It is beyond imagination what we as cyclists have gone through to even make it to the starting line of this race. I slept in a rest stop with hobos knocking on my window for money throughout the night. I made meals in my back seat and drank water poured from random restroom sinks scattered around Augusta. And of course I have trained for six years and studied tactics to analyze and reanalyze how to win.
But yesterday I conversed with a compassionate mother who watched her son who just had testicular cancer seven months ago, race hard in the criterium that I had just dropped out of. That, is balls. And what is my excuse? Why is a guy who is my same age who just recovered from testicular cancer still in the race when I am not? I have no excuse. He deserves to be in there.