After 32 hrs on a plane and eating your way through countless airplane meals, the last thing you think you would feel like is riding your bike. In actual fact, I can report that after 32 hrs on a plane, you feel EXACTLY like riding a bike.
So 2 he's after we arrived at the hotel, we had assembled our bikes and left on a 40km 'wake the legs up' ride. We took in the very best of the Toulouse industrial areas and saw some very architecturally interesting airport buildings.
20km in, the peloton hears of a rider trailing us that has fallen off. 2 Upper Limb orthopaedic surgeons are despatched to assess the situation. Turns out a 60yr old local has fallen hard onto his left hand, causing a posterolateral elbow dislocation. Some firm pressing on his elbow reassured us his radial head probably wasnt fractured. Attempts to reassure the patient turned out to be futile, as he spoke only French and our mangled French wasn't going to cut it. Even with the language difficulties, it was becoming obvious the patient was becoming a little confused, probably resulting from the pain and an incipient vasovagal episode. He was managing to hold a surprisingly nonplussed conversation on his mobile. Carpe diem-I pulled on his elbow and received a satisfying clunk for my efforts. I advised him to keep it flexed to avoid it slipping out again, but in his confused state he started to gesticulate with both arms somewhat alarmingly. Or it could just be that he was French.
I reached into the depths of my year 9 French and offered a "Bonne chance!" as we rode off. I hope the Good Samaritan act applies in France.
The rest of the ride continued through centuries old French villages and waving fields of bright yellow sunflowers.
The jet lag hit with a vengeance that night. Or it could have been the schooner of Heineken.
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