Michael Barry

When I was a kid, I'd ride my fixie on snow and ice to get to hockey practice. Those skills came in later when I was riding the cobbles of Paris-Roubaix.

" ... Like mystical mirages in a city congested with towers, the mountains appeared through the thick smog as we reached the outer limits of Beijing. The landscape was completely foreign to most of us. But we swiftly settled into a routine we know: the race."

The Team Sky veteran reports from training camp

The gravity of an injury takes a back seat to the importance of the race.

Three weeks is a long time to be doing anything, even vacationing on a beach.

Having the Giro begin in Amsterdam was like mixing opera with Ska.

A look at the risks inherent in a sport contested at high speeds on narrow and often dangerous roads.

Sky's Michael Barry heads into the classics season knowing that victory takes a full effort by every member of the team.

In Michael Barry's first column of the new year, he talks about his new team, Sky, and the sharp transition from winter training to racing.

Michael Barry looks back over a long season and ahead to a new year on a new team.

The time trial is said to be the race of truth: a rider alone, without aid of drafting, sets off in a race against the clock.

Sitting in the middle of the peloton, riding along at a steady tempo as a team controls the pace on the front, I hear our director in the radio: “There is a dangerous descent coming up in four kilometers. Move to the front to stay out of trouble. There is gravel on the corners and many switchbacks. Get to the front.”

Laughter resounds through the camper as Mark’s joke carries from the back to the front where George, who is at the brunt of it, sits. On the puffy pleather couches and fabric chairs we lounge in our cycling shorts, waiting until the last minute, like school kids, before heading to the start. Our radios dangle from our ears, our jerseys are piled along with our helmets and race food ready to be pulled on at the very last minute.

As we drove to the course, the small team camper bounced and creaked as it followed the motorcade of team cars along the small sinuous roads through the rural Brittany countryside. We passed dozens of cyclists ranging in age from 12 to 70, dressed in a mosaic of pro team and club colors, who were also on their way to the circuit to watch us race in Plouay.

Transition. In the hotel in San Sebastian the atmosphere was different than that which I left at the Dauphiné Libéré. There had been a switch in mentality in the six weeks between the two races. Like a student entering the final semester, there now seemed an eagerness as we neared the end the season. Although there are still dozens of races to ride, the end, somehow, now seemed in sight as we had passed the midway point.

Editor's Note: Michael Barry is a member of the Columbia-HTC team. Pedaling up the climb without a car in sight, the sun beating down, my open jersey fluttering in the breeze and my legs turning fluidly, my mind started wandering. The road was one I had ridden countless times, alone, with teammates, rivals and friends. I know every meter of road after nearly 10 years of riding in Girona — it now feels like home. Daily, we meet for rides, forming a group that contains many of the best professional cyclists in the world.

After racing from the north to the south to the center of the boot, we finally reached Rome and completed the last fourteen kilometers of the Giro. In the flamboyant, dramatic fashion that we have now become accustomed to after three weeks of racing in the circus, we whizzed by Rome’s historical sites, snaked through the cobbled city streets and, finally, turned our last pedal strokes in front of the coliseum. The course provided drama for the television audience but also put many riders on edge due to its technical aspects.

Naples, Italy —  At the stage start, the town’s square has been invaded by the race. The announcer belts out riders’ names, introducing them as they sign in on the podium set up in the center of the square. The amplified voices reverberate against the ancient buildings where people gaze at us, the show, from their balconies. Pop music plays over a sound system at a little lower volume than the announcers’ voice. Crowds of spectators, lining the periphery of the square, cheer as each rider is introduced. Pink is abundant.

Lance Armstrong interviews Michael Barry at the Giro d'Italia.

Pescara, Italy — Each hundred meters of the two final kilometers of every stage is signed at the roadside. On a flat stage I take little notice of the signs as we speed through the kilometers in two minutes as the sprinters charge to the line at the head of the peloton. On a mountain stage, I feel every pedal stroke as my legs labor to turn over the cranks. The final few kilometers never seem to pass fast enough. Monday, we spent nearly eight hours on our bikes racing from Pergola to Monte Petrano. The last meters we rode were painfully long.