The Wire, July 7, 2004
ago I was reading the paper during
the Tour de France. I turned to the sports page,
and there, staring back at me, was a picture of my
best friend, Greg, high in the French Alps,
wearing a U.S. Postal jersey and an American
Flag as a cape, and running alongside a climbing
Lance Armstrong and shouting encouragement...
The Wire, November 12, 2003
Your heart races as you shift up a gear at the top of the hill. The trail turns to the left, crosses a rocky section and then straightens out. The guy in front of you is pulling away, so you stand up out of the saddle to squeeze a few more ounces of power from your body, then quickly sit back down as the lactic acid in your quads crosses your threshold of pain...
The Wire, April 14, 2004
Every spring the earth tilts, the days get longer, the world warms up, snow melts in the mountains and the ski resorts creak to a halt.
But even as flowers bloom on the Seacoast, the snow does not melt everywhere, not quite yet. High in the Presidential Range on Mount Washington, those same elements conspire to create perfect conditions for sliding on snow in the suntanning sunshine of spring...
The Wire, April 7, 2004
We stand on the peak: a fierce westerly wind whips over the top of the worn, rounded summit. The pine trees sway under the gusts, and we must huddle together to hear each other speak.
You won’t find Mt. Agamenticus, the Seacoast’s most formidable peak, on any 4,000-footers list or in any guide of serious New England climbs, but it is our hometown Mount Everest...
The Wire, February 15, 2006
The changing of the seasons is deeply felt in the bicycle shop. The steady summer flow of customers slows to a trickle as the lakes and ponds haze over with ice and slowly solidify...