The Claire went over the mountain

The Claire went over the mountain,
The Claire went over the mountain,
The Claire went over the moun-tain,
To see what she could see.



And got really tired. And thirsty. And hungry.

That morning Our Fair Heroine had woken up at 5:20 in order to have plenty of time to get dressed and drink tons of coffee. Minutes before leaving the house she had grabbed her handy-dandy pump with pressure gauge and psyched herself up to not deflate the tires completely before figuring out exactly how to attach the damn thing to the valve. When she started wheeling the bike out of its home under the front window she noticed that the computer was a little crooked. This was nothing new. It seemed like after every time the cleaning lady came the little plastic mount was a little off-kilter in its zip ties. But this time, the mount and everything were snugly in their place. 'What the...?' she thought as she examined the little machine (which has no release lever, and therefore is a permanent fixture on her handlebars), as it came off in her hand. Two of the three little hooks that secure the computer in place were broken clear off. *tick, tick* they went as the little pieces of plastic fell off the back of the apparatus and onto the floor. Claire hates cleaning ladies. This comes from a deep-seated trauma from when she was little and had to clean up for the cleaners and her little 9-year-old mind seized onto the irony of the situation. But this cleaning lady is special. She comes in like a hurricane, eats the food in the fridge, takes a shower, watches TV turns the radio up loud and starts singing and dancing, and cleans the house like a natural disaster. A few weeks ago, somehow, this Lysol diva managed to tear the oven door completely off, where it stayed until Wednesday when we had to call in the technicians. The girlfriend fled to the kitchen to look busy while Claire launched a tirade about, "I don't care that you feel bad, I don't care how long she's been cleaning this house, I don't want that woman in this house anymore! This is a 175 euro piece of equipment!" I mean, what the HELL does she do to fuck the thing up so much? How do you break off a bike computer if you're not the rider of said bicycle? It didn't make sense. Claire did the best she could with superglue and walked out the door. The day was off to a good start.

The thought crossed her mind to give up this stupid cycling business. It's too hard. She kept dropping off the back, for she had gone out with a different group who seem to have motors in the backs of their Orbeas and Cervellos and Treks. She wanted to play the girl card, but there was a girl with a fatter ass than the Claire's way up there in the front of the group keeping up with the boys and chatting.

With the Tour de France starting in 1 week, all the talk was about that. Here are some oppinions (names invented because I don't know anyone's name):
Claire: Since they're busting everyone for drugs, there won't be anyone to do the Tour. Maybe I should sign up.
Pepe: It's all the Americans' fault. If it weren't for them, cycling wouldn't be getting such a bad wrap.
Manolo: It's not fair, how come cycling's getting all the bad publicity? Why don't they test people in soccer or tennis. What do you think Rafael Nadal's taking? Nothing but a traditional Mediterranean diet?
Miguel: Indurine was all juiced up too. Why do you think he retired? He knew he would get cought so rather than do his last tour clean and suck he dropped out.
Pedro: And let's not pretend that Armstrong was just genetically gifted!

She also found out that a guy that she called Patrick in a previous post is actually named Dave. He isn't even from Ireland as she thought. Coming back into Barcelona there's this one chunk where you come into a 6-lane free-for-all where you have to change lanes a bunch of times in the middle of tons of traffic. She turned to David Not Patrick and said, "Can I ask you a favor?" "Sure." "I hate this part, don't leave me." And David, not Patrick sat behind her and signaled to the cars and didn't leave her behind on the last little bumps. And she didn't die, at least not yet.

She arrived home after 125km (which was supposed to be 10 more), 2,500 calories, and a full gallon of water. She wanted to curl up in the corner and whimper. You know how when a little kid gets really tired they just start crying for no reason at all? She felt like that.