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Introduction


The first time I watched every stage of the Tour de France, July was shaping up to be an empty husk. My boss was out of our office-of-two on vacation in Italy, my friends were in other states or taking their kids to summer activities. I was living in a sparse studio apartment out West with an air conditioning unit that barely took the edge off, lonely and nursing my stomach lining back to health.

I got the idea to watch every second of every stage of the Tour because it’s exactly the kind of thing that I would do. So I did some Googling, gave Peacock my card number, and marked my calendar for the start. 

The wrench: 9 hours of time difference between PST and CEST. There was no way I could watch this thing live, like all the other sports I engaged with –– I had to make a new routine.

I would wake up a little early to get a jump on work. Quick breakfast over the sink, coffee, head buzzing with cycling already, rush to the office to do my tasks as fast as possible. 

On lunch at noon, leg jiggling, I would cast the reel in mind out until the hook caught onto the back of a rider’s jersey as he whizzed by. Thousands of miles away, I could feel the peloton smearing across the page of the day with paint thick enough it would still be damp for me to touch when I got home. 

Truthfully, I skived off work just after 4:00 routinely that July. And as soon as I got into my house, before my shoes were even off, my laptop was open in my arms. The rest of my evening was a foregone conclusion; I went to bed closing my computer on the podium ceremonies at the same time my head hit the pillow. 
Almost all of the other times in my life that I’ve been so overwhelmed with something that I can’t think about anything else, can’t even dream about anything else, it’s been negative. Par contre, the Tour was a painless eclipse. Who can walk away from that? I’ve watched every second of every Tour around my work schedule since. 

Watching stages on replay after work is a rite of passage for cycling fans around the globe who white-knuckle their 9-5 until they can turn their TVs on at home. We made this guide to understanding and watching the Tour because we know most people cannot feasibly watch every stage, and may not know where to begin or what to prioritize.

But watching even a modest amount of the Tour de France is something that will return some of life’s greatest and indescribable moments to you. Not just in a way that only sport can but in a way that only cycling can; not just in a way that only cycling can, but in a way that only the Tour can. 

It may take time to soften into it, it may take a couple turns on the merry-go-round to start to understand TdF’s shape and texture for full reward. But if you want to gently set some of your burdens on the shelf this summer, we hope this guide will offer an easy way to put some major landmarks down on the often-murky topography of getting into cycling. 

Whether you have 15 minutes to spare in the evenings or are blessed with three weeks of complete freedom to fill up with racing, whether you’re a longtime sports fan or don’t know a single rule of a single sport, we encourage you all to watch the Tour this summer.


Take it away, boys.


Next: Learn as you go

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