Lord Have Mercy!

No--I mean it. Lord have mercy! The Tour de France is starting tomorrow and I can barely function, given my anticipation.

Some would suggest you barely function anyway.
And there would be a nugget of truth in that. But my anticipatory disfunction is peaking as we speak. I can barely type!
We're excited too.
Good.

The TdeF is like nothing else. No--I mean it. Who could forget the time Lance, avoiding a downed cyclist on a switch-back descent of some humongous mountain, plummeted off the side of the road, somehow rode his road bike through a 100 yards of two-foot-high weeds at about a 45 degree angle, caught the road again, and proceeded to win the thing for the Nth time?

That said, Lance is kind of an asshole. But I don't think you get to where he got being nice. Look at me. Sometimes the price of gargantuan talent is paid in the other parts of one's life.

[insert moment of uncomfortable self-reflection]

The import thing is that, as they do every three or four years, they are climbing up the Alpe d'Huez.

We're getting chills just thinking about it.
Me too!