Relative Something

It is strange to see the world class bike racers working the mountain stages of the Tour de France. Some of them are able to make it look deceivingly easy, while others so vividly reveal their limitations of climbing ability and almost look like they are suddenly riding in sand. It is really a spectacle to watch; if you can endure the frequent and prolonged onslaught of commercials throughout the broadcast. The network must realise how annoying it is, because they offer a half-hour commercial-free at the end of the stage. Unfortunately, it still isn’t enough to overcome the annoyance of the interruptions before and after that.

Only occasionally do the riders appear to be working to catch their breath as they ride so incredibly hard at the high elevations. I look at it and am reminded of how I struggled to breathe up above the tree line, and I wasn’t exerting myself anywhere near the level these guys are. It boggles my mind.

The announcers more than once commented on the incredible beauty of the mountains, and as they pan back to reveal the landscape from the helicopter view, I was thrown back to being in the Himalayas and how that felt. Mountains certainly do seem to have a universal allure. At the same time that they are intimidating to bicycle on, they are also very rewarding, as their beauty unfolds in the extreme from the vantage point of a bicycle seat.

Granted, during the act of trying to race up them, it is harder to focus on how beautiful they are, but I’m pretty sure it still finds a way to seep in somehow. And there is always the joy when you are at the top and have finished all the work of having to ride up them.

My mountain this weekend is less daunting. I am at the lake offering Cyndie and her mother moral support in their task of caring for Ben and Sara’s 3 kids while the happy couple are off celebrating an anniversary in Duluth. Even if it seems like hard work at times, it comes with such wonderful rewards that any difficulty is usually quickly offset.

I’m also sneaking some time of my own to play with my little wood sculpture. Still workin’ the shape. Beck stopped by to check on my progress and offer his approval.

“Smoooth.”