At age 15, I saw the Tour de France. There wasn’t even time to spot Lance, just a blur of colors and a whoosh of air. A mass of quads pumping away. My friends and I wore handmade shirts that read “Le Tour de France belongs to Lance!” After the mass of cyclists in bright colored jerseys had passed, we found the road littered with their discarded water bottles.
At age 18, I got
my first road bike.
At age 21, I
completed my first metric century.
At age 22, I
completed my first century.
And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with cycling.
And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with cycling.
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