The Tour de France starts today. The finest display of substance fuelled endurance the world has to offer. Not so much endurance these days as the Tour now seems to be increasingly shipped from one part of the Hexagon to another by train and plane rather than pedal power. This year appears to involve more of this extra-pedal transport than before. It is also a clockwise tour, with the Alps preceding the Pyrenees, which for me is always the wrong way round. The baking slopes of the likes of Mont Ventoux should always be the final purgatory for an exhausted rider before the Elysian Fields of Paris.