As a brief matter of course, I'd open by noting we had the rather cool opportunity to start our day by watching the pros start their next stage. Quite literally 10 feet from the starting line, with lookers on crammed, well... everywhere. Very cool to again be part of the Tour experience, within arm's reach of the top athletes in the sport just prior to competition.
With that preface offered, my inclination is to focus on the remainder of our fifth day of riding. In particular, I'd like to think most of us that ride get to a point where we explore increasingly specious reasons to quit on a challenging route... Pluto has mountains now? How weird and upsetting are the words "moist waffle douche"? When does a bush stop being a bush and start being a tree? What about those big bush-trees that separate the freeway... what are they? What guy makes those decisions anyway? I bet he sucks at parties.
Sometimes we elect to succumb to that Wikipedia black hole, burrito in hand, convinced we'll round out our 12 mile spin later in the weekend, certainly by next flag day, but in no case later than the passing of the next archaeological epoch...
How many moist waffle douches would it take to kill a triceratops anyway?
Perhaps the grander point is that one dude you guys know faced that nagging demon today. Thoroughly worn from a long week of rides, unrelentingly brutal heat and yet another rugged Hors Categorie climb, your own Frederick Johannes Ruegsegger stood atop the second of three ascents, facing disparate optionality: (i) a leisurely zip down to Argeles Gazost for a quick meal and earlier bed; (ii) a partial descent into the teeth of a fierce thunderstorm, followed by a 600m closing climb, a very late dinner and later still slumber.
It only looks imposing because it was.
Notwithstanding every opportunity to explore an easy exit, your guy got back on his bike, shelved the bitching from overworked legs and lungs and pounded out the final 7.5 km up Val Louron Azet in one of the most impressive feats of mind over matter to which I've personally been party, and I've seen a grown man eat a living larvae the size of human thumb.
But that's neither here nor there.
The important consideration here is that the final climb ended up being one the most visually stunning experiences of our trip. I'm not going to bother trying to capture the view in words, and the pictures and video will only afford partial justice.
Fundamentally, however, one simply could not ask for a more appropriately sobering and captivating backdrop for one man pushing well beyond his previously understood limits in the service of conquering a challenge months in the making. Again, a proud son and partner on that adventure.
Separately: It takes 2.8 moist waffle douches.
Final ride tomorrow, you guys.
Note from Dad - I think it may actually take 2.9 moist waffle douches AND my son is too kind. He, along with Aigars and Jãnis from HC Bike Tours powered me through this. A great day today, some spectacular scenery, a mountain storm, and a great dinner - all well worth the effort.