Class

A long day today, 120+ kilometers and some brutal, brutal (beautiful, beautiful) climbs. Aside from watching stunning landscapes roll on by, I had the pleasure of riding with some real class riders. "Class" in cycling is one of the words that doesn't exactly have a definition, but any and every cyclist wants to be regarded as having "class" on the bike.

(Becky ready for the descent down D'Huez)

(And making her way up the first part of the Croix de Fer)

(Sure wish the scenery was better along they way!)

Becky made it to a little mountain-side town, where the group (and an espresso) was waiting for us.

(Espresso)

(Mountain-side town)

(Espressos out of the way, more cols to come . . . David, our guide and subject of continued thoughts on "Class" is on the left in the blue kit)

The run up to the Croix de Fer was amazing. The climb itself wasn't too bad, a steady grind. And the views seemed to make things go much, much easier.

And, of course, the Coix de Fer was just as stunning.

(Croix de Fer, or Iron Cross, gets its name from somewhere . . . wonder what?)

(Looking out from the top at what's in store next)

Break time!

So, back to "class" and David. I still don't really have a definition, but let me define by example. On our descent from D'Huez, David didn't slow down, he stopped to make sure Becky was ok. When Becky and I arrived in the small mountain-side town (see above) espresso was waiting. When descending Croix de Fer, the guy sat up, no hands and stretched his back out, adjusted his wind vest, cleaned his glasses. This is more impressive if you have descended Croix de Fer. It's a goat path, with cars zooming up, and more switch-backs than you can count. Impressive. Finally, after one hell of a long day, David (he also climbs like bird) turned round on our way up the Telegraph, came back to check on me, and pulled me up for about 9 k. Upon reaching the summit, he said "good job" to me. Class.

After the Telegraph, a small descent to our home for tonight.

Moi et Mon Velo

Today was a big day. Alpe D'Huez at the end of couple easier mountains, and a lot of road and scenery that seemed to naturally lead you to examine and enjoy. I couldn't help but think about my life before and after cycling, and where I'm at now, and how life is that much sweeter with and because of cycling.

(Group starting out for the first day from La Mur)

Becky and I started the day together, letting the group roll out ahead of us, while we stayed back to enjoy. It didn't take too long before we came to the first climb, the Col Mallisol. This is a difficult climb, not particularly long, but very steep. Becky worked super hard all the way up and did something not many people can claim - she has gone up and over an Alpine mountain peak on the bike . . . a big heavy hybrid no less. For someone who hasn't ridden a bike at all as of late, it was impressive to see, a cool part of the day, and what started me thinking.

(Becky conquers Malissol)

(After Malissol headed toward Col D'Ornon)

(coming down the final hill for Becky's day, about to jump into the support car)

The Malissol hurt Becky. Again, no joke, it is a hard climb. But that is the elemental beauty of cycling. This day turned from just another day (granted just another day traveling in France, but you get what I'm saying) into a day of suffering and an amazing accomplishment. The suffering you receive from cycling is something that defines our sport like few others, and at the end of the day the more is suffered the more beautiful things around you become.

(A look down the valley behind going up Col D'Ornon)

The love of a beautiful wife and daughter, the luckiness of having a beautiful and kind family, the pure pleasure of cool water and shade on a baking hot day . . . I'm not sure the appreciation of those things is the same without suffering first, without the hardest climb in your life showing you just how damn lucky you really are.

(The top of D'Ornon)

But D'Ornon wasn't what nailed that point home for me. The thoughts were percolating at this point, but it would take something special to drive it home.

(No caption needed)

A handful of years ago, not too long ago really in the relation to my life as a whole, I was a smoker. I was getting overweight, and probably took a lot - too much - for granted. Now, today didn't change that obviously, and a lot of things have happened between then and now, but cycling played a big part of it.  And, since I've been on a bike, I've known about Alpe D'Huez. I rode to the bottom of D'Huez with one of the riders in our group; he looked over at me right before we got smacked in the face with a 15% grade, and chocked up said he had chills on his neck. This is what the D'Huez means. It's important.

(About half way up looking down on the switch-backs)

This isn't the longest climb we will do this week, but it could very well be the most meaningful. It also hurts a lot. It hurts a lot. It hurts a lot.

(Getting caught up by the support car . . .)

(Closer . . . .)

(Ouchie)

So after today, I'm having the same thoughts in my head that virtually all cyclist who respect and love this sport have had once or many times. The beauty of cycling is that it opens your eyes to countless things, all of which you love that much more when you see them more clearly and more passionately.  Perhaps I don't feel these things any more today, but they all come into more perfect focus: I love my family and I love my lucky fortunate life, and the luck to have people drag me around the world so I can suffer.

By the way. Alpe D'Huez is just gorgeous:

(A well earned Stella for Becky, who crossed her first mountain, the man in the car that made it possible, and the guy with really sore legs)

Finally, A Post!

The grand adventure begins! Cycling, but also spending time with family and meeting new people. Kick of the rust from the old French language "skills", eat and drink as much as possible, and generally love live.

The travel was quite long. You forget how removed the west coast is from Europe, really - or at least I do. So after a sleepless night across county and ocean, here we are smiling because we are about to start the last leg of travel . . . at least for the day. If you ever wondered if Hethrow was really as busy as "they" say it is, we were just shuttled by bus to our plane since there weren't any available terminals.

Our first french meal . . . caesar salad and pasta - not too much adventure on a few hours sleep.

Breakfast was a little more in the French mode, though.

A few hours in Lyon and we jumped on the TGV. We have some photos, but none worth sharing with the world. I have to say, we are crazy as Americans not to love rail transport when done like the French. The TGV was about seven times faster than BART, 10 times more quiet, and a 100 times more comfortable. Seriously, light rail, baby. Go Obama, All Aboard!

The TGV left us off at Grenoble, or base camp for the day before cycling begins. Grenoble was just about as beautiful a place as you could imagine. The photos don't do it justice, but as an attempt . . . enjoy:

The view from our hotel window (above), and one of the many no-car walk/rail- yes, rail, All Aboard boulevard (below).

The view from the Fort Bastille, high above the city - one protecting during the 1500s, now just offering beautiful views and hiking trails.

And, since it's getting late . . . . here are some more photos from Grenoble.

Waiting for the train back to the hotel . . . call it a night (above, obviously). First official day starts tomorrow. Our van picked us up at the hotel in the morning, and we were off to the Alps. La Mur, a little town, classically alpine. Stone houses, columbine flowers blooming, deep blue streams flowing down . . . and classically French. Folks having drinks under awnings, chatting away. It starts to dawn on me both what is in store over the next week and how damn lucky I am to be here.

La Mur:

In case you didn't get that we are in France. How about a little patissarie money shot:

OK, but wait. Aren't you supposed to be riding a bike? Why yes, hello mon velo.

After the bike is together, just a short jaunt around the town and a quick preview of the first climb of the day. Le Col de Mallisol. Going up:

Getting to the top:

Time to hold on tight:

Becks couldn't let the guys have all the fun. Time to pull out her kit and put it to use. No sense in bringing it all this way and not use it, is there?

And to finish off the day's post (It's almost mid-night here!), a little taste of suffering to come: