What Does Cockroach Feces Look Like

Montaigne The time rider

Besides Montaigne and Petrarch, who joined the squad (or group of escapees), I read this week rider, Tim Krabbé Dutch: a book for getting in a race and kill the bug. When cycling fans bought me a bike for that, and I got to the races that I took with my cousins \u200b\u200band my brother. Been a long, but I keep those feelings. And also the solo outings, which were the majority. An odor of asphalt and field, promotions, demotions, highway verges, routines, curves, thoughts, and the rotation of the seasons as if the same pedaling moviesen ... Then we saw the Vuelta and the Tour and knew, at what they were feeling the cyclists.

then I read the novel by García Sánchez on the Tour, L'Alpe d'Huez , and was fine. But this of Krabbé's better: it is drier, more powerful. Does not have a professional career but amateur, amateur level. Here they get one hundred thirty-six miles in four hours. Is the Tour de Mont Aigoual, a day in late July 1977. Apparently it's a prestigious career, but I did not know. The cyclist arrives in his car, ride the bike, run, back to the car and leaves. Between two points bland (splicing, each at its end, with life) takes the race: heavy pages from lassitude. Anoto

some of my highlighted:

I realized, somewhat puzzled, that the others were faster than me. I say confused because I was not pushing at all, the legs do not hurt me, or at least the pain was not noted in a diary and kept for years. But I could not run anymore.

You have little awareness on a bicycle. The greater the effort made, unless it is aware. [...] What goes through the head of a cyclist during a race is a monolithic ball so flat and so uniform that can not even see how it turns. The almost complete absence of bumps on the surface does not clash with anything that could enter the stream of thoughts.

The changes are as analgesics, therefore tantamount to surrender. At the end of the day, if I want to eliminate the pain, why not choose a more efficient? Competitive cycling is just cause pain.

I faced the very simple choice of giving up (and not race again) or go over myself. Spent.

paved roads, as some riders from Amsterdam, were built by the Romans, who were releasing a lot of stones from a helicopter.

also shown Mont Ventoux, in evocation of the rider. Account has risen seven times, by Bédoin (Petrarca it went the other way, that of Malaucène). On a stretch of the climb:

The forest is the worst. For more than ten miles you climb inclines of different slopes, but always greater than ten percent. You do not get a rhythm. Put of Standing on the pedals does not help, sitting on the seat does not help. It is impossible to divide between twenty forty-three. Any thoughts immediately wheel upside down. Forget about making a good time. Or upload or not upload, the clock is at your leisure.

As I had never thought was in the fall: April

This time, when I climbed the ice walls of the Mont Ventoux, never imagined that it would fall hardest. When halfway through the lunar landscape curb snow got to the last muscle that had not yet frozen and dismounted. I continued to walk some distance until the blood started circulating again, but before resuming the decline in bike felt again how I froze the head and hands and had to walk again. When I got was that it had fallen Bédoin of Mont Ventoux three minutes faster than it took to upload Gaul.