We can all agree that nothings says “Tour de France” like bicycle riding around Belgium for three days and then migrating west to France. I’m therefore going to stay true to myself and hold out on my inaugural Tour de France by waiting until we stick exclusively to France – dabbling in other European countries obviously sullies the authentic Tour experience. (For those of you reading along and completely confused, this year’s Grand Bouche begins in Liege, Belgium before entering France for the rest of the three week race.)

That proclamation of holding out is of course is of course drenched in sarcasm. To be honest, I get sick to my stomach thinking that I won’t be there this year. To call the first half of my 2012 season successful is a gnarly understatement. My fitness is there, my motivation is sky high, and in the past not-quite-six-months I’ve been integrally involved with fifteen wins for Liquigas-Cannondale. Geeze, I don’t think I was involved with fifteen wins in all of 2011. I won’t stew on it any longer, however. I can’t thank you enough for the enormous show of support – especially over the past month – to have me lining up for my first Tour. The messages, the tweets, the emails, the calls, the very entertaining #KingfortheTour, and other signs of support mean a lot to me. More than you can imagine. It just makes me that much hungrier for that first Tour whenever that happens.

Moving on.

In order to clear my head, continue exploring the globe, while still staying true to my job and therefore training extensively I recently made my way from my home in Tuscany up to the Dolomites in north eastern Italy.

Surrounded by some of the biggest, awesomest mountains I’ve ever seen, I once again rejoined my BFF Timmy Duggan who is also up in this neck of the woods soaking up the same Dolomite excellence.

I raced the Giro di Italia in both 2009 and 2010. What’s tattooed in my mind more than anything is the Dolomites. My words here won’t do justice to just how spectacular they are, so I won’t even bother. Click on that panoramic photo above and you’ll get a sliver of our surroundings from high atop Timmy’s porch.

Jumping headlong into things, here’s my first ride. I’m only up here for a few days, so rather than lamely wasting time acclimatizing simply for my departure, I went for a bike ride.

My memory is sometimes sieve-like. So speaking of those 2009 and 2010 Giri d’Italia (the plural of Giro is Giri, not Giros),  I apparently wanted to put the painful specifics out of my mind – that is to say, I raced up the very access road to my hotel, but I didn’t recognize it whatsoever until I bothered to check the Giro route map. Oops. Namely, Stage 5 to Alpe di Suisse. Here is that particular Strava segment, on which I conveniently now have the KOM. In your face, whoever actually won that stage!

Anyway, that first ride was long and arduous and stunning and calorific. So Timmy and I took a moment to rest our weary souls atop some random mountain pass, I think that’s Passo Valparola.

Obviously well fueled, that initial big day was then followed by another big day. Given my thorough one day of acclimatization, I felt like a million and a half bucks the next day. Here she is:

Clearly, another good’n’.

That’s all I got for now. Cycling is a sport of ups and downs, both literal and figurative. Sure, I’d like to be racing the Tour de France in two days, but that’s now out of my control. Putting in the time and effort to get up here to the Dolomites, seeing and training with my very good friend Timmy, and putting in the hours on the bike are a phenomenal alternative. I am lucky and I know it.

I said that’s all, but actually here’s one more panoramic picture for your viewing pleasure. Here I am high atop Passo Sella looking east towards, umm, well towards whatever is east of Passo Sella, which in this case appears to be even more mountains. Again, click on the image for an even better view.

“Aaaaaand go!”

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.

The following is an unraveling of my thoughts after completing an event as extraordinary as the Giro d’Italia. Hopefully it will unfold in a somewhat congruent and fluid fashion, but given how wild the race is, we’ll just have to see.

2009 celebrated the centennial anniversary of the Giro and to say that Angelo Zomegnan put forth a concerted effort to produce a difficult event for this momentous occasion would be an understatement as equally devastating as to describe the Giro as “Well, yeah it’s hard.” With the first of many gut-busting mountaintop finish arriving on just the fourth stage, three different expeditions deep into the Italian (as well as Austrian and Swiss) mountains, all in addition to one of the most challenging final weeks of grand tour racing in recent memory, the 2009 Giro was clearly more than a celebratory hundredth anniversary parade.

Furthermore, or perhaps adding insult to injury, it wasn’t just the undulating terrain that made for arduous racing, rather, last year’s Giro always pushed the envelope across the board. Extraordinarily long transfers were the norm; we often woke up early to make the longer than desired drive to the start, next a half dozen hours of racing some of the most brutal races of my life, closely followed by another sinuous drive in the bus to a half-way point between today’s finish and tomorrow’s start.  Burning the candle at both ends was simply the way things operate, as dinner was served typically around 9 or 10pm. We also quickly discovered that navigating dicey finishing kilometers through cobbled streets no more than three meters wide is the status quo. Moreover, given these difficult circumstances, it’s surprisingly that this also marked the fastest Giro ever. Collectively, this 2009 Giro really was something extraordinary.

Yet my perception was that 2010 Giro was indubitably harder. (Of course perception is a loose term and the criteria to be classified as harder is often indefinably ambiguous.) The distances in 2010 weren’t significantly greater, but we seemed to tackle more notorious climbs with greater regularity. Whereas 2009 boasted the novelty of a sub-80km Blockhaus stage and a few other toughies, 2010 featured Monte Grappa and Terminillo, Zocolan, the knee busting Plan de Corones, and Gavia. The second to last road stage climbed more vertical than any other stage to date… which was then followed by the Gavia stage, forcing us to climb nearly fifty percent more vertical than the previous day! These back-to-back stages arriving as close to the final Verona time is telling to how hard this edition truly was. There is a perpetual cycle in effect given this race layout; the harder the race becomes, the further we get into the race, despite how we racers are becoming more and more exhausted.

The weather in 2010 was another massive impediment seemingly as large as the looming Dolomites. Collectively in all of 2009, we suffered through about one hour of rain and the rest of the time it was simply searingly hot. This year, however, seemed to simply offer rain rain rain. Even on days that appeared on television to be clear, we would have an hour or two of rain spaced intermittently throughout the day. The thirty fewer finishers in 2010 as compared to 2009 certainly shows that weather plays a roll in attrition.

Allow me to stop beating around the bush and just say it (again): 2010 was a harder race. A grand tour really is an awesome event, and I’ve discovered that finishing the year before does not mean that I’m a grand tour aficionado… yet. This year’s race was a beast. But the best lesson I’ve discovered is just how much I love the Giro! Its difficulty, its beauty, its rich history, the passion elicited from the fans all throughout the country, and virtually everything about the race is why I love it. It is spectacular to an indescribable degree and I hope to add many more to my name.

I was feeling rather lively and strong today and factoring in the early moves, which is no small task when the peloton rolls out of town at speeds in excess of 60kph thanks to countless attacks (actually, that’s an exaggeration. An aerial view would allow someone to count the attacks and therefore put an exact number on this subject). Then dictating one of the dozen or so roundabouts in the first 30 minutes of racing, a rider who shall remain nameless directly in front of me mysteriously decided it would be wise to navigate this chicanery on his butt. So I ran over him, smacked my elbow and knee pretty hard, cut myself up a bit, but some how basically found myself skidding on my feet with my bike bouncing around next to me, also rubber-side-down, as the saying goes. No idea how, but my mostly intact skin is happy with this outcome. I was shaken up pretty good, though, so that sucked.

3 wheel changes, 1 crash, and 4,200m of climbing. Done.

Tomorrow: mega mega hard. You guys see the stage profile? It’s just comical.

Byenow.

Completing stages as Giro-difficult* as anything the Giro decides to throw at us is reason enough to celebrate. And what’s the most common accoutrement to any awesome celebration, besides the obvious one-two combination of streamers and balloons? That’s right, FOOD.

The first thing we do upon stepping onto the bus after any stage is vigorously imbibe on a recovery drink courtesy of ZipVit. The team is split about 50:50 between ZipVit’s offering of the Recovery Rapide drink and the Whey Protein drink mix, which our trusty soigneurs shake vigorously for optimal mixture and subsequent absorption… or whatever. Available in a variety of expected flavors – chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry – these delicious combination of protein, carbohydrates, and necessary vitamins and minerals are instrumental to immediate post-race recovery.

A quick shower on the bus and then during the drive to the hotel, there is generally a handful of other comestibles ranging from freshly cut fruit salad, yogurt, sandwiches of the ham and cheese or tuna fish or mozarella, egg, and tomato variety, Chef Willy prepared rice with diced ham, cheese, corn, and tomatoes topped with olive oil and salt (heavenly), oatmeal with raisins and nuts, and muslei. Mysteriously, there have recently been a handful of dark chocolate bars (richly dark in the 70-85% range) floating around the post race food box – no complaints from riders, as these bars are rich in antioxidants. And flavor.

Back at the hotel, in between getting horizontal or receiving massage while waiting for dinner, we often mingle into the room of whichever soigneur is overseeing the food box. Similar snacks are offered here – yogurt, cereals, rice crackers, amazing European sugar waffles, a massive container of nuts, fresh fruit, dried fruit, and plenty of water. ZipVit products make their way into this box as well, mostly the protein mix and bars are consumed during this time.

Dinner time!

Willy is in his element at dinner and his energy level borders between Full-Gas and Holy-Smokes-Willy-How-Do-You-Have-So-Much-Uuumph?! Mind you, Willy is about 70 years old and often acts like he’s a third that age. He’s something special.

So dinner generally begins with a buffet salad consisting of greens, beets (I love beets. In fact, my love for beets borders on a strange obsession. One of my favorite things about Europe is the abundance of beets at meals), carrots, cucumber, and not much else. Next is pasta or rice. It’s a crime to not eat Italian pasta here in Italy since throughout the season, we’re often served just horrendous pasta, especially in France. But gluten intolerance of avoidance among more and more cyclists results in lots of folks opting for rice. Thankfully Willy makes a tasty rice which is accentuated nicely by potent and wicked yum Italian olive oil.

Now that you’re pretty much full and it’s probably 10pm or later, proper dinner is ready to begin. Some riders request the same thing for all three weeks (chicken), but I find that unimaginatively tedious so I just eat what Willy serves de jour. This can be anything from aforementioned chicken, as well as steak, fish, chicken, steak, or perhaps fish. Or chicken. Roasted veggies accompany the protein and often yet another round of starch in the form of roasted potatoes, risotto, or mashed ‘tatos will compete for room on the plate. Interestingly, Italian breads are generally bad, but a basket of bread will always be on the table and will be picked at no matter how bad it is.

Portions are generous and there are always seconds available.

As plates are cleared and there’s talk of dessert, without fail we (umm, I) will ask Willy for tiramisu. And without fail Willy will giggle enthusiastically and say no. Plain or fruit yogurts will arrive on the table, sometimes with fresh fruit, decaf coffees are sometimes ordered, and now that it’s pushing 11pm, it’s off to bed.

* Confused what Giro-difficult means? See here: http://bit.ly/9W219L

How to eat at the Giro, part II.

After a Chef Willy inspired Grand-Slam breakfast, it’s back to our rooms to brush the teeth, pack suitcases, kit up, load everyone onto the bus, and head to the race. For the 3.8 billionth time, we pin numbers to our jerseys en route (pinned in the proper rear pocket area, rather than the parachute of the mid-back), scope the race manual for fundamental details of the stage, load our pockets with race food, and roll off to the traveling circus that is the start village and sign-in area. We then sip espressos and patiently wait for the pink confetti to fall, pink balloons to float skyward, and start the stage.

21 days of racing tend to blend one to the next like, umm, well like nothing else besides a grand tour. So it’s the little things that put a spring in your step or smile on your face that get you going each day. Listening to my very enthusiastic Spanish teammate Xavi Tondo practice his English is enough to crack up the entire team at every single meal (the man speaks non-stop!). Similarly, and perhaps as lame as it will sounds, the race food is often what gets you excited for a spell.

The photo above is in the bus prior to the start showcasing today’s spread of soigneur-prepared, foil-wrapped goodness. These foods supplement the bars, gels, and drink mixes from ZipVit, which are also quiet tasty. Over the course of 3,400km, variety is the spice of life, so it’s like a (very very) mini Christmas when we unwrap these snacks. These different foil-enrobed “presents” are generally prepared sandwich style where the starch is either mini breads or mini plain waffles. As for the internals, and therefore the crux of the sammy-sammich, they will often include any of the following: banana and Nutella, honey and 2-3 nuts, cream cheese and honey, cream cheese and nuts, jelly (generally apricot for some reason), jelly and cream cheese, ham and cheese, and probably a few other things I’m forgetting. Additionally there are gourmet mini pies and cakes in a few varieties – coconut is a personal favorite – as well as almond, and the custard rice pies are simply heavenly. Sometimes for a real indulgence we get brownies or slices of chocolate cake. No lie. But before you get your intestines in a bind and cry, “Why do you eat so much?!” don’t forget 5-7 hours is a looong time to race and +/-6,000 calories are a lot of calories to replace. A hunger bonk is the last thing you want while racing so it’s eat up or get dropped!

ZipVit makes a variety of bars and gels – chocolate strawberry, apricot peach, and uncoated chocolate are the on bike bars, while yogurt banana and blueberry and chocolate orange are really good and have a lot of protein for post-race recovery.

Continuing on the snack brigade, mid-race there is a feedzone (and if we do an Giro-over-the-top-inspired 250+km stage we get a pair of feedzones). Hopefully it’s not hectic and we casually grab the mussette bags without issue. However, depending on the race situation sometimes we grab bags at 60kph, which is not fun whatsoever. These bags contain a pair of bottles, more of the foil wrapped goodies, so this too is something of a mid-day Christmas. Additionally there are ZipVit bars and gels and often a mini can o’ Coke. There is guaranteed to be about 100 people milling about after the feedzone shouting “Boracha! Boracha!” eagerly seeking bottles and bags like the swag seeking tifosi they are. Again, depending on the race situation, we hope to refill our pockets without issue and toss the bags tenderly at their anticipatory outstretched hands… or we merely have time to grab a single bar before flinging the brimmingly full (and therefore heavy) bags and smacking the tifosi in the face at 60kph. You DON’T want to be on the receiving end of that transaction, ouch.

Okay, another Blackberry thumbed blog typed en route to the race. “Only” 205km on the docket today. Whoa nelly, the sun’s out!

http://www.velonews.com/article/91729/cervelo-s-ted-king-shares-his-first-giro-diary-with

(copy and paste it; sorry I only have a blackberry this month.)