Dave Brailsford likes to term July the "pointy end" of the cycling season, and in 2012 the pointy bit is as spiky as Everest, with just five clear days between the finish of the Tour de France and the opening cycling event, the men's elite road race.
There is a set of railings, about six or eight of them, just before the entrance to the Place de la Concorde, about a kilometre from the Tour de France finish on the Champs-Élysées.
Finally, 75 years after a man named Charlie Holland led a three-man team on an exploratory venture that ended when his pump broke and he was unable to reflate a punctured tyre, Britain has its first winner of the Tour de France.
Today Bradley Wiggins will arrive in Paris donning the yellow jersey hoping to complete one of the most incredible British sporting achievements in securing the Tour De France crown.
Graeme McDowell has insisted his major-winning experience will be of little relevance in his quest to overhaul Adam Scott on the final day of the Open.
I was there, in Rotterdam just two years ago, when Team Sky made their Tour de France debut and it was not an especially auspicious introduction to the world's greatest cycling race. Scratch that: it was a humbling beginning to what would become an unmitigated, three-week nightmare.
For the first four and a half hours of stage 18, it seemed that the seven men of the Praetorian Guard had been given the day off.
Open championships need not always bow to conventional ways. The 141st playing of golf's oldest major has witnessed a wavy-haired country and western fan from Nashville storm to the summit of the leaderboard.
Rory McIlroy may not quite yet be, as has been claimed in more excitable quarters, the new Tiger Woods – give it another five or 10 majors, then let's talk – but few would deny the young man is box office. On the first morning of this Open, the old Tiger Woods marched an animated army three deep up and down Lytham. On the second, Rory's roarers went one better; equally devoted, they stood four in line.