Are you AEROZO compatible?

You have bought L'Équipe just to check the time gaps before a Tour stage.

You were circling the climbs in pen on the route map before the race even started.

You genuinely thought: "Today could split in the crosswind."

You have argued with a family member because they wanted to watch something else during the Tour de France.

For you, July meant the caravan, television coverage, helicopter noise, crushing heat and a nap through a flat stage before the sprint finish.

You have shouted "CRASH AT THE BACK!!!" at the entire campsite when nobody else was watching the Tour.

You have waited hours at the roadside on a descent for a free musette, a team cap, three questionable freebies and to watch the peloton pass at 70 km/h for exactly 4 seconds.

Watching George Hincapie climb as fast as Ullrich had absolutely not shocked you at the time.

For you, Thibaut Pinot is a bit like Zidane with a helmet.

You watch The Pinot Moment the way others watch the ending of a film they love every time.

Watching Froome run up the Ventoux on foot remains a historic moment of modern sport.

Jalabert will forever be a panda who drops people out of the saddle.

When someone mentions mimosa, you don't think of a flower or a brunch drink — you think of a breakaway specialist gone all day.

For you, Alaphilippe's yellow jersey in 2019 lasted exactly three and a half emotional centuries.

For you, Sandy Casar — now that was a real rider.

You have tried to attack on a car park ramp after watching a mountain stage on television.

You know exactly what the France Télévisions Tour opening titles of the 2000s looked like.

You genuinely believed that Oakley glasses increased your power output.

You have already shouted "TAKE A PULL!!!" at a television screen.

You know the names of mountain passes before you know the names of some capitals.

You sometimes look at a bike leaning against a wall the way others look at a work of art.

You have taken a corner and thought: "Careful — Savoldelli descent."

You still find it perfectly normal for a rider to attack 70 km from the finish in 38-degree heat.

You have stood up on the pedals in a gentle slope just to do your Pantani impression.

You know that a bidon thrown by a pro was worth more than a trophy.

Since February, you have been regularly searching your favourite young rider's name and "Tour de France" on Google as if the internet will eventually give you the answer you want.

You have already checked the startlist of an obscure Italian race just to see if Pogacar was entered.

When a rider attacks 82 km from the finish, you already know inside they'll be caught… but you believe in them anyway.

You consider a time trial in the rain to be automatically a work of art.

You have put Eurosport back on at 2am to rewatch a mountain attack in slow motion.

You think the old foam hairnet helmets of the 90s had infinitely more charisma than some of today's aero helmets.

You have already thought "He's cooking right now" when you saw a rider slightly open his mouth on a climb.

You consider Paris-Roubaix in sunshine to be an incomplete version of Paris-Roubaix.

You have checked the weather forecast for a famous climb more carefully than the forecast for your own holiday.

You know the Alpe d'Huez bends by heart… even though the Alps for you mostly meant ski trips in borrowed gear as a kid.

You can tell a real climber from a fake climber and from a rouleur who is "limiting the damage".

You have already wanted to applaud someone simply because they were riding smoothly out of the saddle.

For you, a dirty yellow jersey high in the mountains remains one of the most beautiful objects in world sport.

When someone descends a pass a little too fast, you automatically think of a famous crash descent from Tour history.

You refuse the idea that a child should have to wait until they are "old enough" to ride a real machine.