Posted by Malcolm Gunn on 10 April 2010 | 1 Comments
One of the reasons I spend most July evenings watching the Tour of France unfold is the appeal of watching fate play its cruel hand in the fortunes of seriously competitive men. The stakes are high and gambling on a breakaway that might or might not succeed is a bold move. So often, what seems like an unassailable leads get whittled down to nothing by a team effort from the peloton in the last couple of kilometers and those who have pedalled their brains out to stay away are consumed by the peloton and spat out the back, spent and sore. I feel for these men, for I have been there - in my own modest way. As recently as Saturday.
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