Warning: profanity will be employed in this addition of the blog.

6 1/2 hours. 82 kilometers. 6 bottles of water. 3 stops to pee on the side of the road. 2 packs each of energy goo (I used to hate the stuff, now I’ve never appreciated it more). 1/2 of a fresh baked eclair– creamy, flakey, mouth watering. We fucking made it.

Normally we might have taken a break during a ride like this, but we decided to get up early and try to outrun the rain. We meant to leave Thonon at 7, but it was 8 by the time we were on the road. We had sun and a few clouds, but none looked ominous. Still, we kept our stops very brief. The first hour or so was all farmland. Its wonderful to ride at that hour. The sun is up, but the air is still cool and dewey. Bright shades of green, fragrant grass around us. Sheep and horses grazing. The jingling of cowbells (I love that sound). After a while we reached our first mountain climb. A canopy of trees shaded us overhead and woods surrounded us on either side. The climb was hard but not impossible, and took about an hour. Then we were flying downward, then flat, then up again. After hour 3 I don’t really remember what came in what order. By hour 4 my brain was getting loopy. Song lyrics were popping randomly into my head. I had profound thoughts like: “Wow. Cows are actually really big animals” as we rode by a pasture of them.

We went through some villages, one with the patisserie where we stopped and Gabriel wolfed down a fruit tart and most of an eclair. I was too buzzy to even try to eat much. We climbed another mountain. Some older guy cyclists rode by me up the hill and I thought (but didn’t say): “Ok fine but which one of us is carrying 30 extra pounds clipped to their ass?” Right. At hour 5 it was hot, so hot. We found a spring of water to fill up our bottles and Gabriel dunked his head under it and said: “This is all I want for my birthday. Water.” And then I realized that that is one of the reasons we like to do these trips. Because they make the ordinary feel extraordinary. For 2 weeks, we take nothing for granted. Not water, or hot baths, or food, or even shade. We rode on. Into hour 6 I started to think I was truly done. I could see a sign up ahead for La Clusaz but I couldn’t make it out. I prayed for it to say: “La Clusaz. Right fucking here.” But it didn’t, it said “5”. Five kilometers. That’s nothing, I can do that. But it was 5 going up. At this point it seemed like the last hour or 2 had been all up. My knees had begun their screaming a while ago. My hands were numb, my arms throbbing, even my ass hurt which never happens. But knees screaming: that’s bad bad bad. That’s a pain you don’t push through. We rode forever and ever and ever and the next sign said “La Clusaz – 3”. What the fuck?! And the 3 was even more up, I could see it ahead of me. But I kept riding and when we finally got to the village of La Clusaz and actually stopped, that’s when I felt the altitude–or maybe it was just exhaustion. I got really lightheaded (not an unpleasant feeling at that point because I would have been perfectly happy to get off my bike and lay down right there on the sidewalk and never get up again). It took us another 15 minutes to find our hotel. This place is a winter ski resort– ski lifts run up and down the mountain, and if you look up the tops are snowcapped. We are truly in the Alps now. No more messing around. We got to our room, both of us somnambulistic. At that point I was past hunger, past any human need or desire or thought. We showered, washed and hung up our clothes, and then slept. Later we got up and I my stomach was growling, distantly –like an oncoming train but I wan’t actually hungry yet. I was still numb. Gabriel, in slightly better shape than me, went out and bought a baguette and some local cheese. I nibbled them slowly, and again, my God, what could taste better at that moment, washed down with glasses and glasses of water?

And then a little later we had a birthday dinner for him at the restaurant in our hotel, which is actually a Michelin rated one. We ate a slow, 2 hour meal with perfect wine pairings and it was just wonderful. And then Gabriel hit me with: “Today was really not one of the more difficult days. Just wait.” Last year I cried at this point. This year, no tears came and the rain never reached us today. Let’s see what happens tomorrow.