Once a year, for three weeks, there is no news. There is no Trevor Noah. No movie premiers. No baseball. There is only the Tour.
I have tortured my family with the bike races of Europe for a while. The one with which they are most familiar is the Tour de France. Three weeks, 21 stages across France and , occasionally, neighboring countries. I try to explain that,with Paul and Phil, it’s more than a race. It’s an experience, even if we never leave our own home.
History, hysteria, geography, linguistics and athleticism; what more could you want from a show. On stage 12 we see the 21 switchbacks, the Dutch Corner, the names of the hero who have ridden Alp du’Huez in the past.
While a few Americans ride the Tour, Tejay Van Gardener, Tayler Phinney, Lawson Craddick, they will not likely be huge factors. That doesn’t matter. There are young athletes with courage and heart and legs from all over the world; Froome, Quintana, Nibali. It’s a spectacle of pain, suffering and ultimately, glory!
My poor family have to put up with the broadcasts, the voices of Phil and Paul, the background noise of the crowds, me getting excited about the action and the landscapes. But they are pretty tolerant. I hope yours is, too.
Have fun, be safe. I’m going riding . . . right after the stage.
I seem to do my best writing on the road. Literally.
As we roll down I-80 toward our mountain home, I remember why I first wanted and rode a bike. It was all about the fun. Rolling through open lots, off of curds and down steep hills, it was all fun and that was all that mattered.
Years and years later, I’ve raced downhill, cross country, dual slalom, time trial, triathlon, cyclocross and track sprinting. But while I get competitive, it’s still about the fun.
I brought my old ‘cross bike, set up for gravel, with me on our trip back to my old home town. I had finished my TT season the week before, so I had no real reason to bring a more competitive bike. Swooping around the streets and through the parks of my old home town was just a ball. I trued to encourage others to ride with me, but things just didn’t come together. No matter. Not everyone finds riding as much fun as I do.
The trick for most of us is finding or making the time for fun, then finding the activity that suits us. My friend, Mindi, likes knitting. That would make me crazy but that does not matter. It’s therapeutic for her. My dad can spend all day sitting in a boat, drowning worms. Again, for Dad, it’s meditative.
Cooking, fishing, walking or riding, it’s really up to you. Find your bliss. Find what brings you joy. Share it if you can. Find ways to bring people you love together with your passion. If you are doing it for the love of it, you really can’t go wrong.
Have fun, be safe. I’m going riding.