Every year my kids get a kick out of watching me in front of the TV screaming like a madman to a group of masochist madmen in spandex who for not logical reason decide to battle against the most challenging test a sport can provide: It's called Tour de France. Sure, people can say whatever they want against professional bicycling because sadly, a bunch of cheaters have managed to stain the sport I passionately love, but no matter what, I could never stop the feeling I get watching those insane athletes going up and down the Alps or the Pyrenees or through the cobble stones of Paris.