Blink. Snap out of it.
Bob Roll isn’t in your living room. You’re not actually on the break, two minutes ahead of the main field, so stop panting. You don’t have to throw your water bottle out the window to shed weight (or unzip your jersey to cool off, ew).
It’s OK. You’ve just been watching too much of the Tour de France.
Now that you’ve come to your senses — really, Bobke isn’t your BFF — check these five clues that you’ve become too absorbed in the Tour for your own good:
1 You think you’re Phil.
You wake up to Phil Liggett’s voice every day, and somewhere in the Alps stages, your roommates noticed a curious phenomenon: You started talking like Phil Liggett.
You probably won’t stop until the lanterne rouge crosses the line on the Champs-Elysées.
You grew up in Kansas City, not London. (Actually, neither did Phil.) You’re corn fed. Stop it with the fish and chips and eat barbecue. Actually, no — organic quinoa with soy cheese. You’re in Boulder.
2 You commentate on everything.
Cooking dinner wasn’t exciting before. Now even ramen has flair.
The noodles are “dancing on the bubbles.” The soy sauce is “pouring down the mountain of ramen like a man possessed!”
If you packed your ramen into a musette bag and then dropped it just to have something extra to commentate on, your friends need to abduct you and take you out. Somewhere that isn’t playing the Tour. And not Brasserie Ten Ten — too French.
3 You sprint for everything.
You and your buddies used to sprint for that one sign on Neva Road. Now you sprint for every sign on every ride, add the imaginary sprint points in your head and yell the standings back to your buddies (“Six points! I love green! In your face, Dave!), who had no idea you were going to sprint.
Have they been tough to pin down for a ride lately? That’s what I thought.
Also: If you recently put your head down to sprint and plowed into the back of a minivan, you might be a little too into the battle for the green jersey.
4 You’re getting pasty.
You’ve stopped riding. Too busy watching.
That bold line across your thigh where you used to adjust the bottom of your bike shorts? It’s the line between your fitness and the Tour. It’s July — you should be tan on one side, shockingly white on the other.
Line? What line?
Go ride your bike, Pasty McPalerson. It misses you.
5 You’re a little too invested.
You sobbed when Schleck had a mechanical and threw brie at the television when Contador stood on the podium to don the yellow jersey after leaving him behind. Your neighbor’s dog howled because you cried out “Andy, NO!” so loudly they heard you at both Boulder Cycle Sport locations.
Today’s a rest day on the Tour. Make it a rest day from the Tour. Think about something else (daydreaming about the Vuelta doesn’t count). You might even be fit for French society again before the boys head back up the Tourmalet.