The blog of a former Nuclear Submariner trying to catch up on sunshine, triathlon, and skiing, all while trying to pay it forward. Oh, and enjoying the companionship of my lovely wife T, and trouble-loving Yorkie (who thinks she is a Labrador Retriever), Porsche.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Lance, Lance, Lance. He's a lion in the age of lambs. You got's to love him or hate his guts. Me, I'll always love him for his fight against cancer and his will to beat the living hell out of anybody who criticizes him or wants to finish in front of him. If you want to go see him in the Tour de France this year at the young age of 37 and 5/12'ths, I'll be there on 17 July. Join us in a caravan and bring your bike, cuz we're finding a hill to bike up to, break out the wine and cheese, and wait to cheer him on.
And I want to see if he's going to wear that black and yellow kit on the Tour, or go with that Astana kit. Of course, he'll probably just be wearing the Mellow Johnny jersey...
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