Who were the dumbasses who put ugly paper stuff all over my pier pilings? I'm just trying to get all artsy here, and you had to go and ruin the entire effect. I like the light and shadow. We're just all going to pretend that instead of the piling condoms, we see old, nurled, splintery wood, smelling faintly of tar and sea spray.
Got it? Good.
Now that we have that out of the way, I feel certain you all thought I'd forgotten all about you. Fear not, gentle reader, I have not forgotten, simply lagged. Why is it that the reader is always gentle, anyway? Wishful thinking, no doubt. I even had content to post. You missed out on my Presidents' day celebration, a lovely day at the beach.
But I have an excuse. Surely, you will understand once I explain. See, I'm getting over the flu like pretty much everyone else on the planet. This is some fun times right here. Would you care for some snot with your snot?
And let's talk about fevers for a minute. I am as lazy as the next person, but really, two full days staring at the wall is a little excessive, don't you think? Couldn't we streamline this process, somehow, get it all done more quicklike? I have things to do, you know.
Like bike racing, for example. I was really thinking March. March sounded really really good. I always dream that I'm going to race in February. But really, who am I fooling? It's freakin' cold out in February. Who wants to do climbing repeats in February? 1-2-3... Not it! And all those clothes. How the fuck am I supposed to feel fast in ten layers of clothing? Adding weight, right there. Besides, February is a long way from June. And I really like to race in June. Sun. I think I remember what that looks like.
Meanwhile, I'm sitting here in the endless coughing stage. I'll see you all on the road. Sometime next year.
Fortunately, fate smiled upon me and I could play interwebs all week. Yay for the Tour of Cali! So kind of all those bike racers to show up and entertain me while I was lying on the couch. There are several blog posts worth of material right there. But really, I've posted more than my share around the interwebs. During the season, I tend to hang with the kids at the Cafe. Pretty much all my pro bikey racing chatter goes there, rather than here. Uh, I dunno, I guess because I was there before I was here? Something like that, at least. Fun race to watch for sure, though I was hoping for a new winner. Variety, spice of life, and stuff. Most excellent to see two Slippies on the final podium. Could they have ridden a better race? They could have won, you say. The gentle reader grows demanding. I say, Vandevelde looked happier than the winner, and I thought they were going to spray paint the walls when they won the teams competition. Did you see the shot of Millar's face inside the last K of the time trial? He wanted that one real badlike. I can't wait to see what happens next with those kids.
I did manage to miss the grand finale yesterday, though. I was sitting on the couch, well, really, I think I'm permanently attached to my couch. So until further notice, you can assume I'm sitting on my couch. Maybe I should post a picture.
I was sitting on my couch watching the race do its thing over the big hills in the hard rain. I was also rather idly flipping over to the bouy readings, which were going up remarkably quickly. The break hit the closing circuits with 2.30 in hand, rain coming down in the sheets in Pasadena. All the ingredients for an epic showdown.
Right about then, the bouys inside the Santa Barbara Channel read 20 feet with 19 second periods. Uh, this bike race looks great, but I gotta go.
It looked like Hawaii. Except the part about the water being the wrong color. Hawaii water is all blue and light and happy. Central Cali water is dark, grey. Very serious water. A banker in a tailored suit sipping a vodka martini at lunch water. Not a little paper parasol to be seen.
It was fucking HUGE.
Big Wednesday? Not-so-big. Access to the sandbar was closed as was the pier, so I didn't score much with the cam cam. We watched from the beach by the pier as a few guys got crazy.
Then we drove down the coast a little, sat on the wall, and watched the huge sets roll in one after another until the sun set.
The Coastal Commission voted 6-2 against the toll road thingy last night. A report by a CC expert concluded that the road, if built, would do "irreparable" damage to the surf at Trestles. Some of the pro-road peeps claimed that this was just localism, that the Trestles clique just wanted to keep the inlanders out. Localism? At Trestles? Oh, puleeze. We're not talking secret spot here, kids. B'sides with all that internet prediction out there, just about anyone with a car and an internet thingy can find some surf. What's the point of getting there faster on the toll road, if there's nothing left to surf, hmm? Next up, the appeal. More words and some pics of the craziness over at surfline. (As a side note, I wish one of the cycling sites would take lessons from these guys. Pictures are good.)
I had a lovely long bike ride in the sun today. So lovely, that I am far too stupid to write anything more.
While you're waiting for me to come up with something, have a look at these lovely images: