A Glimpse of Lance
A
little over a year ago I saw Lance in a blur of yellow jersey streak by
as I stood on the side of the road in the tiny village of Raims. It was
a spur of the moment decision to drive the hour and twenty minutes to
try to catch a glance of the peleton as it passed through the town half
way between the start and finish of stage fourteen. There were four of
us: Jason, an avid biker (he rode Mt. Ventoux at least twice during his
six week stay in Provence); his wife Theresa, an intensive care nurse;
and Hunter, their two-month-old son.The night before, we had eaten al fresco at Le Lavandin (see Provence: Before and After, BP 1/30/2004) with a large gathering of family and friends and decided to rise early and take off in time to see the action. The Tour de France has times figured down to the minute and publishes expected routes and schedules daily.
The next morning, after croissant and café au lait, we took off. Hunter was a perfect traveler, quiet and curious. We arrived at Raims around eleven AM and parked strategically. It is crucial, to minimize aggravation escaping from Tour crowds even in small towns, to park at a distance from the route and have your car pointed in the proper direction for escape. Thus, we ended up walking close to a mile to the viewing point.
It
was clear that the whole town had turned out and then some. Hunter, in
a back pack, was making hungry sounds. Jason walked up the route with
his camera while the three of us sought some shade. Two heavy-set women
offered Theresa and Hunter some shade under their canopy.“Would you like to sit here in the shade?” one of them asked Theresa.
“Merci.”
We were offered fresh melon. I explained that we were American and that I was, in fact, Hunter’s pediatrician, explaining that some families in America never travel without their pediatrician. The women laughed and offered us more melon. We chatted in French about the Tour, a woman in a bikini who was front and center on the viewing line, and the heat. It was the beginning of the infamous July of 2003.
Jason came running back down the route, saying that the bikers were two minutes away. We forced our way forward to stake out a good position. Just then a three year old behind me started retching and vomiting loudly. One of my new friends pointed to me.
“Monsieur, vous êtes un médecin, nést-ce pas?” one of them asked.
“Il est rien a faire,” I said. “Je suis un pediatrie incognito.”
I ignored the child and turned my attention in time to see the peleton breeze through and then it was over. The crowd dissipated surprisingly quickly and the hospitable women offered us the use of their pool. We politely declined, wanting to get back to Le Lavandin and a familiar pool instead.
The brush with historic fame was fleeting but exciting, but the real pleasure of the moment was connecting with the congenial residents of a town I will likely never visit again. I often wonder if the vomiting three year old stopped long enough to recall his moment with the Tour de France. Mine will be inextricably linked with his.
To follow this year’s Tour de France check out:
www.letour.fr: As the race begins there is live streaming video on the Internet.
www.onlv.com: This is the major cable TV channel covering the Tour de France. Best way to follow it is to tape it and watch it at your leisure sans commercials: you can watch ninety minutes of television in fifty minutes.
Louis Borgenicht is a pediatrician/writer living in SLC, Utah. He's the co-author, with his son Joe, of The Baby Owner's Manual: Operating Instructions, Trouble-Shooting Tips, and Advice on First-Year Maintenance.
