Now mark my words, I am here to personally kick the snot of every single other racer here. Pro contracts, impressive resumes, or bulging muscles be damned, heads will roll! Not only that, I have a whole team of highly-trained bicycle ninjas at my side to help me do the kicking (not that I need help per-se, but should there be any runaways, teammates could come in handy).
I have contracted the services of Oracle Paul, the magical octopus, to predict who will win the first stage.
Just like at the world cup, I gave Oracle Paul a choice between two boxes: one containing a picture of my face, and another covered with a picture of the rest of the peloton. Inside the box with my face on it, I placed several pieces of clam meat (Paul's favorite food), and inside the other box, I places a small pile of steel ball-bearings (Paul's other favorite food). Oracle paul was allowed to choose between the two boxes, and lo -- he chose the one with my face on it!
Things get started at the ripe (I'd even say past-ripe) hour of 8:30 pm with a 2-mile prologue. I shall win this, according to Oracle Paul, and my teammates will all pack inside the top ten. Huzzuh.
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