Into Paris

It's been a few days since I wrote anything here, and I think it's because I've been feeling so many things watching the Tour, too many to convey in words. This year's Tour has been stunning. It's over, and I have a lump in my throat.

Apparently Contador and Andy Schleck really are friends, so the drama, the anger, the quest for revenge was that much more powerful. Such a rivalry. So enthralling, and now it's in the books. Next year, Andy Schleck may just win the whole thing. After that terrible gearing problem, which had Andy dropping back, there was the climactic Col du Tourmalet where he kept trying to shake Contador off his wheel, but couldn't quite do it, and Contador gave him the stage win. Who of us bike riders hasn't slipped a chain due to poor gearing going uphill? Then, in the time trial, Schleck almost got the better of Contador--both of them so tired, but Schleck had the edge--a chip on his shoulder, something to prove. Still, Contador was the superior time trialist, and he fought the exhaustion and gained time during the stage, and beat Schleck. But not by so very much. If Schleck had had better weather on the road in the prologue, he might have won the Tour.

Watching Radioshack on the podium for the team championship, we see that Lance has a bit of a tear in his eye. This is his last Tour, and he knows it.

It's all so wonderful. No sport is more majestic, asks more from its competitors. The great length of the Grand Tour means that many stories unspool from the wheels, as the gorgeous panoramas wind away into history. The commentators, some of whom have been doing it for 30-plus years, are the most poetic of any sport, because poetry is simply the nature of the race. I would like to rhapsodize further about it, to convince those who think I'm crazy to care so much about this sport, this race. But maybe you'll watch one stage of the race this year, or this final stage again, which airs on the West Coast at 5pm, and the fever will catch you. Once it does, you've got it for life. Or maybe you'll start riding your own bike and remember that feeling of freedom, and it will get under your skin, change who you are, how you think of yourself. It happened to me.

I can't convince you. But if your mind is open, check out the highlights reel on Versus.

Long live the Tour! Long live cycling!

Now I'm off to find ways to deal with my post-partum depression.

:)MMM

Rest Day Thoughts

These helicopter shots in the Pyrenees are worth the price of admission! My kingdom for a large flatscreen HD TV! I'm watching the mountaintop fans, dubbed "the shmengies" (sic) by Bob Roll, and thinking how fast one gets drunk in this kind of altitude. Are they drinking kirsch, brandy, white Bordeaux (mostly Sauvignon Blanc grapes, in case you were wondering)? What kind of BBQ food do they eat there? It can't all be fondue!

What vertiginous descents into Pau! It's views like this that made Graham Watson's career! (Official photographer of the Tour, that's who he is.)

The casual question, "What will we do for our 20th wedding anniversary next year?" has yielded a slam-dunk of an answer--"We'll go see the Tour!" We could bike through Paris on those Velib rentals. Apparently Paris is now just chockablock with bike lanes! We did it in Rome (no helmets, to our shame--we had assimilated the local attitude, and now I will surely get some ribbing from my friends here who may think of me as a bit of a helmet-fascist). And then we could head down into the Pyrenees.

I love the way none of the commentators can agree about what Contador did yesterday when Schleck popped his chain. Should he have waited for Schleck and then take his win fair and square? You can tell from my question what I think. As my husband Stoney said, Contador never fails to do something a bit douchey. He's becoming the rider we love to hate. And then he made an apology claiming he didn't know what was happening. Liars are without honor, Pistolero. Go, Schleck!

Today Lance got into the breakaway and actually sprinted at the finish! A game effort, but to no avail. It was great to watch--another chance to shout at the TV. I'm guessing our neighbors might be starting to wonder what we are up to in the mornings in July. I'm watching his group stampede to catch that lone leader, poor Carlos Barredo. This is great stuff!

It must be the last week of the Tour because yet again a coworker asked me, "Isn't that over?" and I tried not to bark, "It's 3 weeks long, just as it's been for 100 years or so." Sorry I am such a bike geek. But July is about the Tour, and I'm never getting over my Tour Fever.

Tomorrow is the last rest day, though, and so I'll be jonesing for some Tour action and wonder what the heck I am supposed to do with myself once it's over. I know I'll have plenty to do--training at Zuma, boogie boarding, trying new cocktails, going to Cabo, trying new Tequila cocktails, buying silver earrings, raising money for Children's Hospital Los Angeles, tackling the unbelievable volume of work chez The Mouse. But the Tour is like summer camp. You love it, you make new friends, and it's sad when it's ending, and after it's done, you miss it for a while.

My fingernails and toenails are yellow now. What color will I paint them after the Tour?

And if we go to France in the summer for the Tour, does that mean we can't go to Italy in March? That would not be so good. Hmmmmm....

Thursday is the last Pyrenees stage--big steep mountaintop finish--expect fireworks. Then the final flat sprinting stage into Bordeaux. Cavendish versus Thor Hushovd, Petacchi and the other fast-twitch muscle boys. Then the long time trial through the fanciest Bordeaux vineyards--Chateaux Margaux, anyone? And finally the long victory lap stage into Paris--probably it will be Contador sipping champagne from the team car with his manager and teammates--and onto the circuit from the Louvre, along the Champs Elysee, and Place de la Concorde. Even if you don't care at all about cycling, watch that last set of circuits. It's gorgeous, the culmination of 3 weeks of drama and pageantry rivaling the most lavish Medieval courts. And I bet you'll see Mark Cavendish win it, always good for a last shot of adrenaline.

Just 4 precious days left.

Vive le Tour! Vive la France!

A demain, o, peut-etre, plus tard!

Stage 15: Palmier to Bagneres-de-Luchon

OMG-Andy Schleck just popped his chain off when he was about to attack Contador and potentially drop him, and now he's behind during the descent. Bad luck!

But yesterday I raced a sprint triathlon in Oxnard, CA. The swim was short, but through the surf line, with waves breaking only just beyond us, and I was in a sardine-pack of neoprene-clad women. Breast-stroked and backstroked and caught 2 waves one after the other, and found myself standing up on sand. Ran up the beach a quarter mile to the transition area and after a very slow transition, aka jamming on socks, sunglasses, bike shoes, gloves and helmet (next time, no gloves!) I rode a 12-mile flat course through strawberry fields--the wonderful aroma! I love how racing just makes you faster than you thought you could be--17.4 mph on the bike, which is really fast for me! And a run through some pretty little beachside homes, getting sprayed with water by nice homeowners--not at my fastest running pace, but I haven't been running enough lately. On the bike, I enjoyed cornering, inner knee pointing at the corner, just like I've been seeing almost every day watching the Tour.

We did all that by around 10:00am. And then I ate Eggs Benedict, which I had earned, sort of.

Can't wait to see if Schleck can beat Contador tomorrow. Revenge! As Contador puts on the yellow jersey, the fans are booing him for attacking when his rival had a mechanical, which is not the gentlemanly thing to do, and this is a gentleman's sport! Contador loves to do the wrong thing in order to win. Other teams will be attacking him and Astana tomorrow, maybe just for this breach of etiquette. Will be fun to watch.

Vive le Tour!

A demain!

Return to Olympic Victory--Barcelona!

Today's stage bring's the boys to the Costa Brava and Barcelona, the Catalan capitol. Looks like it's raining and Garmin's David Millar is in the break.

It's still going to be too soon today to see what Lance can do in the mountains, but if he's not in form, there are Contador, Kloden, and Leipheimer to take over. Lance could just have it. His climbing got better and better during the Giro d'Italia. Lance was an Olympic cyclist at the Barcelona Olympics, so this area has to have good memories for him. A lot of the big cyclists live at least part of their year training in Spain. Why? The Pyrennees. Look for some big mountain stages there in the days to come.

How about a bit of fizz? Start a long evening of tapas bar hopping in Barcelona with a glass of Mata Reserva Barrica from Agusti Torelli. Oh, it'll cost ya, but since this is a virtual wine and food tour, enjoy! Here's to an already thrilling Tour de France!