Tomatoes and mozzarella

This morning, another 6 hours ride has been added to Manuel Roca’s collection. Frank Lagache and Penkish escorted him in his umpteenth drill. Pecol is now around the corner and Manuel Roca starts feeling that his condition is really peaking. This year, he has been taking the race build-up really seriously. No eating shit food, going to bed very early and training hard are some of the things Manuel Roca is undergoing to do better than he did last year in the same sport event. He knows his condition is way better then it was this time last year. For him training for cycling is a combination of science and art and since he does not have any facilities to consider the former, he has to focus all his attention on the latter. By and large, Manuel Roca loves thinking of his training as a form of art. Riding his bike brings overall harmony to his body; he is hooked on seeing everything occurring in and around him in balance. It is like writing which he deems as a therapeutic activity. Harmony and balance are part of Manuel Roca’s mantra. Focusing on the way he pedals, matching his pedalling to his breathing. Being in tune with his body; monitoring it both on and off the bike and managing pain. All of it makes Manuel Roca feel good, and teaches him patience. At the moment, he is seeing his legs changing shape. He notices muscles and veins coming out the lean layer of skin. They are like sculptures that are being worked on. Manuel Roca attributes this view of his training on his being an unmatchable romantic. He comes across as a conscientious person who loves talking philosophy and sport. When it comes to these two subjects Manuel Roca seems to prefer the direct route. He matches philosophy to cycling in the same way tomatoes match mozzarella. A massive boost of self-confidence go through his mind as he strains every fibre to get his bicycle over a summit as quick as possible thinking of Nietzsche’s superman. His legs are ready to explode; he handles the speed and big gears better. He goes out of the saddle observing his legs pumping up and down and pushing power down into the pedals. He believes he can go deeper than he thinks; he just has to focus and have self-belief. Digging deep, focusing and managing the pain in the same way Schopenhauer endeavoured on an impossible thought. He never goes on power or heart rate; too sophisticated. He rides hard on a climb, then put in a burst and recovers quickly. He thinks, meditates, concentrates, as quickly as he wants his legs spin. His legs feel blocked if he pushes a big gear; they only work when they spin fast. As he gets older and progresses he goes more and more against any sort of trend. He remains approachable but behaves very reservedly.
Manuel Roca is heavily into decorating shadows and ghosts so that these appear less fearsome. He spends time writing as it does not consider this activity the only sin against Nature; he hides to develop his passion, alone, just to show the final fruit to himself only. Somehow, he is convinced to contribute to the faculty of the uselessness; and a lot of loneliness.