Tour de France macarons and a madeleine
I was raised in a town where cycling was a big deal, but didn’t realize I was being exposed to something special. I don’t remember what came first – seeing a pro stage or dating an aspiring pro cyclist. Worth mentioning I was 16 and he was 22. I spent a summer hanging out with him where he lived with his aunt watching the Tour de France. He had a smoking hot body and I got over that he always shaved his legs.
Before anyone gets concerned, there was no sex and I broke up with him because I found him to be immature and irresponsible. 😂
For whatever reason the exposure to cycling stuck with me, and over time I felt one day I had to do whatever it took to see at least one Tour de France stage in person.
As an adult I didn’t have a lot of luck with dating and relationships – some due to low self-esteem (diminishing thanks to aging and therapy) as well as just not really knowing how to be in a relationship, especially once the honeymoon phase is over. I know plenty of women that are waiting for a partner to do things with. I made the decision that I would do the things I wanted to do, and if I found someone along the way, great. If not, at least I wasn’t holding myself back for a hazy idea of what a perfect boyfriend would be.
Don’t get me wrong – I’d still love to have a boyfriend, especially one that appreciates a sports-loving girl who feels uncomfortable in a dress. But I am also OK not crying myself to sleep over a broken heart.
So back to the post title. I saved up my money and bought a trip to France. Rented a car (stick shift like a badass) and drove to the stage today. I had a combination of tears and goosebumps as I took it all in.
I made my dream come true.