Transitioning from the Pyrenees to the Rhone Alps, nostalgia took a surprising toll. The learning curve is all uphill.

The journey from Andorra to France was an unanticipated challenge. Transitioning from the Pyrenees to the Rhone Alps, nostalgia took a surprising toll. In years gone by, travels through this diverse region included playing opportunities every season of the year. Skiing Chamonix  in winter then cycling the high mountain areas around the Mont Blanc in summer, took full advantage of my independence and driving privilege when I had ventured out while living in central Europe.

In 2012, from Albertville,  I raced in my first cycling event ever, the L’Étape du Tour (‘stage of the Tour de France’) which allows amateur cyclists to race over the same route as the professionals a day earlier. Now dependent on others for transportation, moving along as a passenger amongst some of the 140 km L’Etape race route, I stared in silence overcome with a heavy heart. Passing signs directing towards Annecy, the start of the 2013 event, had me in deep reflection of the direction my life had taken.

Insidious thoughts of all things pre-September 2014 ruminated as the road snaked up to Val D’isere. A sense of stoicness shaded feelings of inadequacy, sadness; anxiety increased along with the elevation of the motorway. Certainly not a grande depart in France though remind myself that this too shall pass.

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