Today was the day to watch the tour on TV. With all that was going on in the pack, it was impossible to keep track on the road. I missed the dazzling finale up La Toussuire as I was rolling back to Grenoble from the Col de la Croix de Fer. It was a stellar day no matter.
I took the train to Montmélian this morning, the closest I could get to the base of the Croix de Fer on a direct train. When I got off, the opposite platform was filled with cyclists. Their destination was clear. I wavered for a moment but decided against taking the easy way. I'd ride the next 50km. So what if the road is undulating in the foothills of the Alps? If I had wanted to just sit around, I would have stayed at home.
Two hours later I was at the base of the climb. Cyclists were everywhere, obviously not deterred by the two huge signs that happily declared "Sommet 23km". I started easy, rolling with a small gear. Nothing major happened for the next hour and a bit. When my forces were waning, after 17km of steady up, the mountain finally dropped the hammer. Almost 3km at 10% average. Once arrived at the Glandon, it was only a short hop over to the Col de la Croix de Fer.
So what about the race? Floyd Landis lost it today. He might as well fly home and get a new hip. His days of glory won't come back this year. And Oscar Pereiro Sio who had lost 26 minutes in the Pyrénées is now back in the yellow jersey that he wore for the first time when he was in a break-away group that Landis's team let win by almost 30 minutes. That's how the tour goes when no one is in control and no one has even the faintest idea who really is a title contenter. More strange things will certainly come to pass until Paris.
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