"The average pro-cyclist will pedal far enough in training each year to encircle the globe; the daily metabolic rate of a Tour de France cyclist exceeds that of Everest climbers and comes close to matching the highest rates found in any other animal species. But for these hard-eyed boys, as they work themselves into men worthy of winning the Tour de France, the hope lies in the idea that pouring all your energy into a bicycle can raise you up, make you different than you are." -- 'Tour de Force' by Daniel Coyle

These words are far beyond me, since I am no pro athlete in any way whatsoever. But they are also words that I can relate to when I think about being on a bike, on the track or in a pool.

For a mere mortal like me, sports has been all about escape. Putting myself through any sort of physical torture - God, it sounds so sadistic - has taught me to be strong. In it's weird sick way, it has made me think I'm stronger than I really am, especially when things have gotten really rough. But I am also no fool. The past month has taught me that I am no Lance Armstrong. As battered as I could be physically, I'm still an incredibly soft person on the inside. My husband says I have a soft centre. I let everything get to me and sometimes, I find it hard to draw myself away and let the hyde toughen a little. This is a trait of mine that he finds both endearing as well as annoying (at times). The annoying thing is I wanted to toughen up by going for a run, but I was held back by tight ITBs and bad rockety knees. That excuse is over, of course. I have been given the go ahead to give it a go. But I have now caught the flu and my chest ain't sounding too good.

What's going on?!!!

Anyway, the book is really giving me a facscinating insight into the world that is Lance Armstrong's. The man is pure evil. Well, you just feel as if he must be souless since he seems to feed off everything negative. It really gives you a glimpse into the minds of these nutter cyclists and just what it takes to hack the Tour...

"But there is something far worse than crashing: being left behind. Not wanting to be left behind is the main cause of a primal scene that is enacted every few days during the cycling season. A rider crashes and is badly injured - like U.S. Postal rider Michael Barry was in the 2002 Tour of Spain. He touched the floor hard on a downhill and got tagged by a motorcycle and dragged seventy feet. He had road rash on every part of his body but the soles of his feet. He was bleeding-not the dull surface stuff, but bright, arterial blood. And Barry got back on his bike and rode for two hours to the finish. He had to quit the next day, but he had done the important thing: he had proved he would not be left behind."

That's friggin' tuff stuff.