I have a theory that one is never more her truest self than when on a bike. Bike-riding exposes your appetite for risk, your sense of adventure, your ease with your own place in relation to the world. This self is different, often, than the self one presents to the world.
But what a splendid Tour that was—and what a wonderful race the Tour de France still is! Despite everything, with all the animosities and accusations and the dark shadows, the one hundredth running of the Tour was one of the best and most exciting editions in its history. There was true joie de vivre on the Champs-Elysees on Sunday evening.
Whenever people who don’t follow bike racing happen to meet champion cyclists, they are always surprised by how small the riders seem. So they are, both in general and compared with other sportsmen, or even sportswomen. That thought was prompted again by last Sunday’s heroic stage of the Tour de France. It began in Givors, in front of illustrious guests.