It’s been a long, long, long season. Now that it’s over, life has been chugging by very slowly and I’ve been happy to soak it all in.

This is my first off-season in Europe, since Leah and I decided that we wanted to stay in Girona this year and experience a little different lifestyle during my annual downtime. Living here makes trips to European destinations very easy and worthwhile.

Solidifying friendships and actually living a semi-normal life is a good change of pace here in Spain, albeit somewhat slower than what I am used to. My relaxed days now include golf in the afternoon, mountain biking when it’s nice out and getting some very needed things done around the house.

We’ve taken trips down to Barcelona for concerts, movies and dinner. A couple of weeks ago, Leah and I went up to Ireland just to see what Guinness is supposed to taste like and to experience how good real fish and chips can be after walking around in the rain all day. (Both are as good as you might imagine.) It was a bonus, too, that we were speaking English while still using the Euro.

We even got stuck at newsstands for close to an hour at a time, reading magazines and newspapers that we hadn’t seen in ages. Suddenly, buying seven-dollar magazines didn't seem crazy to me at all, especially considering the fact that I actually had the time to read every one of them from cover-to-cover.

Life is beautiful.

But this morning I received a call from the CSC office in Copenhagen. Bjarne’s assistant was calling to arrange tickets to training camp(!!!), which starts a month from yesterday. Suddenly, I have this renewed sense of urgency to accomplish all of the things that I haven't been able to do yet while off the bike.

Thoughts of suffering in the forest with the rest of the team make me laugh and cringe at the same time. Bjarne’s team-building exercises are fun, but really hard at the same time. Last year I had Achilles tendonitis for the two weeks after the camp and really put a kink in my Christmas shopping. Walking around the mega-malls of Denver was even more painful than usual. This time it literally hurt.

Time now is of the essence and I will be using the remaining month exorcising all of my demons so they won't be so hard to fight off once the season starts.

I’m going to Paris tomorrow with Leah for a little weekend that doesn't include the Tour. Then, we fly to Luxembourg to visit the Schlecks (Andy and Frank, my CSC Teammates) to chase wild boar around the forest. Trying to imagine those two scrawny – almost emaciated – brothers chasing wild pigs through the woods makes me laugh, especially sitting in my safe den here in Girona. There aren't any wild pigs in Chicago (well, other than the cops), nor have I ever seen one in person, so I think I’m in for a treat.

So, I have to go and pack for Paris. This time it doesn't have to include the rain bag (clothes for racing in the rain that we keep in the follow car), so life is good. Still, idyllic as life is, it’s true what they say about the grass always being greener on the other side. I realize, as I start to get the itch to get back on my bike, that I still like riding quite a bit.

There are worse ways to make a living.