Okay, every year, I wish I were a cyclist.

This year is the same. I could be that fit! Oh well. However, Lance is doing well (oh, come on folks, you do that ride and then you can gripe), despite the pack attempting, vigorously, to beat him into the pavement. I presume that he's got something in reserve, waiting for the Pyrenees and the last week to Paris.

Yes, I have faith.

Oh, and someone's auctioning an autographed photo of Lance on a bike, in the nude, in the rain.

Someone needs to buy me a late birthday present.