Mileage

In my new-found bike geekdom I watched some of the Tour de France's opening stage today. I didn't get up at 5:30 a.m. to catch it live; the countless replays satisfy my curiosity right now. Amid the crashes I shudder to see, the kilometers I struggle to comprehend and the names I shouldn't even try to pronounce, though, it got me to thinking about one thing: mileage.

The guys crazy enough to finish what is one of - if not the - world's toughest sporting event will log 2,175 miles over three weeks with just a couple of days out of the saddle. I, on the other hand, have pulled only about 750 miles total on my LeMond since I started riding in late March/early April. Roughly speaking, in three months I haven't done even half of what they'll do in three weeks.

Really, 750 isn't anything. My friend Craig - he who was kind enough to show me how to actually navigate this commute - cleared 10,000 miles not too long ago. But, nonetheless, I'm proud of my 750. That's about the equivalent of riding from Portland to Salt Lake City. Plus, here's a couple of benefits: not having to buy about 30 gallons of gas and feeling healthier than ever (achy wrist aside).

Onward to my first 1,000 - and more.