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.

As we near the summit of the mountain the speed increases. The peloton passes the one-kilometer to go sign, riders suddenly burst out of their saddles to hold the wheel in front, no longer able to maintain the speed while seated. Over the race radio we are told the descent is dangerous and that we should race for the front of the peloton to avoid crashes and take fewer risks. Every director in the motorcade behind gives the same command, which lifts the pelotons’ speed and creates instantaneous nervousness in the group.

While the Tour de France is formulaic in its structure, the Giro is a mishmash of stages. Four days into the race and there have been three different leaders, challenging finishes and varied terrain. The Tour doesn’t reach the mountains until the end of the first week whereas here, in Italy, we rode into the sharp white-faced Dolomites today. And from here on, the race will not relent.

In first kilometer of the 20-kilometer team time trial we found what we needed to win: speed and fluidity. Riding together prior to today’s opening team time trial we knew what we were capable of doing as a team but we also knew that if the race wasn’t ridden prudently the team would come undone within meters. A corner taken poorly, acceleration at the wrong moment, or heroic selfishness would break the rhythm. The machine we were creating needed to have the pace of a metronome.

In a crowded boat full of tourists, nine of us, dressed in our bright yellow team kits sat together as a calm wind blew our hair. The sun was low in the sky and the Adriatic a murky turquoise. School kids touring Venice with their class pushed, laughed and sang songs to beats tapped out on the boat rails while we spoke about the race course, our effort in training, the fluidity needed to win the team time trial, and the coming three weeks of racing.

Monumental. The night before a race, the last thing I do before I climb into bed is to prepare my bag for the next day. Each rider has a suitcase and a race bag. The suitcase travels to the finish in the team truck and we carry the race bag, which holds everything we’ll need for the day, in the bus on the way to the start. With everything ready to go, tucked in bed, I look over the race book one last time before closing my eyes.

Suffering, speed and sore legs. Game on. The fans were fervent, the racing intense, and the media abundant. From Australia to Qatar to California the races were closely followed and cycling seems to be more popular than ever. For a month Mark Cavendish and I have traveled together: from hotel to hotel, from plane to plane, and from the Middle Eastern arid wind to the California rain. Our suitcases quickly became our homes on the road. We finished stages not knowing where we were ? the town was just another name and the finish line crossed another stage completed.

Gusting gale-force winds are not ideal for bike racing. Qatar, a peninsula that juts into the Persian Gulf off of Saudi Arabia, is a wide-open windy desert with few trees and fewer roads. The races are lost on the windy open roads as the peloton quickly splits into echelons, as every rider fights to find shelter in the draft of another rider. To race well in the wind a rider needs great bike-handling skills, unrelenting power, consistent focus and experience.

On a plane bound for the Persian Gulf, the peloton sat together on our way to start the season. In an odd contrast of environments we traveled from Paris to Qatar, from the damp gray to the arid sun, from rolling roads in green and brown pastures to straight flat motorways in desert sand. Slowly, cycling is planting its roots in other cultures.

In a sterile hotel presentation room, roughly 40 male and female cyclists, dozens of staff and seven managers and directors, sat and listened. The group was pushed into the last rows of seats while the front two were empty — like school kids scared of the front, the spotlight, or the teacher. A contrast to our poised powerful cycling positions, the riders slouched in their lethargic off-the-bike state, with their legs up and resting on the backs of chairs in front of them.

Behind the story there is always a greater story, one which is often missed. The Tour of Lombardy unfolded in traditional fashion: a breakaway, a gauged acceleration in the peloton, the knife-stabbing attacks that seal most riders’ fate, and then, finally, the winning attack and the defeated sprints for the places of honor. The favorite won.

Alessandria, Italy ? The peloton, stretched thin into a long single line, stuck to the white line marking the edge of the road with the riders on the front pushing the cool yet fresh autumn air as they rode a hard tempo to control the race and bring back the breakaway. Leaves blew on to the course, acorns and chestnuts spotting the road, and the odor of fermenting grapes was pungent as we passed the vineyards known for producing the best wines in Italy.

The crowd roared as we, the handful of riders that was once over 200 riders large rode slowly around the course on the final lap of the six and a half hour race. Paolo Bettini sat on the front of the 30 man group, blowing kisses to the tifosi as they chanted his name, blew airhorns, rang bells and draped flags over the course. When it was known his teammate had won the title the noise from the Italian crowd intensified. At that moment we could no longer talk in the group, or hear anything coming over our radios, which had the volume cranked to the maximum.

As the road climbed uphill into the lower Alps the peloton began to shatter. Riders attacked, while others drifted against the flow of the group. Gaps formed in the long line of riders. At the back, groups of dropped riders pooled together while, up front, sensing it was the moment where differences would be made, riders forced the pace, rivals working together to forge gaps. I followed the wheels, jumping from one to the next as riders could no longer hold the speed.

The motorcade of team cars raced through downtown Beijing, the usually congested roads virtually emptied for the Olympics, to the start. In each unbranded white car, the riders were piled in the back, as the directors drove. A small flag on the side was the only thing differentiating each team. On the roof, the bikes were covered in tape and the carbon wheels logo-less to appease the Olympic rules that control which companies can be featured in their event.

Four of us climbed into the back of the borrowed team Saturn truck, picking good spots for our lawn chairs. Once we were settled, the door was pulled shut and locked. We sat in darkness while our team captain, Steve Bauer climbed into the passenger’s seat beside Fernando, our mechanic and the driver, up in the cab. The southern air was hot and muggy and the back of the truck, filled with bikes and wheels was at first refreshingly cool in contrast to the outside air.

A last wave goodbye, the tears in my parents’ eyes as they waved back, the pit in my stomach at the idea of being gone for months, and I then I was through the gate and walking towards the waiting lounge.

The wet cobbles were icy slick from street cleaners that rinse off the grime from the morning delivery trucks, the sticky ice creams from the after school snacking kids and the alcohol from the late night revelers. I rode through the old town of Girona cautiously, my bike slipping and skidding in the corners, to meet the “boys” for a training ride; the shopkeepers who were sweeping their steps in daily routine, waved a friendly hello and smiled.

One by one the team stepped on to the bus, sweat pouring from their faces, their jerseys wide-open, radio earpieces hanging from their salt-encrusted helmet straps, road dirt and carbon brake dust on their faces, veins pulsing on their sweat soaked arms and legs. As helmets were buckled and seats found, each said in his own way, with his own accent, “That was the best lead-out I have ever been a part of.”

Cycling dynasties are built around one or two leaders and a team of domestiques who are willing to pedal to the death for their leader. Faema, Molteni, Flandria, La Vie Claire, Systeme U, Banesto, ONCE, U.S. Postal all became dynasties, not only because had leaders who could win the biggest events but also because those teams included a core of riders who were strong enough to perform but sacrificed their own chances for the leader and, above all, for the team.

Fausto Coppi and Gino Bartali are Italy’s two cycling icons. The duo have become legends because of their heroics on the bike, the mystique and contrast of their lives, the intrigue of their rivalries, the beauty evoked in the images taken of them — black and white; sweat and dust — and the courage and passion they gave to a post war Italy.

Flanders is hell. Flanders is beautiful. The terrain and environment are terrible for cycling: the wind howls, the roads are bumpy, cracked or cobbled, the air is damp when it isn’t raining and rarely does the sun shine. But the roads are packed with cyclists. There is a race nearly everyday somewhere in Flanders that crisscrosses the bleak open muddy farm fields. The Flandriens know, feel, and live the sport.

After three solid off-season training camps, the entire High Road team is now racing, having initiated the season on four fronts: in California, in Portugal, in Italy and France. After being away from the races for the longest period since I was thirteen - seven months - I was happy to get the first race under my belt in Laigueglia, Italy.

In reality, a racing season is a full year as we race in three seasons and train hard in the fourth—and, ever-so-slowly we are beginning to race through the entire year as there are an increasing number of races in late October and early January. Fifteen years ago, training camps were where teams gathered for their first rides of the new year having spent a good few months skiing, relaxing and cross training.

Having a group to head out with each morning at our team training camp in Mallorca last week was a change after having spent six winter weeks either riding alone or with just one other rider.

With six weeks of solid riding and several five-hour rides in my legs, my bike is starting to once again feel part of my body, and it now also seems to be moving more fluidly.

Cycling is continuing to be faced with massive hurdles and challenges going into 2008, as commanding bodies within the sport are still fractured while doping remains as big an issue and problem as it was at the beginning of 2007. As for T-Mobile, the entire team lived a tumultuous season where the future of the team constantly seemed in limbo due to a consistent stream of doping related problems, allegations and admissions. The team’s results were the best in the last three years, with over thirty victories and countless fine finishes highlighted by strong performances in all three Grand

The atmosphere at our T-Mobile team camp in Badenweiler, Germany took a serious dive as we learned of Patrik Sinkewitz’s positive drug test. Like one of those moments that get etched in the memory for life, I will likely not forget where I was when I found out. I hope that in a few weeks the consequences of this test will not be as drastic as we fear and that the memory will fade. We were out on a ride, having just finished up an interval, when Jan Shafferath, our director who was following in the car behind stopped us, to tell us the news. It was also being announced across the country on

As a child I loved watching the videos of the champions in the wake of their teammates as they shredded the peloton while setting a violent tempo. To me, there was something unique about the complete physical sacrifice as they selflessly emptied their energy on the road for their teammates until they could no longer pedal fluidly. Lance Armstrong had eight riders who did this to the utmost every year for him, never questioning his leadership while totally devoting themselves to the goal of victory in Paris. In many ways they were the reason he won seven Tours with barely a hiccup. Riding on

In the last couple of weeks, we have done quite some racing: Pays Basque, the Ardennes and now the Tour de Romandie. They form a beautiful stretch of races, in the heart of the spring, with some of the painfully hard courses that attract masses of spectators and all the best cyclists in the world. Liège-Bastogne-Liège, the last and most prestigious of the Ardennes trio, is the longest, most historic and toughest of the classics. The race is an endurance test at 260 km with several tough climbs in the last 90km. The climbs are not incredibly hard but after six hours on the bike they

Although the three final spring Classics have similar protagonists that highlight the classification, the races are quite unique and different from one another. Amstel is a technical course loaded with short steep climbs on tiny roads; Flèche, the shortest of the three, is a race that essentially comes down to one climb, the Mur de Huy, and is a race that is nervous, fast with open roads and fewer climbs; Liège-Bastogne-Liège, the hardest of the three, has longer climbs, is the longest in distance, the most selective and perhaps, the least tactical, as the strongest man usually wins. Under

The Classics are traditionally hard men’s races held over tough courses under miserable spring conditions. This morning, the day after the Amstel Gold Race, we woke up to another day of glorious sunshine, pulled on our shorts and t-shirts and headed down to the hotel lobby breakfast—not the weather we expected and we nearly all had sunburns from the race. Half of the team from Amstel is staying in Belgium for Fleche and Liege while the others closed the door on their Classics campaign and headed home, as they had been up here since mid-March. Generally teams trade their sprinters and

Last Friday afternoon, under dark gray skies that made the moment feel as if night were about to fall, I stepped aboard our team bus, gingerly, and sat down. The bus was empty except for one soigneur who pulled out a washcloth and lotion and began scrubbing the grime off of my tender legs. Moments later Axel and Scott stepped on the bus, neither smiling, and sat down, legs outstretched, leaning way back in the chairs waiting their turn to get cleaned up. They looked beat, and if I could have seen my own face I would imagine it was just the same. Beat, but relieved. The last road stage of a

Last Friday afternoon, under dark gray skies that made the moment feel as if night were about to fall, I stepped aboard our team bus, gingerly, and sat down. The bus was empty except for one soigneur who pulled out a washcloth and lotion and began scrubbing the grime off of my tender legs. Moments later Axel and Scott stepped on the bus, neither smiling, and sat down, legs outstretched, leaning way back in the chairs waiting their turn to get cleaned up. They looked beat, and if I could have seen my own face I would imagine it was just the same. Beat, but relieved. The last road stage of a

During Paris-Nice, one of the Saunier Duval riders, Francisco José Ventoso, asked me what races I would be competing in the coming month. I ran down the list and at the mention of Pays Basque he stopped me and said, “this year is hard, una puta madre, and my teammates all tell me the climbing is incredible.” I am now two days into the race and I can attest to the fact that Francisco was right. The last two days have been hard, hard days of racing with nonstop climbing: yesterday we had nine categorized climbs and today eight. There is no time to chat in the bunch once the break is gone and

Belgian racing is unique in such a way that I often forget just how unique it is until I am standing on the start line: The crowds are fervent and passionate, huge, the racing intense and dangerous, the wind constantly blowing, and the roads rarely straight for more than 10km. It had been a year since I last raced in Belgium when I crashed and ended up in hospital with a broken back at the Tour of Flanders. Oddly, it somehow, felt good to be back racing in Belgium, and despite images of last year’s accident, I was motivated to race; perhaps, because the Belgian racing feels like — and is,

After a long lasting back and forth argument, the UCI finally came to an agreement with the ASO, the organizers of Paris-Nice, and we got the call that we would be starting Paris-Nice. The politics are complicated and at the end of the day we are neither politicians nor businessmen and most cyclists don’t really understand the issues and just want to race their bikes—so, the team, and the peloton were excited to be warming up and then rolling down the starting ramp at the prologue of the first ProTour race on the season’s calendar. Prior to leaving for Paris-Nice I had been sick and, as a

The season is now fully underway and I now have my first race under my belt: the Tour of California. The race was a triumph for American cycling with massive crowds attending each stage, a world class peloton (likely the best competing at any race in the world at the moment) and a hard fought battle that lasted right up until the penultimate stage. For us, the cyclists, it was a quality event that was well organized, with good hotels, short transfers, and ideal weather. The racing was tough enough for us to gain fitness and progress while not depleting ourselves too much this early in the

The Tour of California is starting to become interesting as there are still several riders with a good shot at winning the overall classification after Wednesday’s hard and fast stage into San Jose. It seems every team wants to make the race hard on race leader, Levi Leipheimer’s team, Discovery Channel, and today they had to control the race on the front for most of the stage—and it was certainly not an easy stage to control as it was hilly and windy, and the peloton that sat in their draft feisty. Since the start, we, T-Mobile, have been fighting hard for a stage win. We narrowly missed

After a several months of training we are now ready, and eager to race. The last few weeks the eight-man T-Mobile Tour of California squad has been in Buellton, California training and fine-tuning for the coming season. Storm after storm blew through Boulder every weekend during the last months of 2006 and the first months of 2007 and after spending a few good weeks in the sun in Mallorca, I wasn’t too keen to train outdoors in the snow or indoors on the trainer, so I made the decision to head to the California for some sun and time in the saddle. Prior to our team camp I rode alone in

Last season was perhaps the worst year professional cycling has ever experienced. Victories achieved with panache were overshadowed by media headlines relating to positive drug tests, doping investigations and political strife between the sport’s governing body and the race organizers. It was a tough year to be a professional cyclist and with each news story my pedal stroke seemed to get heavier from the negativity. The sport I had gone to bed dreaming about as a kid was, very sadly, in the public’s perception, a sport full of cheaters and hoaxes. And, it now needs to change. T-Mobile, is a

In fine form, Vino’ stomped his pedals on the peloton one last time and flew around the time trial course to seal his first victory in a grand tour. It is said that the winner of a grand tour should win a time trial stage; not only did Vinokourov win the time trial today but he also dominated the last ten days of the race, winning three stages, placing second twice and never spending a moment in difficulty. In all, he won a mountain stage, a field sprint and a time trial which is incredible and shows he is truly the most complete rider of the Vuelta. This morning, prior to the time trial,

This evening we left the olive groves and arid countryside for the concrete and bumper to bumper traffic of Madrid… and it actually feels good. Three weeks of hotels, pedaling, pasta, bus transfers and the same routine is now coming to an end and we are in our last hotel and the final finish line is only a flutter of pedal strokes away. The last couple of days have been good for the team but long for the peloton. The stages were never flat but quite hilly to mountainous and it seemed we always had a gusty wind blowing up our noses and across our cheeks. Sadly, we rarely had it on our backs.

Tom Danielson came into the Vuelta with big ambitions, but he struggled a little in the first week, unable to find his potent pedal stroke in the mountains, and losing time to his rivals on terrain where he usually excels. He persisted, kept his head together, and today he achieved a big objective with an impressive stage victory on one of the Vuelta's toughest days. Two days ago, on the rest day, we rode the first climb of today's stage: a 17-kilometer ascent from the coast to an altitude of 1300 meters (4265 feet). As we climbed the mountains in training one thought persisted-if

There are six days to go in the Vuelta – five if you don't count the last stage into Madrid, which is essentially a parade. Nonetheless, on today's rest day we are still resting, napping and lounging around with our legs up, as the three days ahead of us are some of the hardest of the twenty one we will have raced. Yesterday, the stage was controlled, the peloton lethargic in the strong headwind, and the final outcome one we could have all predicted: a sprint finish. The day was, however, a long one as the race started early so that we could fit in an afternoon plane and bus transfer

Unlike past Vuelta time trials, which tend to be run on courses that don’t attract spectators and are mainly on highways, the 33 kilometer Time trial today was somewhat technical, varied in terrain and scenic for both the television spectators and those at the side of the road. The course was technical as we had to climb two kilometers on a cobbled road, and then descend to the finish on a road that was fast with a few tight corners. This morning my roommate, Jani Brajkovic, got up at nine to preview the course with Tom, Gusev and Stijn. The rest of us had the morning to sleep in and have a

The stage to Cuenca is a Vuelta classic as the finish is challenging, picturesque and always provides and exciting finale with a cobbled climb, a fast descent and a slightly uphill sprint to the line. The last two stages have been fast, uncomfortably fast, and the peloton has spent much of the races lined out in single file. The attacks in the first hour are relentless as everybody still wants to get into the breakaway that makes it to the finish. Yesterday’s break made it, so why not again today? In my last diary I think I mentioned that the 12th stage to Guadalajara would be flat and a

Transitional stages are ideal for the opportunist as there is a good chance a breakaway will get away and make it to the line as the sprinters’ teams are not interested in chasing as the course is too hard for their sprinter, and it is interest of the overall leader’s team to let the break go as it makes it easier on them to control the race. Today, we had another transitional day, like yesterday’s stage, and we all knew the break would succeed and make it to Burgos ahead of the peloton. Egoi Martinez, our fervent Basque teammate, was the opportunist today, and took advantage of his

A rest day is the calm before the storm. As always in a grand tour, today’s stage after yesterday’s rest day was fast as it seems every rider had found renewed motivation and ‘fresh’ legs. In our team meeting Johan reminded us of what we already were envisioning: that the start would be fast. He also told us that we had to be in the breakaway as we are leading the team classification and also, having a rider in the breakaway would also give us a shot at a stage victory. We knew the stage was going to be up and down on sinuous roads along the coast but the race profile in the “Libro

Sunday’s stage offered up a mix of emotions for the team as we had several guys in the front, or near the front, on the last ascent to the finish, yet Janez was unable to hold on to the jersey as Valverde, and Vinokourov rode away. The stage was likely the hardest day of the Vuelta with over 5,000 meters of climbing, stifling temperatures, and little recovery between the long ascents. Today, we are fortunate to have a rest day and can have an easy day on the bike, keep our legs up and spend some time with our families. In some ways it seems the race just started as the last week has

In the first week of racing there were few attacks, controlled racing and many field sprints, but today the tide changed and we became the lucky ones responsible for controlling the peloton on its most energetic and aggressive day. After more than 70km of relentless attacks and an average speed of more than 50kph, the field finally lost some steam and relented. It was as much a relief to us as almost everybody else as virtually the whole peloton stopped for a pee once there was one rider clear and off the front, the race was in control and we had slowed down. Our goal going into the stage

After a week of racing things are starting to sort themselves out and, thankfully, our team is looking very good for the moment. Janez the Wonder Boy has continued where he left off two days ago, when we were in the mountains, and has come away from today's mountaintop finish with the leader's gold jersey. Triki, Stijn and Tom also did a great climb and were there right there leading into the final kilometers. Three of them crossed the line among the first 10 riders. Janez is leading every jersey competition other than the points for the moment, and we are also leading the team

At the start today I had flashbacks as we had ridden the same stage and started in the same spot in 2004. It was a vicious day in the heat and our team was pummeled by Liberty Seguros; in fact they throttled the entire peloton. Today, thankfully, was a little different. From the start, riders attacked relentlessly until we hit the first slopes of the first climb – the Puerto del Piornal – thirty kilometers into the race. On a mountain day a good chunk of the peloton - the sprinters and those not vying for the stage or the overall - try to get into the breakaway as the ride up front is

Today we spent another day in the extreme, oppressive heat, although at least today’s stage was 100km shorter than yesterday's so we didn't wilt as badly or go through quite as many bottles. The heat is affecting the whole peloton and it’s all any one was talking about today: Their feet were sore from swelling in their shoes; their lungs were sore from breathing in the hot air; their mouths were dry; they were sunburned; they had headaches; or they were just plain uncomfortable. To keep cool during the race we unzip our jerseys and leave them blowing in the wind. We loosen our

The peloton is lethargic due to the heat and racing in the south and center of Spain makes it is easy to understand why the country invented the siesta; it is simply too hot to move. On the road today, our computers read between 44-47 degrees Celsius (111-116F) all day. Yet, because everyone is off work during siesta, it is a great time to have a bike race as they can all come out and watch it live or on television (most Spaniards opt to watch it on television as it is even too hot to stand out in the heat all day). Unfortunately, the show must go on no matter the temperature, we slog

For the last three days we have been waiting in a hotel in Málaga, anticipating the start of the Vuelta a España. Over the last weeks we finished our final training sessions in preparation for the event, and during the final run in to the race all that was left to do was test our time-trial equipment and keep our legs loose by riding a little every day. Those final three days are long ones, as we need to rest, so we aren’t walking around town and visiting the city. We're sitting in our beds, reading with our legs up and minds focused on the coming weeks of racing. Why do we have to be

Editor's Note: Michael Barry, pro cyclist with the DiscoveryChannel Cycling Team and author of Insidethe Postal Bus: My Ride with Lance Armstrong and the U.S. Postal CyclingTeam, analyzes the team’s chances for the 2006 Tour de Franceand how the Discovery Channel team dynamic has changed going into thisfirst Tour of the post-Lance era.In 2005, Lance Armstrong retired from the sport the moment he crossedthe finish line on the Champs-Elysées in yellow. It was his seventhconsecutive victory, a record that will likely not be broken for decades.He retired from our sport as the maître; with his

Editor's Note: Michael Barry, pro cyclist with the DiscoveryChannel Cycling Team and author of Insidethe Postal Bus: My Ride with Lance Armstrong and the U.S. Postal CyclingTeam, analyzes the team’s chances for the 2006 Tour de Franceand how the Discovery Channel team dynamic has changed going into thisfirst Tour of the post-Lance era.In 2005, Lance Armstrong retired from the sport the moment he crossedthe finish line on the Champs-Elysées in yellow. It was his seventhconsecutive victory, a record that will likely not be broken for decades.He retired from our sport as the maître; with his

In a few weeks I will be back with the team, training in California. The off-season is nearly over, although it seems that it was only yesterday that I was pinning my numbers on at the Championships of Zurich in early October. My training has transitioned from hikes, runs and mountain-bike rides to strength work in the gym, endurance rides in the mountains, and now, to daily road rides, during which I work on my lactate threshold and test myself in anticipation for the new season. I return home from training feeling tired, my legs sore, and a good meal and an afternoon nap are a necessity.

A cyclist operates on an entirely different calendar than do most people. Two weeks ago, my year began as I started training again. At Christmas, when everyone else is relaxing, raising a glass in front of the tree, enjoying time away from work, we’ll be back on our bikes getting ready for team training camp, which begins only a few weeks into January I woke up the morning of November 1st to find a training program in my e-mail inbox. That month off my bike had passed a whole lot quicker than the last month of the season in which I raced a very fast Vuelta and a miserably cold

This morning Tom and Stijn pre-rode the time trial course, as most of the guys do when they are trying to ride a good time trial, and when they got back to the hotel the verdict was that it was going to be very fast due to a very strong tail-crosswind and indeed it was. It was nice going to bed last night knowing we were going into the last major effort of the 2005 Vuelta. Time trials are usually quite chill days for the riders not seriously contending the race overall or a stage win, so Benjamin and I had time to have a relaxing breakfast this morning, and then were able to read and keep