I tried to dissect the first day’s ride -- 59 miles from Bordeaux to St. Emilion. Now acutely aware that my climbing skills on the hills were not sufficient to tackle the Alps sans divine intervention, I prayed.

It went something like this:

Dear Lord,

I really believe doing this tour is Your will for me, and I’m doing it for a good cause, but I have to tell you, I am suffering in this heat. If it doesn’t cool off soon, I’m going to sit in the sag wagon for the remainder of the trip and take pictures out the window like a 78 year old Floridian tourist.

I don’t care if every fat-livered duck in this region dies of hypothermia, it must cool off. Who really likes Foie Gras anyway? I’m not built for this kind of heat.

Please, some cooler weather. I’d welcome something around 70-ish, cool sunshine and even a Seattle-like summer shower.

Merci. Thank you. [Amusingly, I wondered why He'd need translation.] Amen.