Ullrich and Basso Out of Tour de France

Jan Ullrich and Ivan Basso are out of the Tour after being named in an anti-doping investigation? Francisco Mancebo is out, too. On the eve of the Tour kickoff, this is incredibly disappointing. Pro cycling is imploding. Maybe it's about time. The widespread doping reaching down from the top into the amateur levels is the worst-kept secret in sports.

Update: FOA Diesel has suggested that he, JPD, and I volunteer as last-minute, doping-free replacements for the teams losing riders to this latest scandal, as there may not be any others available in pro cycling. It's good to learn that Diesel is clean — sometimes his dropped riding partners wonder.

Update 2: Diesel, JPD, and I are pretty sure we'll make it through any TdF drug tests unscathed as long as they haven't banned Starbuck's Vanilla Frapuccino/DoubleShot, RedBull, Strawberry PowerGel w/caffeine, Accelerade, Endurox R4, Coumadin blood thinner, Bud Light, Jack Daniels, and a *handful* of recreational drugs.

Wasting Away in Corporate Clicheville

Dear GloboCorp: That's cool that you felt the tagline I wrote for your new brochure really encapsulated "what your company is all about." I agree that it aligns well with and even builds on your focus group market research and will help advance your brand in the global marketplace. But I just hope you approve my invoice and cut my check within the next two weeks — and that you never discover I lifted the line straight from the lyrics of a crappy Jimmy Buffett song that I heard blaring out of some Parrothead's car after the sprint tri last weekend. Who has the time for originality when you're training 25 hours a week? Later,
- Racer X

A Journey Into Dave Zabriskie's Goofy Mind

Pro cyclist Dave Zabriskie, who won the TdF's prologue last year, has earned our admiration because he clearly is missing a saddle. From Gabcast #4: “Give me back my mullet. Put it back where it belongs.”

Race Report: Highland Biathlon

May 29, 2006, Highland, Illinois

The three-day weekend gave me a rare opportunity to clean my bike and rest up prior to a race. I felt semi-rested for a change. The temperature was very warm and there was a slight breeze.

The biathlon (5-mile run, 15-mile bike) is run simultaneously with a run-only. Look for the folks with running shorts to determine the runners-only.

When the gun went off, many of the youngsters with running shorts charged to the front. The pace was quick early-on, but the heat took its toll. Some of the Big Shark riders who were in the team competition were warming up along the run course and giving encouragement. In the last mile, I ran a slower pace, bringing me into transition slower than last year. I noticed several guys ahead of me run through the finish chute as I went to mount my bike. I thought I might be in the top 10.

As I pulled my bike off the rack, Ryan was changing his shoes only seconds behind. Early in the bike I passed a few of the speedy runners and tried to settle into a good tempo. A few miles in, Ryan cruised by me looking strong as usual. I stuck to my own race. Sliding forward onto the nose of the saddle, I gripped the aerobar shifters tightly. My legs felt good and I was starting to think I was near the front of the race. I thought there might be a handful of guys ahead of me and I thought I was gaining on the guy up ahead. "Keep going," I told myself, "you may have a shot at the podium."

I was sliding even further forward on my seat to get as much power with every pedal stroke. I must have gotten further forward than I ever had because my seat made a loud creaking noise and angled downward. Uh-oh. It didn't affect my position or power and I plowed forward, gaining ever so slightly on the racer ahead. He did a nice job holding me off as I couldn't muster a sustained effort to catch him. I raced to the line 7 seconds behind him, besting my time from the last year by about 45 seconds. Due to the hot conditions, most people's times were slower than their previous bests. In the end, I just missed the podium, coming in 4th overall, 2nd in my age group. Good job by FOA Ryan, #2 overall.

Deactivating Defenders of Soccer Divers

Huh?

Book Review: The Runner and the Path by Dean Ottati

Rating: 2.5 water bottles (out of 4)

This book's subtitle reads, "An Athlete's Quest for Meaning in Postmodern Corporate America." As both an athlete and someone who works in Corporate America, I figured this one might be enlightening. Since it also was a loaner from Activeness' John, my expectations probably were too high.

The author maintains his insufferable senior position at a telecom equipment company, but struggles to understand why when it causes stress and significantly reduces the time spent with his family, which includes a sickly son.

Ottati gradually transitions his attention away from climbing the corporate ladder and, by the end, seems to feel better about himself. A more convincing action, in my opinion, would have been for him to quit the job he seemed to despise and attempt to live off a lower-paying job salary. But he doesn't. Though he passes on promotions, in the end the golden handcuffs seem to have won again, leaving this reader somewhat disappointed.

There were some worthwhile insights sprinkled into his pensive training run recaps. If you don't know what motivates you and are drowning in the so-called American Dream of "finishing with the most toys," this could be an eye-opener. But if you already have a balanced life of work and athletics, you might take a pass.

Tuesday's Gone

Tuesday night stuff:

* Al Gore's movie: Must see. It's science, not politics.

* Either somebody laced my Accelerade with PCP, or William Shatner is providing a seriously ridiculous interpretation of Elton John/Bernie Taupin's "Rocket Man" in this YouTube video.

* Activated: Charitable titans. "Nothing is more offensive to the American tradition of meritocracy, said Warren Buffett, than rich men being able to pass on 'dynastic wealth' and let their grandchildren determine the fates of hundreds of fellow Americans."

* Activated: The running partner who falls asleep sitting in his car while waiting to meet you for a run. It would have been much easier for him to go home and catch up on his sleep, but he showed.

* Deactivated: Cowardly scum baseball players who hit women half their size (240 lbs. vs. 120 lbs.).

* Deactivated: STLtoday.com's redesign. From what I can tell, they took a bad design and simply made it W I D E R.

* Remembering: David Letterman's emotional monologue on 9/11."If you live to be 1,000 years old, will that make any goddamn sense?"

* Wondering after hearing them (and way too much Bryan Adams) in the Metro station on a trip up north: Whatever happened to the Canadian band Triumph? It's all hazy, but it seems like "Just a Game," "Hold On," and "Lay it on the Line" were anthems for my freshman year of high school.

* Mastering Ironman. Be prepared or be spit out. Sounds like lyrics to a Rush song.

* Funny: The evolution of dance. There are no words for this.

JPD Race Report: Memphis in May Triathlon

May 21, 2006, Memphis, Tennessee

On the drive down to Memphis from St. Louis, the temperature was steadily creeping higher. If it got much hotter, the ability to use wetsuits would be in jeopardy. The day before the race consisted of the usual packet pick-up, short run and swim, and a bunch of Mapquest printouts to get from the race site to the hotel, to dinner, etc.

Days Inn in Memphis: Deactivated. Check-in was slow and the room felt dirty. As I rolled my bike into the room, I noticed the front right burner on the stove was on high. Heat seemed to be the theme of the day. No need to "bring the heat," as it was already in stock.

When I was finally ready for bed, I peaked out the window to see what all the hoopla was. Beyond the scraggly-looking alley cats, it looked like there was a practice run of a Mexico World Cup victory fiesta in the parking lot. A car alarm sounding a few feet from the window erased any doubt I may have had of whether I'd fallen asleep yet. Wakeup call was only a few hours away.

Race day was warm but the lake temperature was wetsuit legal. Unlike my previous two races at Memphis, I did not have an early start time. I waited for my number 662 to take my place in line as swimmers departed in 3-second increments.

I felt good making my way clockwise around the buoys for 1500 meters. It never got too congested due to the time trial format and I felt like I was holding my own. I emerged from the lake and was pleased to see my time was close to my goal. It had been a long time since I could say that about a swim.

My transition was smooth and quick, but as I went to mount my bike one of my shoes unclipped and fell to the pavement. I struggled to get my shoe on as the awkward silence of the spectators made everything feel like slow motion. A lugey seemed to magically dangle 5 inches off my nose during the aggravation. I was eventually pedaling toward the park exit when mishap #2 occurred. Also, seemingly in slow motion, my water bottle slid from the cage and appeared to explode on contact with the road. I had fluids in my aero bottle so I didn't panic. But then I noticed my bike computer wasn't registering my speed measurement. Again, not critical, but the annoyances were accumulating. I was working my way through the purple peloton (get it?) when I saw Missouri superstud D. Marriott climbing out of a ditch after a hard left turn. It looked like his day was over. I didn't feel particularly fast as the bike wore on and I entered T2.

My watch told me, however, that I could still hit my overall goal time with a solid run. Did I mention it was hot? Although my pace per mile was consistent and it seemed that I was passing people throughout, I never got up to the speed I needed to hit my goal time. I did enjoy the personal exchanges during the out and back run, especially getting "Activated" by an anonymous athlete/blog reader.

As I strode across the grass alongside rookie superstar triathlete Jillian P. out of Missouri, I finished about 4 minutes off my goal, but still managed a PR for the Olympic distance.

The St. Louis contingent had a good post-race spot under the Big Shark tent, where new faces mixed with old friends. Good times.

That's Why He's the Diesel

I was at the back of our three-rider paceline when Diesel called out "Gravel!" from the front. Thanks to his warning, I managed to slide my hands down from the aerobars back onto the bars and control my bike through the 10-yard patch of loose rocks. As the smooth asphalt re-emerged, I grabbed my bottle and took a long drink of lemonade-flavored Gatorade. When I looked up, Diesel and Dools were pulling away, climbing the short, steep ramp up onto the levee road, where they would make a hard right and head back toward town.

No problem. I'll take my time pedaling up the hill and then catch them on the flats. But when I made the 90-degree turn onto the flats, I was smacked in the face by a raging headwind. Where did this come from? Storm after the calm?

So I put my head down and cranked into a wind so strong it felt like my helmet would blow off. Eighteen miles per hour, 19, 20, 21...OK, 21 MPH into a huge headwind should do it. But when I looked up, despite the fact that I was hitting it as hard as I could, Diesel was pulling Dools even further on up the road and the two were slowly melting into the horizon.

Well, this sucks! Only one thing to do: Try harder. So I did, and I kept losing ground. I was toast—they were moving at about 23-24 MPH and there would be no catch. A little more than halfway through a 60-mile ride, I was looking at wearing the mask of pain and riding alone for 15 miles straight into this monster wind.

"How the f--- did this happen?," I screamed at the turtle who appeared to be mocking me at the side of the road.

I kept churning my legs and about 15 minutes later I looked up to see Dools falling back. Diesel had blown him off his wheel, too. I pedaled up alongside and said, "Let's work together and maybe we can catch him — if he flats."

So Dools and I took 1-2-minute turns pulling and, after what seemed like half a day but was probably was about 15 minutes, we sighted Diesel. Hammering for 30 minutes into the winds had taken its toll, and he clearly was waiting for us to rejoin him.

"Why you slowing down?" I asked with a straight face.

"F----ing headwind, man!" replied Diesel.

Oh.

Another Pulitzer for the Gray Lady?

The New York Times has reported that people who run are less likely to have a heart attack than if they had not been runners.

"In the long run, various studies have found, jogging adds years to life. Over all, each hour spent exercising (up to 30 hours a week) adds about two hours to a person's life expectancy, according to the Harvard Alumni Study, which has tracked deaths among 17,000 men for more than two decades. Even those who did not start exercising until midlife had a 23 percent lower risk of death over the next 20-odd years. Endurance activities like running, cycling, lap swimming, brisk walking and cross-country skiing conferred the greatest benefit, adding six years of life expectancy over that of a couch potato."

Baby's First Crit

Webster Groves, Missouri, June 25, 2006

Frankie Andreu and Wife Say Armstrong Admitted Drug Use

Now Frankie Andreu, renowned nice guy and ex-teammate/friend of Lance Armstrong, has given sworn testimony that back in 1996 Armstrong admitted to using all sorts of banned drugs. NPR owns this story. All I really know about Lance is that he's an incredible rider who doesn't seem to keep any friends for long.

Generation Marathon

There's no apparent connection to the previous Viagra post, but runners in the 40-plus age group account for nearly half of all U.S. marathoners, reports TIME.com. "For days after running a marathon you just feel this sense of calm, of accomplishment," says Marla Rhoden, 50, a government administrator in Topeka.

Viagra Provides Lift for Endurance Athletes

That's according to this Los Angeles Times story. I can think of one potentially big problem involving tight bike shorts.

Fast Girls on Wheels

FOA Mary passes along a link to a MSNBC.com story on the roller derby resurgence among America's women. Are you trying to tell us something, Mary? First you conquered water polo. Then you made triathlon look easy. Now it's time to show the Hotrod Honeys how it's done. ...

Swim, Bike, Run Toward Creativity

Scientists are proving what people out doing it already know: Exercise feeds the creative process. “Fred Lebow, founder of the New York City Marathon, once told an interviewer that whenever a great idea came during a run, he'd grab a twig and scratch it in the Central Park dirt. He'd go back later to recover his notes.” My admittedly more primitive method is to try to remember the idea. (Don’t need no fancy twigs.)

"Oh, I'll Kill Myself if Portugal Doesn't Win"

Here's a Mexico-Portugal World Cup preview (they play on Wednesday) from The Simpsons.

Mow, Drink, and Be Merry, for Tomorrow We Die

Friend of Activeness (FOA) Steve passes along this photo he snapped from his car of this drunk guy in northern Wisconsin. The mower was spinning in circles as the guy stood on the seat, chugged his beer, and pretended to drive. Alvin Straight would not approve.

Jan Ullrich Wins Tour of Switzerland

Seems like the massive German is finding his legs just ahead of the Tour de France.

Tough Day in Duluth

It was hot and humid at Grandma's Marathon.

Montreal Favorites From a Lonely Planet French Phrasebook

Pull my finger!
Tire sur mon doigt!


Not if you were the last person on earth!
Jamais de la vie!


What star sign are you?
Tu es de quel signe?


This drug is for personal use.
C'est uniquement pour mon usage personnel.


Easy tiger!
Vas-y mollo!


Maybe a Bloody Mary will help me feel better.
Peut-etre qu 'un Bloody Mary me fera du bien.

Lap Swimming at a Montreal Hotel

A great place to swim laps in the heart of downtown Montreal is the Hotel Omni Mont-Royal. You swim through the tunnel from the indoor jacuzzi right into the heated pool.

"Laid Back, Cool Guy" or Murderer?

After telling me about the bear that accidentally crashed through a fence and fell into her grandparents' swimming pool last week — (Who knew bears don't like water?) — the 16-year-old blonde Lolita at the abandoned, off-season Vermont ski shop a few miles from the Canadian border sold us Diet Pepsis and Cherry Garcia ice cream bars and gave clear directions for heading into Quebec a few miles to the north.

As we pulled our Chrysler 300 rental up to the quiet border crossing, it felt like a formality. "It's like going into Wisconsin," — Bill Murray's classic line in Stripes — crossed my mind. But the passport listing my West Indies birthplace must have raised a flag, and the two Noridque border guards asked us to pull to the side.

A few minutes later, as car after car was waved through the border crossing while we waited impatiently, a guard came to the passenger window and asked for my driver's license. Soon after that, he returned to request my "social insurance number."

"Social security number?," I asked.

"Oui," he said, scribbling it onto a piece of paper as his partner watched us closely from the door.

Nearly half an hour later, our tension had turned into aggravation. Why were two guys with no criminal records that we could recall being held up at this tiny border crossing?

Then a guard approached the passenger's window and asked me to step out of the car. OK. ... He walked me into the building, and he and his partner, who was on the phone speaking French with a law enforcement offical, examined my hands closely and checked my entire body for tattoos. I was starting to get nervous.

"Non," said one guard into the phone.

Muffled response.

"OK, sir, you are free to go," he said.

"What just happened?" I asked. (Fair question.)

The tone got lighter.

"You have the same exact name and birth date — day and year — as a man wanted for murder in the U.S.," said one guard with a smile. "But you have a different social security number and no tattoos. You know they asked me if you looked like a murderer. I said, 'No, he kind of looks like a laid-back, cool guy.'"

What? "But maybe that's my act," I said. "How do you know I'm not just pretending to be nice and laid back?"

In retrospect, I shouldn't have joked, but the guards laughed.

"So, what's going to happen when I try to come back into the States on Sunday?," I asked.

"That's up to U.S. Customs," one responded. "I wish you luck. In the future you should carry your social security card."

"OK. Hey, how do we get to Montreal from here?," I asked, thinking that I had earned the right to ask directions.

"Go straight for a few kilometers and turn right at the giant rocket."

When I got back into the car, I told my cousin to drive straight ahead and look for the rocket.

"Is rocket their word for highway?" he wondered.

"I have no idea."

Turns out it was a giant, rusted white rocket sitting at an intersection for no apparent reason that guided us toward the highway into Montreal.

Merci, border guards.

Vermontification

I believe that when you become a Vermont citizen, you are issued a Volvo wagon, an entire hemp wardrobe, and some kind of comfortable slip-on shoes or sandals. Maybe Prozac, too, as everybody we meet seemed incredibly friendly and happy. Maybe it was the fact they were seeing the sun for the first time in 10 days. In an unrelated note, I'm not sure how they ever elected a Republican senator (now an Independent) in such a liberal state.

Thank You, Professor Vermont

He worked for the Vermont Department of Health, monitoring water quality, but the guy sitting next to me on my flight into Burlington reminded me of my favorite high school English teacher. He had the bad suit, the wild beard, and the animated energy. Most of all he liked to talk and wasn't too interested in listening — OK by me.

Turns out my seatmate was a runner who just completed the Vermont City Marathon in Burlington a couple weeks ago. When I asked him where I should run, he drew a detailed map on a United Airlines cocktail napkin. His recommended an eight-mile course will take me through part of town and then to the Burlington Bike Path, a rail-to-trail conversion path that runs along Lake Champlain and has views of the Adirondack Mountains. There are no bathrooms but "lots of woods."

Professor Vermont's son is a cross country and track runner at the University of Maine. Last year he and his girlfriend took a semester off school and, as Bill Bryson wrote about in A Walk in the Woods (decent read), hiked the entire 2,100-mile-long Appalachian Trail, following spring from Georgia to Maine. Along the way they befriended a 40-year-old hiker named "Snowdog" who had been "voluntarily downsized" from his job at a St. Louis title insurance company and decided to spend six months walking. Add it to the list. I just need to come up with a cool trail name and six months of free time.

Other things I learned from Professor Vermont:

* He doesn't mind running in the subzero winter temperatures up here, but the ice and snow can make it tough.

* He almost hit a moose while driving last week.

* They're trying like hell to discourage sprawl but it's a struggle. New zoning regulations in his town require at least a 10-acre lot for every new home built.

* Vermont was the last U.S. state to allow Wal-Mart to build a store. Now there are four and many people are angry about that. But there are still no Lowe's. Vermont: You have been Activated.

* A lot of people come to Burlington for scuba diving and snorkelling in the green, murky water of Lake Champlain because there are many historic shipwrecks to explore. The tragedy, though, explained Professor Vermont, is that highly invasive zebra mussels have hitched a ride from European ships and are effectively destroying the lake's indigenous plant and animal species. Divers are frantically trying to photograph and document the underwater scenes now, as they may be completely covered within 10 years.

* We should hike up the 4,200-foot-high Mt. Mansfield, which is Vermont's highest peak and located in Underhill State Park. Are there bears? "Probably not." Add it to the list.

Thank you, Professor Vermont.

Last night I asked the bartender at the Ri Ra Irish pub what we should do. "Well, the weather's great, so you need to get out and recreate," she said. "Hike, kayak, bike. People around here tend to make their own fun." Done.

But first I need to buy some maple syrup-flavored Gatorade, jam to some Phish, and then drop in at the Starbuck's across the street from the hotel. It's another transnational chain store that's infiltrating and overrunning America, but some zebra mussels taste pretty damn good.

Shoe Story

Remembered: Running shoes and socks, shorts, shirt, Gatorade, GU, suntan lotion, sunglasses, stupid walkman in lieu of broken iPod, change of clothes for post-run weightlifting, another change of work clothes for visit to client's office.

Forgot: Matching pair of black shoes.

Choices: Drive home and look for match, go to next-door mall and buy long overdue pair of new shoes, play cards as they lie.

Decision: Wear them — no one will notice.

Result: Some people (i.e., women) are surprisingly observant about shoes.

Lesson: Turn on closet light when packing bag for day.

Intermission

Thanks for your patience. As best talk show host ever Merv Griffin used to say, "We'll be right back."

World Cup TV Schedule

The World Cup TV schedule is here. I'll watch more TV from today through July 23 (last day of the Tour de France) than I'll watch for the other 46 weeks of the year combined.

Boulder: A Running Town

Though some of the romance and sense of camaraderie are gone, world-class runners still come to Boulder forits ideal elevation, training landscape. and runner-friendly lifestyle, reports the Denver Post. The Denver-Boulder area ranks No. 1 in the country for runners per capita (18.9 runners per 100 residents).

What About Floyd?

Can Floyd Landis win the 2006 Tour? This spring he won the inaugural Amgen Tour of California, Paris-Nice and Tour of Georgia stage races, reports Martin Dugard. "He is a witty and humble man, capable of dropping the F-bomb with the Shakespearean aplomb of Samuel L. Jackson."

Mike Lieberthal Vs. a Little Girl

Being a baseball player means never having to say you're sorry. Jackass.

Bernie Miklasz Catches Heat From Haughty St. Louis Cyclists

St. Louis Post-Dispatch columnist and local ESPN 1380 AM sports talk radio host Bernie Miklasz received this comment on his STLtoday.com online forum:

“Bernie, I heard you say this morning that no one on your show said the best place for a cyclist is under a car. This statement was in response to an email regarding the comment that was made on your show, on Friday. I know the comment was made because I heard it.

If you really believe that no one made this comment, on your show, and you do not advocate the obvious violence which the comment endorses; then I think a review of the transcript from Fridays show is appropriate.”

Bernie could be aware that radio hosts have gotten in trouble in the past for encouraging violence towards cyclists. Here is his response:

”Please be more accurate in your representation of what I just said.

I said that I didn't make that comment ... which I didn't. I also said I was wondering who did. Because I honestly don't know.

I don't remember the comment being made. Which doesn't mean it wasn't made -- but there's five people in the studio, and it's noisy and hectic, and I'm trying to run the show. Not all comments register with me. Oherwise, thanks for listening.

--B”

Followed by this:

“Vernetti (producer/co-host) is going to go back and listen to the show and see what was said. Thanks.

--B”

Followed by this:

”For my part, all I said was I don't understand why cyclists feel compelled to dress up like Lance Armstrong -- full uniform.

This would be like a couple of guys playing catch and wearing a full Cardinals uniform.

Safety gear, yes. I'm talking about the clothing.

But I was just being silly. People need to understand the context of the show.

What I don't like is this: the guy (not Bruce Wayne) who complained in an e-mail to the show acknowledges he didn't hear the show, doesn't listen to the show, and heard about it 2nd or 3rd hand.

People ought to pay attention and listen to a show before they rush in and make accusation against the show.

--B”

Followed by this:

"I think that's the problem with cyclists -- as we're seeing now. They just take themselves way too seriously. There's a haughtiness in the cycling culture that's quite irritating.

I've logged plenty of miles in Forest Park, and there are a lot of people getting exercise on the paths, but some (not all) of the cyclists really think they're competing in the Giro d'Italia. It's almost as if they're offended that others are out in the sun, getting in a workout.

Just relax. You aren't Ivan Basso. You aren't even George Hincapie.

--B”

My takes:

I know Bernie doesn’t advocate running over cyclists.

He never clarified what actually was said. So there was no denial that the comment that "the best place for a cyclist is under a car" was made by somebody appearing on his radio show. Updated: Bernie has noted on his message board that the original comment was made by Max Leinwand an employee of Fox Sports Net. Bernie has asked Leinwand to issue a formal apology when he goes on the air Friday. Fair enough.

I agree with Bernie that “serious” cyclists shouldn’t be hammering through the Forest Park bike path. Too crowded and dangerous.

His analogy to a cyclist “dressing up like Lance Armstrong” being akin to two guys wearing full Cardinals uniforms to play catch is absurd, but I don’t worry about what non-cyclists think about the gear or expect them to understand. We may even agree that it looks silly, but we know why it works. I have no interest in explaining the answer to someone who asks why we don’t wear baggy shorts and loose shirts. OK, I will — in two words: Aero Dynamics.

Why does Bernie feel the need to belittle Big George Hincapie? He won one of the toughest stages of last year's Tour! (Note the oversensitive haughtiness.)

Finally, I can’t understand why anyone would be offended by the clothes:



Yeah: If you do decide to take up cycling, Bernie, then you probably wanna stick with the black lycra.

Boulder Report: "Damn You, Jan Ullrich"

Bicycling writer Joe Lindsey is doing his part to keep Boulder weird in his rambling Boulder Report. Lindsey notes that Jan Ullrich won a time trial stage at the Giro d'Italia and wonders if overall winner Ivan Basso pushed too hard in Italy to win Le Tour in July. He also points out that with Alexander Vinokourov and sprinter Erik Zabel gone, T-Mobile is a far different team, united to work for Ullrich.

"Will he do it? Of course not. Ullrich is a 21st century Poulidor, Mr. Second Place. He can, and most likely will, find a way to lose the race. But he's so damn talented that you can't look him off as a serious contender. Jan Ullrich could show up to the prologue drunk, 20 pounds overweight, pedaling a unicycle, and still be able to ride himself into enough shape in the first 10 days that, were he to attack off the front, every team in the race with even an outside hope for the podium would chase him down. So damn you, Jan Ullrich, for making me (cautiously) believe that you can (maybe) win the Tour (against all hope)."

Activating "The Office"

I don't watch a whole lot of TV, but NBC's The Office makes me laugh. My favorite line from the episode I caught last night came from Dwight, who as he hopped around the office on a "fitness orb" said: "This ab exercise is specifically designed to work my core." Thank you, Jim, for stabbing the orb with a scissors.

A Big Lance Friday

There's nothing cool about drunken riding.

An investigative report released Wednesday may have cleared Lance Armstrong of accusations that he used EPO during the 1999 Tour, but Chicago Sun-Times columnist Rick Telander isn't ready to declare him innocent. "We the fans know what we see, and when we see muscles from another planet and endurance beyond belief, we know something is happening."

Associated Press columnist Jim Litke counters that Lance was the most frequently tested athlete on the planet "and he's never come back with a positive, confirmed result even once, or trotted out the excuse he didn't know what he was putting into his body."

The San Francisco Chronicle's C.W. Nevius compares the differences between Lance Armstrong and Barry Bonds. "Is it the premise of the French that Armstrong somehow managed to get the only sample of a wonder drug that allowed him to win the Tour seven times?"

Bryan Burwell of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch only wishes he knew more about cycling and that Americans cared about the story so he could formulate an opinion. "[Lance] gets a free pass because his sport hardly registers on this country's sports landscape." Ah, but all the world's a stage, Bryan.

A Men's Journal article reports Lance "hated racing" in the last few years but likes his vino (legal drug) now. "For 20 years I lived like a monk, but now if you open a bottle of red, I'll be the first one at the table," he said.

Goodbye to Jack

RIP, Jack (April 14, 1991-May 30, 2006)
Didn't like to run with me but loved to wander off alone. Found as a puppy on the side of the road and named for Jack Kerouac's "On the Road."


Always an optimist and best friend to all but the mailman.


He barks with angels.