Lacing Them Up

I've recently started running again, even participated in a race with my wife while we were down in Florida (I'm the one in long sleeves). Those of you have known me for a while may recall that I ran competitively in High School. That I had knee trouble, something to do with my meniscus, and eventually took up rock climbing instead.


The running hurts in different ways than I recall, but it's been close to two months now. My lap around the lake tonight actually felt good.

A Competitive Impulse

Just after 6:30 this morning I loaded the ESPN home page. It took me a bit to notice the "breaking news" box, the picture of Jan Ullrich. That they treated the story in this way, should have given me some indication of the severity of the doping allegations that have emerged on the eve of the Tour de France.



My interest in the tour began back in 1997; desparate for a sports fix after the NBA finals. Two years ago A. and I sprang for cable TV, and we've been faithful watcher's of OLN's coverage ever since. That coverage can be maddening. They run the same handful of commercials over and over for the full three weeks of the race. A given day's coverage lasts for hours. The action hinges on a handful of moments.

Decisions to respond or not to another cyclist's attack, deferential gestures of camraderie, the curious sentimentality that enters into the latter stages of the race. Hand shakes or pats on the back as one rider moves ahead and another falls behind. Reinforcing the sense that the tour is a thing that the riders are enduring.

A thin collection of video highlights are yours for the viewing here. But like the last chapter of Mason and Dixon, the full weight of what you're taking in can only really be felt when you've put in the time.

Many of the cyclists implicated in the so-called Operación Puerto investigation had figured prominently in such moments. They were also favored to win this year. According to fellow cyclist Bobby Julich the evidence, at least against his team captain Ivan Basso, is largely circumstantial.



I'm inclined to be sympathetic either way. I can imagine the pressure to win the first "post-Lance" tour, and the quality of the competition compelling someone to go the illegal route. I can't imagine how terrible it would feel to be clean and realize that you wouldn't be participating in the tour. I can even imagine years of adversity, being so close to winning, compelling someone to believe that they are pure of heart and conscience no matter what they did.

Points South

You will have to take my word for it, but our tomato plants are going like gangbusters. Our pepper plants are getting tall and leafy. The creeping thyme I planted in the herb garden is looking to start some static with the sage and rosemary. All of which would I could feel good about in advance of a 4th of July party if it weren't for the mostly dead lawn. Our front and back yards are much on our minds, but then so too is vacation.

We'll be travelling to the Galapagos Islands for a kayaking trip. Flying into Quito, where we'll stay for a day before flying to Santa Maria Island (also known as Floreana). If the list of recommended items for purchase, and the list of recommended amounts for gratuity didn't make the trip excruciatingly real, the arrival this afternoon of two dry composting toilets --I prefer the term EcoBaños-- on our door step certainly did.

We first learned about the possibility of kayaking through the Galapagos in a New York Times article. The photo below ran along side the article, took up the front page of the Travel section that week actually, and I never really recovered from seeing it.


I intend to do some homework prior to our leaving. Brush up on my Darwin, that kind of thing. Reading through The Flamingo's Smile I was surprised to find that Darwin had set out from London as a doctrine-embracing fellow, who only reluctantly accepted the theory we now associate with him. Of course, prior to booking this trip I thought of Darwin only rarely. Usually as an otherwise indistinct white male wearing period knickers.

Amy's pregnancy has reached the point where folks often ask if we're excited about the baby's pending arrival. Having the baby, being through the pregnancy is very much on Amy's mind. But I think the reality of it is mitigated to some degree by the trip we'll be taking. We'll take lots of pictures.

Total Loss Weekend

In 1972 Don Delillo wrote a piece for Sports Illustrated titled Total Loss Weekend. The story followed a bettor who spends an entire weekend losing every bet he places. To be sure, the teams and players I followed this past weekend won some and lost some, but looking back from the gathering dusk of a Tuesday evening I'm wondering where the hell my weekend went.

I'd known this particular weekend was coming for a while. The NBA Finals plunging head long into the opening weekend of the FIFA World Cup, while the French Open drew to a close. In my mind, this perfect storm was ample justification for the purchase of a hideously expensive flat panel television. Throw in the Tour de France, and the purchase seemed like a no brainer. I'm happy to report that other priorities emerged.

With the bubblicious CRT in full effect, I watched and watched some more. The weather cooperated. By the time I made it out to the hammock on Saturday afternoon, I took a hooded sweatshirt with me. When Amy and I napped in the hammock Sunday, she brought a blanket.