I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned to
you anyone that I am certifiably obsessed with an event that takes place every summer across the pond in a gorgeous country called France. I’d totally move there, you know, if, of course, I could speak French and also convince Tim that the baguettes alone are worth the relocation.
Right. About my obsession. I’m sidetracked easily these days…especially with baguettes…right.
What am I talking about? The Tour de France.
I’ll plop myself down and watch every. single. second. over and over and over again, as many times as they’ll show it. I’ll leave it on in the background while I’m doing other things. Any way you put it, the Tour is on when the Tour is on, if you get my meaning. It drives Tim crazy. He doesn’t understand my obsession. Frankly, neither do I. It’s not like I follow cycling during the year. I don’t have a favorite cyclist. I don’t read much of anything about it unless THE TOUR is going on.
I think I started becoming interested when Lance was still racing – and winning – Tour after Tour. That’s when I really started getting into it. I was just out of college, living in an apartment in a small town in Georgia called Newnan. At the time, my “job” was running this built from nothing pet sitting business (“Companion Keepers”) that my at-the-time boyfriend thought would be a brilliant idea.
Yah. Note the sarcasm?
Except…he had one year left to go in school. So guess who was taking care of all of the phone calls and animals and visits and maintenance?
(that ex boyfriend was beyond anything I can even explain. This story about a goose – which I promise is completely relevant – might help)
As I think back, I actually amaze myself. I was able to remember every single visit I had to do each day and at what time and who had which animals and where everybody lived without writing a single thing down. Now? I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast.
Anyway, most mornings after I finished my “rounds” I would park it in front of the TV and one day, found Lance riding in the Tour.
I was hooked.
He was a machine! He kept getting the yellow jersey! He’d just…do what Lance does: win.
From that point forward, I’d turn on the television every summer and get lost in the Tour. I still, to this day, never get tired of watching all of the drama that unfolds out on the roads. Because, oh. There is DRAM-A. I love to just wrap myself in it and completely zone out. I’ve told Tim, more times than he probably wanted to hear, that one year I want to go over to France and “experience” the Tour by going to each town the cyclists race into and watch every stage.
That’d be like my own mini version of the most perfect vacation ever.
Then, it’s like all the stars aligned for me (and Tim). About a month ago, I learn that many of the same cyclists who raced in the Tour this year, including the top three finishers – would be HERE. IN COLORADO. RACING IN OUR OWN BACKYARD!
The US Pro Cycling Challenge. Here. In Colorado.
WHERE WE LIVE.
Um. Does it get any better than that?! If you’ve been following along so far then I don’t even think I need to answer.
You can guess where Tim and I were yesterday.
Stupidly, I forgot to bring sunscreen. My brain wasn’t thinking, “You’re pregnant and a pale face and HELLO. Pregnant people burn easier than non-preggos.” (Why is that, anyway?) No, my brain was thinking, “It’s like the Tour! The Tour!!! In Colorado!”
Luckily, we live in a super nice state with super fantastic people. One of those super nice people was a lady standing behind us named Pat who offered me a sample sunscreen she scored at one of the vendor stands (that Tim and I never found). She saw me trying to figure out how to cover up as much of my body as possible while we were waiting on the cyclists to make it back down Lookout Mountain and into the town of Golden. Out of nowhere she was all, “Do you want some sunscreen?” And after I basically kissed her feet to thank her she, without missing a beat, looked at Tim and said, “You’re on neck duty! Make sure you get her neck!”
See, thing is, Tim and I managed to get an awesome spot right on the curb (which is as close to the road as we were allowed to be), so obviously I couldn’t move out of the sun. I’d lose my spot and then be an upset pregnant woman who didn’t get the ONE THING SHE WANTED out of the day.
We all know how that goes.
Anyhow, to thank her for her graciousness, I offered to email them pictures, since we had a front row seat to the action.
Here is some of what we
All of the riders had to come out of their trailers to officially check in…
Apparently, you’re supposed to dress up and also see if you can find the most crazy ass place to sit.
If you can’t find anywhere? Just line the streets like the rest of us.
This is the part where I almost lost my head in the spoke of a wheel.
The cyclists did two loops where each time they would ride through Golden. This is the second, where we had our super awesome spot on the curb.
The lead group after coming off of Lookout Mountain.
And the rest…
Good news for me: I didn’t get sunburned!
Better news for Tim: That race cured my appetite for that huge trip to France – at least temporarily.
Even more fantastic news for me: Tim had a blast! Which means…………. (hint hint. wink wink)