Comments Accidentally Deleted

Hello, everyone!

Sometimes, in the course of Spring Cleaning, I unintentionally toss out the wheat with the chaff, so to speak.

So it went when I cleared out some “spam” comments.  In the process, I accidentally deleted a bunch of good comments. 

If yours was one of them, I apologize.  Mea culpa. (That’s Latin for “My bad!”)

Love Triangle Ends In Death For Gravel Racing Star

 The world of professional cycling has seen its share of tragedies and scandals.  Until recently, they didn't seem to involve gravel racing.  Perhaps the sport hasn't been around long enough (though, I think, people were gravel riding and gravel racing long before the sport got its name or bikes were built specially for it) to attract bad actors.  Or it may just have to do with the fact that most gravel racers are young and aren't steeped in the "this is how it's done" or "everybody does it" mentality that seems to affect people, not only in the more established areas of bike racing, but in any other long-standing institution.

But now gravel racing seems to have been thrown into its first scandal--and tragedy. And it involves someone named Armstrong who lives in Austin, Texas.

No, I'm not talking about Lance.  Nor am I referring to anything that involves illicit substances.  Rather, I am about to relate a story that involves something we don't often hear about in professional cycling:  a love triangle.  And the Armstrong in question is named Kaitlin and, to my knowledge, not related to Lance.

She lived with alleycat rider-turned-gravel racer Colin Strickland.  Both are in their mid-30s.  Their relationship took a "hiatus" for a couple of months last fall.  During that time, according to reports, he dated Anna Moriah "Mo" Wilson, ten years his junior and considered one of the up-and-coming stars of the gravel racing circuit.  After Armstrong and Strickland reconciled, he continued to stay in touch with Wilson, which did not make Armstrong happy, to say the least.

Wilson was scheduled to race in the capital city of the Lone Star State on the 11th of this month.  She arriveed the day before and stayed with a friend.  Someone called police after hearing shots in the apartment, where Wilson was found, fatally shot.  The only item missing from the apartment was her bicycle. And, according to an anonymous source, Armstrong talked about killing Wilson . 

Anna Moriah "Mo" Wilson, from Dartmouth College Athletics

The day after Wilson's body was found, Armstrong was brought into the police station for questioning, where a detective said things "don't look good" for her.  Not long afterward, Armstrong deleted her social media accounts and simply vanished.  Now local police and the U.S. Marshals are following leads in the hope of finding her.

Say what you will about Strickland seeing Wilson. I will, however, criticize him for this:  Last December and January, he bought two guns, a Springfield Armory and a Sig Sauer, and gave the Sig Sauer to Armstrong.  Now, I'm not keen on firearms, but I understand that Texas has a different culture and set of laws about them than what we have in New York.  Still, I have to wonder what he was thinking.  Why a gun for each of them?

Those guns were recovered when police searched their apartment. On the 17th, police tested the Sig Sauer and compared the shell casings to ones found near Wilson's body.  

The detective is right in more ways than one:  things don't "look good" for Kristin Armstrong.  And the world of gravel racing is without one of its brightest lights in Anna Moriah Wilson.

Early Spring....To Early Summer?

 Over the weekend, I put in fewer miles (kilometers) than I'd planned.  But I got more Vitamin D.

So how are they related?

Friday was like much of this Snpring, to date:  cloudy and chilly.  I went for a late-afternoo ride and in Bensonhurst, near my old stomping grounds, was "stomped" by a sudden, violent storm.  I don't mind riding in the rain, but I draw the line when I can't see to the next block.  The rain--and, I believe, some hail--came down in a cascade that rivals anything you'll see on this side of Niagara.  

Some time during the wee hours of morning, the sky cleared--and the temperature climbed, it seeemed, even faster than the rain fell.  By mid-afternoon, the temperature reached 33C (92F) in Katonah.  I'd swallowed the contents of my water bottle and bought another in the town--and another in Morris Bronx, Bronx, even though I was less than 45 minutes' ride from home.  

Yesterday was just as hot, and the sun just as intense, as it had been on Saturday.  But I'd stayed close to bodies of water:  the East River, Jamaica Bay and the ocean.   Of course, plenty of other people, on foot or bikes or scooters, did the same.  While riding along the shore wasn't quite as sweaty as Saturday's ride, I still felt the effects of the heat and sun because, I realized, I hadn't acclimated to either.  

Not my leg, but close enough.

In a "normal" year, the temperature and sun's intensity increase gradually, so my body--especially my skin--has a chance to adjust.  But literally overnight, from Friday to Saturday, the season changed directly from early-spring to early-summer, or so it seemed.  The past weekend reminds me of rhe time, a few years ago, I "bonked" on routine ride: Cold gray air had turned incandescent within a day and burnished my flesh with the hue of a heritage tomato.

At least I didn't burn quite as badly this weekend: I remembered to use sunscreen.  Even so, I could feel the effect of the sun and heat:  I was tired, more tired than I would normally be after riding at this time of year.

But I probably took in as much Vitamin D durng my rides as I got from the cheese I ate afterward.  I enjoyed both.