The Beat Of You Breathing.

Stage 10 - Macon to Ballegarde-sur-Valserine.

For the last hour I have been talking to FJ, trying to convince him that going to Crown with Ollie is a good idea. "You're fucking twentythree!" I tell him, "This is exactly what you're supposed to be doing! Go out and have some adventures, goddamn it." Eventually he is down with the plan and they head off into the city, leaving me sitting up the back of the bar all by myself. People I know are beginning to spill out. "What's happening?" I ask, "Is the stage finished? Who won?" They look incredulous, as if they fully expect someone who has made a twentyone day commitment to writing a tour diary to be slightly more attentive to the actual tour. I start to wonder if I've been projecting a persona that is somehow in opposition to the person I think I am. Chances are pretty good.

Someone tells me Voeckler won the stage. I like Voeckler, but I can't say I'm particularly interested, especially when I hear that he has once again won from a breakaway. The GC hasn't changed, despite Nibali attempting to snap the elastic attaching him to Team Sky on every descent, and despite Mick Rodgers nearly ending up in a ditch trying to reel him back in.

The more folks talk, the more I realize I don't give a shit. I climb on my bike and head towards bed.

The next day I'm still not particularly interested. Watching the highlights on YouTube, the best thing to occur in the whole stage is Jens Voigt handing old mate from BMC a waterbottle, after old mate missed his musette. What I am interested in, however is FJ's adventures at Crown. Apparently he and Ollie had hit the dancefloor pretty hard, and ended up bumping and grinding Miss Universe Jennifer Hawkins. He's a little worse for wear, so I take him out for breakfast.