Hell On Wheels

It is time to wax lyrical about the bicycle again.

When I was in Vancouver in March, the first thing I bought was a Rocky Mountain ice-cream; the second was the DVD of Pepe Danquart's Höllentour (Hell On Wheels) - a German documentary on the Tour de France still unobtainable in the UK. Danquart filmed the Tour via the Telekom team whose principle riders were green-jersey wonder Erik Zabel, mountain king Rolf Aldag and Klöden "Klöedie", who still rides with T-Mobile today with, of course, the (in)famous Jan Ullrich.

How can I explain my immense fascination with the Tour? It's like learning to appreciate a fine wine - you can't explain how something very simple yet profound can change one's entire philosophy - not necessarily mind-blowingly like a violent epiphany - but subtly, quietly, simply... by adding that much more of a little light in your eyes, that much more of a little colour in your life, that much more of a little rush in your ears, so that you look up to see the world only a little different, but a little brighter, a little clearer, a little more beautiful.

Part 1 was about riding and perseverence; this post is about riding and integrity.

(1) Integrity in the bicycle

To me, there is an indescribable beauty in the purity of the bicycle. I read somewhere that the design of the bicycle has barely changed for a hundred years. The following paragraph is also self-explanatory:

"With every other innovation, costs as well as benefits don't need dwelling on. The internal combustion engine almost defines 'blessing and curse': it has hugely enhanced the lives of millions, in the United States first of all and then elsewhere; and, in the course of the twentieth century, five times more Americans were killed in automobile accidents than died in war. So it went with powered flight, and nuclear fission. The bicycle was and is unsullied. As one of Iris Murdoch's characters says, "Other forms of transport grow daily more nightmarish. The bicycle alone remains pure at heart."

- Le Tour: A History of the Tour de France, Geoffrey Wheatcroft

(2) Integrity in suffering

This, of course, is very easy to say as a sport spectator - but there is also almost a sort of an integrity to the sheer suffering involved in the Tour de France. The Tour is by far the most gruelling race of all sports - I read somewhere that each day of the Tour is equivalent to a complete marathon, and you do this, over and over everyday for 23 days with only 2 rest days. You have to watch it to understand how utterly tough it is - the 80 degree climbs, the hairpin turns, the dizzying descents, the unforgivable weather - baking sun, pouring rain, mist through which you can barely see 5 metres.... they go through it all. Compared to the millions of dollars for tennis players, or golfers - isn't Tiger Woods a billionaire already? - or (urgh) footballers, there is very little money in competitive cycling - what the riders go through for what little they earn is for pure pain so honest it breaks your heart. Tyler Hamilton grinding his teeth to their nerves while he completes a stage with a broken collarbone. Riders cycling with the terrible road rashes from "contact" with tarmac. The superlative crashes while going at 120mph. Riders working so hard they shudder with every breath drawn. The pain in their eyes as they climb an ascent so steep the team cars could only follow in a droning first gear.

Höllentour. Its subtitle: die Tour der Helden (the Tour of Heroes).

(3) Integrity in courage

This is one of my favourite lines from the documentary.

Erik Zabel: "Sitting in the hotel room you wonder, 'Is it smart going down a hill at 95km/h on 2.5 centimeter tires with a classic wire pull brake?' You'll say to yourself, 'It's not so smart.'"

Is it blindness, foolhardiness, or recklessness? Or sheer courage, plain and brittle - no games, just integrity.

"La courage, l'humanité, c'est le Tour."