The beginning of the last straw And now I write cycling 
Yes sir, cycling. I do not understand a grapefruit, but I write. Bah, Cavagliato the bicycle shop was near my house, and Cycles World also, but that's not going to put in the curriculum. I think an interesting sport because it has a lot of strategy. Here in Spain give a lot of ball, but my friend Cain says that there are only a couple of guys without hair. I thought the bike which won just pedaled faster, saved the anti-doping and ready. But it is not so simple, the issue has its tricks. To learn more, I sneaked a day with the newspaper's sports reporters covering the Tour of Burgos, one of the most important Spain. What I wrote below do not publish in the printed newspaper, but online, because the sports section this sort of thing a bit offended. But hey, who won and to put all those things that recur every year and they are.
The yawning round
For journalists, the Tour of Burgos can be the most boring. All the while in a car to 60 hours and hardly see the riders once. What is a day of the Tour to the writers?
While the cycling races usually arouse much interest, some journalists are not activities more stimulating. Savvy with morning coffee, while we browse the newspaper, the Diario de Burgos team we started mid-morning in a row of cars and motorcycles to the tee. Then, work can be quite tedious and without surprise.
It begins at noon in the control of firms in Belorado. It is crowded with credentials that allow access the fenced area. Journalists are many, but there are guests, organizers, people, equipment, civil guards, authorities. The start is delayed, do not know why. In one post a snack and enable all these respected people huddle a bit like swatting desperate for something, as always giving anything for free.
About noon, the stage does not start and in the so-called zero-kilometer hardly anyone, but just outta one of the cars in the newspaper. We carry a radio to hear the signal of the organization, which indicates what is happening in the race and so we found out he finally started the stage. We are several minutes ahead of the cyclists, who still could not see either film.
I'm loving the speed and cars, but half an hour we're going to 60 hours in a caravan of about 20 vehicles and is a bit tiring, although I had been warned. The radio I supposed to go with vertigo recounting the events of the trial will move. Worse, is making that noise radio does not catch the signal. One of the editorial fellows will sleep beside me for a while. Until the radio talks and says that six cyclists will take off from the peloton.
Civil Guards Motorized us forward and make a fuss so that quickened their pace. It seems that cyclists are coming fast. In villages, many people expect under a sun that part the earth to see the passage of the race. Some applaud us when we, like we were the protagonists. Some of us are being asked to give things to children. And we have nothing to give, of course. When
odd first stop on the roadside to stretch your legs. Take this opportunity to attack the cooler and eat the sandwiches that we fast. The sun is strong, but true. A woman with a dog comes over and says it is a relative of one of the runners, but does not know his name. Just want to see happen, and says he has brought to Plas, the dog, because it is also his family. They begin to spend several cars and motorcycles. A few seconds, like bullets across the six riders who had escaped. I could not see because I was trying to make a good photo with the mobile Plas, which also failed.
Then start it again, this time faster, and within minutes we move to cyclists who went before. First time I see them. Then we took out the true spirit of partnership and as we walk we pass by the window, with great skill, several sandwiches and refreshments to our fellow photographers that go on a bike and have come to claim him. Possibly have required the same to the newspaper editors who go in the other car.
The race continues and, from there to the end, everything is equal. The radio is constantly saying, in English and French, the lead time to carry on with the riders in the peloton. And another thing. Ana, chief of sports newspaper, is very attentive and writes everything. I will calculate how much failure to finish. The scenery is beautiful, and 60 per hour can be well appreciated. The cyclists do not see them again.
About four o'clock we reached Miranda, who is, luckily for journalists and cyclists, the end of the stage. Riders who would later do not stand the pace and those behind them are blowing the neck. Installed in the press sector, many journalists see the race on television and that's really when I can see some action and how competitors will leave the skin. There are many people on the street waiting to see the arrival, or perhaps more to the bird to catch a cap of giving away the sponsors. Because it seems to me, cycling is very interesting but as a spectacle for the masses is quite poor. At most, will see about 100 kinds bike crossing in 10 seconds. After prizes are awarded in a jiffy and it's all over. A football game, and no matter how bad they are the teams, makes sure at least 90 minutes out of your home.
I said: Cyclists arrive, give prizes and everyone home. 186 kilometers over four hours. And there to return. I do not have much to write. To my fellow Sports, starts the race is run every day in an editorial. Be five days with this routine cycling is not more entertaining, but we're used. In the end, inform the call is higher.
Finally had to surrender. More than three decades of fierce resistance, far from being disappointed that today are exalted. I knew all the tricks and did not need. Rather, did not want. But it was not for more. Time passes and the wrinkles will not go away. Perhaps before were also not noticed, or gave no ball. But I had a wardrobe that sector could not be used. Every now and again you take a look to see what was the thing, but of course it was the same. And although I refused and I went boldly to please friend, I had no other. Yes, I bought for 10.90 euros, the first plank of my life. A horror. Modern fabrics are crap. 
