A Christmas Fantasy

'Twas the night before Christmas, when down the back stairs,

The bikes were all leaning, stacked up in pairs.

The carbon was shiny, top tubes all a glitter,

In hopes that new wheels would join this fine litter.

In my bed I was resting, not a word to be uttered.

Hot cycling butts visioned, mind firmly in gutter.

New Twin Six jersey -- adorned -- what a find!

"Sweetest jersey in the world," Fort Garry, never mind.

This, No?

Or That?

When at my front door, bump thump and whatnot,

Tore my mind from its thoughts of... well... (dot... dot... dot).

A peak through the curtains gave a big fright.

The snow was all gone, it was sunny and bright!

I gave no second thought, I stood in a trance.

Out on my front walk was the man they call Lance!

Wearing fingerless gloves, I took this a sign,

Helmet and shoes and Madone 6.9

Lycra and Shack shorts, Livestrong 28

I knew at that moment, there would be no debate.

He snapped his fine fingers and said, "Let's get going!"

From behind bushes and fences they all came a rolling.

Voigt, Kloden and Sanchez, Hesjedal and Sastre,

Wiggens and Evans, could this group get much faster?

Lance beckoned with finger. I did no more than laugh.

"Come on and get moving. Get in our draft."

So with odd grace and ease, I took to my bike.

Straddle and clip-in and moves of the like.

And low and behold, what's this that I see?

My numbers all tell me our speed's 53!

I move up the ranks. How will I outlast?

I glance at Saint Lance, "I can NOT go this fast!"

"Quit yer whining," says he. "You're not here by luck.

In my peloton you will not wheel suck."

"I brought you out here to have a short chat.

You must get a grip and all this and that.

Enough is enough, from all that I've read.

Why are YOU sleeping alone in that bed?"

I shrug and I shrivel and keep up with the pedal.

"Why do you care? What's up with this meddle?

Where are we going? You disrupted my thoughts!"

That's when off in the prairie I see the gift box.

We pick up the pace. This is way out of whack.

In all this excitement, I've dropped the pack!

"This year we'll be 40. No time to downshift.

I pulled strings and called favours to bring you this gift."

I unwrap the gold bow. I feel a big wreck.

And from out of the box jumps Andy Schleck.

I'm stunned and I'm panting, up shoots my heart rate.

I question Saint Lance, "Isn't he jail bait?"

Saint Lance rolls his eyes, mistletoe in his fingers.

Andy bends down, his kiss simply lingers.

Lance says with a smile, "Here's my message to you."

"Dreams become real. Now I must toodle-loo."

He sprang on his seat in a mount I do envy.

With a wink, smirk, and nod. THAT told me plenty.

And I heard him exclaim as he rode out of sight.

"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!"

Merry Christmas Everyone! And Thanks for Reading!