Spring Training

Now that San Felasco has passed most of the riders I know will let their guard down, enjoying a few weeks of relative downtime after accomplishing their winter goal. S'quatch's hand will find its way into the cookie jar, others will follow his example with unprecedented stretches of laziness and ennui.

While they exchange high fives at the bike shop reliving their best "50" moments, I will crack out of my carbonite casing and begin spring training.

Today it is cold and wet, and not just Florida cold, but cold like a soggy winter day in Portland- the perfect day to get the drop on the pack. It will be miserable and slippery, hands will be numb and toes will be numb, but if I can just talk myself onto the bike, there is a chance I can pull it together in time for a trip to Tsali in April.

The old he-coon walks just before the light of day-

Juancho

Zugzwang

In light of recent poor decision-making I have taken up chess again to clear my musty brain. So far I have lost three and tied one, not a very good record, but possible proof that the correlation between strategic decsion-making in game theory is a fair measure of one's ability to choose effective life decisions.

Lately I have been trapped in zugzwang, a moment known to chess in which one is compelled to move, and yet every possible course leaves one's position weaker.

To sit and do nothing would be preferable, but the rules of the game do not allow one to "take a pass".

It is the move you make before the zugzwang that means everything.

Juancho

Circus Performers Report In...

So, let's hear it- San Felasco...what happened? Who bonked? Who crushed it? Remember, it was not a race, it was an eco-tour!

-Juancho

Clydesdale Hall of Fame

Sir Edmund Hillary
(Pictured on left with Tenzing Norgay)



I just saw that Sir Edmund Hillary passed away last night at 88. Coincidentally I am reading "Three Cups of Tea", a book about a guy who was inspired to build schools and hospitals in Pakistan for the people who live and work under the shadow of K2, in the spirit of the work Hillary did for the Sherpa people.

Damn, first Evel- now this. The world is getting awfully short on heroes these days.

At least we still have Bigworm.

On other fronts, many of you are on your way to knock that bastard, San Felasco, off this weekend. I do wish you the best and regret that I will not be joining you. If I can sort out the technical details I will post a promotional video featuring the best riders of our area, which I received from BW.

After all my talk of travel angels, I may have fallen a little short yesterday with a couple of people, unless you look at it in an avenging archangel Gabriel kind of way.

That simpering effete from North Dakota with the smart mouth had it coming.

-Juancho

El Dignidad

As I begin the rewind today, back through Mexico City, Matamoros, Brownsville, Houston, Atlanta, and ultimately dear Tallahassee I will be trying my level best to not persecute the chickens I encounter along the way. Travel is always humbling, and often humiliating, and it is frequent that you see someone acting ugly and out of control in a moment of existential displacement. It is also commmon to see little acts of grace, as someone smiles and assures a young mother that their child is not being a bother, or a pack of crackers is shared with a neighbor.

We have all met travel angels, or at least I hope you have. I was given a ride once across the Austrian Border by an old man, his daughter, and her baby girl. It is a long story, but the crux of it is that I was sick, injured, had no I.D. and no money, yet this old man looked me in the eyes and nodded- get in the van.

Over the next two days when the opportunity presents itself, I hope I am able to welcome people into the van.

If you have a tale of travel grace or horror, please, grab the mic.

be home soon,

Juancho

Pensamientos

Some things you may not know about Mexico-

Many people here drive nice new cars.

They have public services, like people cleaning the parks and directing traffic.

I have yet to see anyone shoeless unless they were on the beach.

The folks who go over the border looking for work are probably folks who need work.

Their bagboys at the grocery store are teenage punks with stupid hair, just like Albertson's, but not Publix (which frickin' dominates the grocery world.)

There are mariachi musicians strolling around in places where Gringos might go who want to see Mariachi musicians.

I have hardly eaten any cheese since I got here, and refried beans may actually be American food.

The curbs are significantly higher and if we grew up with curbs like that we could all jump our bikes even higher than we can now.

People talk on their cell phones while driving (scooters, cars, buses, donkey carts, bicycles) and it makes the streets pretty dangerous.

I have not seen chicken one, and that is a bit of a disappointment.

-Juancho

Mas Ciclos

Two more days until I start my hellish return journey, it is almost too much to bear. It will be like rewinding a movie through the scary scenes and watching bullets exit the body, returning to the barrel of the gun.

My action hero brother-in-law left at 5:00 this morning and already I can feel the pace of the entire state of Yucatan slow down a bit. So as you spend the next few days fine tuning your Felasco fitness routine and going about your american lives, I will stroll slowly, hands clasped behind my back, through the public square, greeting abuelas y obreros con el mismo gracious nod.

Nos vimos pronto,

Juancho

Bikes, Tools or Toys?

It would be pretty awkward explaining to the owner of this machine the expense and obsession many of us apply to pedaling our lycra-wrapped asses all willy nilly about creation. We don't ride to deliver cargo or feed our families. Sure we ride for health, and joy, escape, and competition. All pretty lofty goals--

and symptoms of a leisure class.

-Juancho

En serio, hoy yo escribo solamente en espanol, porque, pues, porque es lo que quiero hacer. Sabes? Bien.

Fuimos al centro anoche, my hermano en ley y Yo, para investigar la vida noche aqui en Merida. Nos perdimos nuestros mismos, tomemos chupitas y cervezas con una chica de Seattle se llama Beth. Beth hace ropa para mujeres y es una bartender tambien. Ella era muy agradable y tranquilo. Despues, manejando en los calles oscuro, sabimos que no sabimos a donde fuimos.

Tuve que pagar un taxi para guiarnos a casa. Que payasos somos!

Manana, buscare' para guayaberas, la camisa de gente que luchar el poder en todo el mundo. Hugo Chavez, Al Sharpton, Luciano Pavarotti, y Yo. Quiero una negra, una azul, y una blanca (tradicional) y de ahora hasta los ultimos dias nunca tengo preocupa de vestir en todos los situaciones.

El viaje aqui era muy dificil, camine' cruza la frontera y me coge' una visa turista y volar de Matamoros a la Ciudad de Mexico a Merida. la vista de La Ciudad de Mexico del aire, llenar mi corazon con miedo. Es un vision apocalyptico!

Se echo de menos my Titus, y un poco de mis amigos, pero mas o menos veo que puedo vivir cualquier, con casi todo el mundo.

En el fin, solo tienes tu mismo.

Buenos Noches,

Juancho

No need to spell check this time!

No puede pasar

I skipped New Year's Eve (the good part anyway) in order to drive to the Atlanta airport in time to make my flight to Merida. I woke up at 5:30 A:M to the sound of my brother teetering around the kitchen after enjoying the full measure of the night. Frustration quickly transformed to opportunity and I was on the road before the sun, with most of the revelers tucked away in bed, jail, or various ditches around the rural counties of Georgia.

By 11:30 A:M I was crying in shock as the airline informed me my passport was expired and I absolutely, no way in hell, was going to Mexico.

I crossed the border last night into Matamoros, a long way away from Merida, but it is definitely Mexico.

The water wasn't even cold.

Juancho