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We've heard about folk stealing one or more of Lance Armstrong's bikes, but a whole team's bicycles -- and not just that, but also their spares, parts, and tools?

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Now that the cold weather is here in full swing, getting out and about is as much a struggle of the mind against the elements as it is of the body. Part of it is a matter of peripheral circulation issues; part of it is a matter of equipment and gear. Since the Dolce is a lot more serious a vehicle than the old Excelle was, I need more "technical" apparel to ride it comfortably. In addition to my new headlight and a replacement helmet, my December purchases included a winter cycling jacket, hat and balaclava, a couple of long-sleeved jerseys, a second pair of tights, and some better-fitting shorts.

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When I pre-registered for the Tour de Cure, the organizer asked me if I'd like to say a few words before setting out. It's apparently the tradition to ask a Red Rider to "rally the troops", as it were, and she offered me the honor since it would be my birthday -- unless, of course, I was too shy to speak.

I may be a number of things, but shy about public speaking is not one of them. Give me a microphone and and audience, and I'll ramble on until someone comes with the big hook to pull me offstage. However, trying to figure out what to say might be challenging.

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Thursday evening was the awards dinner for two of the three New Jersey Tours de Cure (the third will take place in two weeks). Since The Other Half couldn't get off work, I had to go solo. I'm not completely uncomfortable going out without an escort, but I am rather shy about reaching out to meet other people. I need a hook -- a segue -- something to break the ice. I knew that there would be some folk I'd met before -- Taran (the Skylands Tour's coordinator) and a couple of the committee folk and riders. I also expected them to not have a lot of free/mingling time, or to be with other folk. The sit-down-dinner nature of this event in a way forced me to meet new people.

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Rather than the bell lap at a local bike race, one is the number of days until my second-ever Tour de Cure ride. 

The good news is, I have my bib and helmet number, my VIP wristband, and I've been able to up my goal twice: I'm now aiming for $900.

The bad news is, I may have come down with that same sinus infection that put The Other Half out of commission all of last week. I'm hoping it's just a reaction to a whole lot of insect bites which have not been behaving in a typical (for me) fashion, but the effect has been a systemic histamine reaction rather than something that's site-specific: I'm dealing with the whole running nose, watery eye, swollen face and extremities thing.

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From the time we are diagnosed until the moment of our death, we are running a race against skyrocketing and plummeting blood sugars, heart disease, kidney failure, retinopathy, neuropathy, and a whole list of other "-opathies", as well as acute (but potentially fatal) issues such as ketoacidosis...

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Put aside the images of the Kingston Trio's Boston-area rewrite of "The Ship That Never Returned" and think instead of a group of riders, runners, walkers, or drivers following one after the other, or a flock of migratory birds, or any group trying to travel a significant distance, using the strongest to protect the weakest from wind and weather, each member of the group taking a turn at the front to allow the others to recover.

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I consider myself a relatively slow cyclist.

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