Biased Blow-By-Blow - 2025 Tour de France Stage 14

Introduction 

This year’s Tour de France started off really well, with an exciting first couple weeks. I’ll recount those as part of today’s albertnet coverage of Stage 14, a day of massive climbing in the Pyrenees. I’m not going to lie: Tadej Pogacar (UAE – Team Emirates XRG) is once again making the GC (i.e., overall) competition boring AF. (If you’re not familiar with the abbreviation “AF,” go ask a teenager.)

If this is your first time reading one of my blow-by-blow reports, be advised that I am not a professional journalist, which means I don’t worship brevity, I don’t always stick to the point, I never bite my tongue when a rider is doped or being dopey, and I’m not bitter about being poor. And today, during a lull, I plan to have the uncomfortable conversation (okay, monologue) about whether Pogacar could possibly be clean.

Tour de France Stage 14 – Pau to Luchon-Superbagnères

As I join the action, Lenny Martinez (Bahrain Victorious) is cresting the hors categorie (i.e., goes-up-to-11) Col du Tourmalet, solo. You can tell he’s a great climber because a) he’s rocking the polka-dot jersey of best climber, and b) he’s first atop the Tourmalet, duh! He’s either starting to put his jacket on, or plans to ride the entire stage no-handed as a stunt, determined to make this Tour interesting.

The big news the announcers are recapping is that the rider sitting third on GC going into today, Remco Evenepoel (Soudal Quick-Step), was dropped and decided just to abandon the Tour. This is called grit. This is called humility. This is what it means to have a work ethic. Wait, I’m getting confused. Actually this is the absence of these things, obviously. In this replay, Evenepoel waves off the cameraman.

Rumor has it Evenepoel is abandoning because I hurt his feelings in my coverage of the Dauphiné last month. Is there anything to this rumor? Well, it’s been well established that most of these riders do read albertnet, some of them even while riding or racing. (By “well established” I mean I assume this to be the case.)

Behind Martinez, a couple minutes back, is a group of sixteen riders including the American Sepp Kuss (Team Visma - Lease A Bike) and Valentin Paret Peintre (Soudal Quick-Step). As Martinez takes this wet descent very cautiously, Kuss and Peintre drop the rest of the chasers and start closing the gap to Martinez pretty quickly. I guess descending no-handed just isn’t very aerodynamic.

Martinez reaches the base of the Col d’Aspin, still riding no-handed. You gotta admire his pluck. He must have made a bet with someone he could pull this off, and is sticking to it even at the risk of losing the stage.

The two chasers are working well together and have the gap down to less than a minute now.

Just over a kilometer from the summit of the Aspin, Martinez  is still riding no-handed.

Back in the main peloton, Pogacar’s UAE team sets tempo at the front, keeping this gap down. They’re apparently worried about Tobias Johannessen (Uno-X Mobility), the highest-placed rider on GC, who sits in eighth place overall, “only” 10:36 behind Pogacar. Is it that that’s not enough of a gap to protect Pogacar’s yellow jersey, this group being about four minutes behind? Or is it that UAE has decided Pogacar needs to win every single remaining stage of this Tour, just to further ridicule the sport after his total domination of this Tour, the Dauphiné, and the classics season?

Martinez summits the Aspin and gets max KOM points, plus a €9,000 bonus.

Kuss and Paret-Peintre catch Martinez on the descent and the three begin the Peyresourde. Martinez has evidently given up on his bet, and has his hands on the handlebars for the first time all day. He looks pretty dejected. Meanwhile, Kuss fights with something stuck in his teeth. I hate it when this happens. Your tongue gets all sore trying to get that food particle out. It’s distracting.

Most of the rest of the chase group has caught the three leaders. Not far behind is Simon Yates, one of Kuss’s teammates.

Now Thymen Arensman (Ineos Grenadiers) attacks the group! Only Martinez and Johannessen can stay with him. And now they’re dropped.

Back in the main bunch, UAE continues to drive the pace, with their rider Pavel Sivakov really suffering. They’re bringing down the gap to the chase group considerably.

Arensman takes the summit solo, unless you count my cat who is clearly jealous of the attention this race is getting.

Martinez beats out the others for KOM points, experimenting with riding one-handed to see how fast that might be. Seems to be working for him.

Behind, the chase group has split in two, with Kuss in the second group.

As the riders take the final descent before beginning their assault of the Luchon-Superbagnères climb, I’ll fill you in on what’s gone down in this Tour so far. Jasper Philipsen (Alpecin-Deceuninck) won the first stage, which was one designed for the sprinters. Stage 2, also a sprinters’ stage, was incongruously almost won by Pogacar, whose lust for wins is insatiable. Only Mathieu Van der Poel (Alpecin-Deceuninck) was able to best him, and barely. Tim Merlier (Soudal Quick-Step) won stage 3, and then in stage 4—a lumpy route that should favor a breakaway—Pogacar overhauled Van der Poel in the final sprint and won, which isn’t at all weird for the best climber in the world. Stage 5 was a 33-kilometer (20.5-mile) time trial which Evenepoel handily won, with the big news being that Pogacar took second, just 16 seconds behind, utterly destroying his main rival (to the extent that he even has one), Team Visma - Lease A Bike’s Jonas Vingegaard, who finished all the way down in 13th, 1:21 behind the winner. This result put Pogacar in the yellow jersey. The next stage was won by Ben Healy (EF Education-Easypost), who is a total baller. Pogacar won again on stage 7, just ahead of Vingegaard. Stage 8 was flat and Jonathan Milan (Lidl-Trek) took it. Stage 9 was also flat, and unexpectedly exciting because Van der Poel broke away with a teammate over 100 miles from the finish, and then went solo with, I don’t know, ten miles to go. He almost held off the chase but was caught less than 700 meters from the line. Heartbreaking! Tim Merlier (Soudal Quick-Step) took that stage.

Things got interesting on stage 10, with a group of five riding clear and staying off to the finish. Its best-placed GC rider, Healy, couldn’t manage a second stage win but took enough time to snare the yellow jersey, becoming the first Irishman since Stephen Roche in 1987 to wear it. Simon Yates (Team Visma - Lease A Bike) won that stage. The commentators were questioning why Yates didn’t drop back to help Vingegaard in the GC battle behind, but I think the answer is obvious: nobody can beat Pogacar anyway, so the team might as well go for stage wins when it can. This is of course sad, for a team built around the GC, but it’s the reality of the sport right now.

Stage 11 was cool too, because a two-man breakaway barely managed to hold off the peloton, in addition to Van der Poel, who went after them solo and very nearly overhauled them in the last kilometer but fell tragically short. You should check out the finale not only for its nail-biting finish (my spoiler notwithstanding) but also because the Eurosport announcer yells, “A stupid, stupid person on the left!” referring to some crazy fan who ran out into the road waving a flag, and who gets chased out of the way and then full-on tackled by a race official. It was one of the real high points of this Tour. Jonas Abrahamsen (Uno-X Mobility) took the stage, a first for his rinky-dink Norwegian team.

Back to the action: as Arensman tackles the final climb solo, Mark Soler (UAE) drives the pace for Pogacar. They’re not far behind the chase group now, and on a climb this long they may well catch everybody, so we can be treated to another boring and devastating attack from Pogacar. It’s almost impossible to imagine Vingegaard even trying to attack him … the Dane hasn’t had the legs at any point during this Tour. That’s not a dig against him, by the way. His legs are great, they’re just not superhuman-space-alien.

Getting back to my recap, Stage 12 was the official start of the boring AF phase of this Tour, with Pogacar predictably attacking and soloing to victory. Remember how that used to be exciting? Before it became rote? He took over two minutes out of Vingegaard but it might as well have been twenty. The next stage, a 10.9-kilometer (6.8-mile) uphill time trial, was super boring, with Pogacar winning again, taking another 36 seconds out of Vingegaard, who not only showed the futility of his GC hopes but wore a breathtakingly ugly helmet.

This helmet became the big news of the day. Lamenting it, I texted my online race correspondent, “Vingegaard needs to be punished for that awful TT helmet. What a disgrace.” My correspondent replied, “Loser helmet.” I responded, “Yes, and a failing rider. Sad.” Then a friend emailed our bike team saying how his wife, seeing a bit of the race footage, “said [Vingegaard’s] helmet reminded her of a cartoon character from Fat Albert , which show she watched as a kid,” and attached this photo:

Another guy on our club replied, “That character is Dumb Donald.  And, well, Jonas looks dumb in that helmet.” Fair point. That being yesterday’s stage, this concludes my recap. 

And now the yellow jersey group has both chase groups in its sights, and will surely catch them. I’m not sure 2:33 will be enough of a gap for Arensman by the end, if things heat up in the GC battle.

The chase groups now merge, with only 20 seconds on the main group.

It’s time to talk about doping. Could Pogacar possibly be clean? Last year he won both the Giro d’Italia and the Tour de France, which is generally considered impossible in the modern cycling era; the last rider to achieve this was the famously doped Marco Pantani all the way back in 1998. This year, Pogacar rode a full classics schedule, winning the Tour of Flanders, Liège–Bastogne–Liège, La Flèche Wallonne, and taking second in Paris-Roubaix, second in the Amstel Gold Race, and third in Milan-San Remo (a true sprinter’s race). Then he absolutely dominated the Critérium du Dauphiné, taking the overall and three stage wins and making it all look easy. His improvement since 2023 has been astonishing. This year he did the Hautacam climb almost a minute and a half faster than Vingegaard did it in 2022, and only 30 seconds off the all-time record set in 1996 by Bjarne Riis (aka “Mr. 60%,” referring to his ski-high EPO-fueled hematocrit). My rule of thumb is: if it looks too good to be true, it probably is.

But that’s not my entire case against Pogacar; for that we need to look to his UAE team director, Mauro Gianetti, who was investigated for doping as a rider after having a major health breakdown during the 1998 Tour of Romandy and spending ten days in the ICU. A teammate of Gianetti’s at that time, Stéphane Heulot, speaking to a reporter ten years later, spoke candidly about Gianetti, who had retired and moved on to managing the Saunier Duval team: “Doping is so ingrained in certain managers, like Gianetti, that they can't conceive of cycling any other way.” Ironically, Heulot asserted this while serving as the PR manager for the Saunier Duval team. (Presumably not for much longer.)

As described here, Saunier Duval’s results bear out Heulot’s skepticism: “In 2008, [Gianetti’s] team’s rising star, Riccardo Riccò, was arrested after testing positive for EPO, the blood-boosting hormone. Gianetti’s Saunier Duval team quit that year’s Tour and Riccò landed a 12-year ban.” Another rider on that team, Leonardo Piepoli, who’d already been kicked out of that Tour for “ethical violations,” tested positive for CERA the next year. Then, in 2011, Gianetti managed the Geox-TMC team, whose unsung leader Juan José Cobo came out of nowhere to win the Vuelta a España (beating no less a doper than Chris Froome), only to have his victory stripped years later due to “irregularities in his biological passport.”  So you do the math: a rider whose exploits seem extraterrestrial rides for a team whose manager had been investigated for doping as a rider and went on to head up two different famously doped teams. Hell, Gianetti even looks like a villain.

Okay, back to the coverage. Félix Gall (Decathlon AG2R La Mondiale Team) attacks the yellow jersey group! It’s a good move, but unfortunately he looks like a jackass because his handlebars are so narrow. It’s like something you’d see in a cartoon.

Gall goes straight past the chase group.

Gall sits ninth on GC, 11:43 behind Pogacar. So UAE might give him some leash, if they decide they can’t set up Pogacar for yet another stage wine. Did I mean win? Yeah, but I’m going to leave it. Even the word “win” has become boring. Adam Yates leads the chase for UAE.

Gall has 26 seconds on the group behind. He’s about two minutes behind Arensman, with five kilometers (three miles) left. He may have a shot … Arensmen looks like he’s really suffering, shoulders rocking.

One of the commentators just mentioned how strong Arensmen is on the long climbs, citing his “diesel” engine. This is commentator shorthand for how diesel engines, designed for compression ignition, utilize a much higher compression ratio (typically 14:1 to 25:1) compared to gasoline engines (8:1 to 12:1). This higher compression is crucial for igniting the fuel without spark plugs. Glow plugs, however, are typical in diesel engines. The metaphorical implication for cycling ought to be fairly obvious to just about anyone.

Back in the GC group, Vingegaard attacks!

I’m not sure it deserved an exclamation point because he’s already looking back, just assuming Pogacar easily handled it. You can always tell when an attack is in vain, when the attacker is looking behind instead of ahead.

Florian Lipowitz (Red Bull – BORA – Hansgrohe), who started the day in fourth overall, is trying to match the pace. Lipowitz is a baller, having taken third overall in the Critérium du Dauphiné last month and getting second in this year’s Paris-Nice. And with Evenepoel out, he’ll most likely make the podium and get the Best Young Rider award in this Tour.

Lipowitz is dropped, and Pogacar takes the front. And just like that, the two GC contenders overhaul Gall. Gall must have detonated.

Now it’s a matter of Arensman hanging on for the win. He should do it, as he’s got plenty of time, and if Pogacar is content to sit on Vingegaard, the two will just blob along until the end and not make up so much time.

As Arensman reaches the 1-kilometer-to-go kite, it looks like he’s peeing.

Arensman gets the win and does the “I can’t believe it” victory salute.

Now Pogacar will wait for the right moment to crush Vingegaard, who continues to look back.

Ah, and there Pogi goes. He easily overtakes Vingegaard and demolishes him in the run to the line.

Now Vingegaard is being interviewed, before he’s even had a chance to climb off his bike and put on a big puffy sweatshirt.

INTERVIEWER: Well, you attacked at least, which I think is kind of cute.

VINGEGAARD: To be honest, it was a hard day. One of the hardest mountain stages I’ve ever done.

INTERVIEWER: What do you mean “to be honest”? Do you normally lie during interviews? And would you expect me to doubt your assertion that it was hard?

VINGEGAARD: Congratulations to Arensman, he had a great ride today, and it’s nice to see somebody distinguish himself in some way, as opposed to what I did, which was just a half-assed attack with a lot of looking back, which you can see is all I’m capable of.

INTERVIEWER: Since you referred to today’s winner by his last name, instead of “Thymen,” I’m gathering you two aren’t friends? Would you say you lack for friends in the peloton in general? Kind of an introvert? Do the others bully you?

VINGEGAARD: If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to go find a big puffy sweatshirt.

INTERVIEWER: Yes, go be alone now. Go find an armchair and a throw blanket and bury your face in a literary novel.

If you’re new to this blog, I should caution you that I tend to play fast and loose with these interviews. When they become boring, I tend to ad lib a bit. But Vingegaard really did say “to be honest, it was hard,” and did congratulate Arensman. Though not to his face. So maybe he is shy.

Now they’re interviewing Arensman.

INTERVIEWER: So, you won today. Obviously. How did you do it?

ARENSMAN: Well, I had good preparation—

INTERVIEWER (INTERRUPTING): Meaning you doped.

ARENSMAN: It’s my first Tour, I had to be patient, it was already amazing to be second on the Andorra stage—

INTERVIEWER (INTERRUPTING AGAIN): No it wasn’t.

ARENSMAN: Come again?

INTERVIEWER: It wasn’t amazing when you got second on that stage. It was perfectly inevitable. Somebody always wins, somebody is always second, etc. Had you won, I guess that would have been, well, remarkable, though really probably not amazing. Now, Martinez trying to do the whole stage no-handed, and managing to move into the KOM lead in the process … that’s amazing.

ARENSMAN: That’s not even true. You talk dog farts.

Here are the stage results. You can see Pogacar took four seconds out of Vingegaard in the final sprint.

And here is the new GC. Everyone moves up a spot because of Evenepoel abandoning. Lipowitz is now solidly in third, having taken around 40 seconds out of Oscar Onley (Team Picnic PostNL) today.

Now Arensman mounts the podium. I have noticed that the ASO is gradually returning to the podium girl tradition. For a good while, there would be just one podium girl, usually a fairly plain one in a very modest outfit, and not very close to the podium, with a dumpy middle-aged man on the other side, closer to the podium. It was like the organizers were distancing themselves from the tradition. But they’ve been gradually moving the podium girl closer to the stage, and putting a male model on the other side. This podium girl is watching Arensman and trying not to look perplexed, but he’s just standing there, not knowing what to do … she’s surely thinking, “Dude, aren’t you going to put your arms up?”

For the most part, they’ve also abandoned the tradition of the winner getting kisses from the podium girl. The rider instead just accepts the flowers with an awkward little head nod. The exception is Van der Poel, who either didn’t get the memo or can’t be bothered to comply. Each time he’s been on the podium in this Tour he’s given the podium girl kisses, and she hasn’t seemed to mind, and has in fact looked, to me, pleasantly surprised. The last time this happened the cameraman, thinking quickly, panned to a flashy blond woman in the audience, presumably Van der Poel’s girlfriend, to get her reaction. She was pretty chill about it.

Pogacar gets another yellow jersey and another stuffed lion. This podium girl is a real professional, managing to look legitimately happy when she must be freezing her arse off in that sleeveless dress while the podium dude is in a wool suit and Pogacar has a nice thermal cap.

And now Lipowitz gets his white jersey for Best Young Rider. I hope he doesn’t get signed as a domestique by UAE or Visma … I’d like to see him challenging the perennial favorites in the years to come. Note the mismatched blue of the podium guy’s suit vs. the podium girl’s dress. Funny story there: that’s actually a bridesmaid dress she almost threw away but saved for some reason, and now she got to wear it here!

Now they’re interviewing Pogacar.

INTERVIEWER: It looks like you practically phoned it in today, until your sprint where you once again humiliated Vingegaard.

POGACAR: The team did a super good job, I’m really really happy.

INTERVIEWER: When I asked you last year about carbon monoxide rebreathing, you denied any knowledge of it and replied, “I don’t know what it is. Maybe I’m just uneducated.” But then a day later, after your team admitted doing it, you seemed to suddenly remember and said, “I didn’t quite understand the question. It’s not like you’re breathing exhaust pipes in a car. It’s just a simple test to see how you respond to altitude training.” Doesn’t that seem like backpedaling?

POGACAR: Arensman deserved this victory with a super good race.

INTERVIEWER: I see you’re not going to answer my question. Next I suppose you’ll be talking about the weather.

POGACAR: If my nose were a little less clogged I would be really happy with today’s weather but when you’re a bit under the weather it’s kind of, this kind of weather, it doesn’t help, but always, when it’s like this, I have the legs.

INTERVIEWER: Are you literally claiming to be absolutely dominating this Tour even while you have a cold? Seriously?

POGACAR: I think I hear my mom calling.

Obviously I made up a lot of that, but a journalist really did investigate Pogacar’s (and Vingegaard’s) practice of carbon monoxide rebreathing, and you should click that link above. Note that in this case I recorded Pogacar’s words as close to verbatim as I could (until the end). He really did say he’s under the weather. Sheesh.

Well, that’s about it for the 2025 Tour … barring some catastrophe, Pogacar will win it in boring AF fashion. Best case, Vingegaard can at least get a stage win. Or a stage wine. Or maybe just another stage whine.

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From the Archives - Bits & Bobs Volume XXI

Introduction

This is the twenty-first installment in the “From the Archives – Bits & Bobs” series. Volume I of the series is here, Volume II is here, Volume III is here, Volume IV is here, Volume V is here, Volume VI is here, Volume VII is here, Volume XIII is here, Volume IX is here, Volume X is here, Volume XI is here, Volume XII is here, Volume XIII is here, Volume XIV is here, Volume XV is here, Volume XVI is here, Volume XVII is here, Volume XVIII is here, Volume XIX is here, and Volume XX is here. The different volumes are unrelated, though the real tales related are all real late and do all relate to me. You can read them in alphabetical order, numerical order, chronological order (note that these are all the same thing), check or money order, in some semblance of order, and/or because you’re “just following orders.”

What are albertnet Bits & Bobs? Well, imagine you’re making homemade pasta. When you cut the noodles, you get these stray shorter bits from the ragged edges of the dough sheets that fall on the floor or—if you’re smart—into a large bowl placed to catch them. You can totally use those fallen bits by gathering them up, pressing them together in a ball, rerolling them, and re-cutting them. That’s kind of what I do when I’m writing letters to friends and some extra words fall out of my word processor. The only difference is, I don’t reroll them, so what you are about to read is a big ball of scraps. Serve them with a nice Bolognese Ragu or Alfredo, or your favorite literary equivalent. (And if a presenting a big wad of literary scraps sounds half-assed to you, consider all the effort I put into that extended metaphor you’ve just enjoyed.) This week’s selections of Bits & Bobs are from letters I wrote during college.

[If you’re wondering whose portrait that is in the background, it’s the playwright Antonin Artaud, best known for his “theatre of cruelty.” I happen to remember this from 1990. Neither ChatGPT nor Copilot was able to identify him from the photo, by the way, thought Google nailed it instantly. To its credit, ChatGPT had a pithy comment: “Honestly, it might be the most fitting photo of someone who’s read Artaud and survived.”]

October 30, 1989

I had the weirdest dream last night. I’m at this party and dancing with this totally fly girl. I’ve never danced so well (and as you know full well, in real life I cannot dance at all) and we’re really hitting it off, and then the song ends and the girl collapses into my arms. First I think she’s trying to be funny but then I realize she can’t even stand up. Her legs drop out from under her, so I have to pick her up into my arms as though I’m going to carry her off. Then she whispers, “I have to tell you: I’m going to die. I’ve been poisoned.” I’m totally freaked out, looking at this girl’s face, and then she dies right then and there. I start to wonder if I’ve been poisoned too. I guess the Freudian analysis kind of conducts itself here…

March 1, 1990

I hope March goes better than February; that was out of hand. First off, I was sick all month. Then last weekend I finally started [collegiate bicycle road] racing [for the season]. The time trial sucked because I’m not fit and still not totally healthy after that virus. The criterium was one of these bullshit parking lot jobs that’s roped and coned off so they could make it twist around as much as they wanted. Half mile laps. Oil everywhere—in addition to all these big puddles of oil, the whole surface of the road had this kind of film on it. It was in Irvine, pollution capital of the universe, which gave me a gnarly sore throat. I figured on riding the crit mellow, for fitness etc. Well, the only guy on our team who was riding well was the new tri-guy, Eric, who hasn’t really perfected his sprint, so I went for the primes myself. I won one, and took third in another, and was actually kind of digging the technical course. I got in this breakaway of five halfway through, and T— and Eric were surely blocking for me, so I pretty much had to stick with it, but I almost didn’t want to because I felt like shit. On the other hand, Tony Palmer [a notoriously fast Colorado racer I’d admired as a junior, who raced in the Olympics in 1988], was in the break with me so I was excited about that.

Well, T— was sick and dropped out, and a then few riders bridged up including Eric, who of course would give the break a giant boost, almost guaranteeing our chances of staying off. So things were looking really good when suddenly I stacked in the hairpin for no apparent reason. I think I slipped on some oil. Ripped a big hole in my new Aussie bib shorts, and got this oily asphalt smear on my helmet—really sucked. Road rash on the hip, both arms, and the left leg, but not too bad. I ran over to the pit, and the asshole race officials wouldn’t give me a free lap because I didn’t go all the way around the course. So the Mavic neutral support guy just straightened my bars and sent me off. It took me like five laps to regain my composure, and I was dry-heaving and really wanted to drop out, but I was still in eighth or ninth or so, on my own between the peloton and the breakaway, so I chased hard and eventually got within about fifty feet of the break.

[Zoom in on that photo and you can see the oil smear on my helmet. Note also my teammate, T—, watching from the sidelines.]

I thought I was about to latch on when Eric attacked and blew the break apart (temporarily, anyway). So much for closing that gap. I thought maybe I could solo in ahead of the main pack but about ten laps later I got swallowed up. Towards the end of the race the break lapped the field and I was trying to get Eric off the front, since I knew that was his best chance at winning. Well, Tony Palmer was having none of that, and started cussing at me and yelling, “Don’t even try it!” Somehow, in the moment, feeling as crappy as I did, I accepted his authority, sat up, and just waited for the sprint. Damn, the tricks your mind plays on you when you’re miserable…

March 16, 1990

I was going to hit the sack but I forgot I did my laundry this afternoon and left everything festering in the washer so I just went and put it in the dryer and now I have to kill some time while it dries and I don’t really feel like studying even though I really should because finals start next Monday and I hardly even have a clue what’s going on in any of my classes, especially this boring as hell history class which is so lame that the best I could do for notes are statements like “1629: some emperor on verge of something with his edict of restitution which means something is restored to church; things after this began to go downhill for the Hapsbergs while Wollenstein is an example of why whatever war this was was the way it was, however that was” (that’s an actual quote from my notebook) which doesn’t really put me in a very good way as far as the final exam goes.

May 28, 1991

My dickhead roommate—the one with the Rolex and the $15,000 stereo—had a birthday recently. His mom called and asked for him, and when I said he wasn’t home, she said, “Just tell him happy birthday, and that his present is in the bank.” Nice. Meanwhile his girlfriend got him a Nintendo and he plays it 24x7. At first I couldn’t figure out why she bought him this thing, and then I realized, duh, she’s sick of him, and this will get him out of her hair. Easy enough for her … she doesn’t have to live with the guy. First thing in the morning, he’s playing “Contra,” and actually, he never stops, except to go to the bathroom or grab a snack. Same game, day in and day out. My other two roommates and I keep telling him to get a life and his answer is the same as when we tell him to do his dishes: “I’ll do it later.” What really sucks is that every time his guy is killed, he cusses like a sailor. Like it really matters. What’s he supposed to say if, one day, the television—my giant 26” Sony Trinitron Color Console in the giant cabinet—falls on him and pins him to the floor? Nobody will answer his call for help because we’ll assume his little Nintendo guy just got shot again. I keep hoping he’ll finally lose his temper and smash my TV so I can make him buy me a new one that isn’t all blurry.

November 25, 1991

So I’m in the school library restroom and this guy comes in, heads to the next urinal over, and before even doing his business flushes it. I wouldn’t have noticed except he used his foot, so for a second it looked like he was trying to kick me in the head. I have no problem with him flushing with his foot since the handle is presumably gross, but why the pre-flush? I guess he doesn’t want his good, clean urine mixing with the bad, dirty urine in the bowl. That would be terrible, even if he’s not planning to use that urine again. Just the very sight of his elite urine mixing with the vulgar, common urine is too harrowing for him to witness. What a knob.

April 20, 1992

My mom and [her husband] the Landlo’ left their car here while vacationing in Morocco and I’m using it as much as possible to date this girl. So far that’s only been twice, so I better hurry things up while I still have the car. I don’t expect you’ll chastise me for refusing to have a really deep introspective contemplative period following the death of my last romance; as you well know, I am not some sort of Love Guru. But I can hold my own with the women: which is good, because that’s what they usually want me to do.

July 29, 1992

[To Giro Sport Design, Inc. who had given me a free helmet about six weeks before.] Dear Giro people: A month ago, my Giro Air Attack acted as liaison between my head and the ground. I was mountain biking in nearby Tilden Park, and that’s about all I remember because for several hours after my accident I alternated between being unconscious and incoherent. I was flown by helicopter to the nearest trauma center, where I underwent a CAT scan and was stitched up. Twenty or so sutures were put in my forehead beginning, notably, just below where the helmet left off covering my forehead. I have suffered no permanent damage to my head and for this I thank you.

October 8, 1992

I called my dad the other day and said, “Dad, I need twenty dollars.” He said, “Fifteen dollars?! What do you need ten dollars for?! Okay, I’ll mail you the damn five dollars.” But he didn’t.

But seriously, my medical bills are starting to catch up with me after that mountain bike crash. I wrote letters to the ambulance and helicopter companies, saying basically, “I have no money. Please dismiss my account. Thank you.” The helicopter company was cool about it, but the ambulance company ($550 to drive me one block, to where the helicopter had landed) wrote back threatening to slash my credit rating if I didn’t pay up the balance. (My crappy school insurance had only paid $100.) So now I’m on the installment plan, sending $50 a month through next June for a five minute trip I don’t remember going on. I plan to write in the “memo” section of each check, “You thieving bastards!” or at least “You teething hamsters!”

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Ask a Cycling Coach

Dear Cycling Coach,

I seem to have developed tennis elbow—but from mountain biking! How is this possible? I’ve never even touched a racquet!

Kaitlin C, Fairfax, CA

Dear Kaitlin,

I have encountered this myself, and the problem was: hydraulic fluid. Not in my elbow, but in one of my bike’s brake lines. By any chance have you been ignoring a disc brake that needs to be bled? Like, when you pull the lever nothing happens unless you pump it multiple times? Well, that’s a repetitive motion and those can add up. But if your brakes are fine, I honestly don’t know what’s going on there. Maybe see a shrink? ;-)

Dear Cycling Coach,

I’m kind of new to mountain biking and people are telling me I should “go tubeless,” whatever that means. What are these people talking about and should I listen?

Aaron W, Minneapolis, MN

Dear Aaron,

For decades, bike tires always had an inner tube inside them, which occasionally got punctured by a thorn, bit of glass, etc. or by being pushed too hard into the wheel rim due to an impact. The more modern setup (common, but by no means ubiquitous) is to not have a tube at all; the tire forms a seal against the rim, aided by this goo that you pour in there. It’s a big mess, a fair bit of hassle, and requires an air compressor or special pump to inflate, but it’s actually worth it. It saves weight, lets you run your tires at a lower pressure, and best of all the goo seals up punctures as you ride. (I’ve had student athletes on the high school mountain biking team who went four whole seasons without a single puncture!) If you want advice on how to set this up, including how to build your own human-powered compressor on the cheap, check out my post here. Now, on road bikes things get even trickier; if you overinflate the tire it could blow off the rim. So, I’m not necessarily recommending tubeless for road…

Dear Cycling Coach,

Do girls dig cyclists? I’m asking for a friend.

John S, Ashburn, VA

Dear John,

Of course they do! I mean, what’s not to dig? We’ve got these thin T-Rex arms; hairless legs; brightly colored form-fitting costumes like a jockey wears; and best of all, we’re always mansplaining on such lofty topics as bike gearing, cycling nutrition, and power output. I should think we’d be every woman’s wet dream. In fact, in my youth I had young babes falling all over me. Hmm. Do I have that right? I’m trying to remember … actually, come to think of it, they were falling all over the football players and the swimmers. Weird.

[A note on the above picture: I had ChatGPT create it for me. This was its third attempt. I asked for the cyclist to have “very thin, weak-looking arms,” for him to be “lean but thin and unimpressive,” and (on my third attempt) to be “much less muscular, kind of wimpy looking.” It appears that ChatGPT-4-turbo is simply incapable of rendering men as anything but grotesquely muscular and roided out. And as I’ve noted before in these pages, it cannot draw a woman who doesn’t have at least one bare shoulder. Oh well. I tried.]

Dear Cycling Coach,

Cycling is the only sport I do, and in the winter it’s too cold and dark to ride so my fitness falls off. I’m thinking of getting a stationary trainer or maybe rollers. Do you recommend this and if so do you have any advice on what to buy, how to get started, etc.?

Lisa N, Columbus, OH

Dear Lisa,

There are several good reasons to ride indoors: you get the stress relief you need; you build character; you go into the spring with better fitness, so you can keep up with your pals; you avoid the wretchedness of riding in the cold and wet; and you (most likely) avoid crashing. All this being said, you’ll need fortitude because indoor training presents a particularly tough gumption trap. The good news is, I provide lots of advice on indoor training here.

Specifically regarding rollers, they are definitely more difficult than a stationary trainer (i.e., you can’t just shut your brain off), but they’re slightly more fun, and they also improve your balance. You’ll definitely want the type that provide resistance (though I provide some hacks on that here). If you’re into a top-of-the-line product, check out my review of the best ones on the market.

Whatever mode of indoor cycling you choose, I highly recommend noise-cancelling headphones and high-energy music with a solid beat. For my workout music megamix, click here.

Dear Cycling Coach,

I love to ride with my friends but it’s hard to coordinate schedules. I dislike riding alone, but my friends all do it. What’s their secret and/or how do I handle the drudgery of cycling solo?

Tracy A, Castle Rock, CO

Dear Tracy,

I see two ways to proceed. One is to see what alternatives exist, such as joining a local club, asking around about group rides, or trying to recruit more cycling buddies. The other is to tackle the solo riding challenge head-on. Going it alone is definitely an acquired taste—it took me until my third year of bike racing to begin to enjoy or at least tolerate it—but it’s well worth it in the long run.

Some ways to motivate yourself:

1. Remind yourself that “stealth training” will make the group rides even more fun
2. If you’re worried about safety, figure out the routes where you’ll encounter plenty of people (and not get bike-jacked, though honestly I think this is a fictitious problem, like ring-around-the-collar)
3. Gamify your solo cycling, either by competing virtually with friends or family or joining Strava.

For more on riding alone, click here.

Dear Cycling Coach,

What chain lubricant should I use? And would this be different for mountain vs. road?

Malcolm R, Oakland, CA

Dear Malcolm,

I could provide an exhaustive treatise about why I choose White Lightning Clean Ride for all my bikes, but wouldn’t you rather read a very brief synopsis, or ideally a poem? Well guess what: you can click here for a nice little sonnet on the topic, replete with end notes. Best of all, it was written by an English major who is also a recovering bike mechanic and a bona-fide coach!

Dear Cycling Coach,

My crappy old bike helmet is coming completely apart. I’m kinda relieved because I never liked that helmet to begin with. But looking at a new one, I see options varying from the lightly used helmet for $4 at Salvation Army to over $300 for a goofy-looking thing at my local shop. Is there any difference among these or is it all marketing?

Emily K, Portland, OR

Dear Emily,

There actually is a big difference, to a point. No, a $300 helmet is not going to be worlds away from a $150 helmet, but you don’t want some bogus made-up brand like Victgoal or Odoland that crumbles in your hands and smells like kerosene. Here’s a true story: when I was on a college cycling team, we were sponsored by an up-and-coming bike helmet company and we all got free helmets. The problem was, they didn’t fit that well, and the straps weren’t quite right, and at high speed the wind would blow this thing back on my head, exposing my forehead. I thought I should replace it but I was already a notorious cheap bastard, and even though I worked at a bike shop and got a discount, I tried to live the motto “cheap’s neat, but free’s me.” So I kept asking the Giro rep to sponsor me with a free helmet. Several times he offered only a discount and I replied, “What am I supposed to tell my helmet sponsor … that I paid for another brand? If you gave it to me, it’d be a lot easier.”

Finally he relented, and I got a top-of-the-line Giro, which fit really well, not slipping back on my head like that free helmet. Well, on the Giro’s maiden voyage I crashed really hard mountain biking (as described here). I was knocked out cold, and was airlifted to the closest head trauma center. I ended up being fine … but only thanks to that well-fitting helmet. Ever since, I have been a real stickler on head protection, and I think you should, too. That doesn’t necessarily mean dropping hundreds of dollars, but get something that really fits, that you really like and will always wear.

(By the way, that bit about knock-off helmets crumbling and smelling like kerosene? I didn’t mean that. I meant creosote. Naw, kidding again. But trust me about avoiding those weird, cheap helmets on Amazon that come with built-in sunglasses and/or a balaclava and no, I’m actually not making that up.)

Dear Cycling Coach,

I’ve noticed you get as many letters from women as from men, and yet something like three fourths of American cyclists are men. Do you just ignore a lot of the men’s questions so as to achieve gender parity? Or do women ask better questions?

Jeannie E, Seattle, WA

Dear Jeannie,

I actually get as many questions from women as from men. I think this is because women are less insecure and thus more likely to ask for advice. I base this on a bike maintenance class I once offered as a prize at the fundraising auction at my kids’ school. In the advertisement I didn’t say anything about me being female, or about the class being for women. But I guess because of my girl’s name, people just assumed, because eight women and only one man signed up. When the man arrived and saw all these women, he immediately bailed. Well, halfway through the class, during the refreshment break, a student approached and complained about my being a man. “I kind of assumed you’d be a woman,” she said testily. I replied, “I certainly didn’t mean to imply that in the flyer, and I’m sorry about my girl’s name … it’s the one I was given and it didn’t occur to me to clarify. I’m happy to give you a refund.” She backed off at that point but still seemed miffed. I guess she understood something about men that I didn’t…

Dear Cycling Coach,

I read an article somewhere, years ago, about how too much cycling can damage your heart. Should I be worried about literally killing myself on the bike?

Suzie L, Queens, NY

Dear Suzie,

You might be thinking of the article “Cycling to Extremes” in the August 2015 issue of Velo magazine. I thoroughly refute its claims here. Beyond that, there have been various alarmist articles in a similar vein over the years. I think it’s a bit silly to be worrying about such a remote possibility given the obesity epidemic in this country, with heart disease being the leading cause of death. I'll concede that an overweight 60-year-old American, whose arteries are totally clogged, can kill himself by suddenly doing something really strenuous; for example, you hear about guys dying of cardiac arrest while shoveling snow. But that's not very common, and presumably you’re a fit cyclist doing a consistent program. If it were really possible for athletes to work themselves to death, don't you think it would happen all the time in professional races?

Think about it: the ability to work yourself to death would not be naturally selected in the evolution of any creature. Or, if you subscribe to the intelligent design theory, what kind of blind idiot God would design creatures that could accidentally kill themselves by trying to do something useful, and do it well? Do you believe that you are somehow going to be able to push yourself harder than 100+ years of Tour de France racers? I think you can rest easy on this one, Suzie. But hey, that’s just my opinion. I’m not a doctor or anything.

Dear Cycling Coach,

I was out for a road ride and joined a group that passed me. I thought I was doing pretty well but then I overheard somebody say, “Who invited the Fred?” I take it “Fred” isn’t a good thing. What did he mean and how offended should I be? Was I doing something wrong?

Peter L, San Diego, CA

Dear Peter,

It’s possible that you were disturbing the flow of the group (by letting gaps open, etc.) but it’s equally possible the “Fred” comment simply came from a snob. Like any sport, cycling has its share of elitist types who may forget what it was like being closer to a novice than a racer. Maybe the guy didn’t like your helmet, or your socks (or lack thereof), or the kind of shoes you were wearing, or that your bike had a pie plate.

There are two ways to handle this. One: you could simply blow it off and enjoy yourself on the bike. Cycling has always attracted rebels, and I hope it always does. Two: you could review my two-part article on how to not be a “Fred.” Part I is here and Part II is here. But please remember: this guide is only for people who want to fit in. Those who don’t care about fitting in have my full respect, and deserve yours, too.

A Cycling Coach is a syndicated journalist whose advice column, “Ask a Cycling Coach,” appears in over 0 blogs worldwide.

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Tour de France FAQ - A Guide for Newbies

Introduction

The 2024 Tour de France bike race is about half over, and presumably the most exciting stuff is still ahead. It’s been really good so far—at least, to me, a bicycle road racing afficionado. But what about the typical American sports fan, who doesn’t know a white jersey from an albino cow? That’s what this guide is for. Now, even if you already know all about the Tour, you should still read on, because the real point of this post is, “What’s funny about this race?”

2024 Tour de France Frequently Asked Questions

How do I watch the Tour de France live?

In America, you have to either subscribe to Peacock Premium ($6/month) or Flobikes (which literally doesn’t post any pricing—if you have to ask, you can’t afford it). Otherwise, you can use a VPN to pretend you’re in Europe and watch Eurosport. If none of these options appeals to you, you can watch highlights on YouTube, or (best of all) move to Europe. Then you won’t have to get up so early.

What does “GC” mean?

It stands for “good climber.” Kidding! It’s actually General Classification, meaning the overall race. The GC leader is the guy whose cumulative time, across all days of the race, is the lowest. Whoever leads the GC at the end of the final (i.e., 21st) day has won the Tour de France. For all those who aren’t in contention for the GC, the there’s the prospect of winning a single day’s event (aka stage) of the race … that’s also a pretty big deal.

What is a time trial?

In the time trial event, each racer rides by himself and his time is taken. It’s basically the same format as downhill skiing. The time trial is called “the race of truth” because tactics, psychological gamesmanship, and drafting don’t come into play. Frankly, I think these more complicated aspects of cycling are the best things about it; by that measure, time trials aren’t the true test at all. Moreover, I think mass-start downhill ski races would be awesome.

The Tour de France sometimes features team time trials. They are totally badass, featuring each nine-man team going alone against the clock. I wish TTTs figured in every Tour.

What are the special jerseys about?

There are basically three categories of jersey: standard, leader’s, and what I’ll call “other.”

The standard jersey is what almost everyone on a team wears (i.e., if he’s not wearing a leader’s or “other” jersey). It’s basically a billboard for the team’s sponsors. This is how this sport gets its money: through advertising, like with NASCAR. Otherwise there’d be no feasible way to pay all the salaries, since nobody has to buy a ticket to watch the Tour. If you’re lucky enough to live in France, you can just stumble out your door and wander out to the road to see them all go by.

Then we have the leader’s jerseys, for those leading one of the overall categories of the Tour. The yellow jersey, or “maillot jaune,” is what the GC leader wears. Then you have the white jersey with red polka-dots which is worn by the King of the Mountains (aka KOM) leader. You’d think this would indicate the best climber of the race, but often it’s actually not. It’s the guy who wins the most sprints to the tops of climbs and is awarded points for doing so. Obviously this guy needs to be consistent, but not perfectly; if he lost 20 or 30 minutes on a mountain day he’d miss the opportunity for more points on that stage, but could hang on to his overall KOM lead. Why is this jersey polka-dotted? Beats me.

Next is the Points jersey, which is green, and identifies the guy who’s most consistent in the races that end in a sprint finish, and for extra (“intermediate”) sprint opportunities along the way. This jersey is green because … money? I have no idea. Doesn’t matter. Finally, we have the plain white Best Young Rider jersey, for the highest-placed GC rider under age 26. This jersey is white because this rider is also required to be a virgin. (No he’s not.)

The “other” jerseys exist because of distinctions riders have earned beyond the Tour. For example, the winner of the previous season’s World Championship road race gets to wear a white jersey with rainbow stripes for the entire season, including the Tour. Also, many countries have their National Championship road race before the Tour, and the winner of each gets to wear his champion jersey, which often resembles the country’s flag. This can be confusing, of course.

Has a rider ever won more than one jersey?

Yes, it happens sometimes. For example, Eddy Merckx won all the jerseys on offer back in 1969. More recently, in both the 2020 and the 2021 Tours, Tadej Pogacar won the yellow, white, and polka-dot jerseys. Note that if a rider is leading in more than one category, he wears the jersey for the most prestigious one, and the next highest rider in the lesser category wears that jersey. For example, right now in the Tour, Pogacar is leading the KOM category but also the GC, so he’s in yellow while the second place rider in the KOM, Jonas Abrahamsen, is in polka dots. There are cases of one jersey trumping another as well; for example, in this year’s Tour, Remco Evenepoel wore his white jersey (for best young rider) during the time trial, despite being the current time trial World Champion. (No, nobody else wore the rainbow stripe jersey for that stage.)

I’ve heard announcers call the Tour a “chess game on wheels.” Is it?

Well, not exactly. In chess, only half a player’s pieces (the pawns) match one another in terms of what they do and how, while you’ve got all these other pieces that move in unique ways. Imagine a cyclists who could only go in an L-shaped direction, like a knight. It’d be ridiculous. Cycling is really more like checkers.

But in terms of the more general question about tactics and strategy, this is a team sport where most teams have a single leader (occasionally two), and the rest of team members are trying to help him (or them). And some teams aren’t even trying for the GC victory but only want stage wins, based on what they can realistically hope to accomplish. So they might have one guy who goes for sprint wins and another for mountaintop wins, and the rest of the team supports that day’s leader.

What makes cycling so tactical is that you can save gobs of energy by riding right behind another rider, or ideally a bunch of them. (If you wondered what I meant by “drafting” earlier, that’s what it’s called.) So a team’s job is to a) keep their star rider out of the wind, and b) force other teams’ star riders out into the wind. This is why riders “attack,” which means to sprint off to try to “break away” (i.e., get ahead of the rest and build up enough of a gap not to get caught by the end). In cycling, “attack” rarely means to hit, kick, or bludgeon. When that does happen, it’s usually hilarious.

What is a domestique?

A “domestique” is literally a servant. Per the teamwork discussion above, sometimes a domestique’s job is to attack other riders to “put them into difficulty” (to use a favorite term of the sportscasters’), but at other times their job is to ride back to the team car to pick up water bottles and then carry them forward to the star riders. They’re also around to offer up their bike if a leader’s is broken, or to pace him back up to the group if he goes off the back for any reason.

There is a documentary about cycling domestiques called “Wonderful Losers: A Different World.” It suggests that a domestique’s main job is to crash his bicycle. I’m not sure how this movie got to be so warped; perhaps they just had gobs of crash and first aid footage they couldn’t resist using. I don’t recommend this one if you are a cyclist with a significant other who worries about your safety.

The riders all seem to have hearing aids, or maybe earbuds. Are they music lovers, or deaf?

Those are the race radios, which keep the riders in constant contact with their team directors. The directors give them instructions, warnings about road hazards, encouragement, and sometimes recite poetry.

Do the directors really recite poetry to the riders?

No. Of course not. What gave you that idea?

It seems like the helmets are just getting out of hand. Is this some kind of joke?

I assume you’re talking about the time trial helmets, like this one:

These helmets, designed to confer an aerodynamic advantage, are no joke, mainly because they’re not funny. They’re proof that people will do just about anything to gain an edge, when their careers are on the line. I think goofy helmets should be banned, for the good of the sport. And yet, for some reason, the Union Cycliste Internationale (aka UCI, the governing body of cycling) has not asked my opinion on this. Shoot, I’d be the arbiter for free, just to be nice.

By the way, if the helmet above doesn’t look like it would even cut through the wind very well, bear in mind it’s designed for a rider who’s got his head down. With any luck, said rider would run into something and learn his lesson.

I guess the silver lining is that cycling helmets seem to work pretty well … maybe the NFL should try them.

Why are pro bike racers so dang skinny?

It turns out that humans can be pretty close to starving and still perform at a very high athletic level, if their nutritional needs are being met (e.g., balanced diet). The Tour de France features gobs of brutal mountain passes, and to be competitive every rider needs to have a very high power-to-weight ratio. So Tour riders eat as little as possible in training, so they come to the race extremely lean. They do eat a lot during the race but then they’re burning probably 5,000 calories a day.

Of course not all the riders are that skinny (except by the standards of other sports like baseball and curling). The sprint specialists, who go for victories in the flatter stages, are pretty muscle-bound. But they still have to get over the mountain passes, and within a time limit based on when the leaders finish. So, they can’t be as ‘roided out as, say, an American football player.

Speaking of which, do the Tour riders use performance-enhancing drugs?

Short answer: probably. Surely not all of them, and maybe not even most of them, but the sport will never be rid of doping no matter how much it claims to have cleaned up. I base this on current race leader Tadej Pogacar’s absolute domination of this year’s Giro d’Italia (aka Tour of Italy, similar to the Tour de France), where he won by an extraordinary margin while setting a new record for the highest average speed ever in that race. Higher, even, then in the years where infamous dopers like Marco Pantani and Ivan Basso were winning it.

Couldn’t this mean only Pogacar is doping? No, because he lost the last two Tours de France, and there are plenty of other riders who, on a given day, manage to beat him. Too many riders are putting up overly impressive numbers (that is, data points like average speed, power output, and the ratio of rider’s power to his weight, which many consider to be the smoking gun). Even the domestiques are turning out unrealistically strong performances.

All that being said, cycling is probably no dirtier than most pro sports. At least the footage isn’t embellished with CGI like in the movies, and all the riders do their own stunts. As long as the doping arms race doesn’t get too unbalanced, it’s still a fun sport to watch.

In the context of bike racing, what does “stack” mean?

It means to crash. All the road cyclists I know use this term (e.g., “Dude, I hit some gravel and almost stacked!”) but, oddly, none of the commentators ever say it.

Speaking of commentators, they keep talking about this or that rider “getting back on terms.” What does this mean?

I think only the Peacock commentators, Bob Roll and Phil Liggett, say this. It means “catch back up” or “get back into favorable position,” but nobody else on the planet uses this term. I think those two are trying to start a thing.

Is there an official anthem of the Tour de France?

No, but in 1983 Kraftwerk recorded a song called “Tour de France” and you can watch the video here. Although Kraftwerk is German, the lyrics are all in French. They’re not all that interesting, but if you croon along or sing this in shower, you can substitute this line: “An American will never win/ Tour de France, Tour de France.” That’s what I was doing in the mid-‘80s before Greg LeMond surprised everyone. Actually, I still do this. Force of habit.

What has been the highlight of this year’s Tour so far?

I would say the highlight so far was Mark Cavendish breaking the record for most career Tour de France stage wins, with 35 of them, at age 39. What makes this so special, at least to me, is that it came after a long dry spell. Cavendish failed to win a single Tour stage between 2017 and 2020, and many thought he was all washed up. Perhaps he’d become a bit jaded, kind of lost the hunger. I think a lot of us can relate, especially as we age. For example, another middle-aged superstar, Eminem, has rapped eloquently about this:

Man, in my younger days
That dream was so much fun to chase
It’s like I’d run in place
While this shit dangled in front of my face
But how do you keep up the pace
And the hunger pangs once you’ve won the race?
When that dual exhaust is coolin’ off
‘Cause you don’t got nothin’ left to prove at all
‘Cause you done already hit ‘em with the coup de grace

Miraculously, in 2021, Cavendish suddenly regained his form, and perhaps his mojo, and won a remarkable four stages of the Tour, picking up the green jersey in the process and matching Eddy Merckx’s record for most career stage wins. It looked like Cav was back on track and positioned to break the record the next year. Amazingly, though, his Deceuninck Quick-Step team director, Patrick Lefevere, didn’t put him on the team for the 2022 Tour de France, and in fact terminated Cav’s contract at the end of the year. While Lefevere didn’t really explain himself, it’s widely acknowledged in cycling circles that he’s is a vainglorious, narcissistic, power-crazed douchebag. (Note: by “widely acknowledged” I mean it’s my personal opinion.) I can imagine this was very inspirational for Cav, to come back and show the world what an idiot Lefevere is for not believing in him.

So Cav changed teams for what he thought would be his final Tour in 2023, only to crash out early before winning anything. I think all us cycling fans thought that would be it, but Cav decided to go one more year and take a final crack at Merckx’s record. Clearly, he put in all the work required—which is a lot, for a 39-year-old trying to beat the young bucks in pure speed—and his sprint victory in Stage 5 of this Tour was glorious. He lived up to the rest of Eminem’s rap:

Still you feel the need to go full tilt
That Bruce Willis, that blue steel, that true skill
When that wheel’s loose, I won’t lose will
Do you still believe?

(Does Eminem have any idea who Mark Cavendish is? Surely not. But Eminem doesn’t read albertnet either, so it’s all good.)

Belief came up in the post-race interview after Cav’s amazing win. The journalist asked, “But that makes you the best? That mindset—that mental strength that you have?” Cav replied, “It’s definitely a benefit, you know, especially when you’re not physically as good as everybody else.”

Do exploits like Cav’s—coming back from the doldrums, persevering, and achieving great triumph—cut across all sports, inspiring all of us whether we’re cycling fans or not?

Why, yes. Yes they do. And thanks for asking!

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