My attitude, however, did not improve as much as my ankle. I was able to get through much of the last week by imagining that my patient, long-suffering husband and I could sell all our things and move to one of our favorite spots in the world, Villefranche-sur-Mer. It is a small village in the South of France on the Mediterranean Sea where we spent one of the happiest weeks of our life together. (And when you can call a week in which your patient, long-suffering husband walked through a plate glass window one of the happiest of your life, that is saying something.) We have long dreamed of retiring there and last week, moving up our plans seemed like a great idea. It is the best of all worlds - small enough to get away from it all, but conveniently located eight kilometers from Nice for those times you need the big city.
We were reminded again last night that you can't escape the world. We found out about the tragedy in Nice as we were leaving to celebrate Bastille Day with friends. The celebration was a little more subdued, but also much more meaningful. Since we are all cycling enthusiasts, we watched yesterday's Tour de France stage, where I learned another life lesson. To set the stage, the finish line had to be moved at the last minute because of high winds, which resulted in more spectators crammed into a smaller area that was not sufficiently barricaded. Chris Froome, the cyclist who was currently in first place (the yellow jersey, or "maillot jaune"), was with a group of riders near the front of the pack and was poised to retain his lead. With less than one kilometer to go (for those of you who are metrically challenged, it was approximately half a mile) to the new finish line, the throng of spectators was so large it blocked the route and the motorcycle cameraman in front of the riders had to come to a sudden stop. And then all hell broke loose.
A rider crashed into the motorcycle, causing a much larger crash. Froome's bicycle was not functional and the team cars carrying extra bikes were behind the crash. Froome began running toward the finish line while the team cars caught up. (Editor's note: no, you can't win the race by finishing on foot.) When the cars caught up, the first bike he grabbed did not have pedals that matched the cleats on his shoes, which meant he could not clip into the pedals. He threw the first bike to the side of the road, grabbed a second bike and pedaled like his life depended on it. He crossed the finish line, but lost most of his lead. (Never fear. The Tour has a long history of fairness to its participants and they froze the stage results at the time of the crash, so he did not lose the yellow jersey.)
The lesson I learned was not that fans can be real jerks sometimes. (That is a post for another day.) No, the lesson was that you may not be able to escape trouble, but you have to keep pedaling. Or running. So I guess I will postpone my retirement plans and put on my big girl bicycle shorts. And hope the cleats match the pedals.
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