Simple, Simple, Simple...

I'm back in the office after a week away...all right, I did come in once to check the e-mail. However, as quiet and uneventful as it seems things will be this week, I could have stayed home and limped about there instead of in here. Hey, you never know.

Christmas around Chez Bowen was simple and relatively unadorned. Rubin received a boatload of treats from well-meaning friends; most of them rawhides processed in China. It was with a great deal of regret we tossed them into the wastecan. However, he got some more stuffies from "Dad;" I wasn't certain whether he was going to play with them (Suzanne was waxing biblical, talking about putting away childish things), when, lo and behold, he heard the squeak of one and took it to the floor. Okay, so he wasn't wagging his tail to beat the band like in years past...
Practical was the operating word for our gifts to each other. I got Suzanne a massage/heat pad; she got me skivvies, a movie and fruitcake - I must be the only guy on the planet who really likes the stuff, in spite of it breaking one of my teeth a year ago. For us, the trip to Jacksonville was Christmas. Well, she got the presents; I got the coal. Time with good friends and more coffee in a weekend than most guys put down in a year...works for me.
We had to get the check in the box. I was in no mood to run (I'll get some time/mileage in tonight, but it was Florida miserable out there), but felt the compulsion to do something, so I walked for about four miles...Suzanne ran and walked while I just walked and pondered the mysteries of the universe and all those other things young coaches do when there's nothing fun to do. We got hungry about 1:00 in the afternoon, and I really didn't want to go to the Chinese joint again for lunch...so we did a little driving to see who was open. Just so happens that one sports bar downtown was; playing some football re-broadcasts since there was only the basketball games going down. Let me tell you, there's nothing like a Guinness and a big cheesesteak sandwich, especially on Christmas. Hits the spot every time.
Playing with the dog, and the computer, and checking the e-mail started to get very old. First we thought about hitting a movie, then decided to sit in and watch videos. Suzanne went to the Chinese carry out, grabbed a six of Guinness, then came back to stir-fry after calling our friend Laura to invite her over...the first reaction would be to say misery loves company, but we all were just keeping it simple. I heard lots about the movie Dogma from friends who recommended the Showtime series Weeds, but wow... Screaming hilarious. A great mix of comedy and thriller. I'm afraid I'll have to check that one out again for commentary material.
Who would ever thought of casting Alanis Morissette as God?
Now, I'm ready to get back to training. See you on the roads.

The Last Sane Man In The Peloton, Using Facebook

So, what is the difference between when we hear about a black American baseball player and when we hear about European cyclists suspected of using PED? Is there a sense of injustice? Outrage? I guess it depends on whether you think the use of PED tilts the playing field. I guess where I'm so outraged on both issues, Bonds and his suspected steroid usage and the Vino/Rasmussen/Cofidis scandal at the Tour de France, is the complete 'oh, how like life, I $&#*ed up, suspend me from (the ProTour/MLB) for two years' state of arrogance that all these guys have exhibited.

David Walsh's book opened my eyes to the arrogance of the European, as well as the American cycling establishment. I still harbored a faint glimmer of hope (naivete?) that Walsh's writing was the axe-grinding of an angry, little man. Vino's bust for blood transfusion, then Rasmussen getting caught with his diaper (bike shorts?) down around his ankles (Can you hear the message from the Danish Cycling Federation? '...no, the Dolomites are not in Mexico, Mikael...') was the one-two punch of outrage that made me as cynical about cycling as my friend Christian.

How about this for a new slogan, Lance? Can we do this in Spanish for the benefit of your newest protege, Alberto Contador?

Yesterday was the first day back on the "real bike," in fact, it was the first ride on my newest acquisition, a rehabilitated Softride Powerwing 650. I hadn't dialed in all of the measurements yet, but had things as close as I possibly could get them by myself. It's still a centimeter off here and a centimeter off there, but not much different than my first rides on the Cannondale R300 on which I had my topple. The first moments of shifting with bar-end shifters and trying to get down into the pursuit/aero bars were a tad sketchy, but once you find a cadence that's comfortable things tend to fall into place. Having the aero bars are a positive thing, especially while I'm still learning to balance with one arm; I can wedge my forearm against the outside of the elbow/forearm pad to help keep the bike tracking straight. The bottle cages that are bolted to the @$$ end of my seat are going to have to go, however. They're too high, which makes mounting and dismounting almost comedic.

I'd rather have a (Profile Design) bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy. Sanity last, eh?

Suzanne and I talk a lot about the benefits of social networking. We don't chatter too much about the pitfalls. While I like the flexibility of Facebook, there are groups and persons I don't want/need to link with. I get more friend requests from persons who I would not be able to distinguish from Adam. My reply usually consists of: 'how do I know you?' It usually kills the friend request...oh, someone lend me a hankie so I can stanch the flow of tears from my eyes!

The biggest challenge in using a social network is trying to describe the benefits of a scalable, flexible presence on the World Wide Web. While Suzanne likes to play with different add-on functionalities, I use one or two, and only have a couple of groups with which I prefer to be affiliated. Different strokes for different folks.