07/14/2026
Today, on France’s Fête Nationale, I stood with my 10 year old daughter along a narrow mountain road near my mother’s farm in Canhac, in central region of France waiting to witness the cyclists of the Tour de France.
The heat was intense. The road was crowded. Fans stood shoulder to shoulder on both sides, filled with excitement and anticipation.
And then they came.
In a matter of moments, the cyclists flew past us—after hours of riding through steep climbs, unforgiving heat, physical pain, mental pressure, and exhaustion most of us can only imagine.
As I watched them, I felt deeply moved.
I thought about what it must take to keep pedaling when every muscle is burning. To remain focused while surrounded by noise, droves of cheering spectators, narrow mountain roads, and constant risk. To continue cycling for nearly six hours when the mind may be begging the body to stop.
That kind of perseverance requires far more than physical strength.
It requires mental fitness.
It requires the ability to quiet the Judge that says, “You are not doing enough.”
The Hyper-Achiever that says, “You must keep proving yourself.”
The Hyper-Vigilant that warns, “Something could go wrong.”
And the Restless Saboteur that wants to escape the discomfort of the present moment.
Instead, they must return again and again to the Sage.
One breath.
One turn.
One climb.
One pedal stroke at a time.
There was something else incredibly powerful about this experience. The Tour de France is one of the world’s greatest global sporting events, yet it takes place across the towns, villages, countryside, and mountains of France—and remains freely accessible to the public along its route.
No stadium ticket was required.
People of all ages and backgrounds simply gathered along the roadside, united by anticipation, admiration, and shared human connection. For a brief moment, the narrow road became a place of community, belonging, and collective celebration.
Watching the cyclists reminded me that perseverance is not always loud or dramatic. Sometimes, it is simply the decision to keep going when no one can truly see how hard the journey feels inside.
It is choosing courage over doubt.
Presence over panic.
Purpose over pain.
Today, I did not simply witness the Tour de France.
I witnessed resilience.
I witnessed community.
I witnessed mental fitness.
And I witnessed the extraordinary strength of the human spirit.
In life and leadership, we may not control the heat, the hills, the pressure, the crowds, or the road ahead—but we can choose how we meet the moment.
Where in your life are you being called to keep pedaling?