It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

If you are a cycling fan, where are your thoughts come late March and early April?  Mine are in Belgium.  The true kick off to the cycling season.  The place where cobbles can tell stories back to the Romans; or at least look like the last people who paid any attention to them were Romans.

Well, I got the opportunity to put my body where my mind was.  On Friday, I was told I needed to head to the land of cycling, beer, frites w/mayo, and chocolates.  I immediately made plans to spend the weekend to watch Gent-Wevelgem.  While not the Tour of Flanders or Paris Roubaix but definitely worth it.

I contacted a few cycling tour companies to see if I could grab a last-minute cycling tours so my rear end could enjoy the same experience as my eyes.  To my displeasure, the three I contacted had cancelled their tours due to the economy. That’s OK, I’ll brave it alone. 

Then the other shoe dropped.  While I was needed in Belgium on Wednesday, I am also needed in New Jersey on Friday!  I can only blame it on “the man!”  “The Man” must have it in for me to send me there and then bring me home.


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