Admittedly, something of a blogging hiatus occurred after my unvirginization of Paris-Roubaix last Sunday – sorry about that. Let’s sum it up by saying that Sunday wasn’t my day. Aaand then rather than forgetting about it entirely, let’s continue that thought by stewing over it briefly here. Let me (not) be the first to tell you that that race is an beast. Here’s a nice photo early on in the day before the start gun fired and while everything is still tranquil and peachy.

Let’s call this photo Pre-Roubaix. (Get it?! Pre, which almost sounds like “Paris” when pronounced really quickly with the proper French silent S. Comedian-slash-pro-cyclist Ted King strikes again.) By the way, this photo is courtesy of BrakeThrough Media. Thanks Jim!

As I was saying, Paris-Roubaix is an animal. Similarly, it’s an awesome! It’s an adventure, it’s incredibly hard almost beyond words, and among other things, it can be a brutally honest kick to the teeth. The dusty road conditions were a bit like talcum powder lubricating the road and cobbles in a way I’ve truly never experienced before.

As for my day, things started off swimmingly. A really fast start and I was content to be shuffling in and out of early moves. This of course being Paris-Roubaix, virtually every team is told to be represented in the break so it’s no small feat to make the successful breakaway. To be expected. So after about three hours of action, a pretty gnarly crash unfolded directly in front of me which was followed by my ensuring up close and personal meeting with the pave. A few scrapes and a slight tweak to my knee (unrelated to my other knee woes from earlier this spring… uuugh) left me breathing dust as I chased through the cars. My brother-from-another-mother, Ben King (no actual familial relation), was also caught behind this early mayhem. The only good news from this frantic escapade is that someone snapped a photo of we two Kings chasing. Yes, very astute loyal reader, I am suffering while I think Ben has something of a Mona Lisa smile. That sly dog.

I was sent this photo second hand, so if I’m totally encroaching on someone’s intellectual property rights (or whatever goes alongside photography), I am sorry. Send me a comment if you’re upset and I’ll take it down and/or give you appropriate shout out. Otherwise, thank you very much for your artistic handiwork.

So let’s now fast-forward to the present. If you scope your favorite Schedule page with any regularity, you will see that Tour of California is my next race and that I am no longer racing Romandie. I was on the roster, off the roster, on the roster, and ultimately I opted to be off the roster for Romandie so that I could muster a proper bit of post-Classic RnR and really be moving for ToCA. This spring has been full of tumult and turbulence that I thankfully haven’t had to experience up until this season. Namely a chronic knee injury. Therefore, this break after the Classics, immediate trip back Stateside, is like the best pressing-and-holding of the Reset button I could have asked for.

I returned stateside late last week and this time home has been extremely refreshing. Seeing the people I have needed to see in tandem with really focusing on the rest has been key. (Along with sincere apologies to the friends and good folks I have not had the time to visit.) For additional peace of mind, I visited Access Sports Medicine and had them give me their assessment of my knee including a see-all MRI. Outstanding news of the day is that everything I gleaned from my Italian diagnosis/therapy/treatment related to my knee while back in Italia was echoed by Access (mind you, they don’t cover orthopaedic medical terminology in Rosetta Stone). That is to say, I did everything correctly to expedite a full and timely recovery, so thank you to the crew on both sides of the pond. There is still a lot of racing on the horizon, so I excitedly have my jazz-hands spinning uncontrollably as I get ready for 2011 part II.

Among other things on the at home hit bregade, I’ve hung out with these chumps while taking in the Boston Marathon from Jerry’s Washington Tavern. I’ve never witnessed a marathon before, so why not absorb the biggest one out there from the world’s greatest city? Enormous props to the 26,000+ who ran it, including my two awesome cousins, whom I somehow missed amid the 26-thou’. The diversity of runners is phenomenal – all ages, all body types, all with a different reason or story for doing the race. The gamut from smiles to looks of absolute agony is incredible and interestingly occurs in a bell curve fashion. That is, the super fast folks are serious and don’t smile, the middle few hours are the brunt of the running peloton and the smiles are more abundant, and the last 1/3 of the crowd is just SUUUUUFFERING. No matter who you are, more power to you. The completely smashed audience was nearly as entertaining.

Here is a photo courtesy of amateur camera photographer, Ted King.

That’s a good smattering of the goings-on lately. As much as I appreciate the 44 degree rides with piercing rain soaking me to the bone here in New England, I’m fairly amped to get out to California next week. That said, it’s also nice to score hundred mile days in under five hours while pumping some watts throughout New Hampshire and Maine.

In any event, Napa, Tahoe, Tour of California: strap on your seatbelt, here I come.

Oh for the curious green-thumbed reader out there, I have hired my good friend Phil to oversee – correction, babysit – my tomatoes and basil while I’m half the world away. He reports that they are doing excellent and well kept. In related news, yesterday was his birthday, so happy birthday Phil.

For one, a bike race came through town not too long ago. As I hope you can imagine, I usually take in bike races from the vantage point of ON the bicycle while racing through towns, one after another. In an interesting contrast for me, this time I was stationary and waited (admittedly, quite enthusiastically) for the race to come to me.

To their credit, races are definitely an interesting sight to see and I’ll take this short space to explore why. I was in my Euro hometown – the thriving metropolis of Lucca, Italy. Lucca is about as Italian-Euro-cycling-crazed as any city in Europe, so the local town-folk were giddy with excitement in the days leading up to Tirreno and then most certainly out and about in droves on the day of the race. With the race just minutes away, the anticipation was almost palpable. In true Italian form I met with some friends at a paticceria, decorated my upper lip with frothy milk thanks to my post-ride cappuccino, and then we ventured out to the street to marvel at the impending madness. We witnessed police directing traffic with the flair, bravado, and entertaining heir of authority that is reserved exclusively for the Italian; there was ample honking of horns and increasing chaos in the streets as the race drew nearer and rules of the road were swept by the wayside. Meanwhile, other people were lining the streets as well (despite the dearth of fans in the photo below), stepping out of their storefront shops, restaurants, and bars excitedly asking, “How much longer? How soon will they arrive?!” Cyclo-tourists with a rush of adrenaline would sprint through the street as well to the sarcastic applause of us lining the roads.

Finally a rapid flurry of colorfully clad cyclists zoomed through town, where I was able to snap this photo thanks to my lightening quick index finger.

Then just seconds later, it was over, and the streets were once again empty.

From there, it was back to business as usual. Folks milling around, I rode home, my friends peaced-out in their separate directions, and life was back to normal. So now I could once again tend to my thriving garden in peace.

As you can see, we’ve experienced quite the growth spurt in the time since my last update on this fascinating topic. The tomatoes in the center of the pot have experienced a commendable three inches of growth while the basil growing on the periphery of the round pot as well as all of the rectangular pot are clearly creating quite the bush’o'basil themselves. Mind you, this caprese garden is entirely organic, because that’s the only way I roll! Furthermore, I haven’t had the gumption nor wherewithall to buy anything that would a) fend off rodents or b) accelerate growth.

Also of note in this lower photo is the view that I offer my plants. Actually, you can’t really see it in this shot, but they gaze out off our deck towards Monte Serra, which is an impressively looming mountain in the distance, home to many a cyclist and their personal climbing records. My tomatoes aspire to be that tall. They’ve told me so.

Next up – and perhaps why you’re here on this website in the first place, namely that I race bikes – is the fact that I have news on my personal bike racing. As in, I’m headed to Coppi e Bartali in a matter of hours. This will mark my first race since finishing up the Liquigas-Cannondale winning Giro di Sardegna about three weeks ago – which of course is where I had some heinous knee issues that took me off the bike for a week and into two weeks of therapy. A (seemingly) slow recovery ensued, but that was capped off yesterday with a rather stellar ride with Tejay up into yonder mountains north of Lucca. Thanks to STRAVA you can scroll over the image below and scope the ride in more detail.

As you can see here, a certain noteworthy bike race will come streaking through my European home town in a short while. Paris-Nice, you ask? Nope, I most certainly do not live in France. That would be altogether too French for me – with all due respect to the French. Rather, Tirreno-Adriatico will literally race directly by my front door.

Obviously the woman riding in front of me here is ecstatic with this news as exhibited by her bright clothing and her cycling specific neckwear exuberantly giddily cast over her head.

Meanwhile, it is with a great deal of pleasure that I report my knee is on the mend as I’m riding my bike again with regularity, although it’s not yet full-gas training yet given my therapist’s restrictions. I’m still timid on my knee so as to feel out what it can and cannot yet withstand. I’m about three weeks off from my next race and will give it adequate time to be awesome again. Go knee!

In other news, the KoS was rumored to be on the prowl when I went for a round of bicycle practice earlier this week. It was a pleasantly cool easy day, noodling around town when I was approached on two wheels by a kindly British gentleman named Alan, seen here. Alan proceded to ask me a few question in fluent Italian, which I perfectly understood, but replied in a thick, proud New England accent, “Io sono Americano!”

We chatted a bit longer, but the entire time both the KoS and I were taken aback by a certain distinguishing feature of Alan’s attire. Can we please look at the photo above again and take a guess as to what I am referring…? Yes, obviously his stunning DOUBLE-CAP-TECHNIQUE.

More than anything I suppose I was entertained by it all. Sure, it was chilly this morning, but certain aspects about the double headwear seem counterintuitive. For example, if it’s cold, then why not simply wear one thicker hat? Or if it’s that cold, wouldn’t one be more concerned with keeping one’s ears warm? Or, this being Italy, wouldn’t one be wearing the cycling rife neckgaiter for risk of the elusively Italian near-50-degree-facial-frostbite?

Yes, all prudent questions. But the KoS applauded Alan’s doolie cap technique for no other reason than it’s unique. And individuality in this sport is rare and (usually) awesome.

Lastly, I’m pleased to report that my tomato plants are more than three inches tall and the basil is knee high to a grasshopper. Literally. We’ll be having caprese salads in no time!

Saving the world begins with tomatoes. And basil. But first, a prologue.

Today is Saturday and it is sunny and winter here in Italy is kind of nearing it’s end and it’s warm out and the birds are chirping. ALL that leads to just one conclusion: it’s time to plant some plants!

While strolling around my neighborhood yesterday I found an agricultural store – their terminology, not mine. I would have called it a plant store. Anyway I did what every normal person would do in that situation, I bought some pots and dirt and seeds and lugged it home. As John Denver belts out, Inch by inch, row by row, gonna make that garden grow.

Here is a step-by-step process of me not having any idea what I’m doing. Let’s begin: here are my supplies.

I’m optimistic about this whole endeavor because here on the sunny south-facing deck, which will serve as my greenhouse, we already have all sorts of odd shrubbery and moss and ferms growing.

I am particularly pleased with the dirt that I bought. I didn’t really study what it was exactly but I noticed that the bag tells me the sun is exactly +33 degrees (Celsius, obviously), clouds are 0 degrees when it snows, and most importantly that this dirt is impenetrable to lightening! Plus it cost one euro per bag.

You can tell I was tackling serious gardening this morning since I put on my Crocs and brewed up some tea. As you probably know, I’m not a tea person. But if I’m going to hug a tree, make some granola, and grow a garden I decided drinking tea and wearing rubber shoes would make everything more apt.

A quick aside: here’s the truth about Crocs – or maybe it’s the truth about cycling. When you have them on, everyone looks at you disdainfully. You’re an awkward outcast unaware just how cast out you really are. UNTIL you join with the Croc crowd. The same with cycling; it’s no exaggeration that we’re loathed by the masses, but once you join the ranks of “cyclist” you get to plead ignorance which is blissful as you pleasurefully pedal away! So buy Crocs, ride your bike, and embrace the bliss in the process.

Here are the seeds. It is truly a powerful feeling to know that I alone hold the power to put these seeds in the ground and create food with which to feed myself. I will then give up purchasing food at the store entirely and will soon have a cow roaming this deck with suckling pigs and some chickens as well. I will soon grow wheat and rice and legumes from this deck and then have sun catching panels installed along with a wind turbine with which to collect power. Yes, these seeds provide unparalleled power.

Here is a shot I took while not knowing what on earth I am doing. Or more specifically, of my products mid-assembly line… while I don’t have any idea what on earth I’m doing.

And now, the final product! Or semi-final product, rather, since nothing is actually growing yet. I assembled a garden about 9 months ago, which just so happened to coincide when I went to Italy for the Giro for a month and then to America for another month.Therefore no one tended my basil and it died a tragic and arid death. I’m an optimist, though, and don’t see that happening this time ’round. Furthermore, I did also create a delicious garden back in 2008 in Asheville. You can recall all of those good times here.

Also please note my brown fingers in this next photo, which are neighbors to my… wait for it… green thumb. (HeeEEEEYooo!)

So you see my friends, I will save the world one tomato and basil plant at a time. I recommend you do the same.