The tour de france is on again and I am happy and I love it. The tour is just... July, its exciting and exhilarating and inspiring but at the same time its comforting. The sound of Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwin excitedly narrating the race is one of the most familiar and welcomed sounds of my summer. The whirring of bicycle chains, the intensity of each rider, the strategy that goes into each stage of the tour, roar of the emphatic fans, the terror of the crashes, the pure joy of the victor of each stage, the look of myrth that flits across they're face when they pass the line, it all just entirely encompasses the tour for me. Each rider has a different purpose in the team working together to make one flawless cohesive unit. For as long as I can remember my July mornings have been filled with the excitement of the tour and Lance Armstrong's upsets in it, punctuated by the celebratory screams and sympathetic moans of my own family and friends watching just as intently as the fans in France. I wouldn't have it any other way. I am a creature of habit, and the tour de france is a habit I am particularly proud of having.
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