Tour de Vermont!

Josh, on our bike path, preparing for the big tour.

(It is crucial when pronouncing this title you say it as though you were French, "Tour de Vehr-moh!"). That's right. For some crazy reason we, being the Madsen family, have the disillusioned idea that we are now somehow Lance Armstrong and the Discovery team. Though instead of racing throughout France and the infamous Pyrenees, we are racing on the back roads of Vermont. When I initially heard this idea, I immediately had visions of me, being lithe and fit, riding through the hilly Vermont countryside with ease and grace, the cool, crisp fall air blowing through my hair--all the while wearing the yellow jersey, mind you. Now that it is getting closer to the actual bike tour, reality has set in and these are the new visions (more like nightmares): me, larger than normal, puffing and huffing, walking my bike up all forms of hills, no matter how mediocre, and then asking incessantly the age-old question, "Are we there yet?" Josh tells me not to worry--we'll only be riding thirty miles a day, which he thinks should only take me three hours. To this I reply, "Three hours? Three hours? Have you ever actually sat on a bike for three hours? That will wreak havoc on my crotch bones!" In order to better prepare for this ordeal, we have been going on daily hour-long bike rides for the last few days and, let me tell you, ONE hour is enough to wreak havoc on aforementioned crotch bones. Ah, well. I am still looking forward to enjoying visions of the beautiful New England trees changing colors and the crisp, cool fall air (not to mention the great company and staying in fun, New England towns). Only, I fully intend on riding far less than thirty miles and letting the "relief car" (Josh's mom in a mini-van) come and pick me up along the way.