Living the Dream

In case you haven’t talked to me in the last couple of months, my life has turned into a wonderful fantasy world. I signed my first professional contract with Team Raleigh, had the best fall of my life in Petaluma at the Cahteau d’Lenzi and then spent a long holiday back home with the fam in Idaho. Life is good. Damn good.

But wait, Ryan, if you’re riding for a British team this year, doesn’t that mean you have to move to England? Yes, it does, and yes, I did. I’m writing to you from jolly old England. And it’s not the dreary, rainy England they advertise to keep yanks out; it is a sunny, glorious (if a bit chilly) wonderland of rolling roads, quaint old homes and friendly folk speaking some strange dialect of English.

Mooney and I (yeah, my best friend in the cycling world is on the same team/adventure with me. SICK!!!) blasted out of JFK just the other day. I thought JFK stood for John F. Kennedy Airport, but it might actually mean Just F%$*ing Kidding, as we sat on the tarmac for close to two hours before takeoff. We flew Air France, which was hilarious. The flight attendant offered me a menu as if I were in a four star restaurant and was happy to serve me champagne with my meal, but then almost kicked me off the plane because I asked for hot chocolate. In a thick French accent and all seriousness: “We do not serve chocolat to those over 12 years of age.”

I was still sane enough after nine hours on a plane to snap a good Parisian sunrise pick and feel bad for stinking up the whole bus with my unshowered man musk. It’s really their own fault for having an entire airport connected by a bus system. The ride to our IK flight was so long I thought they were just going to drive us there.

After a bit of grilling we made it through customs and right into the welcoming arms of our new Manager/Director team of Eddie White and Cherie Pridham. The picked us up in one of the 5, yes FIVE, team vehicles and even dialed up some sunshine for us. We spent the next 4 hours chatting it up in an airport coffee shop waiting for D. J Sparls only to discover that he’d missed his connection and wouldn’t be in until that night. So we had a delicious airport meal and then went to kick it at Cherie’s, castles and countryside the whole drive there, and upon arriving I encountered two of the biggest dogs and the most insane Oakley collection ever. Max and Caesar were true gentlemen.
I can’t even begin to convey how amazingly stoked I am to be here, and how blown away I am by the huge effort made my Eddie, Cherie and Raleigh to make our transition easy and worry free. They’ve had a house rented for us for weeks now, and we showed up to a tricked out gangster pad worthy of MTV Cribs. Everything was in place to get us settled in and crushing post haste, including a well-stocked stables of beautiful Raleigh training bikes. They run a tight ship, I’ll tell you what. We finally managed to nab Jamie, stuff our faces with pizza and stay awake just long enough to find our beds.
The very next day we hopped on our rigs for a little scouting expedition and managed to find our way to the British CX Championships. We spent the most of the day there scoping the sights and meeting some of the local talent, including our new teammate Matt “Fly, Aike A” Gee “Six.” G6 was a hell of a nice guy, plus he had a watch to match his name (I’ll grab a pic when I can.) I feel a bit bad for the rest of my new teammates, as G6 set the bar pretty high as far as friendliness and welcoming attitude are concerned. He lives nearby and I’m looking forward to getting plenty of miles in with him this season.
It turns out they already have a team named in my honor over here, and to commemorate the occasion I figured I’d eat like a true mammoth. That’s about 18 inches of roast meat covered in onions on a toasty yet supple baguette and it’s the only thing that kept me form freezing solid while watching the races. Don’t you ever tell me England doesn’t have fine cuisine!

That’s about the extent of my adventuring so far. I managed to come down with a bit of travel bug at some point while zipping continent to continent in a big aluminum Petri dish, and it’s kept me off the bike aside from that first ride. I’ve contented myself with watching DVDs of UK racing, and walking to the local Asda (read Walmart), which has pretty interesting hours. What’s wrong with this picture?
I’ll leave you with a picture looking out our kitchen window to the back yard. Tonight the fourth pillar of wisdom arrives: Jeroen “JJ” Jansen, the Flying Dutchman. He’s going to round out the small gang of foreign mercenaries, and I’m stoked to meet him. Then tomorrow it’s 2nd Christmas! Cherie’s house is packed floor to ceiling with all the 2011 kit and I don’t know who’s more excited: the team, about get all our new stuff, or Cherie, about getting her house back.
Cheerio until next time from one truly stoked bloke!