Today was easier. Thank God. 51 kilometers, only 5 hours riding. Yes, I said only 5 hours. That’s who I’ve become. We got an 8am start again and it was so beautiful. I don’t know where this rain is that was forecast, but it didn’t follow us today. (Knocking on wood). The first hour and a half was pretty tough, up and up the Col de Aravis. But the scenery was stunning, the mountains dizzying if you looked up at them. More farms in the valley. I passed a pasture with a mare and her colt, a few other horses, and a sheepdog all grazing and hanging out together. (At least it looked like a sheepdog, perspectives can get wonky). I decided to make this Mama horse my totem animal for the day, to bring me good luck on the ride. These are the kinds of things you think about when you’re trying to distract yourself from extreme effort. Yesterday I rode under a beautiful hawk perched on a branch above me and decided that he would be my good luck charm. Either that or he was going to shit on my head. (He didn’t).

The Col de Aravis was relatively short though– 2 hours? Its all relative now I guess. When we reached the summit we saw another cyclist put on his jacket for the descent and he looked like he knew what he was doing so we followed suit. We were so hot and sweaty at the top but going down it was chilly and tree shaded. I was cold enough to consider stopping to put something else on– I’ve got leg warmers, arm warmers, a thing that goes over my head under the helmet and covers my whole head and neck except for some of my face. That last one isn’t official bicycle attire, and would definitely make die-hard cyclists cringe if they saw me wearing it. I braved the chill, though, and then when we started climbing again (back in the sun) I warmed up quickly. The quick change of temperature felt invigorating, it felt like childhood– being a kid getting out of a cold pool or ocean or lake and then flopping down on the grass, skin tingling, to let the sun bake you warm again. Speaking of attire, this woman rode past me wearing this skin-tight black mesh top over her sport bra, and from the back I have to admit it looked kind of sexy (yet professional). I thought: I should get one of those little numbers. But then, no. My bike gear is long sleeves and long pants to protect myself from the sun, cos getting a sunburn on top of all this would be seriously awful. I cover myself head to toe except for my face which I entrust to La Roche-Posay sunscreen SPF 50 which hasn’t failed me yet.

We rode some flat, then another climb: Col de Saisies. This one was longer, endless really. I sometimes go through phases of emotion on these climbs. There weren’t alot of other cyclists, but when they did pass they looked all young and fresh and pro-training style. Today I hated them. A guy would pass me, all lanky with his feather-light bike and we’d say “bonjour” and then I’d think: “Cocky fuck.” For no reason, no reason at all. But nothing is reasonable on these days. One guy, an American of course, called out as he passed: “Having fun?!” I hated him. What am I supposed to say? “I’m dying right now you moron, but yeah I’m doing this ride willingly so I guess its fun.” I yelled back: “In a way!” Bastard. He rode on. One French kid was super sweet, I have no idea what he said to me but he had sweat running down his face and we had a moment of non-verbal sharing in our mutual suffering.

When I finally reached the summit of Col de Saisies, Gabriel was there sitting in a patch of grass next to the sign signaling the summit. He was eating some bread and cheese and waiting for me. Four British guys had ridden up from the other side and were taking pictures of themselves posed next to the sign. I slowed my bike and wobbled onto the grass, preparing to stop. But my left foot wouldn’t unclip from the pedal and the grass was uneven and so you can guess what happened. I fell over flat on my left side. Just went straight down, plunk, stiff as a board, right in front of the guys. They had the courtesy to stifle their laughs but they all took turns taking pictures of me sprawled on the ground, including Gabriel. Once I laughed, everyone else did too. Oh these priceless moments.

The rest of the ride was down, flying fast and fun, and great views. We found our village and our hotel without too much trouble. Its a teeny tiny place, hardly even on a map. There are about 2 hotels and the one we’re in: the room has a bathroom that is kind of like a tiny addition-unit. Like imagine the size of an airplane bathroom but with a shower squeezed in also. Its like a tiny shed you can buy at Home Depot and just connect the water to it. Once again, it doesn’t matter cos the room is clean, the water is hot, and we do nothing but sleep, eat, and maybe read so who cares.

Gabriel is feeling pukey from the altitude– I’m not even sure what it is, 3 or 4 thousand feet. I’m not really feeling it yet, but that may be to come because we’ll be climbing higher. Tomorrow is going to be a hard day — an official one– but not “the hardest day” officially. On the 15th, we have a day of rest. No riding. I can’t even imagine what that will be like. Gabriel just went in the shed to pee…and now I’m getting the giggles. Time for bed. Hugs and love to whoever is reading this.