Yes, I know…once again I have been a bad little diarist. Honestly, I’ve been really busy……..Stop laughing, I really was……….Oh come on, don’t laugh, that‘s rude, I‘ll stop being your friend………fine then, I‘ll tell you the story. Let’s see….where to start…oh yeah……

It was a typical morning of a typical summer day as all of Belgium‘s closest friends showed up to play. There was Belgium’s best friend Mr. Rain, his brother Mr. Cloud and their fat annoying cousin Windy. It seems to work best if you just ignore her. Write that down. But you see, today Windy, Mr. Rain and Mr. Cloud didn’t matter because I found myself giddy as a schoolgirl as I sat on a train watching the country side go by. Well, it’s not exactly trains that make me feel giddy but more my girlfriend Suzanne whom I had just picked up form the airport. She had flown into Brussels that morning to visit with me for the next two months. After a seemingly never ending Spring apart I couldn’t even put my excitement into words. Let’s just say my own excitement and anticipation as I waited in the airport for her was enough to give me the stomach ya-ya’s. Now if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is. Anyways, an hour and a half train ride and a short car ride later, we’d arrived at the Cycling Center. Let’s cut to the point, life in Europe is even more amazing when you have someone to share it with. Well, I guess life in general is just better when you have someone special to share it with.

The next two months would go on to be the best of my life. To not bore you with every little detail, I’ll just hit the high points with some keen observations that I made on our two travels to Italy. Hey, why make one trip when you can make two? The first trip involved Suzanne, Justin Hale and I traveling to Rome for a four day stay without the bike, lycra and athletic mind frame but more of the pizza, gelato and normal mind frame. After a long Spring of racing, it was a much needed break. Rome was amazing. Well, the city itself is a bit crazy with an even crazier pace of life. In Rome, never look both ways before crossing the street. If you do they’ll know you’re a tourist and never stop, turning a simple street crossing into something more difficult than a high school Spanish test. The best way to cross is to quickly pray, close your eyes and just go. Write that down. (***THE AUTHOR IS NOT LIABLE FOR ANYONE HIT WHILE CROSSING THE STREET, HELL, ALL I DO HERE IS RAMBLE ON AND THROW A FEW WORDS ON YOUR SCREEN, I BET NOBODY EVEN READS THIS CRAP) My favorite part of Rome was all the history. Where I live, 100 years is considered old. Well, in our tour of St. Peter’s Basilica, I got the opportunity to walk on 3^rd century mosaic floors. I’ll never wash the soles of my shoes again. In four days we saw the majority of what Rome has to offer: St. Peter’s Basilica, The Sistine Chapel, The Coliseum and The Forum to name a few. It didn’t take me long to realize, well, I won’t lie, Italian women intimidate the hell out of me. There I said it. Yeah, um, particularly the one’s that fall in the 40-60 year old range and below the 5‘ 4“ height. I think I’d rather fight a group of angry velociraptor’s than a group of older Italian women. As I write this, I sit low in my chair cowering in fear……… 

On our second trip to Italy, Suzanne and I went to stay with my friend Hans on the Italian Riviera in a little town called Bordighera. It was amazing, I loved it. The clear blue ocean nestled up against the mountains made for a perfect place to train and relax. I basically trained all day and then spent the afternoons with Suzanne sitting on the beach enjoying a cappuccino. Sounds pretty rough eh? The training there was absolutely perfect. I was a few towns up the coast from San Remo so I enjoyed the famous Poggio and Cipressa climbs. Each day I’d head inland up into the heavenly mountains and enjoy the beautiful and quiet climbs only to descend back to reality four or five hours later. After training I’d go with Suzanne to the beautiful beaches and relax and enjoy the rest of the day. Alright, I must confess…..I think I was the whitest thing to ever step foot on that beach. Even whiter than the sea gulls. One day we decided to sneak into the exclusive membership beach and sit on their chairs under their umbrellas. Heaven forbid my pale bird chest ever see the sun. Lacking my usual sharpness, I didn’t realize that once my shirt came off our cover would be blown. Frankly, I’m far from Italian looking. I often neglect to check the “Caucasian” box on important forms and instead find the “other” box and write either “HONKEY” or “PALE AND CREAMY” in the blank. I’m also not the hairiest of all human beings. If dense thick body hair is a gauging factor of manhood, then well, I estimate myself to be equal to that of a 7^th grader. On this day, I quickly learned that Italian men take hairy to a new level. Let’s say more towards fury, kind of like they had black shag carpet glued to every part of their body except their palms and cheeks (the ones on your face). I on the other hand have 16 or 17 chest hairs (depending upon the time of day) that all point in a different direction leaving the impression that I didn’t shower after my last haircut. So yeah, I guess to sum things up, I looked a little out of place. After a week of pleasure and quality training it was time for she and I to pack up and return to Belgium, racing would begin soon. Upon returning, all the efforts of the early season racing and my midseason training camp began to pay off. My fitness and strength is great and more racing success is to come. Time flew by and soon it was time for she and I to part ways and our adventure to come to an end. It was time for the telephone to once again fill in the distance that would soon be between us. I try to remind myself that nothing great ever comes without sacrifice. On the way to the airport, I didn’t have the heart to ask for a roundtrip ticket for me and a one way for her, so I just chose the later. It’s an odd feeling knowing that in a few hours you’ll have to part ways with the one thing that makes you happiest. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to try and find pleasure in the pain or if I just wanted to speed up time and get our goodbyes over with. I won’t lie, I’m not big on goodbyes, particularly with her. A few rough hours later, I got back on the train. That’s where my story ends; watching the country side go by on the 11:45 train to Tielt, just where it had began. Although this time something was missing and Windy bothered me. I won’t lie, it wasn’t the most enjoyable train ride I’ve ever been on but I’d do it again in a heart beat just to see her smile.

Until next time, Austin. 

Categories: Austin King's Chronicles From Across The Pond.