To get into watching it. I know that might sound weird from me, since I have only watched one Tour de France and that was a bit of a marathon. But in person, it’s actually very exciting, even if you don’t know who’s winning, or what their form was like coming in, or what they’re riding or even the rules of the sport.
I genuinely believe that – if you release yourself to the whole silliness of competitive sport, spectacle is quite spectacular.
Now, I didn’t go to this particular kind of spectacular, although several others did, and you can certainly avail yourself of the post post post action. (Who cares, really? You’re just there for spectacle anyways, so if you missed it, that’s cool too. Another time. Madison perhaps? Given the current weather cycle, it’ll probably be 40 degrees in the shade and you won’t be rained out like last time.)
And, though I won’t labour the point, I think that the nicest thing about cycling is that while the jump between what you do as a cyclist and what they do as professionals is enormous, it’s also not unbelievable. Most people can ride a bike, very few people can fence, or do curling, or play that crazy soccer volleyball thing in Thailand (though that is pretty freaking amazing), but, yeah, most people can ride a bike. So you’re in manageable spectacle territory.
This is important when your saddle is getting ruined by being ridden wet so often.
And your bike somehow has rusted inside your house in the two weeks you went away to Melbourne due to torrential rain.
Because this is what commuting looks like in Brisbane at the moment. Holy crap. If you can’t get a vicarious thrill, you probably can’t get any thrill at all. Ride safe friendlies, and don’t attempt anything crazy. No one wants to get washed away in a flood. The aerial view of the river loop seems pretty sketchy in several places.
eleanor j jackson 