At 1pm I had a glass of wine and got dressed up to meet my comrades, my teammates. I rode to the finish line a few miles outside the city center and took in the spectacle. I rode by the team buses waiting to pick up riders at the end. I sqeezed in the croud at the finish line then rode a few kilometers down to check the scene and pick my viewing spot. Floats and advertisers went by throwing hats and candy. The loud speakers gave updates on the race. When they were 20km out I settled in a spot 1km from the finish.
The floats were gone and cars and motorcycles passed. The bikes on the Mavic cars were Cannondales, which made me proud.
People waved their country flags and I was embarrassed to not have mine. However, I was the most dressed for the occasion. A few others wore kits and many came on bikes, but not LG kits and not racing bikes. And certainly no women dressed like me. People smiled and cheered me on too.
Helicopters began to hover -- the riders were 2km out! We all looked the same direction silently in anticipation. And then they appeared! The crowd sighed -- it was a surprise! They rounded the corner and were there, as if they jumped out the TV screen and really existed! They really rode their bikes through Normandy, in the Loire Valley, across the Pyrenees, and now they were here! They came so far to see us, and to ride their bikes! There were so many packed tight across the road -- how would there be a winner? How could you distinguish a single cyclist? And in an instant they were gone. It was too fast to see, yet stunning.
A few guys came after the group, but everyone finished within 10 minutes. Along with them were the team cars carrying gorgeous bikes, which were a sight to see as well.
After the race I went to the stage and stood on my tip toes to see the pretty French ladies give awards. The riders took their flowers and held their arms high. They did it! I squeezed through the crowd, by the buses, by the cars with bikes, and took over the road with other cyclists on the way back to town. It was a glorious evening.
In fact, Gabe and Kaitlin from the US were on town visiting local French friends Charles and Therese. I shared my war story, then went to the hotel and showered -- Therese and Charles invited me for dinner!
John works at the hotel and we did a bike show-and-tell. His bike folds and he rides it along the coast in every peninsula, with no GPS, no computer, no reservations. He just goes where he feels. He keeps trip logs and shared advice on how to do the Mediterranean, such as visit pristine beaches inaccessible by car and ask restaurants if they offer rooms. I have a few more plans, but John reminds me to tour, not just ride.
We had a charming dinner in the old city center. Therese cooked vegetarian (me) and gluten free (Kaitlin) which I didn't think was possible in French cuisine. The best was juicy melons filled with port -- why not pour liquor on all fruit and slurp it up? I tasted thyme, basil, oregano, pepper -- I'm getting close to Provence. It was a delight to dine in French-style in the home of locals, and to gain their insight on love, adventure, and food. There's only one rule at Therese's table -- men, keep the wine flowing!
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1 comment:
Bon Courage!
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