BONJOUR MONSIEUR, FOLLOWING 'LE TOUR'

The fact that the Tour de France begins the same day as Wimbledon finishes means five weeks of bleariness if I’m to keep up with it all. Must admit I didn’t watch a lot of Wimbledon this year, but Le Tour, now that’s a different thing. Not that I’m a huge cycling fan, but every year I somehow get sucked into the drama and spectacle of it all, following the individuals and teams as they attempt to outwit each other with their strategies.

The cycling is probably more an excuse though for my annual visit to the French countryside. If you can’t experience the delights of a European sojourn and immerse yourself in the culture firsthand, then why not use SBS to take you there for three weeks instead. Weaving their way through the narrow streets of rural towns with architecture like nothing we have here in Oz, speeding past ancient castles and great gothic churches and cathedrals, the competitors see none of the sights brought to us from every vantage point courtesy of the cameramen perched on motorbikes, in cars and aboard helicopters.

Watched the entire first stage, including all the carnage which brought the peloton to a grinding halt close to the finish, as well as other spills which brought a few undone on the first day. For the last three nights though I’ve headed to bed to watch the guys eat up the kilometers on my dinky little TV in the bedroom. Keep falling asleep so I miss most of it, but did manage to wake up once with only 10km to go so saw that sprint. Have slept through both of Mark Cavendish’s sprint victories, but I’m saving my energy for the mountain stages, when the real fun begins.

For the cyclists, the scenery is the backdrop. Fields of sunflowers and the spectators on the side of the road pass in a blur. Their purpose is to pass through it as quickly as possible in pursuit of their goal. For those who live there, the Tour is just one small aspect of the backdrop to their daily lives, the circus that rolls into town and departs as quickly as it comes.

I wonder how much of life we live vicariously, watching others do things we aspire to, going to places we would love to visit, making commitments to achieve their dreams while we just dream, taking risks and sacrificing the known while we hesitate and play it safe. None of us want to end our lives full of regret. We all want our lives to mean something, to have the courage to act at the right moment, and be able to say with conviction that we’ve done what we were meant to do. I know for myself the pain of what it’s going to cost to achieve certain goals can often seem too much, so I put it off yet again. Procrastination trips me up time after time.

We don’t have to be a Cadel Evans or Lance Armstrong to be someone special. Being present in each moment, attuned to the people around us and the situations in which we find ourselves, making a contribution instead of taking, speaks volumes about our moral character. The pursuit of a dream is fine, and competing to the best of your ability can show remarkable strength, but it would be a shame if we were so focused on ourselves we sped on at breakneck speed while everything alongside us was left behind.