My Cathedral is the open expanse of smooth blacktop laid out like a ribbon through the city and back country of San Diego.

I pray on an altar of carbon fiber and aluminum and steel.

I read from the book of CycleSport, Paved, Peloton and Road Magazines.

My sacramental wine is has a distinctly lemon-lime taste and comes in 20oz bottles with SkratchLabs icons emblazoned upon their sides.

I suffer the pain of crucifixion on the 10%+ grades of Laguna, Palomar, Kitchen Creek and Honey Springs Road while the heat of Summer bakes my skin.

I sacrifice my needs and wants for others in the form of setting Tempo and chasing down breaks on group rides named McDonald’s and Donut for I am at heart a true domestique.

I pedal endlessly even when my body screams to stop for it is that purity of the moment when you exist simply to breathe and turn the pedals while you can feel your heart beating in your ears that you realize what really matters in life. And that is pushing your physical self farther than you ever thought possible to unleash the intangible thing that makes you who you are and realizing you are so much more than you or anyone else can imagine.

Merckx, Hinault, Lemond, Hampsten, Phinney, Voigt, Bartoli are my savior and I get on my bike and ride to worship everyday in the House That Merckx Built.