Even I am at a loss trying to account for the amount of time that has passed since my last post. In theory, the only thing I do here is train, race, eat, and sleep. There are very few other obligations. And yet, somehow 2 weeks have magically slipped by without a word from me! So let me quickly recount what's happened to me the last half of April.
A big surprise was the last minute visit I was treated to when an old pal from Blake decided on a whim that Alicante sounded like a good old time. Amanda is a moviestar hopeful living in Hollywood, but she had an empty week so she jumped on a plane and before I knew it, I was picking her up at the airport with Largo and Isaac. Most of her time here she spent in our dumpy apartment sitting in front of my space heater, which she appropriately named the campfire, while I went out to train each day. I guess L.A. is still warmer than Alcoy this time of year. Other notable activities included making tasty oatmeal cookies and eggy brownies with melted toblerone frosting in our 12 X 8 toaster oven, shopping at the local market, watching movies nightly, and even a one-day excursion to Valencia by train. I think the highlight of her stay was when we went to watch a strange nightly tradition this time of year, when scores of people line the streets to watch as men walk in lines, locked arm in arm, smoking cigars, following behind at a painfully slow pace the leader of each group who teeters down the street waving a big sword smiling and gesturing at each stranger as if he was everyone's best friend. Behind this spectacle shuffled a small band playing the arabian equivalent of John Phillips Sousa march tunes. They kindly saw to it that all but the most hopelessly deaf enjoyed a truly stereo surround sound experience. Every once in a while a man made repeated passes on a large horse, and the crowd applauded whenever the pair came close by. What a macho man he was, to ride that wild beast. So manly. Later on our way to the apartment with Largo and his girlfriend, Fanni, we passed through a town square which had temporarily been set up as a large disco floor and source for alcoholic relief. It was still early, by Spanish standards (11:30 pm), so it was mostly empty. The music had already begun blasting, however, and there was a lone disco master out there, banging away the moves. This was the best part of the night. Watching this middle aged, highly intoxicated, leather clad Gitano with sunglasses do Kung-Fu dance moves was just too much for me. My sides hurt from laughing so much. Everyone who was in the square watched this guy with fascination. His expressions alternated between the focused concentration of a figure skater in mid performance to the sloppy smile of a madman who's lost control and just doesn't care anymore. At first I felt sorry for him, but then I realized just how much he was enjoying himself. I also thought it a shame that the only person in that square that really didn't give a damn about what everyone thought of him was this guy too high on drugs to be able to walk straight. Wouldn't it be nice if we could all feel free enough to stumble around out there as if no one were watching. But alas, no. We all kept our pride intact and watched Mr. Midnight in his own little world, secretly wishing to join in. Sometimes I feel a certain admiration for the crazy people.
Anyways, Amanda left Wednesday morning, and before I knew it I was off to race one of the more challenging 4-day tours of the year, La Vuelta Castellon. I won't go into great detail except to say that it was really really hard. The second stage, for example was an 86 mile route including 3 (!!!) category 1 climbs. I suprised myself and did relatively well most of the days. The greatest part of all was that my Dad, Mr. Fred Starr himself arrived on the last day of the tour and got to see me when I managed to sneak into an escape group for the first 50 miles of the race. Unfortunately, I flatted and dropped back into the main peloton. But what a hard week- In a mere six days I trained and raced 477 miles! The rest of the week was a real treat because my training plan called for 7 days of low-volume, low-intensity training, which allowed me and pops to go down to the beach for a few days. One day we even went to the Valor Chocolate factory for a tour and I got to try pure freshly crumbled cocoa beans, which are just delicious. I'm going to try to find a place that sells them. It made me think of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The last day of Freddy's stay, he followed me up the 20 mile climb from the beach to Alcoy in car while I ticked away on the bike. All in all, his visit went just perfectly. Well, almost perfectly. I forgot to mention that the one day he came out to train with me and Isaac he 'bought a plot of land' as the Venezuelans say, planting his left bum cheek squarely on the asphalt. Luckily, we weren't going too fast, but he left spain with an impressive bruise on the left cheek.
The rest of this week has just been low-key resting time. Tomorrow I don't have to train at all, and then Tuesday I begin another super-intense 3-week training cycle. Until soon....
