As we looped around the Velodrome at the one-mile mark, to the sounds of a samba band, the sun came out, glinting on the temporary fences, scaffolding and equipment still being used by the neon-jacketed workmen who waved and cheered on the runners -- and walkers.
Though in recent decades the final traces of the grand old days of mahogany dining cars and dinner-jacketed waiters serving up turtle soup have vanished, the line still makes for an adventure worthy of any Grand Tour, particularly with your own diminutive passengers in tow.