Chasing Lance

The athletes, the competition, the journalists, the history, the mountains, the food. Martin Dugard captures more than the race in his book, Chasing Lance: The 2005 Tour de France and Lance Armstrong’s Ride of a Lifetime. He serves up a taste of the carnival atmosphere that surrounds the greatest cycling event in the world, as he follows each stage of Armstrong’s final grand win.

Dugard actually provides three stories in one. First, he introduces the reader to the sport of professional cycling—how it works and what to watch for. While an effective primer, the quick, straightforward information does not bore the serious fan. Next, the author shares the build-up of Armstrong’s victory and the chronicle of his career to that point. Now years later, it is a reminder of the athlete in his prime, prompting the question, could Armstrong have pulled off an eighth win if he had not retired (then come back, then retired again)? The book also gives a pre-Twitter insight into the smack talk and ego dramas among the players and the multiple stand-out achievements that year. It is not all about Lance.

Perhaps Dugard’s most unique offering is the story of his adventure chasing the Tour around France. He takes us along the precarious mountain roads to the odd little hotels to hear from the French waitress, the English photographer, and the many other characters along the three-week journey. It is the closest thing to being there, explaining why some of us take planes, trains, and automobiles just to see it in person.

Easy-going with a sense of humor and adventure, Chasing Lance is a great read for cycling fans as well as traveling enthusiasts. Dugard is a compelling writer of other books about heroes and adventurers, including Farther Than Any Man about Captain Cook, though his own journey with the 2005 Tour is a true highlight.

Contador's Giro Win

Today in Milan, Alberto Contador was crowned champion of the Giro d’Italia for the second time. He dominated the three-week race from Stage 8, leaving the other riders to fight for second place. Race commentators reported that Contador started celebrating his victory the previous evening, disinterested in pursuing a stage win in the individual time trial finale.

Sadly, many cycling fans are also disinterested. The mess of Contador’s failed doping test from last year’s Tour de France mars his every performance and the races he participates in. Each step of the process has appeared biased in Contador’s favor. The laundry list of special exceptions is so long and egregious, it is impossible to take any officials or testing seriously. It is also impossible to respect any results Contador produces in the meantime.

It is high time for all stakeholders in the world of cycling to commit to a fair, consistent, and transparent system. Until then, we cannot know who is cheating and who is racing right.

Journey to the Giro

I start up the mountain. Slow and steady. Step by step. I’m going as far as my feet will take me. I’m heading up the mountain, in the afternoon heat, with no regard for how I will get back down. This is what I came for—to see Lance Armstrong in a mountain-top finish at a Grand Tour. So I just keep walking up and up. It’s May 2009.

Back at my real estate office in LA, I joked that I would make it to that finish line if I had to walk all the way up Mt. Vesuvius. I have seen Lance in the Pyrenees, on the Champs Elysees, at book signings. I’ve seen sprint finishes and time trials, but never a mountain-top finish. This is my chance to see the master in his element, maybe for the last time. So I traveled from LA to Italy, Rome to Naples, Pompeii to Mt. Vesuvius. This is the day, and I am actually walking it.

This morning, I began at the ruins of Pompeii. Broken-down stone buildings hide little gems, like perfect tile mosaics and elaborately painted dining rooms. It’s not much to look at, but as you cross the stone streets, it is easy to relate to people who lived here so long ago. Like them, I am distracted by the lovely green and blue mountain in the distance. With only a few hours to get there, I gotta go.

An absence of taxis does not bother the other tourists, but I’m headed where buses are banned today. No service because of the bicycle race. After asking every local I can find, I jump into a van with some guy and cross my fingers that he is a gypsy cab driver. The guy thinks I’m nuts to travel so far to see a bike race. I’ll never get back to Naples on my own, he warns. He wishes me luck and drops me at the base of mountain. A little past the first traffic barricades, the race markers read 10K to the finish. I start walking.

The afternoon heat is beginning to build. Most Italians are having a siesta right now. I’m climbing this mountain in 95 degree heat. As the road winds back and forth, I enjoy the cool shade where I can find it. Vesuvius is lush and green here. Sometimes I am trekking through a cool forest of tall trees. Keep going, and the trees are replaced by short bushes with wildflowers and sweeping views of Naples below. 8K to the finish.

This is quite a work-out. The steep incline limits my pace, and I can’t imagine riding a bike for five hours before hitting this. My face reddens, and I feel the heat building in my core. Better slow down or I’ll pass out. I reapply sunscreen and watch the other fans walking with me. Mostly men: grandfathers with kids, guys with their girlfriends. Everyone looks Italian, except for a few hard-core fans. They stand out in their team kits and Texas caps, walking their bikes up the mountain. We’re all heading the same direction: up.

In a patch of forest about 7K to go, I follow the curving road to meet a huge banner of Lance’s face. “Hope rides again,” it reads, and I know I’ve found a friend. A middle-aged man in full Livestrong cycling gear gives me a big smile when I say hello. He is a cancer survivor of nine years, and with his wife, raised over $30,000 for Lance’s foundation. They followed Lance at the Tour de France for years as their annual vacation and were excited to mix it up in Italy this time. They have staked out a great viewing spot: in the shade, following a sharp turn, at a high incline that will slow the cyclists. They’re cheerful and enthusiastic, and I’m tempted to stay put. But I’m here for the finish, so I keep on walking.

I take a picture at the 5K banner, in case I can’t go much further. If I don’t get crushed by the heat, I’m expecting intimidating crowds. I wish I could have joined them, camping out and drinking for days in anticipation of today’s exciting finish. But on my own today, I’m wary of the drunks and limiting my water intake to minimize pit-stops behind the bushes. Expecting to see a crush of fans after every turn, I’m surprised by the empty viewing spots and subdued spectators.

It’s got to be 110 degrees by now. My face is red as a beet, my Livestrong t-shirt is soaked with sweat. At 3K to go, I refuse to quit. Now it’s a matter of principle. I will keep going as long as my body will let me. Forget about the way back. I did not haul my ass across the world to miss the finish by a measly few kilometers. Like those bigshots nearing the summit of Everest, I cannot imagine explaining that almost-made-it story back at the office. I told them I would walk it, and I keep walking. Step by step.

The sight of the 1K banner is a joy. I imagine Phil and Paul in my ear: She’s gonna make it! She dug deep and found the inner strength to conquer this beast of a mountain! This American has shown the Italians how it’s done! At 500 meters to the finish, the barricades are up, and I’m moving faster through each turn of the road. My feet are so light, as if I had just started walking. Is this how the cyclists feel at the end of the day? At 200 meters, I make the 90-degree right hand turn and see the final banner. I made it.

The crowds are lighter than I expected. The mood is strangely quiet, like for a funeral procession rather than a great bike race. The last 100 meters are lined with drunk, shirtless Italian men who are surprisingly well behaved. There is a polite little tunnel between a row of sweaty bare backs and a second row of sweaty hairy chests. I wiggle my way through to touch the finish. I made it. I made it! I walked up Mt. Vesuvius and touched a mountain-top finish of the Giro d’Italia. One of the sweaty Italians takes my picture and gives me a thumbs-up.

Then a passenger van zips up the barricaded road and drops off a group of spectators. Excuse me? They head different directions to find a good viewing spot. Are you telling me I could have gotten a ride? From within the sweaty man tunnel, hot and red-faced, I burst out laughing. Oh well.

Time to find a good spot to view the cyclists as they come in. I settle in with two Kansas law students clad in pink Giro t-shirts and drinking red wine straight from the bottle. These guys stand out in the crowd because they are actually excited to see the race. They are chatting with Franco Pellizoti’s father, who is wearing a t-shirt with his son’s face on it. Even Pellizoti Senior is surprised by their enthusiasm. All the other spectators in sight look like they’re on a TV set to mute.

Finally the cyclists start to come in. First Sastre and Pellizoti, and only the Kansas boys and I are shouting. Di Luca, Menchov, Basso. How can you keep quiet when you think about what these cyclists have done just today? Stage 19 out of 21, that’s 164 kilometers of riding this afternoon, the last 13 up the steep roads of Vesuvius. Then Levi comes around the bend. The boys go nuts. The Italians around us are laughing, completely ignoring the race and just laughing at us tourists. Undeterred, I’m thrilled that my Kansas boys recognize the cyclists quickly, giving me time to prep my camera and the proper cheer. Go Levi, go!

A few more riders come through. Now here comes Lance and his black socks. He’s riding well today.

Lance Armstrong

Go get ‘em, Lance! Go get ‘em!

In a heartbeat, he’s gone. We cheer the remaining riders as they finish, applauding their efforts. An amazing athletic achievement. Inspiring.

Suddenly the air is cooler. The cyclists head back down the mountain to their team buses, and the spectators follow by foot. Back past the 1K banner, 2K, 3K. The Livestrong couple packed up their bikes and their banner and headed to head to the next stage. The sun is setting. The Kansas boys watch out for me, and we slip through mobs for a few precious spots on a shuttle to the train station. We are all smiles.

By the time I get back to my Naples hotel, it is 10 p.m., and I am exhausted. Time for the a cold shot of the local limoncello. I will venture to tomorrow’s stage start and the time trial in Rome, but I have already accomplished what I came to do. My journey of 6,505 miles—10,469 kilometers—was complete with that mountain finish. Vesuvius: 2009—I was there.

Top 10 Lessons from the Tour of California

10. While the world may be dwelling in old debates, American cycling fans have plenty to enjoy right now.

9. It snows in California… a lot… in May…

8. Bob Roll is better looking in person. Nice dresser, too.

7. When your last name means fast, you may have an advantage in the sprint.

6. What happens in Solvang, stays in Solvang.

5. Women cyclists tear it up.

4. Mt. Baldy is a stage blessed even by the pope.

3. California wine pairs well with finish lines.

2. When Garmin wins the team competition, podium girls should avoid wearing white. 

1. Sometimes nice guys finish first.

View Goss' California Win

Matt Goss took the sprint finish at Stage 8 of the Tour of California finale in Thousand Oaks on Sunday. The HTC-Highroad rider brought home the sole stage win for the team in this race. We also see overall winner Chris Horner in the yellow jersey thanking his teammates on the way in from the finish line.

Pedal to the Midnight Sun

A quiet little road trip story, Pedal to the Midnight Sun is a documentary on the 1,300 mile bike trip two buddies take across Alaska toward the Artic Circle in 2006. The first of the pair’s efforts, Pedal is a bit like a very good homemade movie. It is a simple presentation with some weaker camera moments, accompanied by original banjo music. The charm is in the friends, JJ Kelley and Josh Thomas, who are down-to-earth, unassuming guys with a good sense of humor and wilderness beards. As they travel under their own steam, often on long stretches of dirt road, it is easy to share their enthusiasm for the unique Alaskan landscape. I got a good laugh when they were fighting a bit of boredom after cycling five hours a day for over three weeks—imagine doing it fast, in France, in July!

The buddies’ second movie, Paddle to Seattle, documents their 1,300 mile kayak ride from Alaska to Seattle, and it demonstrates an improvement in their filming skills. You may want to check this one out first, and if you like these guys, you will likely enjoy their bike ride, too.

Paddle to Seattle

Great Story in American Cycling

Chris Horner wins Tour of California

It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. Chris Horner brought home the victory at the Tour of California on Sunday, surprising nearly everyone in a great story for American cycling. Twenty years into his career, Chris has worked as a loyal teammate and now he finally gets a chance to seize the day himself. But he did it with the help of his team, an example of the unusual role that teams play in this sport, where leaders become assistants overnight, and vice versa.

A short week ago, all eyes were on Levi Leipheimer: age 37, three-time winner of the Tour of California and Santa Rosa resident. No one had bigger expectations than Levi had for himself, particularly after losing the top spot to Michael Rogers in 2010. His team, Radioshack, included Chris Horner, the 39-year-old who worked by his side at the Tour de France last year, as well as six other younger support riders.

Best known as a climber, Chris served as a solid teammate who shepherded teammates including Levi and Lance Armstrong for years up the mountains of California, France, and around the world. The advantage cyclists have when following a teammate can be surprising, as the amount of drag created by cutting through the air and wind is significant. So as a sacrifice to their own prospects, these shepherds take on the effort and enable their teammates to conserve energy and win the race.

Last year at the Tour de France, Chris was serving this role as assistant for Lance Armstrong, who was unable to keep up. As a result, Chris was eventually freed from that responsibility and allowed to pursue his own achievements. He finished tenth overall, a result that most professional cyclists only dream of. In addition, in 2010, he won the Tour de Basque, finished fourth at the Tour of California, and secured top ten finishes in several European classics including Fleche-Wallone. It added up to an impressive year at an age when most cyclists have retired.

Fast forward back to the 2011 Amgen Tour of California. After the first stage was cancelled due to snow, the sprinters dominated the next two days. On Stage 4, Radioshack drove hard at the front of the peloton, aiming to create an advantage for Leipheimer. The leading cyclists narrowed to a smaller group, and at about three kilometers to the finish with an average gradient of over 9%, Horner had the legs. Levi could not keep up. Horner was freed to go for it himself, leaving behind Levi and every other rider. As he powered to the finish, Horner wore his signature look in the mountains. It is a grin that could be a smile or a grimace, though the smile fits better with Horner’s easy-going personality.

Horner won the day, secured the race lead, and became the Radioshack team leader. In cycling, that leadership is earned on a daily basis, and bad luck or bad legs can turn team roles upside down. Now the original race favorite, Leipheimer, was obligated to help his teammate best their competitors and even best him. Horner had a 1 minute 15 second advantage over Leipheimer, who was 7 seconds ahead of the third place man, Tom Danielson of Garmin-Cervelo.

But not so fast. The individual time trial is a break from the team rules. It is a race against the clock for each man, free to pursue his own goals. The Stage 6 time trial in Solvang was an opportunity for all the cyclists to pull back time on Chris, who is regarded as a good if not great time trialer. Levi is known as one of the world’s best, and he had won this stage when it was last in Solvang in 2009. Despite a solid effort, Levi missed the stage win by 14 seconds, with David Zabriskie of Garmin-Cervelo finishing first. For the overall race, he closed part of the gap to his teammate, but Horner retained the lead by 38 seconds.

Matthew Busche

The next stage was the most dramatic mountain-top finish the Tour of California has ever seen. While a relatively short course at 75.8 miles, the riders climbed 15,000 feet to finish atop Mt. Baldy. The Radioshack team kept control of the race for leader Chris Horner, and Levi resumed his support role, shepherding Chris up the mountain. Brutal pacemaking was done by teammates Matt Busche, age 26, and Dmitriy Muravyev, age 31, among others. With about two kilometers remaining, Levi pulled away with Chris following right behind, and they drove together the finish. Just before crossing the line, the teammates touched hands, congratulating each other on their double win—Levi won the stage and Chris’ overall victory was nearly secure. Race organizers called it Radioshack’s “one-two punch.”

The teammates did not compete for the stage win. It was understood between them that Levi would cross the line first. He would get credit for the day’s hard work and the work he put in for the team throughout the tour. Chris would win the overall race the next day, and that was plenty. While fortunes rise and fall quickly for cyclists, these gentlemen’s agreements remain firm.

Horner, Leipheimer & Danielson on the podium

As expected, Stage 8 was a sprint finish that did not affect the leaders standings. Chris Horner won by 38 seconds over teammate Levi Leipheimer. Danielson of Garmin-Cervelo finished third. At the awards ceremony in Thousand Oaks, Chris was grinning from ear to ear. He thanked his team and recalled learning to ride on the nearby roads of Simi Valley. At the ripe old age of 39, he was on top of the podium.

Chris Horner is an American cyclist who always stops to greet fans, pose for photos, and give autographs. He has worked hard and earned a reputation as a nice guy and a loyal teammate. He has continued to push himself for better form and even better results. That is the kind of guy who is more than one kind of champion.

Congratulations, Chris and Team Radioshack! Sometimes nice guys do finish first.