See the Tour de France

“After the agony of suspense over the last hours, and with the blistering heat of the Alpine sun baking my skull I experience something similar. The riders, jerseys splattered with dirt, seem to slow down, and I see every single detail. The whites of their eyes staring out through dust blackened faces, mouths hanging open, chests heaving, desperate for air; every vein upon their forearms raised, pumping the blood necessary to keep their bodies at the very limit of human endurance. Pogačar’s dry and cracked lips caked with white lather from his herculean effort. I feel as though I can hear their breath and the pounding of their hearts, smell the sweat. Though of course I can’t, deafened by the crowd and nose blind as I am. But in a second, they’re gone, up the road towards the finish at an unimaginable speed.”

“RVs, campervans, cars, and tents lined the sides of the narrow mountain road. Outside of them, people. People dangling their legs off the edge of their car trunks. People sitting in plastic chairs with plastic tables, drinking bottles of wine — because, after all, this is France. People eating sandwiches, people barbecuing, and each of them waiting. Waiting for hours — even days — to catch the few minutes in which the cyclists of the Tour de France would fly by. The fans created an energy you can't get while watching the Tour on TV. The collective excitement was perhaps the biggest reason to turn off our TVs and line up alongside the road.”

“After a little time wandering around the team bus area, we grabbed lunch and walked around Lille (a lovely small city) and made our way to the 1km-to-go marker to camp out for the finish. This is when we truly felt the Tour energy: the caravan fired up the crowd, followed by cars and motorbikes flying past. People were banging on the barriers, singing, and soaking in the excitement. Then—zoom!—the riders blasted by. The adrenaline rush was epic. I grabbed a few shots but mostly put the camera down to just experience the moment.”