Hell Hath No Fury

Distance (and time) makes the heart grow fonder.I know I'll miss countless aspects of cycling. I was even experiencing the monotony and herding-cattle formality of airport security a month back, I looked around and thought, "Geezum crow I hate this... but man am I going to miss it."It will take a little while -- maybe a lot of while -- to really absorb and appreciate a day like today. Sure 205km is all well and good. Add to that four and a half hours of pelting rain, temperatures hovering two degrees above the freezing point, racing on enormous highways featuring a unique road spray kicking into your face with the distinct flavor of diesel fuel, plus full fledged cyclocross racing in sloppy mud sections. Not dirt, mud.Shaking uncontrollably on the bus after a scaldingly hot shower is honestly frightening. My eyes are bloodshot and still painfully gritty with sand. You're all obviously familiar with sandpaper, yes? Now picture that on your nether regions as your chamois is soaked in abrasive sand. Sweet.I will miss commiserating with friends in the peloton on days like today. To know there aren't people anywhere on earth submitting themselves to conditions like these. In reality, this all is voluntary. Want out? Jump in the car. Easy as that. Or keep going.I'll miss the camaraderie of winning. (Three stages in a row doesn't hurt.) I'll miss hanging out with the guys in the RV at the start, staring out the window knowing what we're about to submit ourselves to. I'll miss sharing a beer (or three) after a victory. I'll miss our director Andreas Klier giving robotic yet hilarious instruction on how the race should be raced -- often 100% correctly as to how it ultimately goes down.And in reality I will miss days like today. We're now two hours post stage. My eyes still hurt, I'm still cold now two showers later. But I love this sport and I'll for sure miss race days like today.STRAVA!