Tour de France

I was never one of those kids who couldn't wait to move out of her parents' house. But when I went off to college and moved into my own apartment, I did rejoice at the fact that there were certain things I would never have to do again. And one of those things was watching the Tour de France. For as long as I can remember, the month of July was dominated by men in tight clothing riding along the French countryside for hours, days, and in fact, weeks on end. Besides the occasional spectacular crash, nothing ever happened; they rode along endlessly, wore green, yellow, or polka dot jerseys, the meaning of which I never quite grasped, and the winner was not determined through an exciting final sprint but using a complicated points-and-time scheme that I wasn't sure anyone in my family completely understood. So when I moved out at eighteen, I silently praised myself lucky for the fact that I would never ever again have to watch four weeks of men on bikes.

And I was a very lucky woman until about two weeks ago, when on an unassuming Saturday in early July, husband-dear turned on the TV, and muttered; "I wondered which channel shows the Tour de France."
I argued and pleaded, but nothing was to deter the love of my life. He said it would be fun to watch, since we both roadbike, and that was that.
"You don't understand, " I said through gritted teeth, "I watched the Tour de France every single year until I went to college. Every year, that stupid TV would be set to the Tour for the whole month of July, and I hated every minute of it. I used to have to hear endless discussions about yellow shirts, green shirts, dotted shirts, and whatever other color shirts they have. It was almost traumatic."
"It's jersey. Not shirt." My husband installed himself on our couch, "And hey, now that you mention it, you can probably explain the difference between the three to me. Oh, and how many times did Indurain win?"

After that conversation, husband-dear has been watching the Tour every single day. It's like living at home again, only a little worse, as husband-dear has been calling me from work, where the military has blocked access to all non-essential websites, to turn on the TV and inform him of the latest developments.

Funnily enough, and I hate to admit this, the Tour has actually grown on me a little this time around. I'm sure that this is not in the least because, as opposed to almost all other interests husband and I share, this is one I know more about than he does. Apparently eighteen years of watching the Tour and listening to my dad argue with my uncles about who stood a better chance of winning, has left a wide variety of facts hidden away in my brain. Husband-dear, who is completely new to both cycling and the Tour, is amazed that I know things like which shirt, or jersey I suppose, means what, how many stages there are, and who past winners were.
In addition, there is something incredibly soothing and familiar about hearing the British commentator again. His voice, coupled with all the familiar European sights is really almost enough to keep me hooked. I mean, just yesterday I got a real kick out of looking at all the French road signs, and pointing out all the crazy hairpins that make up a normal French road. An the day before I almost drooled when I saw all the pretty little castles and villages nestled away in the French - Swiss Alps.
And then of course, there is the language. I'm used to using Dutch or French words when talking about the Tour; words like 'knecht', 'trui', and 'peleton'. Learning that the 'knecht', the guy who helps the leader get through the difficult parts is ' lieutenant' in English is fascinating, as is the fact that an 'etappe' is called a 'stage', although I personally think the word 'stage' sounds far too theatrical for something as grueling as the Tour. The peleton is still called the peleton, although instead of using the pretty French pronunciation, which makes one think of drinking wine with a view of the lavender-covered mountains, the Americans make it sound like something military.
Of course, it also doesn't hurt that I've taken up cycling myself, and actually know what the commentators are talking about. Whereas previously, comments such as; "And he's got his rear gear in the big ring, that is truly a display of power" would have me roll my eyes, now I actually understand what the commentator is talking about, and why this is such an amazing feat.

Although I don't think I will ever be a die-hard Tour fan, I do think I like it enough to maintain peace in the DixieChick residence. And, just for the record, I'm rooting for Lance.