I’m Itching for this Cycling Trip to End

It’s over, my 16^th French bike adventure is complete (and the hiking/touring portion of the trip with Susan has begun). Before I sum up my new cycling adventure and all the great riding, I’ll explain the “itching” headline. We (Justin and I) initially thought the growing and painful infestation on my upper right and then left inner thighs were a crazy number of horrible mosquito bites. Then, as they morphed and multiplied, we thought they were bed-bug bites (based on news stories about the outbreak in France). We even told this to the hotel owner in Vence (I showed him a portion of my bites), and he kindly moved us to a new room.

And then … The infestation kept growing and invading new parts of my body.

Spider bites?

Susan (a nurse and my wife, who arrived two days ago; the day after Justin left) initially thought they were spider bites based on our Facetime calls. But now that she’s seen them in person (including the large, new one on my butt that’s about the size of a softball) she has a new diagnosis. “It’s not Lyme disease,” she said. “It’s a rash.”

“What kind of rash?”

“Idiopathic.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“A rash of unknown origin.”

“Thanks, that’s helpful.”

Last night, we went to a pharmacy and got some Zyrtec. It’s helped some with the itching. I also have a tube of hydrocortisone ointment that I brought with me that may or may not be helping. It’s hard to tell. Each of the circular, semi-circular, crescent-shaped and bullseye-in-a-target rashes seems to have a life of its own. It appears and grows, then fades briefly and then regrows on a whim. Sorry, no photos. I don’t like it when cyclists (or anyone) posts graphic and gruesome photos of the horrible injuries they’ve sustained. It’s not something I enjoy looking at. Plus, my idiopathic rashes are in somewhat private areas that only Susan (and Justin and the hotel owner in Sospel) get to see. I think I may owe the hotel owner in Vence an apology, for even suggesting it might be bed-bug bites.

FYI: Justin (who got home three days ago) just texted and wrote: “Man all my tiny bites turned in to huge welts like yours. They’re everywhere!” Uh-oh, whatever got me got him. He thinks they may be bed-bug bites. The mystery continues, coming soon to Netflix.

OK, as for the riding …

This was a very different trip for me. It was all about climbing. I’ve always enjoyed climbing and thought of myself as a slow, but steady and tireless climber who could reach any summit. Eventually. If I took my time and was patient. Now, I may have to rethink that, and the idea that I can ride day after day, 40-mile or longer routes that are half up and half down. Then again, if I lost 10 to 15 pounds and started going back to the gym (I stopped during COVID), I could turn back the hands of time and become the climber I once was. Optimism is a mixed blessing, isn’t she?

The climbs and cols I did on this trip are already starting to meld together in my mind and the memories are all similar: incredible, breathtaking beauty that brought a smile to my face, even if I was struggling a bit. What I love about climbing, in addition to the challenge of the actual climbing, is what you see on the way up and down. There’s something special and magical about a series of mountains stretching as far as the eye can see, interrupted by valleys and cliffs and little stone villages perched atop hills. It just makes you feel good about yourself and the world around you. If everyone in the world would join me on these rides we’d live in a kinder, nicer world, filled with people with strong legs. Then again, the roads to the top of the cols might be a little too crowded.

I also enjoy the rhythms of a day devoted to cycling. There’s no hurry to get up. I always enjoy a leisurely breakfast at my hotel. Back when I first started riding in France (1985), I had very little money and would never, ever pay for breakfast at my hotel. I’d gte a yogurt and banana at a supermarche. Or, I stayed at a youth hostel, and breakfast was included (yogurt, some sort of semi-stale bread product and a mug of something hot, weak coffee or hot chocolate). Now that I have a little scratch, I always spring for breakfast. You need to start the day off right. And study your Michelin map and plan the day’s ride.

And then … I ride. From 10 or 10:30 until I’m finished.

And then … I shower and nap. And sometimes do a load of sink laundry. Back in the old days, I never napped. I’d shower and head into town and explore, often walking three or four miles around the village. I was filled with youthful energy. Like Justin was on this trip. Now, not so much, and I love my post-ride naps. They’re glorious. And give Justin a chance to gte away from me and explore on his own.

And then … a leisurely dinner. Back in the old days, I’d often eat a “supermarche” dinner.” To save money. I’d gather ingredients at the local supermarket, boulangerie and charcuterie and find a nice spot to eat. You could put together a nice meal for six or seven bucks, including wine. Now … I still do this once in a while, because I like it, especially when you can find a great spot to eat. But more and more, and especially when I’m with Susan, we enjoy finding an inexpensive, great restaurant and enjoy a leisurely meal. It’s strange, but here in Nice, the number of Italian restaurants and pizza places outnumber all the other restaurants combined. Fortunately, I love pizza.

And so, what I think I’m saying is that despite my idiopathic rashes and struggles with climbing, I’ll be back. Older, yet wiser, more mature and more realistic in my cycling aspirations.