Saturday, September 10, 2011

Pura Vida, Part Two

And once again do I find myself in Costa Rica! Wasn't it just a week or five or so ago that I was down here, among my Tico friends? Scary.

After our wonderful trip to Jamaica, Sabine and I returned to Lubbock with what seemed just about enough of a buffer to ride the bikes a couple of times and have a scrumptious farewell dinner at my casa before we headed to Lubbock's international airstrip on Friday morning. Sabine boarded a Continental flight to Denver, I left on an Eagle bound for DFW an hour later, and by the end of the day she was close to home in Europe while I cleared migracion in the green gem of Central America. Talk about jet-setters....
So long, Sabine!

A day later, and I am sitting in my hotel room in San Jose (an antiseptic Courtyard by Marriott in the middle of the city), pecking out a blog update while answering the last few race-related e-mails for tomorrow's UCI marathon event. This morning, race organizer Rafael P. and I drove most of the 60K course. Some of it was almost too much for Rafa's Nissan Pathfinder, but I thoroughly enjoyed being jolted around among coffee plantations.
A tough climb, even in a truck

The world's best coffee grows next to the route
As is usually the case at these races, there are some problemas, but either I am getting old or I'm just starting to realize that life goes on even with "situations." We'll have about 50 to 60 Elite UCI racers, with a surprisingly strong representation from as far away as Uruguay and Argentina. It'll be a truly international race. My crew of local commissaires—pretty much the same ones as last time, and the time before—is getting more competent from race to race, and I really enjoy interacting with them.
Ching and Francisco feverishly working registration

Today's weather was ideal for racing as the thermometer didn't start to hit the high 70s until around noon. Lots of clouds, occasional light rain, and little wind make it downright pleasant. Let's hope that our marshals materialize tomorrow, that the cows don't eat the signage, and that none of the riders biff.

Time to hit the rack.


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