At Least I Didn't Invent A Dead

The Tour (de France) Is Essentially A Math Problem, A 2,000-mile Race Over Three Weeks That's Sometimes Won By A Margin Of A Minute Or Less. How Do You Propel Yourself Through Space On A Bicycle, Sometimes Steeply Uphill, At A Speed Sustainable For Three Weeks? Every Second Counts.

We Are Much Better Than We Know.

Cycling Is So Hard, The Suffering Is So Intense, That It’s Absolutely Cleansing. The Pain Is So Deep And Strong That A Curtain Descends Over Your Brain….once; Someone Asked Me What Pleasure I Took In Riding For So Long. ‘pleasure???? I Said.’ ‘i Don’t Understand The Question.’ I Didn’t Do It For The Pleasure; I Did It For The Pain.

Pain Is Temporary. It May Last A Minute, Or An Hour, Or A Day, Or A Year, But Eventually It Will Subside And Something Else Will Take Its Place. If I Quit, However, It Lasts Forever.

Anything Is Possible. You Can Be Told That You Have A 90-percent Chance Or A 50-percent Chance Or A 1-percent Chance, But You Have To Believe, And You Have To Fight.