There is this prison movie cliche: the protagonist is in jail, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, somewhere hot and arid. Naturally, he was set up, he didnít commit the crime, but the corrupt detective/prosecutor/judge was hell-bent on incarcerating him and he ends in in said prison. He is attacked by the vicious gang that rules the joint, the corrupt prison governor finds him guilty and sends him to the pit. The pit is a hole in the ground/sand, they throw him in and lock the metal flap to make that hot hole in the ground even more desperately hot. That’s how I felt today.
Not being an overly confident motorbike passenger, I was more comfortable (from a safety point of view) wearing my padded jacket. The only small problem with that was that the temperature today reached and at certain points exceeded 40 degrees. I felt like a shark: I couldnít stop riding the moto or heatstroke would come knocking on the door. On the moto, it was bearable-ish, but I was quite happy at the end of the stage, when I could finally ditch the jacket.
Not sure what I will do tomorrow, another day in the pit or will I risk life and limb while seeing how Boels-Dolmans defends Megan Guarnierís pink jersey. I have never wanted a cloudy day this much in my life.