Tour de Georgia. Origional (ok, semi). Legit. Revenue generating. Trend setting.

I blogged about this rumor a while back and there’s finally an official site and documentation of financial backing for the next 5 years – thanks to SB for the call and the tip.

Welcome one, welcome all, to the Tour of Califonia. (Note they dropped “de” for “the”…how very non-comformist!)

March 25, 2005
State Will Stage Cycling Event – Plans will be announced for Tour of California, a 700-mile road race set for early next year.

By Helene Elliott, LA Times Staff Writer

The launch of the Tour of California, an eight-day, 700-mile road cycling race modeled after the famed Tour de France, will be announced today at the Home Depot Center in Carson between sessions of the Track Cycling World Championships.

Executives of AEG, the international cycling federation (UCI) and USA Cycling will outline the concept for the race, which will take place early next year on a route to be determined. Bob Colarossi, managing director of the race, said Thursday that the prize purse will be the highest for any such cycling race in the U.S. That would put it at about $150,000.

Keep an eye on the site for more details: http://www.tourofcalifornia.com/

BTW, if you’re planning to hit the peach state to catch a leg of the tour (in less than 3 weeks!!!!) holla & we’ll hook up.

By 1993 my mother was beyond heavily medicated and permanently confined to a bed at the University of San Francisco Medical Center. Years of neglecting and abusing her body brought heart disease that stints and angioplasty couldn’t fix, a series of amputations and several strokes. She lay mostly lifeless in a sterile, drab room – her life purpose having been diminished to that of a lab animal. There were days she would attempt to communicate, but all that came out was gibberish. Mostly, she was visibly uncomfortable, restless, and agitated. She could no longer fend for herself in any way that could sustain her life, and that wasn’t going to change.

Mom had a living will which clearly stated that this was not how she wanted to spend her days. I’ll spare you further details.

While some members of my family insist on bearing more responsibility than others for what happened next, it was a collective gesture. The choice had never been ours, it had always been hers. We merely honored it.

Jennifer and I visited her for the last time on Mothers Day that year to say our good-byes. “The call” came at 2am a few days later. I was 21.

You will never, ever be able to wrap your mind around even an inkling of what any aspect of that journey is like. I pray you never know it.

I could not be reached for comment.

In the space split between my birth religion (Western) and my chosen religion (Eastern) Lent is observed in percentages.

The fraction of me that remains Roman Catholic by default surrendered TV for 40 days. My upbringing taught me the sacrifice for Lent had less to do with food and everything to do with being symbolic, significant and involving discipline that would bring you closer to God. Starting yesterday, the Western Easter (Eastern Easter is May 1), I can watch the idiot box again. For the first time in my adult life, I couldn’t care less.

I’ve come to enjoy the silence.

“Sometimes” she said, “you have to slow down to see and feel your life instead of just telling stories about it.”

She looked hard at my eyes with a sad twinkle in her own and a smile riding the edges of her mouth.

“Sometimes, the good parts hurt more than you expect them to…” she trailed off, looked away and whispered “that’s how you know you’re living.”

Curled up at 7:00p last night completely wiped and just awoke – 10:25a. Ahhhhh. That’s more like it. I still haven’t made it out of the actual bed, but that’s a technicallity and last time I looked the judges weren’t scoring for the dismount.

I rolled over just a few times during the last 15 hours and out of habit starting making lists of all the things I *should* do today, all the reasons I needed to pop out of the bed at 6 am like kid on a pogo stick that’s had a dozen cups of lemonaide. I hate that. I should go for a ride, take a run, hike a bit, do laundry, pay bills, clean the house, go to the store, wash the Jeep, do some filing, call everyone back (and then submit myself to whatever that might turn into – lunch, dinner, movie). No.

Those niggly little productive thoughts came creeping into my half-awake world and were faught back with “I have no where to go, I have nothing to do, I can rest”.

That endless list of tasks will be dealt with. Just not now. Not today.

MY TIME.

Whatever it is you keep avoiding – that thing that terrifies you – let it out. Nothing can be gained by your silence, everything can be gained if you speak.