This winter seemed to go quickly. Once again, another race season is upon us.

Time for 9000 people to show up for Froze Toes with images of Alpe d'Huez, the Champs Elysees, swanky team buses and organized doping regimens dancing in their heads. Alas, the dreams are shattered as they squeeze into a one lane road and wear their brake pads down to nothing as they spend 25 miles braking repeatedly for no reason. The resulting bitterness is soothed somewhat when they learn they only would have won a tire if they were in the 1/2/3 race. The Cat 5's win an inner tube with a hole in it.

Half the attendees are never seen again when it's learned that podium girls are only a euro fantasy and you won't marry one unless you are George Hincapie.

Still, Froze Toes stirs the soul of a cyclist. You can't help but get a little excited to see who's on a new team, see the new bikes, share some stories and see the old familiar faces that in a small way are like strange, lycra-wearing extended family.

Time to go shave the legs.

Italy update: Bormio was a balmy 52 degrees today!!! Even the top of the Stelvio barely cracked the freezing mark.