Its about the bike

I followed the Tour De France for the 1^st time in 2004. Armstrong had won the previous 5 editions and there was a lot of hype and speculation surrounding whether he would surpass the likes of Le’mond and Indurain in winning arguably the toughest endurance event for a record 6^th time; or would age and the rigors of cancer treatment finally take their toll. Also it was the Tour’s inaugural foray onto the Indian television.

This, being my 1^st instance, I was busy amassing the jargon and various phrases used in Cycling - which involved becoming familiar with terms like peleton, tete de la course, the yellow, green, polka-dot jerseys and names like Basso and Ulrich who were suppose to be the main challengers to The Throne. But what Armstrong has to done to cycling is very much like what Jordan did to basketball and Woods has done to Golf. Most of the audience is watching primarily to know how these greats are doing, other information being just subsidiary. I was no different.

But by the time, the Tour went into the Pyrenees in the 3^rd week; I had begun rooting for Basso. Armstrong was too meticulous and consummate to be entertaining. He always knew how much energy to expend and when (which by the way is the most important attribute of a Tour winner. No one can go all out for 6 hours a day, 20 days in a row). He did not put a foot wrong throughout the 1^st fortnight. Masses have a tendency to adulate error prone celebrities, this explains why Kurt Cobain and Michael Jackson are youth icons and Armstrong was the apotheosis of the polar kind.

This was my first impression of the great Texan. But I recently read his autobiography – ‘It’s not about the bike’ and was pleasantly surprised by some startling revelations. In the nascent stages of his career, his personality and biking style were quite contradictory to his now phlegmatic demeanor. His desire (or should I say need) to subject himself to corporeal as well as mental torture was born out of a turbulent childhood. This, along with a naturally endowed, better than average physical ability, is what made him excel in most endurance sports from swimming to triathlon to cycling. At the same time, the pent up anger and frustration also led to his downfall on quite a few occasions. His lack of patience and utter disrespect for strategy were his pitfalls in stage races. This earned him the appellation of “One-day classique rider”.

This is where, as he himself cites, cancer helped him. It led to his metamorphosis from a Stage winner to a Tour winner and this was down as much to the physical aspects as psychological. As a raging young rider, Armstrong basically had a sprinter’s physique – strong, burly body capable of generating extremely high wattages and hurling the bike at velocities of 60-70kmph for short stretches. To win the Tour de France, you need diametrically opposite attributes. The Tour is won or lost in the acclivities of the Alps and the Pyrenees and good climbers have lean, light bodies almost to the extent of appearing gaunt. Post-cancer, Armstrong never regained the bulk he lost to the illness and now had the thin but tenacious body so very essential to mount the bike over the mountain peaks.

Talking about sportsmen who have come back from the brink of death brings to mind another American, named James Blake. Though his feats are nowhere as remarkable as Armstrong’s, they are not picayune either. A strikingly common trait I observed between the two was their equanimity in tense, nerve-wrenching situations. The fact that death might seem like a goliath in front of defeat has a lot to do with this and this is where their fight against potentially fatal ailments might have helped them. This is not to say that everyone comes out stronger from a disease. There must be many who have faded into oblivion and heroes like the two aforementioned ones must be given their due credit. After all it is upon the individual to turn a landmark event in his life to his benefit.