Musings from one who writes, and rides…
Originally published in the Santa Cruz Good Times. Photos by Keana Parker. Today is a “Dig Day,” in the parlance of the Mountain Bikers of Santa Cruz group, but there is no digging just yet. Just coffee, and pastries, and a curious assemblage of people that look a little like local skateboard groms, and a…
Originally appeared on Motorcycle.com. The scene repeats itself dozens of times each day. My passenger, a professional photographer named Mjrka, yells into my helmet. “Stop here, on the right!” I pull over, and he scrambles up the adjacent slope to get a better view of the oncoming Tour du Rwanda bicycle race. I wait. At first,…
This story was originally published in VeloNews. Jock Boyer, the first American to ride the Tour de France, looks a little bewildered. He’s just flown in from Rwanda — a trip that takes almost two days — to attend a special screening of the movie about his life and team, “Rising from Ashes,” on Google’s…
Note: this is an excerpt from my book, Team 7-Eleven: How an Unsung Band of American Heros Took on the World – and Won. Published by VeloPress. For the first weeks of the ’88 Tour of Italy, the sun had cast long shadows across the roads, the riders comfortable in their shorts and Lycra. Meanwhile,…
Note: this is an excerpt from my book, Team 7-Eleven: How an Unsung Band of American Heros Took on the World – and Won. Published by VeloPress. In 1980, there were exactly four professional bike racers in America. This was not surprising, given that there were no professional events for them to compete in. While…
Note: this is an excerpt from my book, Team 7-Eleven: How an Unsung Band of American Heros Took on the World – and Won. Published by VeloPress. After the team’s successful foray to the 1985 Giro, Ochowicz began laying out a plan to achieve the biggest coup of his young career. Brimming with confidence in…
In 1993 I was a 34-year-old journalist and editor of “Bicycling Magazine,” when I called a precocious and slightly cocky athlete by the name of Lance Armstrong. In recent years, he had won triathlon championships and stage races in Italy and Spain. My mission: fly to Austin, hang with him at his apartment, maybe even…
Thirty-five years ago I went on a date with this cute hippie chick I met at school. It was (surprise!) a bicycle date. Within minutes, she had a flat tire. Of course, in those days, neither of us carried a tube or pump. So, in a remarkable act of youthful naiveté, we flagged down a…
Sometimes I consider myself an athlete. Nothing spectacular, mind you, but dedicated in my own way. When it comes to bike racing, I’m not the strongest guy in town. But I’m not the weakest, either. I’ve also had more than my share of sports injuries. And I mean that literally. I’m counting more than a…