Then a taste of winning. And so we come back to the Netherlands, and the memories of Lance's stunning victory in '93, the remarkable incident where he refused to visit the Swedish king unless his mother could also attend, and one day, one race for proof. Rain capes for riders and umbrellas for spectators are essential equipment. Many of the press corps just watch on TV, and people openly debate whether October in the Netherlands is the optimum timing for a race of such stature. Lance seems content to ride herd with the peloton, and let others drive the race for the moment.
Laps click by, solo and small attack groups occur, but no one can seem to sustain anything.
Flats are frequent, and recovering the pack makes for miserable riding and some serious energy output the race continues. One-third of the way through the race, and still no mention of Lance. Average speed's around 25 mph not exactly rocketing, but then consider the course. Halfway through the race and the weather is unbelievably worse. With two-thirds of the race behind them the race has split into 3 distinct packs.