A Front Row to the Story

The seat was literally on the finish line! Shaded. Right up on the Champs. It could've been just a seat. But with Mummu, it became a portal.

The first pass was blur and noise. By the third, our guide was narrating the rhythm only riders know.

“Watch the shoulders,” he said. “This is where it starts to break.”

And then it happened. A sprinter slipped. A leadout man cracked wide open. A domestique gave his last pull and let go. I wasn’t just watching anymore. I was inside it.

Not because of the view. Because of the way Mummu framed it. The insight. The timing. The hush that fell around us when the final lap came.

It’s easy to be a spectator at the Tour. Mummu made me a witness.