stage 6 and 7
7.05.06
Stage 5
Beauvais-Caen
Around 225 kilometers, around 145 miles
This morning, we received some bad news. One of our teammates was going to end his participation early, and join up with his son. I was disappointed because I like this guy as he is successful, significant, and down to earth. Rare combination.
Another teammate was dealing with a saddle sore. Yesterday, he took a day off, soaked it, applied some second skin, copious amounts of chamois cream, and wore two pairs of shorts to get through today, which he did with class and grace.
Our conversations are becoming similar to those you might hear at a retirement home.
“I hope this doesn’t sound blunt, but how’s your ass?”
“No, no. Thank you for asking. My ass is very good. My sore has shrunken, and dried up a bit. I’m quite pleased. How is the wound in your leg?”
“Oh, much improved. It appears to be healing!”
“And the knee?”
“Yes, the knee. We are cautiously optimistic.”
“Always a good policy.”
Everyone has issues, and last night, Rob, a teammate, as well as a doctor, made a toast, “To good health.” Here, here.
While we share our issues, we also share our cures. Some have special lotions and recipes for what ails you. It’s just not possible to spend 8 hours a day in a saddle, for 20 days, without having some issues.
As it would be bad form to discuss other peoples’, I’ll just say mine, wound care, and knee care, result in a comical treatment at the end of the day.
While the ass is soaked in hot water, the knees are held above the tub and iced. One of Erin’s many tasks is to find ice all over Europe. Sounds simple. Hah. This is similar to locating a Skoda car dealer in the United States.
The wily veterans show their experience at every point. Mark astounds me with his brilliance. Last night, at McDonald’s, he actually asked for, and received ice. As he enjoyed his McDonald’s snack, he iced his arm. Bless him for giving me a cube, which I rubbed on my tendon.
Ibuprofen is candy. Coach Josh calls it, “I-Be-Broken.” We are advised by Dr. Rob not to exceed the recommended dosage, or issues will arise. We heed his advice.
Today, the sensations on the bike were much better. The weather was cooler than 90 degrees, and not only did I make it to lunch, I actually got all the way to the finish. The last ten miles were unpleasant, and the knee was grinchy, yet I was a real participant in the Tour de France Challenge, rather than a partial participant.
I give all the credit to Bryan, my massage therapist and healer. He has protocols he follows that make it possible to ride when you’re not sure such if it can be done. He touches your pressure points, applies special creams, tapes, etc.
The 14-days of antibiotics are out of my system, and my internal thermometer is returning to its natural state. One of the bottles of medicine said, “Don’t go out in the sun.” I believe I know why now.
It’s a great feeling to roll through a town as part of a team. We’re seeing villages, and fields, fighter jets, and local characters. We can’t stop and experience it all, but we say, “bonjour” and keep going.
The now 8-person team, four guests and four staff, has found its groove. In a mighty headwind, we formed two lines across the rode. I was on Director Joe Tonon’s rear wheel, which pierces the air with a voosh, voosh, voosh sound.
On the climbs, Coach Josh goes to the front and makes it look easy. The rest of us do what we can to keep going.
When we get to the hotel, there’s much to be done. Erin went ahead with the bags, and she is here to greet you with your room key. You go to your room and there is your bag, waiting for you. After a quick soaking, and icing with the precious substance Erin acquired who-knows-where, it’s time for a massage with Bryan.
An hour or so later, it’s time for dinner, the all-you-can eat face-stuffing festival to prepare for the long ride in the morning. As we have had a long day in the saddle, Coach Josh permits the consumption of ice cream.
Jimmy on the staff says he only thinks of two things all day, the time you have to be ready to ride in the morning, and the time you have to be ready for dinner. If you think of anything else, how far you have to go the next day, how long the climbs are, how grim the headwind will be, it’s just too much information. He says when the trip is over, you appreciate the simple things in life more.
I’m for that. Professional cyclist Floyd Landis said that some cyclists are content to sit and stare at a post. I believe I know why. It doesn’t hurt to stare at a post.
7/06/06
Stage Six
Lisieux-Vitre
189 kilometers, around 110 miles
While Cycle Sport said the scenery would be a bore today, I found it quite pleasing. Rolling through an ancient village is always fun.
This was a typical day. At dinner the night before, Director Joe Tonon scheduled the day. Breakfast at 6:30 am. Bags to the vans by 7:50 am. Get in the van at 8:00 am.
Since we weren’t close to the start, this involved a short transfer. You don’t want to sit in your cycling shorts during the ride in the van, as you shall have plenty of that later in the day, so civilian clothes are donned.
We arrive in a village, and park the vans. While Rasmus and the two Bryan’s take the bicycles off the roof, 8 middle age men strip down on the sidewalk and don cycling attire.
The most interesting part of the spectacle is the application of chamois cream to the rider’s crotch, and to the chamois. Your crotch, your butt, your ass, call it what you will, but you better take care of it if you intend to have a pleasant day. People walk by and stare. The riders are as oblivious, and determined, as a male dog licking his balls.
The mechanics prepare your bike with your two water bottles, pump up your tires to the right pressure, around 120 psi for most people, 140 psi for the massive Mark. You go over to the back of the vans and choose your favorite snacks for the day.
Then the ride begins. A veteran staff member takes the front and makes sure everyone warms up slowly. It shall be a long day, and there is no sense in winding it up yet. Over the course of 35 minutes, the average speed is increased to 30-35 kilometers per hour, around 20 miles per hour.
We don’t go as fast as the professionals for a few reasons. First and foremost, they’re professionals, and we just can’t. Also, as we ride the route one day ahead of the professionals, the roads are still open. So we stop for traffic signals in villages, and obey all local laws.
Two hours later, your first snack of the day arrives. Coach Josh, Jimmy, or Patrick pulls up next to you and hands you a sandwich while you ride. The pace is reduced, and while rolling, everyone eats a turkey, ham, or cheese sandwich.
This is important. You spend a lot of your day eating, drinking, and talking about eating and drinking. If you get dehydrated, it is not good. If you get hungry, and bonk, it is not good. Your body can only stand so many energy bars before it revolts on you, so you must eat your snack sandwich at eleven, then another real sandwich at 1:30.
The professionals don’t stop for the sandwich at 1:30. We do. On the corner of a country street, beneath the shade of a tree, we enjoy a sandwich, a Coca-Cola, a bit of pastry, and maybe a cookie.
There’s also a list of things to do at lunch. You try to remember them all. Today, I had to change my clear glasses for sunglasses, reapply sunscreen, as my left arm is getting much more sun than my right arm, reapply chamois cream, as we would like to keep the undercarriage happy, take two Advil, and have Bryan apply his healing hands to my knees.
After lunch, the blood is in the stomach, so a staff member goes to the front and enforces a slow spin up to speed over the course of a half hour.
Today, the sensations were good and I felt strong enough to take my pulls. In hindsight, the effects of the four different antibiotics I consumed over the past two weeks, were not good for my riding, or my morale, so I am pleased to be done with them. Raising the seat 3 millimeters made a world of difference. Thanks to Alberto for the tip, and Josh for validating it.
As today was a short stage, just 115 miles or so, we were all feeling good. A torrential rainstorm in the early morning cooled my tendons and I was thrilled with the weather.
The afternoon was quite enjoyable, and I was able to pull, as well as be a full-fledged member of the team.
During the ride, the mechanic, Brian, and the two massage therapists, Bryan and Rasmus, drive the van ahead of you and periodically pull over to hand you fresh water bottles. You throw the empties on the ground, grab the full ones on the fly, and keep going. There are five different liquids you will consume during the day: water, pink stuff, yellow stuff, Coca-Cola, and recovery drink. You’re supposed to drink at least one per hour. You get the Coke at lunch, and the recovery drink when the ride finishes.
At the end of the day, we arrive in a village. The van is there to meet us, and the spectacle of middle-aged men disrobing in a public place is revisited. Except this time, rather than apply chamois cream to the crotch with maximum enthusiasm, the crotch is vigorously scrubbed with a baby wipe to remove any bacteria that could become an unpleasant growth. If in the morning, the middle-aged, bare-assed men were unaware of the surroundings, and their effect upon women of a certain age and young girls, now, exhausted, they are utterly uncaring.
Back in the vans, and you transfer to a new hotel. Tonight, we are staying at my favorite hotel of the Tour thus far. It is a cinder block, non-descript Etap hotel. The room is white, yellow, and orange. Over my head is a bunk bed. It will never win an award, as the design is from hunger.
But above the door in every room is a white unit hanging from the ceiling, imprinted with the most welcome logo ever seen by an American cyclist in France, “Carrier.”
The Europeans in general, and the French in particular, have no regard for the great American institution of air conditioning. Once you are in your hotel room, this results in a cruel choice. You may lie in your bed with the window open, and hope for a cool breeze.
But if there is a soccer game on TV, as was the case last night, every drunk in France is yelling his head off. Not good.
Alternatively, you may stay in your hotel room with the window closed and your room is quiet, but then you will slowly simmer until well done. Most try a combination of both.
To be in a hotel room with air conditioning is the best solution of all, because you are cool, and the AC drowns out the noise.
After you get to your room, Bryan gives you a massage. The healing hands are applied to the knees, the tendons, the IT bands of muscle. Then it’s off to the team dinner, another face-stuffing festival to get in the needed calories for the next day. One concerned guest has requested a scale. Believe it or not, the team actually gained weight last year.
This would be anathema to a professional. It’s not bad for an amateur. If you get too thin, you are more susceptible to illness. I am the second heaviest person in the group. Mark is 200 pounds. I’m next at around 157 lbs. The lightest is Bryan the massage therapist, who is six feet tall, and just 125 pounds.
7-07-06
Time Trial
St. Gregoir-Rennes
52 kilometers
At this point, 52 k, or around 33 miles, is a joke. Thus, the team welcomed the time trial as a recovery day. After a short transfer from the sadly designed, but much beloved Etap hotel, we left from a parking lot on the outskirts of town.
We all swore to take it easy. But Coach Joshua Dean Powers had pulled his University of Northern Arizona team shorts out of his suitcase, and he was feeling inspired. Regardless of his motivation, we had to slow down numerous times for the roads were still open to traffic.
There is a big beautiful truck ahead of us posting green Tour de France arrows. We are beginning to get to know the guys in the trucks, and they give us a spirited “Allez!” when they see us.
Once we were ahead of the arrow van, we had to slow down, otherwise we’d get lost. While we may be the only group in France riding the entire route one day ahead of the professionals, we see numerous cyclists riding a stage or two.
Today, we came across some ancient French cyclists who were still wearing the same team kits, and riding the same Peugot bicycles, they rode to glory back in the day. One Frenchman, who had gained over 50 pounds since his days as a racer, was putting such a strain upon the center seam in his shorts, it actually separated, giving one and all a porthole-shaped view of the crack in his backside.
The sensations of the knee were acceptable on the bike, but not spectacular. Everyone took a moment to drive the train, and our two big diesel engines, Patrick and Jimmy, got a much deserved rest day.
Best friends and residents of Park City, Utah, they prepared for the Tour de France Challenge by lifting weights an hour and a half each day, then riding up to five hours a day. Both are very fit, yet are concerned that with the approach of the scale, we’ll all have to lay off the ice cream.
Director Joe Tonon was off the bike, taking care of details, and morale suffered a bit. One of my teammates, who is battling with a saddle sore, put on his two pairs of bicycle pants and tried to cycle without the bandage.
It didn’t work, so he pulled up, pulled over, and got in the van. He has requested that next year, Second Skin sponsor the Tour de France Challenge by supplying cheek-sized portions of the product that riders may apply as necessary.
At the conclusion of the ride, we met up with the van, disrobed in the center of Rennes, the historic capital of Brittany, and drove back to the poorly designed, but much-beloved Etap hotel.
Today is the day to take care of any odds and ends. My heart-rate strap battery was dying. A treasure hunt in the suitcases resulted in locating a spare. I should find another, but we’ll see if such a thing is possible. I’ve been using my assos chamois cream at a remarkable rate. Jimmy said he wasn’t going to use his, so an arrangement was made.
As we were not eating lunch on the bike, we had to figure out where to go. In town? Across the street to the mall? At Jimmy’s insistence, we patronized the Chinese food restaurant, L’etoile du Pacifique, just 10 meters from the hotel entrance. Said Jimmy, “Hey, it’s always crowded. And I’ve been smelling it from my room since we got here.”
The man has a nose for food. The waiter understood that universal word, “buffet” and we did our best to let them know we were there. After three trips to the steam bar, there was some discussion of the late Sam Kinison’s skit where he goes to the Chinese restaurant buffet numerous times, and the hostess shrieks, “No more for you! You eat like killer whale!” Why so many comedians are obese and self-destructive is a mystery. Maybe if they rode bicycles like the insanely happy and reasonably fit Robyn Williams they’d still be with us.
While the guests recover, the work of the staff never ends. Brian the mechanic sets up shop in the parking lot. He cleans every bike, replaces worn bar tape, swaps out cassettes for bigger ones. Erin works at least one, even two days ahead of the group. Rasmus and Bryan wash 130 bottles, and fill them with the different liquids that propel us forward. While we pedal forward during the Tour de France Challenge, the staff pushes.
The remainder of the day shall be dedicated to hunting down web access, arranging clothes, resting, and getting ready for the next set of challenges, which shall be formidable. We live in the moment, preparing only for the next ride, the next meal, the next day. Still, everyone in the group realizes that the mountains loom just around the corner.
A word of thanks to Bryan Sweeney, Will Keyser, and everyone at work who sponsored me with bicycle gear. I have gotten a tremendous boost from the socks, shorts, jacket, and gloves you bought me. The equipment is much appreciated, and it has made a difference both in terms of morale and comfort.
Stage 5
Beauvais-Caen
Around 225 kilometers, around 145 miles
This morning, we received some bad news. One of our teammates was going to end his participation early, and join up with his son. I was disappointed because I like this guy as he is successful, significant, and down to earth. Rare combination.
Another teammate was dealing with a saddle sore. Yesterday, he took a day off, soaked it, applied some second skin, copious amounts of chamois cream, and wore two pairs of shorts to get through today, which he did with class and grace.
Our conversations are becoming similar to those you might hear at a retirement home.
“I hope this doesn’t sound blunt, but how’s your ass?”
“No, no. Thank you for asking. My ass is very good. My sore has shrunken, and dried up a bit. I’m quite pleased. How is the wound in your leg?”
“Oh, much improved. It appears to be healing!”
“And the knee?”
“Yes, the knee. We are cautiously optimistic.”
“Always a good policy.”
Everyone has issues, and last night, Rob, a teammate, as well as a doctor, made a toast, “To good health.” Here, here.
While we share our issues, we also share our cures. Some have special lotions and recipes for what ails you. It’s just not possible to spend 8 hours a day in a saddle, for 20 days, without having some issues.
As it would be bad form to discuss other peoples’, I’ll just say mine, wound care, and knee care, result in a comical treatment at the end of the day.
While the ass is soaked in hot water, the knees are held above the tub and iced. One of Erin’s many tasks is to find ice all over Europe. Sounds simple. Hah. This is similar to locating a Skoda car dealer in the United States.
The wily veterans show their experience at every point. Mark astounds me with his brilliance. Last night, at McDonald’s, he actually asked for, and received ice. As he enjoyed his McDonald’s snack, he iced his arm. Bless him for giving me a cube, which I rubbed on my tendon.
Ibuprofen is candy. Coach Josh calls it, “I-Be-Broken.” We are advised by Dr. Rob not to exceed the recommended dosage, or issues will arise. We heed his advice.
Today, the sensations on the bike were much better. The weather was cooler than 90 degrees, and not only did I make it to lunch, I actually got all the way to the finish. The last ten miles were unpleasant, and the knee was grinchy, yet I was a real participant in the Tour de France Challenge, rather than a partial participant.
I give all the credit to Bryan, my massage therapist and healer. He has protocols he follows that make it possible to ride when you’re not sure such if it can be done. He touches your pressure points, applies special creams, tapes, etc.
The 14-days of antibiotics are out of my system, and my internal thermometer is returning to its natural state. One of the bottles of medicine said, “Don’t go out in the sun.” I believe I know why now.
It’s a great feeling to roll through a town as part of a team. We’re seeing villages, and fields, fighter jets, and local characters. We can’t stop and experience it all, but we say, “bonjour” and keep going.
The now 8-person team, four guests and four staff, has found its groove. In a mighty headwind, we formed two lines across the rode. I was on Director Joe Tonon’s rear wheel, which pierces the air with a voosh, voosh, voosh sound.
On the climbs, Coach Josh goes to the front and makes it look easy. The rest of us do what we can to keep going.
When we get to the hotel, there’s much to be done. Erin went ahead with the bags, and she is here to greet you with your room key. You go to your room and there is your bag, waiting for you. After a quick soaking, and icing with the precious substance Erin acquired who-knows-where, it’s time for a massage with Bryan.
An hour or so later, it’s time for dinner, the all-you-can eat face-stuffing festival to prepare for the long ride in the morning. As we have had a long day in the saddle, Coach Josh permits the consumption of ice cream.
Jimmy on the staff says he only thinks of two things all day, the time you have to be ready to ride in the morning, and the time you have to be ready for dinner. If you think of anything else, how far you have to go the next day, how long the climbs are, how grim the headwind will be, it’s just too much information. He says when the trip is over, you appreciate the simple things in life more.
I’m for that. Professional cyclist Floyd Landis said that some cyclists are content to sit and stare at a post. I believe I know why. It doesn’t hurt to stare at a post.
7/06/06
Stage Six
Lisieux-Vitre
189 kilometers, around 110 miles
While Cycle Sport said the scenery would be a bore today, I found it quite pleasing. Rolling through an ancient village is always fun.
This was a typical day. At dinner the night before, Director Joe Tonon scheduled the day. Breakfast at 6:30 am. Bags to the vans by 7:50 am. Get in the van at 8:00 am.
Since we weren’t close to the start, this involved a short transfer. You don’t want to sit in your cycling shorts during the ride in the van, as you shall have plenty of that later in the day, so civilian clothes are donned.
We arrive in a village, and park the vans. While Rasmus and the two Bryan’s take the bicycles off the roof, 8 middle age men strip down on the sidewalk and don cycling attire.
The most interesting part of the spectacle is the application of chamois cream to the rider’s crotch, and to the chamois. Your crotch, your butt, your ass, call it what you will, but you better take care of it if you intend to have a pleasant day. People walk by and stare. The riders are as oblivious, and determined, as a male dog licking his balls.
The mechanics prepare your bike with your two water bottles, pump up your tires to the right pressure, around 120 psi for most people, 140 psi for the massive Mark. You go over to the back of the vans and choose your favorite snacks for the day.
Then the ride begins. A veteran staff member takes the front and makes sure everyone warms up slowly. It shall be a long day, and there is no sense in winding it up yet. Over the course of 35 minutes, the average speed is increased to 30-35 kilometers per hour, around 20 miles per hour.
We don’t go as fast as the professionals for a few reasons. First and foremost, they’re professionals, and we just can’t. Also, as we ride the route one day ahead of the professionals, the roads are still open. So we stop for traffic signals in villages, and obey all local laws.
Two hours later, your first snack of the day arrives. Coach Josh, Jimmy, or Patrick pulls up next to you and hands you a sandwich while you ride. The pace is reduced, and while rolling, everyone eats a turkey, ham, or cheese sandwich.
This is important. You spend a lot of your day eating, drinking, and talking about eating and drinking. If you get dehydrated, it is not good. If you get hungry, and bonk, it is not good. Your body can only stand so many energy bars before it revolts on you, so you must eat your snack sandwich at eleven, then another real sandwich at 1:30.
The professionals don’t stop for the sandwich at 1:30. We do. On the corner of a country street, beneath the shade of a tree, we enjoy a sandwich, a Coca-Cola, a bit of pastry, and maybe a cookie.
There’s also a list of things to do at lunch. You try to remember them all. Today, I had to change my clear glasses for sunglasses, reapply sunscreen, as my left arm is getting much more sun than my right arm, reapply chamois cream, as we would like to keep the undercarriage happy, take two Advil, and have Bryan apply his healing hands to my knees.
After lunch, the blood is in the stomach, so a staff member goes to the front and enforces a slow spin up to speed over the course of a half hour.
Today, the sensations were good and I felt strong enough to take my pulls. In hindsight, the effects of the four different antibiotics I consumed over the past two weeks, were not good for my riding, or my morale, so I am pleased to be done with them. Raising the seat 3 millimeters made a world of difference. Thanks to Alberto for the tip, and Josh for validating it.
As today was a short stage, just 115 miles or so, we were all feeling good. A torrential rainstorm in the early morning cooled my tendons and I was thrilled with the weather.
The afternoon was quite enjoyable, and I was able to pull, as well as be a full-fledged member of the team.
During the ride, the mechanic, Brian, and the two massage therapists, Bryan and Rasmus, drive the van ahead of you and periodically pull over to hand you fresh water bottles. You throw the empties on the ground, grab the full ones on the fly, and keep going. There are five different liquids you will consume during the day: water, pink stuff, yellow stuff, Coca-Cola, and recovery drink. You’re supposed to drink at least one per hour. You get the Coke at lunch, and the recovery drink when the ride finishes.
At the end of the day, we arrive in a village. The van is there to meet us, and the spectacle of middle-aged men disrobing in a public place is revisited. Except this time, rather than apply chamois cream to the crotch with maximum enthusiasm, the crotch is vigorously scrubbed with a baby wipe to remove any bacteria that could become an unpleasant growth. If in the morning, the middle-aged, bare-assed men were unaware of the surroundings, and their effect upon women of a certain age and young girls, now, exhausted, they are utterly uncaring.
Back in the vans, and you transfer to a new hotel. Tonight, we are staying at my favorite hotel of the Tour thus far. It is a cinder block, non-descript Etap hotel. The room is white, yellow, and orange. Over my head is a bunk bed. It will never win an award, as the design is from hunger.
But above the door in every room is a white unit hanging from the ceiling, imprinted with the most welcome logo ever seen by an American cyclist in France, “Carrier.”
The Europeans in general, and the French in particular, have no regard for the great American institution of air conditioning. Once you are in your hotel room, this results in a cruel choice. You may lie in your bed with the window open, and hope for a cool breeze.
But if there is a soccer game on TV, as was the case last night, every drunk in France is yelling his head off. Not good.
Alternatively, you may stay in your hotel room with the window closed and your room is quiet, but then you will slowly simmer until well done. Most try a combination of both.
To be in a hotel room with air conditioning is the best solution of all, because you are cool, and the AC drowns out the noise.
After you get to your room, Bryan gives you a massage. The healing hands are applied to the knees, the tendons, the IT bands of muscle. Then it’s off to the team dinner, another face-stuffing festival to get in the needed calories for the next day. One concerned guest has requested a scale. Believe it or not, the team actually gained weight last year.
This would be anathema to a professional. It’s not bad for an amateur. If you get too thin, you are more susceptible to illness. I am the second heaviest person in the group. Mark is 200 pounds. I’m next at around 157 lbs. The lightest is Bryan the massage therapist, who is six feet tall, and just 125 pounds.
7-07-06
Time Trial
St. Gregoir-Rennes
52 kilometers
At this point, 52 k, or around 33 miles, is a joke. Thus, the team welcomed the time trial as a recovery day. After a short transfer from the sadly designed, but much beloved Etap hotel, we left from a parking lot on the outskirts of town.
We all swore to take it easy. But Coach Joshua Dean Powers had pulled his University of Northern Arizona team shorts out of his suitcase, and he was feeling inspired. Regardless of his motivation, we had to slow down numerous times for the roads were still open to traffic.
There is a big beautiful truck ahead of us posting green Tour de France arrows. We are beginning to get to know the guys in the trucks, and they give us a spirited “Allez!” when they see us.
Once we were ahead of the arrow van, we had to slow down, otherwise we’d get lost. While we may be the only group in France riding the entire route one day ahead of the professionals, we see numerous cyclists riding a stage or two.
Today, we came across some ancient French cyclists who were still wearing the same team kits, and riding the same Peugot bicycles, they rode to glory back in the day. One Frenchman, who had gained over 50 pounds since his days as a racer, was putting such a strain upon the center seam in his shorts, it actually separated, giving one and all a porthole-shaped view of the crack in his backside.
The sensations of the knee were acceptable on the bike, but not spectacular. Everyone took a moment to drive the train, and our two big diesel engines, Patrick and Jimmy, got a much deserved rest day.
Best friends and residents of Park City, Utah, they prepared for the Tour de France Challenge by lifting weights an hour and a half each day, then riding up to five hours a day. Both are very fit, yet are concerned that with the approach of the scale, we’ll all have to lay off the ice cream.
Director Joe Tonon was off the bike, taking care of details, and morale suffered a bit. One of my teammates, who is battling with a saddle sore, put on his two pairs of bicycle pants and tried to cycle without the bandage.
It didn’t work, so he pulled up, pulled over, and got in the van. He has requested that next year, Second Skin sponsor the Tour de France Challenge by supplying cheek-sized portions of the product that riders may apply as necessary.
At the conclusion of the ride, we met up with the van, disrobed in the center of Rennes, the historic capital of Brittany, and drove back to the poorly designed, but much-beloved Etap hotel.
Today is the day to take care of any odds and ends. My heart-rate strap battery was dying. A treasure hunt in the suitcases resulted in locating a spare. I should find another, but we’ll see if such a thing is possible. I’ve been using my assos chamois cream at a remarkable rate. Jimmy said he wasn’t going to use his, so an arrangement was made.
As we were not eating lunch on the bike, we had to figure out where to go. In town? Across the street to the mall? At Jimmy’s insistence, we patronized the Chinese food restaurant, L’etoile du Pacifique, just 10 meters from the hotel entrance. Said Jimmy, “Hey, it’s always crowded. And I’ve been smelling it from my room since we got here.”
The man has a nose for food. The waiter understood that universal word, “buffet” and we did our best to let them know we were there. After three trips to the steam bar, there was some discussion of the late Sam Kinison’s skit where he goes to the Chinese restaurant buffet numerous times, and the hostess shrieks, “No more for you! You eat like killer whale!” Why so many comedians are obese and self-destructive is a mystery. Maybe if they rode bicycles like the insanely happy and reasonably fit Robyn Williams they’d still be with us.
While the guests recover, the work of the staff never ends. Brian the mechanic sets up shop in the parking lot. He cleans every bike, replaces worn bar tape, swaps out cassettes for bigger ones. Erin works at least one, even two days ahead of the group. Rasmus and Bryan wash 130 bottles, and fill them with the different liquids that propel us forward. While we pedal forward during the Tour de France Challenge, the staff pushes.
The remainder of the day shall be dedicated to hunting down web access, arranging clothes, resting, and getting ready for the next set of challenges, which shall be formidable. We live in the moment, preparing only for the next ride, the next meal, the next day. Still, everyone in the group realizes that the mountains loom just around the corner.
A word of thanks to Bryan Sweeney, Will Keyser, and everyone at work who sponsored me with bicycle gear. I have gotten a tremendous boost from the socks, shorts, jacket, and gloves you bought me. The equipment is much appreciated, and it has made a difference both in terms of morale and comfort.
posted by joe berkeley at 9:14 AM
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