Relative Something

The thing about watching television every night to see the Tour de France is that my mind gets filled with the commercials and that weird collection of information starts to show up in my head against my will. It just forces me to counter by recognizing when it happens and replace it with images of riders and the scenic views of the landscapes of France.

Actually, I have discovered an online source that provides uninterrupted views of the racing and I have seen more of the countryside than ever before. I find it really fascinating to see the variety of backdrops for the race as they speed down straight roads surrounded by farm fields and then come into quaint little villages, but also reach populated areas and ride a bridge over an expressway with all the regular traffic passing underneath and I become aware that not every one there is actually watching the race. There are brief glimpses of the citizens going about their normal activity, regardless the race happening.

It is obvious that their lives are impacted because of the level of interruption to traffic on roads the tour uses is extreme. I like seeing the variety of places they move through, seeing them navigate metropolitan areas that look strange to be so closed to autos and now dominated by the circus of activity that is the racers and their team cars and the motorcycles with television cameras and photographers and the cars of the race officials and the medical personnel. For some reason it doesn’t look so out of place on the rural roads and mountain passes as it does in the populated areas to me.

The one challenge I have when watching the uninterrupted coverage is tearing myself away to accomplish anything while the race is running. This is a big deal because the races can take 3 or 4 hours. I struggle to get myself to take bathroom breaks, even as the riders, themselves, are pulling over to, as the commentators say, take a “nature break”.

I completely understand how this would lack appeal to others, but I find myself absolutely mesmerized by every view they provide. Overall, the changes to the General Classification each day are rarely visible. People ask me each day what there is to report, and for the most part, there is nothing new to offer. But each day there are little dramas that I find exciting. There is always someone to attack out of the group and try to get an insurmountable lead, and the peloton needs to monitor the time gap the breakaway achieves and speed up to control the lead and then calculate when to put in the concerted effort to reel them back in before reaching the finish line, where specialist in the art of sprinting battle it out for the victory of a stage.

There are many things to watch: the way teams are working, how they execute getting through feed zones and eat while they race, how team members take water bottles from the manager driving the car behind all the racers and stuff them in their jersey and ride back up to the rest of the team to pass them out, how riders who have crashed receive treatment from race doctors in cars while racers are still on their bikes, holding onto the car. Meanwhile, there is all the scenery, and the spectacle and artistry of the fans, and the informative and educational narration by Paul Sherwen and Phil Liggett.

Imagine if that didn’t need to be so frequently interrupted to sell me things I don’t want or need or will ever choose to watch. But at least that provides opportunity for tending to nature calls. Bring on the next mountain stages. There’s a little over a week to go. Enjoy it while you can.