Below is the story of my journey to Gila last year. This year was pretty timid to that. Just some time in some cars and planes. As for today’s stage, we helped position each other near the front when we thought things might break up in the wind. Jon, our designated climber of the race, was our biggest priority in terms of positioning, and he ended up 23rd up the cat 1 Mogollon, a good result and well worth any effort we made to bring him up in the peloton. I finished 82nd at 5:33 back from the leader, Rory Sutherland. Aside from the deep pain I felt after I crossed the finish line, a highlight of the race for me was when I got misted by some guy taking a piss off his bike mid way through the race. I told him it tasted like he might have had some asparagus for dinner the night before. He said no, he’d had brussel sprouts.
It’s 11:44 PM on Wednesday as I begin writing this. At last I’ve reached my final destination after being on the road since Sunday afternoon in Walla Walla, Washington. I’m precisely around about 7,000 miles away up in the mountains in Pinos Altos, New Mexico above Silver City, the host town of the Tour of the Gila. It’s been a long voyage. The same voyage the pilgrims made long, long ago to reach the sacred hematecrit-boosting mountain air needed to acclimate for a workweek-long stage race at altitude. And like the pilgrims, I had plenty of help along the way from natives—to whom I probably passed on a cold virus, from which they’ll likely die.
Sunday: The first step of my journey was the easiest. Walla Walla to Boise. Luckily my teammate…
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