Dear readers, I tell you, la EPO must be a helluva drug. Not that I've ever tried it, but now I understand why Lance used to sleep in an altitude tent and why so many pros do, umm, training camps in Mexico. Hiking across the Grand Canyon these last few days with a big backpack was like altitude, resistance, and cross training all rolled into one. Maybe it's my imagination, but after some time at 8000+ feet, deep breaths seem a little deeper, the next cog seems a little closer... indeed, this morning your humble servant Platogrande was seen flying up the Williamsburg Bridge on his daily commute, leaving behind hipsters and Hassidim alike. Never mind that Dominican fixie rider who dropped me like a bad habit ("on your left, papi!"). Now where'd that stupid needle go?
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