Back in the summer of 09 three friends were sitting around after a ride drinking a very nice red from the south of France discussing things they felt compelled to do.
"Let's go watch Lance beat Contador next summer in the Pyrenees" and after another bottle we agreed that training in the flatlands to spend two weeks in the high Pyrenees just to watch Lance go by in 10 seconds was a most admirable way to utilize our winter, spring and early summer.
On the plane, off the plane, switch gates. Then in the new gate they announce "all you folks going to San Francisco will have to wait, we're sending you plane to Paris instead. "
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