Jalabert takes the win in 2001

The inaugural Velominati Super Prestige continues with its the first Summer Classic, Clasica Ciclista San Sebastian, on Saturday, July 31. This will be the first post-Tour event in the series and with the unpredictability of how riders are recovering, it makes this race a tough one to predict.

The route of this Basque road race is a difficult one, and this year’s new route makes it more suited to the strong climbers who can finish well like Damiano Can-he-go.  Defending champ Carlos Barredo showed good form at the Tour; will he be able to defend?  Peer deep into the race preview, and then deep into your heart, and divine your selections.

This winner of this Super Prestige edition will again earn an “Obey the Rules” bumper sticker  and all reader’s points qualify towards the final prize of the free Velominati Shop Apron.  As always, if you are inclined to enter, simply post your predictions for the top five placings in the comment section.  Make your picks for by the time tomorrow’s stage starts, regular VSP Rules apply.  Good luck!

Rules and results are posted Velominati Super Prestige page.

Jens Voigt: The permanent steward of the keys to the Pain Locker.

It’s a good question, this: who in their right mind would willfully hurt themselves doing something they “enjoy”? I’m guessing psychologists have a word for this type of behavior, and I’m not afraid to assume it’s not a flattering one. Indeed, we are all of us completely nuts.

When I’m not filing TPS Reports, it’s my job to help businesses not make technical problems any worse than they already are; occasionally I even help solve one or two. On the good days, I might sit behind my computer and do some actual “work”.  On the bad days, I try to remember what I actually did despite being busy from the moment I set foot in the office, if not before that.  No matter which of these shapes my days take, I come home feeling ready for a ride.

I generally look forward to that part of the day; to changing into my cycling kit, mulling over which cycling-specific eye wear to use and which lenses, before heading down to the basement where the bikes sleep. I like to spend a few minutes cooing over the stable while I pretend not to have already decided to take out Bike Number One; then I make my final selection and ready it for the road.

Being too fat to climb means that I am prone to snakebite punctures caused by my fat ass bouncing the back tire on the rim, so by necessity, I check my tire pressure before every ride (I’ve never had a flat on a Continental GP4000, by the way).  I check my quick releases.  If I didn’t clean and oil my chain after the last ride, I’ll clean and oil it.  I’ll make sure everything is shifting properly.  I’ll check the brakes, hang my helmet from the stem as stipulated in Rule 76, and roll my steed out into the garage where she’ll wait for me while I fill my water bottles and slip into the white ladies.

All the while, work will be knocking around in the back of my mind; be it the annoying things that happened during the day, the items I didn’t get around to, or whatever it is that will transpire tomorrow.  As I roll out onto the street, I’ll be preoccupied by little things as I settle into the rhythm of the ride.  Things like trying not to get hit by the idiot in a car who seems to be texting his buddies that he Hearts Huckabees.  Or I’ll question the decision-making process that encouraged the girl waiting at the bus stop to buy pantaloons that are three sizes too small.  Despite these worthwhile distractions, work will be knocking around in the back of my mind.

Climbing – or more precisely, the pain induced by climbing – is my favorite escape. When I’m on form, I’m encouraged by how good it feels to climb at tempo. Let me digress for a moment to point out that what a Velominatus defines as “feels good” diverges a bit from the traditional definition; by “good”, I mean to indicate that there is a tension in the legs – they hurt but feel strong – and the lungs ache as more air is taken from them than can possibly be pumped back into them, but they don’t feel like they are turning inside-out. “Feeling Good” is the only the beginning.

Then comes picking up a spade, cramming it into a mountainous heap of Rule 5, and turning it over on yourself. There is a strange freedom in the sensation you get as the pain rises through your body; it starts in the legs, and then in the lungs.  Together they swell and grow into each other as the pain consumes every bit of consciousness and affects the vision – colors become simultaneously more vibrant and desaturated.  The mind takes on a singular focus to keep the legs turning, blood pumping, and oxygen flowing; any thought not directly associated with keeping up the effort is pushed out.  A cyclist’s pain is a singular, focused peacefulness. From a Buddhist perspective, there might be something of the shadow of Enlightenment to it, that singular Oneness of Focus. Except that pain bit. I’m not a Buddhist, but I think they might not really be into that side of things.

It’s only during those moments – when I’m suffering like sweet baby Jesus on the cross – that my work doesn’t occupy at least some portion of my mind; the singular indulgence of pain clears everything away, and when I climb off the bike – destroyed – and after I’ve finished my post-ride beer (you need carbs after a ride, you know), everything seems just a little bit clearer.  By clearing away the noise, it makes all the problems in life seem a little less insurmountable.

Gianni Bugno: Never quite good enough

I think the last time I cheered for the guy who won the Tour de France must have been Greg LeMond in 1990. Although he would later become one of my favorite riders ever, I didn’t cheer for Jan Ullrich in 1997 because wasn’t cool enough yet.  I didn’t cheer for another eternal favorite, Marco Pantani, in 1998 because I was too distracted by whatever kids in college do when they turn 21 and become compelled to explore the effects of (legally) combining alcohol with every imaginable activity.

I rarely cheer for the guy who wins a bike race because I’m usually busy cheering for the guy who will probably loose it, just.  This underdog business started in 1991, when I hoped Gianni Bugno would win the Tour.  I could never get excited about Miguel Indurain (there really wasn’t anything exciting about him, was there?), but I had never been a fan of Bugno’s, either.  That changed the moment I saw him fighting up to Val-Louron, pedaling in his smooth style wearing his tricolore of Italian Road Champion in hopeless pursuit of the escaped Indurain and Claudio Chiappucci.  It was at that moment that I embarked on a journey of heartbreak punctuated by brief moments of elation when my favorite riders defy the odds to experience success in the biggest races.

There is nothing exciting about watching the best riders in the world win the biggest races in the world time and again. There is no excitement in watching the pre-race favorite pull on the Maillot Jaune, again.  There is no excitement in watching the best lead out train deliver the fastest sprinter to the line at the close of every flat race.  It’s always impressive – don’t get me wrong – but it isn’t “exciting”.  It is the opposite, actually – it’s “predictable”.

Exciting is watching a rider show courage in the face of loads of pain and almost certain defeat. Exciting is watching a rider take a chance on a day-long break. Exciting is watching a rider attack over and over again because maybe just one more attack is all it will take to win. The riders who dare hope and take chances are those who inspire me. This is a hard road; I spend most of the races disappointed that my favorite rider lost. But on the days when they win, the thrill tastes sweet upon my tongue.

I cheered for Bugno throughout the ’91 Tour and again in ’92. He was Gianni Bugno, the Big Engine that Just Might. By ’93, he was so deeply into his “Indurain Complex” that he was more “frustrating” than he was “exciting”; he had become Gianni Bugno, the Big Engine that Usually Didn’t. That was a different kind of predictable, but predictable all the same. I moved on, and over the years have found various other riders to support in equal measure who each show similar properties in terms of talent, skill, determination, and likelihood of winning.

Le Grand Frère Grimpeur is my current favorite Big Engine that Just Might, and I think he’ll stay in that position throughout his career, mostly because he’s not likely to ever be good enough to win the Tour.  But every year I’ll hope he does, because that would be exciting. Sadly, he crashed out this year, and as such Le Petite Frère Grimpeur took his place. The little zipper might have won, too, were it not for some bad luck and questionable tactics.  It wasn’t to be, and this year at least, he was the Big Engine that Couldn’t Quite.

And therein lies the secret: He was almost The Big Engine that Barely Did.  And next year he appears to be the Big Engine that Probably Could but Might Not. But as soon as he become the Big Engine That Usually Does, it stops being exciting, and I’ll have to move on.

As far as Tours de France go – certainly those in the last decade – the 2010 edition ranks among the best, even if we could have been treated to less tactical riding and more opportunistic attacks.  The defending champion showed signs of being the Big Engine that Might Not, and that gave for lots of excitement on both sides of the cheering fence. Here’s hoping next year’s edition proves to be at least as good as this one.

Greg LeMan scortches down the Champs-Élysées in 1989

Looking back on this year’s Tour, it occurs to me it’s been one of the best Tours I’ve seen.  The 2003 Tour will forever go down as my favorite, but mostly because we were there that year, my boy Jan Ullrich nearly won, and I got to sit on Ullrich’s TT bike right before he stomped all over Armstrong.  I never said I wasn’t biased.

This year has seen a battle between two riders so closely matched that neither has been able to decisively take the upper hand, although the scales appear to be tipped in the favor of the defending Champion as we enter final time trial.  As I look to tomorrow’s stage, I take inspiration in the closest-ever Tour: 1989.  I take inspiration for three reasons.  The first and most obvious is that in that year we saw a similarly close pairing between Greg LeMond and Laurent Fignon.  The second is that the underdog was behind and had little chance of stepping onto the top step of the podium in Paris – but there was a chance.  The third reason is that the final winning margin by LeMan over Le Professeur was 8 seconds – the same amount of time that separates Bertie and the Grimp as we enter the stage.  Coincidence?  No, it is more likely to be a prophesy, methinks.

In all likelihood, however, the stage win will not be fought out between the top two men overall; tomorrow will be the domain of the TT specialists who managed to drag themselves over the bumps, hills, and mountains to get this far.  Spartacus, Millar, Syrup, Martin; these are the men who will fight for stage glory.

So, without further ado, we continue with the inaugural Velominati Super Prestige’s final Tour de France VSP Sub-Competition for Stage 19.  Usual game; contestants have the opportunity to win bonus points in the VSP Tour de France by choosing the top three finishers of the final time trial for a chance to win 3 points for first place, 2 for second, and 1 for third.

New for this competition: An additional bonus point goes to anyone who identifies the most egregious Rule Violation of the day.

Make your picks by the time the stage starts, regular VSP Rules apply.  Good luck!

Jens the Barbarian descends on a loaner bike with toe clips; Photo: Fyxomatosis

At one point [Conan the Barbarian], and his other old warrior friends capture this village, but then they find that they are surrounded by an army of tens of thousands, and his only reaction is, “Oh man, it’s going to take days to kill all these people!” – Jens Voigt

This (paraphrased) passage from Terry Pratchett’s parody of the famous character helped Jens struggle through a stage that would have seen weaker men climb into the broom wagon.  But struggle through he did, and he should swing his leg over the top tube of his (own) bike again at the start line of Stage 17.

I look at this photo and realize that I’m a sick man.  I see his blood-soaked clothes and body, and the first thing I say to myself is, “How did he get his Speedplay cleats to stay in those old pedals?  And check out those sweet old Campy Chorus alu Ergos!  I’ve been looking for a pair of those!”

But I digress.  The inaugural Velominati Super Prestige launches it’s third VSP Sub-Competition with Stage 17 of the Tour de France.  The competition will allow contestants the opportunity to win bonus points in the VSP Tour de France by choosing the top three finishers of the stage for a chance to win 3 points for first place, 2 for second, and 1 for third.

Stage 17 should prove to be the most decisive stage of the race, providing Brother Grimpeur the Younger his final legitimate opportunity to win this Tour de France while – in theory at least – Bertie YouTube needs to do little more than defend his position to be almost assured of taking his third crown. Schleck said during the rest day that the first man to reach La Mongie atop the Tourmalet will win this Tour; will Grimpito set off the Guns of Navarone and take enough time in order to stave off the inevitable surge from Contador in the final time trial on Saturday?  Or will the Climbing Paella launch a surprise attack to prove he is the strongest climber in this years Tour, taking time out of Schleck before the time trial?

Make your picks for the top three of the day by the time tomorrow’s stage starts, regular VSP Rules apply.  Good luck!

Certified hardman and aesthete, the Swiss rider Hugo Koblet.

There are those who are challenged to find the value of aesthetics in a sport which requires eating 11T cogs buttered with chain oil for breakfast and drinking kegs of Rule 5 at dinner. Ye of the Congoscenti, I present you with the following photos of some of the quintessential hardmen of our sport who rode during an era when merely climbing aboard a bicycle – let alone to race one – was an act of stony hardness which, by comparison, casts modern riders into the realm of the indolent.

Indeed, these were men who rode over the same mountain passes that we ride today, but did so on unpaved roads aboard bicycles weighing 20 kilos.  They turned massive gears out of necessity, and rode races that were many times longer than those we see today.  These were men who wore motorcycle goggles for a lack of any cycling-specific eye wear; who wore their spare tires in a figure-eight pattern looped over their shoulders. These were the hardest men imaginable.

Most of them also rode with a comb in their pocket to ensure they always looked their best the moment they stopped pedaling their machines.  These men were Giants who understood that the finer things in life and in this sport are what make it worthwhile to suffer so.

So next time you pack your energy gels and inner tube into your jersey pocket, make sure you leave room for a comb.

A bunch of men, those.

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Schleck suffers a dramatic mechanical and the loss of his Yellow Jersey: Photo Bettini Photo

Of all people, a Velominatus knows that our sport is a civilized one; it is steeped in tradition and etiquette and rife with unwritten rules. High on the list of unwritten rules are those that outline acceptable behavior when various hardships befall the leader of a Grand Tour. One of the reasons such rules exist is due to the brutally difficult nature of our sport; in the context of stage races where crashes and mechanical incidents are a part of daily life and can have a major impact on the competitive landscape, such conventions and agreements form a foundation in the quest to find the winner of the events through athletic, tactical, and strategic superiority while minimizing the impact that misfortune may have on the final outcome. The Golden Rule in this case is that riders are never to attack the race leader when they suffer a crash or mechanical incident.

At the Giro d’Italia, on Stage 7 over the Strada Bianchi, the race leader Vincenzo Nibali crashed and was left to struggle behind.  The question was raised then, why did the leaders not wait for Nibali, the fallen Maglia Rosa, to rejoin before continuing to race? One reason might be that Nibali wasn’t considered a legitimate threat to take the final win.  Another reason was that the race was on in full force and as such there were too many riders already attacking at the moment of the crash.  Justified or not, the sportsmanlike thing to do would be to wait. They didn’t, and in the end it had little impact on the result (the winner, Ivan Basso, was also held up in the crash), but a small bit of our accepted etiquette died with the decision to continue on.

Today at the Tour de France, we saw a similar situation where the Brother Grimpeur the Younger distanced rival Alberto Contador before a mechanical eventually saw him lose his Yellow Jersey.  Schleck had to stop to right his dropped chain, and while he did so, Contodor came by him and pushed his advantage home, all the way to the finish.  In the end, Schleck lies a few seconds behind Bertie, and in truth the 30 second lead he had before the incident was likely not enough to win the Tour. Indeed, little has changed in the reality we face in the coming days: Andy must attack Contador if he is to win this year’s Tour.

One thing that has changed, however, is that Contador has proven something I have long suspected: he is a rider whose ambition to win is greater than his sense of sportsmanship.  Marko has written in these archives about the A.C. Enigma and his ambivalence towards this rider.  Bertie has given us little reason to love him, aside from his blistering accelerations up the steepest grades in the mountains.  He has also given us little reason to hate him, for we know little about him. For me, the greatest riders are those who perhaps do not win often, but they lose with class and dignity, and they fight. Riders who display dignity and respect for the sport and fellow athletes in the midst of dishing out huge helpings of Rule 5 is what endears a rider to this particular heart. Jan Ullrich is the prime example of this; his sportsmanship on the slopes of Luz Ardiden in the face of an opportunity to win the 2003 Tour is unmatched.   Even after spending year after year being beaten by Armstrong into second place; he still had the overriding sense of sportsmanship to wait and resist pushing home the advantage when Armstrong crashed.

In our sport, a champion is one who holds the unwritten rules of conduct in higher regard than a trophy.  These are the athletes who understand that the very manner in which they set about achieving their results will be woven into the fabric of their career and weigh more heavily than the golden trophies of their victories.

At the end of the day, little has been decided in the outcome of the Tour.  The one thing that has been determined is that Alberto Contodor is not a true champion, for he would rather win another Tour de France than show his fellow colleagues (not to mention the fans of this sport) the opportunity to discover who is the strongest through head-to-head competition. Alberto Contodor has shown his true colors as a great rider for whom winning is more important than sportsmanship.

Tomorrow will dawn with a renewed opportunity for Andy Schleck to also show his true colors.  Will he protect his second place and race conservatively into Paris, or will he rise up to fight and try to win the Tour despite today’s setback?  I have a feeling that we are about to be treated to the latter.  I certainly hope so.

Alberto Contador did not need to wait today.  But he should have, for ours is a civilized sport, and we, fellow cyclists, are not animals.

Ullrich fought to within seconds of the Yellow Jersey at Ax-3 Domaines in 2003

The inaugural Velominati Super Prestige launches it’s second VSP Sub-Competition with Stage 14 of the Tour de France.  The competition will allow contestants the opportunity to win bonus points in the VSP Tour de France by choosing the top three finishers of the stage for a chance to win 3 points for first place, 2 for second, and 1 for third.

The last time the Tour de France visited Ax-3 Domaines saw Der Kaiser take advantage of a rare weakness in Pharmstrong to take time out of his rival and come within seconds of reclaiming the Maillot Jaune he had last held in 1998.  It wasn’t to be, however, and the 2003 Tour eventually saw Huevos Rancheros claim his 5th consecutive title.

This year will likely see another gunfight as Pistolero will surely attempt to tear the Yellow Jersey of the back of Brother Grimpeur the Younger.  Both riders are formidable climbers: they have traded 10-second blows on each of the uphill finishes so far while the other climbing stages have resulted in a draw.  The challenging climb to the ski station in the Pyrenees could well reveal which rider is the better climber as the race enters its third week.

But aside from the fight for the GC, there is a stage win on offer. Will Armstrong play the loyal domestique while we wait for the Eggtimer to buzz, or will he attempt to sneak off for the win?  The penultimate climb is a killer; will a break go here to fight out the stage as the battle for the GC rages behind? Veino also made a strong showing here in 2003, will he go for a second win after his success on Stage 13?

Make your picks by the time tomorrow’s stage starts, regular VSP Rules apply.  Good luck!

The irreplaceable multi-colored 3M Electrical tape.

One of the most cherished bits in my toolbox are the four rolls of 3M Electrical Tape: red, green, white, and black. In the past, I’ve used off-brands, but those appear to use an adhesive that leaves a gooey residue and the tape itself seems to shrink (especially in heat) as it sits in it’s place, quietly serving whatever purpose it has been set forth to serve.  While more expensive, it seems the 3M products use a higher quality vinyl that doesn’t move around as much once put in place, as well as a better adhesive which leaves behind less of a gooey mess.

Unsurprisingly, each roll of tape serves a different purpose.  The black tape is generally used in repairs or for holding things in place while I work on my bike, such as brake and shift cables during the taping of bars.  It is also absolutely irreplaceable when it comes to quieting the valve stems in my wheels.  I use 80mm valves on my wheels rather than fool about with valve extenders, but the problem with doing that is the stem is just a bit thinner than the hole, and the considerable speed with which my guns propel the bicycle causes them to rattle unpleasantly.  The solution is to wrap a small bit of tape around the stem at just the right spot to pinch it into place allowing for observance of the Principle of Silence.  (I discovered yesterday that Cervelo TestTeam uses the same approach.)

A hopeless aesthete, The colored tape is used mostly for finishing details – those little things that turn a nicely built bike into the bicycle worthy of worship: an extra strip under the finishing tape of the handlebar wrap, or a loop of tape around the seat post to mark it’s height.  The color, in these cases, is always very carefully considered, and care is taken in it’s application.  For example, I spent several weeks deliberating over whether I should use white tape or red tape around my seat post, finally settling on white.  Presently, I’m trying to decide if I should use a strip of red finishing tape like I’m currently using, or if I should make the jump to a strip of white.  White might be slightly more subtle and classy, but I’m also a trifle concerned that since the bar tape is already white, it might be too understated.

In any case, the decision will not made lightly, and I’ll have to update my computer wallpaper and screen savers if I do end up making the switch.

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The Mountains are lonely place to race alone.

Those who complete the Tour de France are referred to as The Giants of the Road, and a look back at the first week of the Tour doesn’t leave much room for wondering why.  With barely ten stages behind us, we’ve seen some amazing battles.  We’ve seen Pharmstrong take a small psychological win over Contodor in the opening Prologue.  We’ve seen Cavendouche start his Green Jersey quest by missing a turn in the closing kilometers of Stage 1 and crashing. We’ve seen nearly the whole bunch crash on oil-slicked roads into Brussels on Stage 2.  Stage 3 saw several riders with broken bones – Tyler Farrar and Robert Gesink among them – suffer over the cobblestones of Northern France.  Stage 4 saw Petacchi further beat the Cavencanhestilldoitdish’s ego into the tarmac before Stage 5 saw a triumphant Cavenyeshecandish prove that he still can win a gallop, even under pressure.

Stage 6 was much of the same story as Stage 5, except one important difference: first loser of the stage went to a man with a broken wrist. A pro sprinter once told me, “Sprinting is easy.  You just try to break your handlebars.”  Seems like that might be a trifle dodgey with a busted wrist.  Stage 7 saw the GC contenders watch each other as Sylvan Chavenel snuck off with a Maillot Juane that he would have normally have held throughout the first week, had he not been touched by the Seven Eyed Spider Monkey Devil on Stage 3.

Stage 8 had Grimpeur the Younger take a small psychological win over Bertie as he dropped him and put a small time gap into him, which is the first time this has happened in recent memory (although, if we wipe away the mind-cobwebs set in by all the ale we drink, we recall that Contador won the Giro by only a small margin and the Vuelta only by aggregate time bonuses awarded at stage finishes; perhaps he’s not the dominant figure we portray and curse him to be.)  Stage 8 also saw two GC contenders felled by the same crash demonstrate decidedly different reactions to their falls: Cadel Evans took his second Yellow Jersey and Lance Armstrong took his first massive beating in the Tour de France.

And here we jump headlong into armchair quarterbacking.  We give Armstrong a rough ride here at the Velominati. In fact, we generally refer to him as “Pharmstrong”.  But, in truth, he has our respect even if we don’t appreciate him.  There’s no denying that the man can suffer like none other.  He survived cancer to win the Tour de France seven times. Regardless of any drugs he may or may not have taken to do so, he won against what was presumably a level playing field through planning, preparation, and training (and, allegedly, a bribe or two).  In light of that, his most famous quote serves as an inspiration to fans and non-fans alike: ”Pain is temporary, quitting is forever.”

A lot was made of Armstrong’s crashes and the effect they had on his performance that day. Continuing on after a crash is tough, and catching back onto the bunch takes a big effort, but for a man who lives by the above quote, it’s what would expect of him.  He hadn’t suffered any injuries other than some road rash, but the fight had gone out of him, and he dropped away from the leaders.  As the day wore on, the Man with the Hammer paid him a visit and bopped him on the head, and he fell even farther back. For me, it was deeply disappointing to see him give up; you could sense it in his body language as he gave up and phoned it into the finish, falling thoroughly out of contention.

Much less was made of the fact that Evans had also gone down in one of the crashes with Armstrong.  Despite this, he managed to not only stay with the leaders; he took the Maillot Jaune while nursing a broken elbow. Stage 10 over the Col du Madeliene proved too much and he lost his Golden Fleece, but the man never gave up and he fought into the finish only 8 minutes behind two guys who are definitely not Too Fat to Climb and blew the race apart.

Another Legend performance came from Garmin’s David Millar, who has rib and chest injuries in addition to suffering from a fever.  He rode the entire stage alone during what he called one of his worst days ever on a bike.

It was a long ride, nothing to do with a time trial. It was very draining physically and emotionally.  I saw myself out of the Tour de France. But I could not face going back to the hotel and facing my team mates being out of the Tour. I decided to go to the finish, even if it meant finishing hors delais (outside the time limit).

In contrast to Armstrong’s performance, to struggle along alone from start to finish over the mountains and in the heat with only injuries and illness along for company requires grinta; I can only imagine how tempting it must have been to climb into the team sag wagon.

But fighting on despite setbacks like Farrar, Gesink, Evans, and Millar demonstrated earns these guys permanent places in our hearts much more than winning races.  These are Giants of the Road indeed.