from the road by a gentle rain. This is the kind of dirt that has mingled with possum entrails, spent time with dog poop, let oil float on its top. This is the kind of dirt that has hitched a ride with water carrying heavy metals, household cleaners, rat poison, insecticides, and good old fashioned human waste. And yep, it was all in my mouth to the point where my teeth crunched with I clenched them (Hey, the still do). Once my wife reads this, she’ll be sending me off to the doctor for a thorough cleaning.

2. Cars
Now of course there are going to be cars. I cycle on the road, in town. There are cars and trucks and motorcycles and even golf carts. No big deal. They are generally pretty good at sharing the road or at least giving me the chance to get the hell out of the way before they occupy the space I was riding in.

When it rains, however, people in the South take leave of their senses. Normally stable and reliable drivers become unpredictable maniacs. They lose their peripheral vision and their depth perception. They drive erratically with a wild look in their eye, as if they are being pursued by unfathomable evil. It is like they are living a horror film and whatever the horror is, it is right behind them. Its rain! It is chasing them and as hard as they try they cannot out run it. Drive, drive.

Honestly, when it rains cars automatically just fly off the road. It is like people see the rain and just throw up their hands and give in to the futility of driving in the rain. They simply let go of the wheel and let the car fly off the road. It is amazing…and scary. And I was out there in it tonight. Luckily no one abandoned the road while they were near me. I made it a short ride, though. There’s no telling what might have happened if I had stayed on the road any longer.

3. That thunderstorm cell
Oh yeah and that storm cell that looked like it might come my way…it did. It came sneaking up behind me. Right after I had finished about mile six I heard this deafening boom and crash right behind me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I had that undeniable urge to flee as fast as possible. The last time I remember hearing that kind of sound and feeling that flight urge I was doing archaeology. I was doing a site survey at Fort Bragg in North Carolina. I had inadvertently got myself and my crew a little out of our survey area. We had wandered into the area between the artillery range and the impact zone. The artillery range is where they fire the big guns and the impact zone is where the shells land and explode. In between, where we were “surveying,” is that area where the shells whiz over head. The sound of firing, the flight of the shell, and its explosive impact was really, really, really scary. I think my crew may have lost a little confidence in me after that. I am pretty sure they took the map away from me.

Anyway, with the thunder came flashes of lightning and then a down pour. Needless to say I ended my ride at almost 9 miles. That’s OK, I just wanted to do a little warm up. Tomorrow I’ll go for maybe a 2 hour ride…as long as it doesn’t rain.

Bicycle, bicycle, I want to ride my bicycle

My wife made that Queen song the ringtone on my nifty new IPhone. It took a week, but I got another good ride in. I rode for an hour and three quarters, covered just over 22 miles, averaged 13.30 mph and burned 1050 calories. Most importantly to me, I went further than 20 miles. I wanted to break that barrier, just to know I could do it. I can do it without a great deal of suffering. I feel pretty sure I can work my way up to 30 miles before the end of the Tour at the end of July.

The cool thing about going on long rides is that you burn a lot of calories. When you burn over 1000 calories on a ride, it really doesn’t matter what you eat afterward. You just blew more than half the calories you consume in a day. After that kind of effort, you can go ape shit on food. I like that idea because I really like food and I really like to eat. These glorious thoughts started me wondering what 1000 calories represented in terms of food. What could I eat and not really mess up my exercise and diet progress?

Well, here goes. Here are things that contain 1000 calories:

1. Burger King Big Quad Stacker
That’s right, four fat-laden, flame-kissed burger patties on a soft, high fructose corn syrup laden white bread bun reel in about 1000 calories. Mmmm, I can taste the fake flame flavored burps now.

2. A whole loaf of white or wheat bread
Yep, Elvis would love to know that the beginning of his famous peanut butter and banana sandwich with bacon and butter on an entire loaf of bread costs 1000 calories.

3. A whole roasted chicken
Yes, you can eat the entire thing, including some of the skin, at the expense of 1000 calories.

4. A full one-third of a whole cheesecake
Rich, creamy cheesecake; I love it and I could eat fully one-third of one and break even on my ride. Sure, it sounds a bit heavy.

5. One half cup of lard
Nothing like creamy spoon-fulls of lard…don’t know if I could eat a half cup’s worth, though.

6. A six-pack of Guinness Stout
I love stout beer and Guinness is one of the best. Drinking six bottles nets you 1000 calories and one wicked-ass drunk and I am sure a killer hangover—sounds filling, too.

The sad thing is that I didn’t go off the deep end at all after I went on my ride. In fact, I don’t remember what I ate, but it wasn’t anything special. Maybe when I ride that 30 miles (and burn almost a day’s worth of calories) I’ll eat half a cow, 50 hot wings, or a gallon of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. I do best when working toward goals.

Predictions on le Tour de France

Warning: What follows is endless babble and arm chair prognosticating about the Tour de France. If you don’t like cycling, think I’m full of shit, or don’t want to hear what I have to say, don’t read any further. You won’t get a thing out of it.

I want to be the first to stick my neck out and say that Lance Armstrong is playing possum and will come to the Tour de France in great form. He hasn’t raced much, he’s crashed out or dropped out of several races, and generally has done nothing on the bike this year. To the untrained eye he sounds like he’ll be an also ran in this year’s Tour. The fact is Andreas Kloden has kept a low profile, too. The Radio Shack one-two punch is going to be ready to come out and play this year. And they’ve got their usual complement of monster domestiques and a couple of dark horses for the GC like Leipheimer and Horner. Contador will get lots of attention and rightfully so. Coming off their win in the Giro de Italia, Ivan Basso and the Liquigas team will be watched closely, as will Cadel Evens after a really strong spring. Bradley Wiggins and Sky will mount a strong attack and don’t forget about Menchov who skipped the Giro to focus on the Tour.

I think Evans will be in the top five but he doesn’t have a strong enough team and he’s raced a lot this spring. Menchov will make a strong showing, too but will suffer because of his lack of a strong team. Andy and Frank Schleck may be in the running because they work together so well and have a decent team around them. Contador is the strongest individual grand tour rider out there, but his team isn’t that great. Vino has had a great spring season, but I think Bertie will find that Astana is Vino’s team and Vino’s goals will get in the way. While the fans and the peloton seem to be happy to have Basso back, they don’t seem to be happy to have Vino back. I don’t think Astana is going to get a lot of help from the peloton and I think Vino ultimately will be more of a distraction for the weaker Astana team this year than the Lance-Contador thing was last year.

Team strength is going to win again this year. That really throws it to Radio Shack, Sky, and Liquigas. We’ll see how Basso recovers from the Giro and I am not sure Sky has enough fire power to outgun Radio Shack. Evans has been racing incredibly well this year and he will have the best BMC has got to field, including George Hincapie, so maybe they should be included. Everyone will be gunning for Contador and Astana. With Vino at the wheel there’s going to be little respect for the team. The rest of the peloton will gang up on Astana and I don’t think Contador can win it alone. If he does, he’ll deserve the praise he gets now.

Did I leave out Garmin and Columbia? They have pretty strong teams and I like riders on both. I am mad at Jonathan Vaughters for screwing Hincapie out of the yellow jersey last year so I really can’t root for Garmin. Zabriskie is riding well, though. And Rogers rode a great Tour of California for HTC. I just can’t get into HTC now that Hincapie is gone…and they will really be there to support Cav’s try at winning the points jersey so Rogers will be on his own…kind of like Evans and Menchov.

I think we’ll see in the Tour this year what we saw in the Tour of California—strong teams toying with one another, throwing attack after attack. It should be a fun Tour to follow. I’d love to see Lance or Kloden or Leipheimer or Horner win. I’d be just as happy to see Basso or Evans win. Hell, I’ll even take Andy Schleck, Rogers or Zabriskie if I have to. I’ll be disappointed if Wiggins wins, mostly because I feel like Sky is the New York Yankees of cycling. I’ll projectile vomit if Contador wins again.

But hey, why the hell are you listening to me? I am just a fat archaeologist. I can barely ride 20 miles. Go read VeloNews or find out what Greg LeMond is predicting.