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(Image credit: Lauren Volo)

I did not grow up watching a lot of television. This isn’t because my family had any real objection to television; I think it had more to do with the fact that my mom is German and hadn’t watched TV growing up and also that we were always busy running around doing something outside.

Of course, there were exceptions: We watched cartoons on Saturday mornings (Thunder Cats!) and, when I was in high school, we sometimes stayed up to catch George Clooney on ER (although mostly, due to the fact that I had swim practice at 5 a.m., I fell asleep about 10 minutes into the program).

The biggest exception to the rule, however, was the Tour de France. I can’t remember exactly when or why or how it became a Thing That We Did, but every July, we’d tune in to watch. The dulcet tones of Phil Liggett, year after year of Miguel Indurain in the yellow jersey, and, of course, Lance Armstrong, defined my TV-watching experience.

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