This TDF RR has no words because it’s 2:30am and I need to wake up at 4:45am to catch a flight to London for RHC London. At this point I’m not even sure waking up will be required. Here’s the deal: if you’re reading this, it’s because I did eventually go to sleep. If you’re not reading this, and reading something else, including but not limited to a proper MFS Race Bible and maybe some High Points and Low Points, that means I just stayed up because what’s two hours of sleep anyway?
The images in this RR were edited in the passenger seat of a Peugeot sedan between Briançon and Lyon. Let me tell you something, editing photographs in a car speeding through thunderstorms and the dark cols of the French Alps is something else. Thank God for the Caravan Haribo gummy bears, the bag of pistachios I purchased at a Carrefour before leaving town and the several (as in no less than four) McCafes I had to help mitigate nausea, exhaustion and extreme hunger. Please enjoy.
Actually wait, I can say this much:
- We almost didn’t make it up the mountain because of closures but we did.
- There is at least one nice Gendarmerie living and working in France.
- This time we went up the front side. Yesterday we went up the backside. Jesus, what side of these mountains are you supposed to go up? I only know about the font and the back. Whatever. But seriously, is there another side?
- The French know how to picnic and read.
- We saw a remarkable number of splayed tongues in the peloton today.
The epic display of Mass Bicycle Human Exodus following the end of the race was almost as entertaining as the race itself.
- We made a friend, his name is Eugene, he lives in Silverlake, California.
- We saw lots of old friends: Beardy, Jered, Kristof, Iri, the whole gang really.
- Thanks France for the 50% of what we came here to do. Regarding the other 50%, it’s cool. But seriously, how do you work this race.
I feel a sense of despondency and profound dismay. I’m in a deep AF funk.