Saturday, 11 July 2009
It's Not About the Bike
I've never read Lance Armstrong's autobiography, It's Not About the Bike, so I cannot say what conclusion Lance makes as to what it IS about.
But as for my own upcoming cycling adventure, which consists of four middle-aged friends and their five teenage daughters attempting to cross Catalonia by bicycle, I can say that it is about nine suitcases, padded bike shorts, lots of granola bars, many bottles of suncream, sunglasses, water bottles, about 30 swimsuits between us as a rough estimate, maps, moaning, whining, fear, teasing, nicknames, lycra, chamois butter for our bums, sandals and smelly trainers, several cameras, a copy of The Shadow of the Wind, and hopefully, lots of Rioja at the end of each day.
It should have been more about the training. I went on exactly one bike ride, and had to push my bike up the steep hill. Sigmund has trained by drinking red wine almost every night; my teenage daughter has been on a strict "resting" program; and little daughter thought about taking a bike ride, but discovered that she had outgrown her bicycle . . . probably a few years ago.
Wish us luck.
And by the way, does anyone know the word for "taxi" in Spanish? Or is it Catalan?