Le bore de France

I know a lot of people don’t agree with me on this one. And it’s okay – I can take the heat. Our friends at the beach simply had to watch Tour de France (or if you speak only English, as I do, check here.) every night. I learned a lot about bicycle racing. I admit it – I did. But after the first 15 minutes or so (which seemed quite a bit longer), I was forced to wonder what is entertaining about watching the rear-end view of men riding their bikes. Together. In a pack. A peloton. Which according to Webster means:

1/peloton
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: a small ball or pellet
Etymology: French `small pellet’

2/peloton
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: a small military group; platoon
Etymology: French `small pellet’

Clearly, they refer to the platoon definition. But I digress.

There are minutes, or make that seconds, that are exciting and nail-biting. There are breakaway groups who after miles and miles and hours and hours in the peloton speed ahead. Sometimes, they can maintain it. Sometimes, not. Exciting, no?

I suppose I sound as if I don’t appreciate athleticism. Not so. Those men are clearly in remarkable shape and they look pretty appealing, too. The training it must take to compete at that level is mind boggling.

But they look mean if you watch the faces. And some are. I saw some guy deliberately make another guy fall down and another guy who put his head on some other rider. Yikes. Who wants to hang out with bad sports like that?

I’m sure there are those who could watch the race every televised moment of it. I just feel like I did.