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October 4/03 9:26 am - Sob Story Winner


Posted by Editor on 10/4/03
 

Sob Story Winner

We have a weiner!! Sorry, we mean winner . . . Greg Boileau has put together the story which we felt best combined pathos, humour and straight out grovelling to take the prize of a pair of gold grandstand tickets. His story is below.

We had dozens of entries - some of them truly horrifying (and rather disturbing, in some cases). We also awarded an additional prize, after Buck Miller sent in a suggestion that we award the tickets to Jeff Hansen after his car accident in Portugal last month. We agreed, and give a pair of tickets to Jeff, and the Worlds organization generously provided a pair of silver tickets for us to give to Buck for his altruistic offer.

The Sob Story
by Greg Boileau

Has it been a year to remember, or rather a year to forget? It's a question I so frequently ask myself these days as I am on a vacation from the bike but nothing else. My body and my mind ache and there is no compassion. Compassion, it seems, does not exist in my realm of being or perhaps its on vacation. Yes, at this point I am sobbing or at least trying with all the good will of a man who is disheartened but amused with his own wit and cleverness.

Where should I begin my tale of woe, which will undoubtedly win the hearts of all those who judge thee to be the most pathetic cyclist of the year, and in doing so declare me the winner! Finally, I will have won, won won!! Ah yes, this declaration of winning sounds very much like the first 3 min. of every bike race I entered this year before the pain would become ever more eminent and present leaving me whining for my fiancé, or that prominent figure I call mother. My thinking while racing would become blurred and the thought of winning become thoughts of whether I should get a Big Mac or a Double Whopper after the race. This pattern may have been a common theme this year but I have my reasons. Now, I don't want to whine but I have never been accused of whinning too little, and in fact most who know me would probably label me a good-natured analytical and theoretical whiner. Whoa, I'm finally starting to sound like an academic; I can string together three adjectives before a noun, emphasizing my literary piece and perceiving to be astute. Seriously, lets get down to the nitty gritty part of this sobering tale of spirited anguish.

To begin, since last August I have been sick a total of 12 times. For those who can do math or simply those who like to break things down into macro cycles, that is once a month, or if you are a real keener you may want to break it down into micro cycles, interpreting it as every 30 days. In fact, I can chronologically periodize all my illnesses and prescriptions over the last year. However, it is not my intent to bore but rather inform, to brag, to exaggerate . . . I mean, let me gather my thoughts before I continue. I have had a grand total of nine sinus infections, 2 bouts of the stomach flu, and bronchitis once. Not bad for one year and I truly think I deserve some type of an award just for surviving, let alone racing.

Moreover, this horrific 'state' has left me philosophizing as to the reasons why, why me, why . . . . . . .why . . . .why?? It has been an exhausting journey in my quest for the answer and it has left me more fatigued than finishing Beauce, yet feeling no less prominent in comparison to Socrates' quest to figure out who was the wisest man in Athens. Obviously my contrast to Socrates' Quest was a literary device to appear clever and to illustrate my recognition of the inevitable that is, I won't be going to the Olympics in Athens next year. Oh, how I have a flare for the dramatic!

Here is my theory, the inevitable answer to my question. If one does not take significant rest in between seasons and then starts school, has a baby (not literally, the fiancé did), works and tries to train full time to compete at the Elite level it will ultimately lead to disaster. Oh how I cried at night, or was that the baby! Somewhere in the last 12 months there were tears being shed but I lost track as to who was shedding the majority in my attempt to stay awake in a state of sleep deprivation and caffeine induced consciousness.

So, I am on my knees pleading for a vacation, a vacation that is not only off the bike but one which gets me away from the reality of it all. One in which I can watch my heroes and let my imagination be fuelled and invigorated. If all goes well Canadian Cyclist may be credited with my renewed vigor and all my success next year!! I'm sure I will have been cured of all ailments and no longer burdened with reality. I will, thanks to Canadian cyclist, be healthier, a better husband, student and cyclist. All who know me whether they are family, fellow cyclist, co-workers or friends will feel the utmost gratitude to the editor and editoress of Canadian Cyclist . . . . . . . . . the forum with the power to heal!

 


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