Raising French Babies...

And throwing soft cheeses, as is the custom here.

Paul and I were too slow on the draw to get into the 3/4 at Coppi so we pulled the trigger on the geezer race. Just two of us, but we've been able to do some quality time behind bars together this year. At the line our plan was to stay close together and talk often.

The first lap was a little slow, but rather sweaty. Up the finish hill, I took the lead and kept the pace at 16 which people seemed not to enjoy. Good. Evo guys were pretty active, and one of their guys followed me off the front a bit before Old Balto Road. We got caught halfway up Old Balto, where Paul got in the counter. The counter was a little mushy but kept the pace up, and then I found myself in a front group again. Paul and I agreed that these shuffles had been great for us. We'd instigated, made all the counters, and hadn't fried ourselves. I took a dig before the feedzone, and then we both sat tight through the finish. The speed up the finish hill was 12 to 13, so that told me that people were looking for a more piano pace.

Through the next lap, we put in a shedload of little digs. A bunch. And my left leg started to cramp. F.

Through the sharp right and onto Beallsville Road, I tried to keep the pace right up, getting a little swarmed before the rise to the feed zone, and then lifted the pace again. Paul was right there, and as we descended to the bottom before the finish hill, it was obvious that Paul felt great and much of the field didn't. We're sitting on the front, bombing down the hill, and Paul looks about 1000 times better than me or anyone else, and I just grunt "you should go here."

And that was all she wrote. He opened it up to nearly a minute by the end. Children running after him, shouting 'he's the champion, ahhhhh!'

Bravo, meng. Bravo