Rest Schmest

Today is a rest day for the riders of THE Tour. Why they need a rest day at all is beyond me. They’ve done little more than sit on their hindquarters for the past week….oh wait a minute…that was me.

Please do not leave me a comment telling me how hard those men work. I know they work hard but knowing that in my head does not really correlate to my brain saying, “Man! They are working hard today!” Because quite frankly, have you seen those riders? Most of the time they look like they are out on a nice Sunday afternoon bike ride up a hill with a gradient of a mere 14%.

I am almost convinced they schedule rest days for the people sitting at home on their bums watching. They do this in hopes they have inspired some to get out and ride. They do inspire me. Unfortunately it has been a mere million degrees lately and who can ride in that, really? I ask you, who can ride in that weather? Not me. Well okay I could be I’d be lucky to get to the end of my driveway much less around my block before melting in a puddle.

Or maybe it so we don’t dream in “Tour”. Which is, of course, exactly what I did last night. Because I’m a rule-breaker like that.

It seems in my dreams some friends of ours had invited Fabian Cancellara (Spartacus!) over to their house. Yeah, they were close personal friends. He is sitting on the couch while I am standing across the room from him gushing about how much I love THE Tour.

“I just love to watch THE Tour. I haven’t always been a fan of pro-cycling but a few years ago I literally stumbled on THE Tour, well not literally as in I was in France and stumbled in front of THE Tour. Now, I was flipping through the channels on tv and there it was. I’ve been hooked ever since.” While I was blathering like a freaking idiot (or maybe just a freak) I kept moving away from a roaring fire behind me (it was in a fireplace) and the sparks it was shooting off. But then I would get cold so I’d move back.

Which really explains the next segment of my dream.

I was in the bathroom, not doing what one normally does in that room, I was changing my clothes into a very pretty blue dress. (That my youngest daughter happens to own but in the dream it was mine.) I heard a voice from the other side of the door say, “It figures SHE’D be in there all day.” I fling open the door to find George Hincapie standing there.

He starts talking but his language must have been awful because it kept being bleeped out in my dream. But not really, the beeping was my alarm.


Do you dream in Tour?


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