Relative Something

My favorite pastime in July is watching the television coverage of the Tour de France bike race. My days at work right now are long and very busy. I have been arriving home exhausted. Then, I turn on the prime-time re-broadcast of the day’s stage of the race and I watch guys whose work makes my exhaustion seem insignificant. Yikes, they have endurance!

Thomas Voeckler impresses the heck out of me, and makes funny faces while he is working hard on the pedals. He is demonstrating some amazing climbing and accomplished a couple of stage wins. Bravo! Stole the polka dot jersey yesterday.

Frank Schleck sited for a banned substance?! I’m amazed riders still do anything to risk disqualification. He denies doping.

Cadel Evans didn’t have the legs this year. It’s tough to watch the big competitors not being able to muster what it takes to stay on pace, let alone the pity when they can’t offer up a true threat of attack. He drops to 7th place, eight-some minutes back.

Bradley Wiggins seems to have a firm control of his lead. He’s bringing out a big number of British fans and Union Jack flags everywhere! Could be the first British rider to capture the Tour.

George Hincapie is still riding like he’s a young kid, though he’s not.

I like Frenchman, Thibaut Pinot, and Slovak, Peter Sagan, of the young riders putting in impressive performances this year.

Sagan has stolen some of the thunder from my previous favorite sprinter, Mark Cavendish, as Cav has been putting the success of Wiggins and team Sky ahead of personal ambitions. There is still hope for some excitement in the final day’s sprint in Paris, where Cavendish has won the last three years. He would sure like to make it 4 in a row. I’m confident he will have the full support of the team to get into position for a shot at that goal.

After an evening devouring the coverage of each day’s stage, I feel a lot less fatigued by the demands of my Tour de Day-Job.

I wish the coverage didn’t have to end, but this year, I’ll have the London Olympics to fill in the void that follows. No rest for the weary, don’tcha know.