Lovely lumps: “There’s the mountains now. There’s no way out, only over the top, and the riders know it. It’s an awful long detour if you want to go around these big lumps of … of granite down here in the south of France.”
The divine cyclomedy: “The tempo is spreading the sprinters at the moment down the hills. Very shortly the middle-distance climbers will find themselves in trouble because the pace at the front of the pure climbers, the men who are now in their playground. This is their garden, and they’re going to take revenge over the week of purgatory.”
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