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February, 2009

Romancing the Stone

At what point does a writing piece separate itself from history and verge on romanticism? It is a difficult one to answer (as I could be as guilty as the next man), but in a way anyone who writes can fall pray to it, no matter what the year you are covering.

Reports from L'Equipe or Gazzetta are just as guilty as blogs and marketing types for creating a view which isn't entirely true. Some of it may be the myth that drugs only exist in the few and not the many. That the PRO's use regular clothing and not special items like Roubaix shorts and summer jerseys which are made from snow fleece in the harsh conditions.

 

Het Volk Gilbert 08

Het Volk Gilbert 08
 

Het Volk or Het Nieuwsblad

This is where the season begins

 

The Millimetre man

Mr Lance Armstrong has had many nicknames over his career, some not printable. The one that always fascinated me was 'the Millimetre Man', as to me it exposes a trait which in no small way helps to understand the man.

 

Cross

or the secret art of the forest fairies

I have recently been lucky enough to borrow a cross bike (thanks Paul), and wow I didn't realise how much I missed having one.

 

Ultegra 6700

It is very unlikely that you will ever see this on a Pro Tour (or whatever it's called these days) level bike. But the reality is that this marks a more important milestone than the it's big brother launch last year. Of course we all lust over the top end groupset, but the fact is that Ultegra is within reach for more people.

 

Winter Tyres - what I ended up using, a tale of two brands

Back on October the 1st I posted my 'Tyres of the Falling Leaves' quandary with the choice of three options, Conti's GP 4 Season, Vittoria's Pave CG or the Specialized Roubaix tyre. So I ended up going for the Specialized Roubaix tyre, this is how I got on.

 

Steenbeekdries Cobbles

Steenbeekdries Cobbles

I've ridden them, but unlike the Molenberg or Kaplemurr they do not stay in the memory. Maybe that is because the Molenberg is the first and comes as a rude awakening after the rolling roads, a sharpe right and the days first cobbles are upon you. The Murr sits in your mind lurking like a sense of déjà vu, enhanced no doubt by years of TV scrunity or by staring at iconic images of the race winner soloing over the top. The view of the Chapel greets you as an old friend ushering towards the finish, the extra energy it gives is better than any energy gel I have used.