I’m working on posts about the Cali World Cup specifically, the current World Cup season broadly, the road to London, what I’m doing, who I’m doing it with, what my role is, how I got here, etc. etc. etc.

But yesterday was a really long travel day.

We were up at 7am, left the hotel at 11am, on a plane at 3:30pm, another plane at 6pm and landed in LAX around midnight with about half the 22 pieces of luggage we traveled with in hand.

Everyone was in good spirits, but tired from a week of racing, eating, sleeping, traveling to the velodrome and back again, with precious few of us knowing the language.

(Fortunately, every Columbian I met was kind enough to let me stumble through my high school knowledge of Spanish while they practiced English!)

So before I get back to sharing my unique perspective on the above, I want to pass along something a friend sent me while I was in Cali:

The Meaning of Life.