FInally felt good on the bike today, first time in two weeks after my brush with bronchitis or whatever the hell it was I had. Rode for an hour and a half, including a spell with racer-boy Juan, one of those accidental buddy rides that are such a pleasure.

Juan, like me, left late for his ride, trading away the cool of the morning for the Tour on telly. So we had a grand chat about the big race as we rolled very hard and very fast (for me at least) along the riverside trail. Juan kept doing a fake German accent, immitating Ullrich, something about streudel. For the first time since my sickness I was able to push the tempo and drive my heart rate up without collapsing. But I'm still coughing, and the streudel schtick didn't help.

Juan, who lives just down the street from me, also showed me a new route back into town. It rolls up through the industrial neighborhood south of downtown, past the old rail yard and the beautiful but very battered engine shop. By the time we hit the hill back up into our neighborhood, we had hooked up with two more spandex-clad idiots who were out riding in the heat of the day because they stayed in early to watch Le Tour. At least tomorrow OLN isn't broadcasting the stage live in the states, which means we can all go out and ride first thing like a good cyclist should.