being pushed around by colleagues, i realised that the legs of a worn out rider are far more interesting than arms raised with some bowl of silver or what ever.
'tighten up your legs fränk' i yelled.
'tight'em up real good man!' i insisted.
he didnt even look at me.
the muscles on his thighs though - they grew a little and you could see his veins move to the beat of his heart.
some times you just feel like turning your body inside out. 'really - going up ventoux was the worst thing i ever tried' he later told me. that was after a big hug and a nice massage. i didnt believe him.
the night before the riders arrive. it almost seemed like the infernal roads going up to the sommet of galibier were waiting for the riders. in silence. but very conscious about the land of pain the riders were about to explore the next day.
dauphiné libéré 2009. the top of mont ventoux. riders exposed to severe damage. 'this is just the beginning' i told him and he thought of col d'izoard and the struggles of the next two days. 'i will be there too!' i replied, when he told to me go to hell.
when you arrive hastingly in ans, the suburb of liège, where the liège-bastogne-liège finish line is located, you realize that you are in belfast. here some young women with rushing blood, run to salute baby brother schleck.
all this talk about good legs. some days you have and off course - some days you dont. realising that some russian guy had the best leggies today, cunego longs only for a kiss or two by some young girl. dont get carried away he said, but i was only listening to the shutter in my canon.