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Stage Five, Arras to Amiens. 189.5 kilometers (117.5 miles)
Apparently, today is the day of crashes. Not hideous crashes, but big ones, and enough of them to just wreck the nerves of the peloton. It’s mostly the weather, really, I’m thinking. Lots of rain, and wind, to boot. Ugh.
We’ve lost nine men all told, now, and what’s left is aggressive and edgy. I’ve missed most of the stage today, and for the most part, I’m thinking it’s been a lot of the same as what I’m seeing now: grim guys putting in a long day’s slog.
We’re in Amiens now, and Tony Martin, safely in yellow, is doing his OTHER job: playing lead-out man to the best sprinter in the world, Mark Cavendish. This is a sprint finish today, and barring another crash, should be a classic.
One team after another pushes forward, gets overtake, pushes up again. Extixx is betting everything on Mark. 500 meters— do they have enough to keep the front? Mark Renshaw’s lost Cav off his back wheel— Cav is lost! GO CAV! NO! Out of absolutely nowhere, with no lead-out men, it’s Andre Greipel! Peter Sagan, likewise, comes out of nowhere, but it’s not his day. Ten yards more, maybe, and he could have had it. But it’s Greipel’s turn to grin, pump the air in victory, then whack his teammates on their helmets in post-win celebration backstage. Holy cow, that was a gorgeous sprint. I could do with another couple dozen of those.
Maaaaaaan…talk about suck: it’s nearly 15 minutes after the sprint, which lead off nearly half the peloton, and here comes the second group, which comprises nearly half the riders. What on earth did I miss today? Okay, aside from rain, and heavy crosswinds, and falls, and…yeah, never mind.
So: another day of ow on the roads of France, with many more yet to come. Yay!
Apparently, today is the day of crashes. Not hideous crashes, but big ones, and enough of them to just wreck the nerves of the peloton. It’s mostly the weather, really, I’m thinking. Lots of rain, and wind, to boot. Ugh.
We’ve lost nine men all told, now, and what’s left is aggressive and edgy. I’ve missed most of the stage today, and for the most part, I’m thinking it’s been a lot of the same as what I’m seeing now: grim guys putting in a long day’s slog.
We’re in Amiens now, and Tony Martin, safely in yellow, is doing his OTHER job: playing lead-out man to the best sprinter in the world, Mark Cavendish. This is a sprint finish today, and barring another crash, should be a classic.
One team after another pushes forward, gets overtake, pushes up again. Extixx is betting everything on Mark. 500 meters— do they have enough to keep the front? Mark Renshaw’s lost Cav off his back wheel— Cav is lost! GO CAV! NO! Out of absolutely nowhere, with no lead-out men, it’s Andre Greipel! Peter Sagan, likewise, comes out of nowhere, but it’s not his day. Ten yards more, maybe, and he could have had it. But it’s Greipel’s turn to grin, pump the air in victory, then whack his teammates on their helmets in post-win celebration backstage. Holy cow, that was a gorgeous sprint. I could do with another couple dozen of those.
Maaaaaaan…talk about suck: it’s nearly 15 minutes after the sprint, which lead off nearly half the peloton, and here comes the second group, which comprises nearly half the riders. What on earth did I miss today? Okay, aside from rain, and heavy crosswinds, and falls, and…yeah, never mind.
So: another day of ow on the roads of France, with many more yet to come. Yay!