Briefly, very briefly ... alright, in all honesty for about a minute, I got to play the Belgian hardman this morning. The storm passing through today, and which looked to be dropping at least a dusting of snow up on Baldy, intersected with my ride. There was a headwind, driving the rain with enough force that I can use the word pelt to describe how it felt. For about a minute. And then like that it was gone. Oh, a few drops preceded that magic minute, and a few more lingered afterward, enough for the ground to be damp, but not wet. I know it is southern California and we measure our hardmen by different standards - number of miles in 100+ degree summer heat, melting tarmac rather than cobbled farm tracks, uv index, and particulate quantity in our air, for instance - but can't we have just one real winter day to pretend?
the Russian-Belgian, Andre Tchmil, 1994 Paris-Roubaix
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