>, < or =

KAS commercial




>,< or = to the Tyler Farrar Transitions commercial. Ready, set, discuss.

Finding ways to help, and outclimbing the guy in the recumbent

In the spring of 2010, I intended to spend two days in London after Paris-Roubaix, before heading back home. Those two days turned into ten, when the evil gods of Icelandic volcanoes suddenly decided to spew considerable amounts of smoke and ash into the air, thus landing planes at Heathrow. Oceans being what they are, driving back home was not an option (at least that's what I was told at the Europcar rental counter in the airport).

During my extended visit to London, I found myself riding around the city, sometimes literally, since I did loops around Richmond Park along with the locals in an effort to blend in. Sadly, I didn't have enough hi-viz attire on while riding, and I was instantly spotted as a tourist. Maybe the fact that I was riding on the right hand side of the road (as opposed to the left) had something to do with me being spotted as well.




During my extended stay in London, I was invited to stop by Rapha's headquarters, which felt a bit like getting called into the principal's office. I went, and the encounter looked a bit like this:







Despite my Santa hat (which I wear ironically, since my name is Klaus), and the fact that I was in full-color, while they were decidedly black and white, I was very well received. No one laughed at me (which is more than I can say about most social settings I find myself in), and I enjoyed my time there. Since the Rapha people put up with me for a good while, I decided to run an idea by them, one which I'd been thinking about for a while.

It was this: Would they consider making a Colombian-themed jersey to commemorate my accomplishments in cycling...like that one time during my commute that I went up that hill faster than the guy in the recumbent. They seemed mildly interested, but added that perhaps it would be best if the jersey commemorated Colombian accomplishments in the sport other than my own (though they admitted that they were impressed by my climbing prowess). I agreed, in part because I've always tried to expose people to the positive accomplishments of Colombians, rather than the negative things we are known for. Moreover, I wanted the jersey to be a vehicle to help raise some much-needed funds to help young cyclists in Colombia.

Since no one owns the colors to the Colombian flag, Rapha or anyone can make such a jersey anyway (some already have). I merely wanted some good to come of it, and they agreed.

You can see more of the jersey here. Note the "Merci Roubaix" base layer

I'd looked for other companies who might agree to do something along these lines, and find ways to help those cyclists in Colombia whose dreams and abilities are often bigger than their means. Sadly, due to my lack of connections within the industry, my calls were often met with replies like "who are you?", "please stop calling", and my favorite: "no, we don't want to have our carpets cleaned."

Although I have personally sent clothing and parts to kids in the city of Manizales through Cesar Grajales, I thought there had to be other ways of helping as well, so it's in that spirit that I'm always looking for other ways of getting some help to shoe who need it.


Through the process of the jersey's design, I helped by giving design feedback, providing them with rough ideas, content, and simple translation work. More importantly, I reached out to Rigoberto Uran and his cycling academy/club in the town of Urrao (which I have written about before), in order to connect them to this project. I wanted to find a way to help them, and I'm happy to say that things worked out (although the process was rather lengthy). So part of the profits from each jersey will go to the Urrao Cycling Club. It's also worth mentioning that other projects that will help the club are still in the works.

Simply getting funds to a small cycling club in Colombia can be a difficult. Even more difficult has been getting donated goods there, since there is no reliable or even remotely affordable way to get things down there...aside from taking them yourself. This, by the way, is still something I'm working on. As I've mentioned in passing before, part of the money from the Cycling Inquisition jerseys I've sold will go to this end, but that too is an ongoing effort. Do you sense a pattern here? Things are tough to accomplish when dealing with Colombia sometimes, and the process is lengthy.

The Rigoberto Uran Cycling Club in Urrao

It's at this point of the story that I will quietly slip into my industrial grade, volcano-safe, flame-retardant suit. I know that some have an objection to Rapha (a topic I have written about before). Personally, I'm fond of the people there, and I'm thankful that they took me up on this whole idea. When I speak with Juan Carlos, who runs the cycling club in Urrao, objections that people may have about a brand don't register. And why would they? Only the help that can come to the cycling club does. Particularly when the club and its members are not being used as a marketing ploy. My ongoing work on projects like this is simply intended to help them get some some much-needed assistance. Period.

Like the kids in the club, whose families struggle financially on a daily basis, the club is fighting for its life as state funding has been cut. So if you think of any other companies that might be able to help in any way, let me know. No goods will go unused, and no amount of assistance is too small. Logistics are tough, but the effort is well worth it.




_______________________________________________________
Other matters:


1.
According to Mundo Ciclistico, Mauricio Soler was able to ride a bike again a few days ago in his native Boyaca.



2.
How do you know that your mother loves you? If she's willing to take a steel fork from a bike all the way to Colombia, and then go across town to get it worked on and re-chromed, and then bring it back to the United States...that's a start. If she's also willing to call and set up an appointment with a stranger in the other side of Bogota in order to buy a book about Colombian cycling history (that weighs almost four pounds) for you...you might be on to something. Luckily, my mother is willing to do both of these things.


3.
All Cycling Inquisition jerseys have sold out. If you are still looking for a pair of socks however, you'll be able to find the last remaining pairs at the Gage & DeSoto store in Brooklyn.

Unpaved (Part 2)

Vuelta a Colombia, circa 1965
(Photos by Horacio Gil Ochoa)

Doble a Camiloce race, 1962

Doble a Santa Rosa race, 1968

Ruben Dario Gomez with his assistant Ernesto "Loco" Bermudez

Cochise Rodriguez at the Vuelta a Colombia. Since unpaved surfaces make it difficult to paint a rider's name on the road, this fan collected twigs and seeds to spell out his favorite rider's name.

You can see more images like these here, here and here.

Politely fighting for victories, both public and personal. Sky's Sergio Henao.

Levi Leipheimer admitted that he didn't know who the young Colombian rider was. Like others, he had to look him up online. The press didn’t know what to make of him either, incorrectly calling his ride at the Tour of Utah last year, a “breakout performance.”

This shortsighted view of Sergio Henao’s riding in Utah ignored (or was unaware of) the fact that he had signed a deal with Sky almost six months earlier, after numerous victories over the past two seasons. But Henao’s story is richer than a contract with Sky, bigger than his wins or any results that you’ll find through a quick search on the internet.

He's one of several Colombian riders who will be racing at the highest level in Europe this season. And thanks to his upbringing, he’s poised to take the opportunity and make the most of it. Even if he politely says “please” and “thank you” as he does so.





2010, Medellín
Henao smiled shyly as his teammates embraced him. Friends and fans alike joined those teammates, as they suddenly started chanting, “Champion! Champion! Champion!” at the top of their lungs. Henao, whose youthful face and braces make him look half his age, suddenly looked even younger as he accepted everyone’s congratulations.

He thanked his teammates, and timidly turned around to speak to the press. Once he faced the cameras and numerous microphones, Henao spoke confidently, but did so in an overly proper manner. It’s the way that Colombian children are taught to speak to adults, and Henao behaved accordingly. He politely referred to journalists as “sir,” and thanked them all for their interest and time, his hands respectfully folded behind his back as he spoke.

But Heano’s quiet demeanor, and his seemingly timid personality hid something: an indomitable fighting spirit. The then-22 year old had just won the 2010 Vuelta a Colombia—a grueling, climb-filled, two-week stage race—in spectacular fashion. Henao’s win had not come easily. Tiny climbing specialist Jose Rujano aimed to take his second Vuelta title that year, and attacked relentlessly on every one of its lengthy climbs. An even bigger challenge had come from Henao’s own teammate, Oscar Sevilla (who was implicated in Operacion Puerto under the codename "Sevillano" while riding with T-Mobile), who proved to be his greatest adversary while holding on to the leader’s jersey for nearly half the race.

Once Henao took the lead from his teammate on stage eight, he worked diligently to distance himself from Sevilla and the others in the general classification, conquering Colombia’s premiere cycling race.

That victory (and the difficult circumstances under which it transpired) put on display what riders in Europe may soon learn as Henao makes his debut with Sky in 2012. The young rider’s shy smile and quiet demeanor should never be mistaken for weakness. Henao’s respectful (almost reverential) manner of speaking, which I experienced first-hand, is merely a reflection of his Colombian upbringing. But so is his insatiable appetite for success.

Henao celebrates with a garland made of arepas

Beginnings
Sergio Luis Henao was born in Rio Abajo, Antioquia. Rio Abajo is not so much a town, as it is a grouping of homes so small that it seldom appears in maps. It was there that a young Henao first raced his bike uphill, on a dare, against his cousins. That victory came at a time when Sergio was beginning to give up on his dreams of becoming the one thing that he equated with success, due to his rural upbringing. Sergio dreamed of being a farmer. He’d often speak about his goal of owning a potato farm and had gone as far as planting several potato plants behind his family’s house.

The plants yielded only a handful of diminutive potatoes. Barely enough for his mother to make soup. So after his first harvest failed, and he managed to beat his cousins in that impromptu bike race, Henao decided to pursue a career as a professional cyclist. It was a dream that his father Ómar had pursued as a young man, but had given up on long ago.

In order to feed his family, Ómar Henao had taken a job as a night watchman at a local farm. The long and unusual hours kept him from training, so his dream of riding professionally slowly slipped away. Sergio was keenly aware of how difficult his father’s schedule was, and how it had caused him to give up on his dream of becoming a professional cyclist. So as he rose through the ranks of Colombian cycling, he told Ómar why he had chosen to become a cyclist himself. It was not to fulfill his father’s dream, or because of the fame that might come his way. Henao told his father that his reason for training and racing was “so that one day you don’t have to work such long hours during the overnight shift. I promise you that you won’t have to work those hours anymore.” With that promise in mind, Sergio Henao continued to train in Antioquia's mountainous terrain.

Henao with his family

Like playing for Real Madrid
As 2011 came to a close, Henao enjoyed the last few months that he'd be able to spend living with his parents and young sister. When I spoke with him, he was preparing to move to Spain in order to join Rigoberto Urán.

Henao is now the second Colombian on Sky’s roster. Although Sergio considered offers from Movistar and Geox more than a year ago, it was Sky that got the young Colombian’s attention.

“They’re an amazing team, incredibly organized, and very good at what they do. To me, signing with Sky is like being asked to play for the Real Madrid of cycling. It’s a huge opportunity.”

As Henao says this, I can’t help but wonder how this young man from a rural Colombian town will handle racing for an English-speaking team, and living in Europe. But the 24 year old seems unfazed by the changes he’ll experience during the upcoming season.

I ask if Urán already being with Sky played a role in his reason for signing with the British team. In response, he casually acknowledges that having a fellow Colombian on the team will be helpful to him.

“Rigoberto is a great rider,” he says. “One with lots of experience, and someone who has given Colombia a great reputation in this sport. I’m glad to have him there for me, because he’ll be able to help me in many ways when I need it.”

Henao has known Urán for many years, and clearly respects him and his accomplishments. He speaks fondly of him on a personal and professional level. At the same time, Henao’s tone leads me to believe that he’s ready for the move to Sky and that he could handle it without any help from a fellow Colombian.

Santiago Botero

The Director: Santiago Botero
Speaking with Henao’s last team director Santiago Botero (former time trial world champion who is largely remembered by many outside Colombia as a client of Eufemiano Fuentes), I realize that my take on the young Colombian’s demeanor is accurate. Botero is quick to point out just how serious and fearless Henao is.

“Like most other riders in our team [Gobernacion De Antioquia-Indeportes Antioquia], Sergio comes from a rural family of very meager means,” Botero says. “He appears to be shy at first, maybe even vulnerable. But he’s not. When you get to know him, you see why he’s been so successful. He’s extremely ambitious, determined, and insanely disciplined, even by cycling standards. He’s fearless.”

During our conversation, it also becomes clear that Botero’s advice to Henao goes well beyond the race tactics that directors commonly discuss with riders through race radios. Botero’s experience as a Colombian who raced in Europe at the highest level is invaluable. This has also helped ease Henao’s concerns about racing abroad.

Henao gets a drink in Colorado

“I’ve spoken with him at great length about his move, to help him prepare for what’s in store,” Botero told me. “Luckily, he’s going to Sky already as a fully-formed cyclist. When I went to Europe, I still had so much to learn. Sergio’s case is different. He’s raced at a high level already, and experienced riders have surrounded him. He’s had time to take in information about racing and living as a professional over there.”

When I ask Botero what specific conversations he’s had with Henao in this regard, he’s quick to answer.

“Some of these things sound simple, but are sometimes hard to keep in mind when you are there at first, and completely disorientated. He needs to live in a place that has good training loops. He needs to live by the mountains, in order to ensure that he can do all his training there. A big mistake that some riders in his position make is that they keep coming back to Colombia in order to train. That’s usually not the smartest thing to do, in part because it keeps the rider mentally tied to Colombia in a negative way. He needs to make his life there [in Europe], to make friends there, in order to focus on his job. But he needs to feel at home in Europe, so that he’s not counting down the days until he can come back to Colombia.”

Upon hearing this, I can’t help but picture young Colombian cyclists scratching out days in a calendar, or marking days on a concrete wall, as a prisoner would while he awaits the day of his release.

Botero thinks likewise: “It’s hard to do your job, and train properly, when all you’re thinking about is going back home. Sergio will learn, and he’ll realize that the hardships inherent in this move are not sacrifices, but opportunities to learn that he must take advantage of.”

Henao too brings up his willingness to learn, though he admits that some difficulties lay ahead. He’s been thinking about the language barrier that he’ll face within Sky. He admits that it’ll be difficult to learn English, but he’s eager to tackle the task.

Note the Rabobank/Giant frame. The team uses these frames, since they simply buy whatever frames are available from the Colombian importer. They also buy smaller items like handlebar tape, which is carefully rationed throughout the season.

“School was hard for me, I wasn’t a great student,” he says. “But learning English will be very important for me. Where I went to school, they didn’t really teach other languages, but I’ll be studying whenever I can now, because I know how important it will be for my future.”

It’s with that attitude, and for that reason, that Sergio Henao is taking on this, as well as other challenges. He knows how important meeting them is to his future, and in turn how important they are for the future of his entire family.

It’s something that Giovanni Jimenez, the first Colombian cyclist to ever turn professional back in 1968, also realized.

“When a young Colombian rider becomes a professional, it’s not just him who’s earning a salary,” Jimenez said. “Because these riders come from such poor families, it’s actually a whole extended family who benefits financially. He’s riding for many people back home. It’s an unusual aspect of Colombian professionals, particularly when compared to riders from most other countries.”



Although the world view of Colombians has changed overtime, some things stay the same. In this video , Henao discusses his inability to attend Sky training camps due to visa issues. During the interview, he explains how Rigoberto Uran is having the same problems, and pleads for someone to help them out and clear their visas. This is a common occurrence for Colombians, since we are largely unwanted by many countries. This means that visas can take as much as a year or more to clear...although sometimes you're simply not approved to enter a country at all due to your place of birth. This was the case for Victor Hugo Peña the year that he wore the yellow jersey at the Tour.



Calculated dreams
Speaking with Henao, it’s easy to sense his excitement as he relays details about the challenges that lay ahead. He’s also looking forward to new obstacles—ones that he’s only now starting to realize may be possible for him to take on.

But he doesn’t speak as a wide-eyed dreamer might. To the contrary, his thought process is that of a very calculated and committed individual.

As we speak about his climbing abilities, and his slight build, I ask what races he’s looking forward to competing in while in Europe. He will be the latest Colombian climber to demonstrate his skills across famed mountain passes in a continent other than his own.

But as I ask about several mountainous stage races, I hear Henao take a deep breath. “I very much want to race Paris-Roubaix. I’ve seen the race, and it seems so different, and so difficult that it strikes me as the most beautiful one in the calendar. It’s completely foreign to me, and to everything I’ve grown up with, but I dream of racing it … and clearly I dream of winning it.”




Henao’s sober tone stands in contrast to his use of the word “dream.” He knows how hard he’ll have to work to get there, and how incredibly difficult the race is. But I wonder if he’s aware of the historical significance that his dream carries.

In 1983, when the Tour de France first allowed an amateur Colombian team into the race, the pavé in early stages completely shattered the small riders who lacked experience on such terrain. Most of them retired, never getting far enough into the race to see their beloved mountains.

Later, in 1985, the cobbles would once again hurt the chances of Colombians at the Tour. On that occasion it was Lucho Herrera who lost massive amounts of time to Laurent Fignon because of the pavé. Not used to the cobbles (much less the crosswinds), riders like Herrera conceded twenty minutes or more to their European rivals. Such has been the luck of Colombians while racing on cobblestones.

But as Sergio Henao speaks about Paris-Roubaix, those distant memories of past Colombian attempts to conquer the cobbles fade into the background, though he stays firmly planted in reality. He’s not dreaming. He knows that a race like Paris-Roubaix demands tenacity and respect from those who take it on. Luckily for Henao, his Colombian upbringing has given him plenty of both.

The biggest victory
In a season that may see as many as four new Colombian riders enter the highest level of the sport, Henao will likely remain the focus of the Colombian media. The young man from Rio Abajo has already accomplished so much, that his potential to do even more seems obvious.

But while dreams of far-off places like Paris-Roubaix swirl around his head, Henao’s biggest dream is much closer to home. Regardless of how he performs during the next season, regardless of whether or not he ever makes it to the velodrome in Roubaix (or even the starting line in Compiègne), his biggest objective is already about to become a reality.

His father Ómar is set to retire from his job as a night watchman, thanks in great part to his son. Henao is proud of this victory, and he knows it’s one that will never come up in his palmarès, no matter how long any of his adversaries look for it on the internet.



Originally printed in Road Magazine



________________________________________________________
Suggested reading:

Choosing to Forego Revenge, and Looking to the Future Instead. An Interview with Rigoberto Urán.

Sharing bikes, and getting by with very little. An interview with Santiago Botero, director of Gobernacion De Antioquia-Indeportes Antioquia.

Missing friends, family, and mom's cooking. An interview with Andres Diaz and Carlos Alzate of Team Exergy

To worship at the altar of martyrdom.

Quote taken from this interview with Andy

Through its tumultuous past, and its extreme interpretation of Catholic iconography and beliefs (both of which are highly informed by native tradition), Colombians developed an insatiable taste for martyrdom and spectacle early on. An appreciation and understanding of pain and suffering on a grand scale is very much a part of the Colombian psyche, and as such, the nation has always understood and loved cycling.

Other sports have come and gone in Colombia, largely driven by the success of one of our own in that discipline. But those sports have been too refined. Too beautiful. Too graceful. Cycling, on the other hand, has always resonated with the Colombian public because of the near-monopoly that it holds on martyrdom in sport. The lone rider, struggling uphill, bloodied and seemingly near death. It's an exhibition of pain and sheer will that was almost tailor-made for Colombian sensibilities. This is something that the Colombian press recognized, particularly as Lucho Herrera arrived bloodied into St Etienne in the 1985 Tour de France.

The nation's response to those images was euphoric (people connected to that stage victory are still regularly interviewed by the media, including the soigneur who stitched him up, and reporters who saw him at the finish line) . The similarity between Herrera's bloody face and the gruesome images of a fallen Christ throughout Colombia's churches, was too obvious for the press to pass up. The newspaper El Tiempo referred to stage win that day as his Via Crucis, using the Latin term for the Stations of the Cross. People at home, watching the live TV feed, instantly made the same connection.

This was not just a martyr. He was our martyr. And even in a deeply Catholic nation (90% Catholic by most counts), no one considered it a blasphemous stretch to suggest that maybe, just maybe, because he was representing Colombia on the world stage, he suffering on our behalf.

Then there were the disparaging comments made by the foreign press. The taunts by European riders, the comments about their dark skin. The elbows and fists that were thrown in an attempt to make riders like Martin Ramirez crash. But these hardships only helped elevate the riders in our eyes. They were mythical figures...biblical actually. They endured what we as Colombians did within the greater context of the world. In the 1980s, we too endured hardship, we too felt beaten down and taunted. We saw ourselves in them.

But as we elevated them, we lost sight of their humanity. And we knew this, but were too stubborn to let this notion go.

And that too, I would argue, is the Colombian way. Reality and sanity be damned. We wanted to be enveloped by euphoric joy. We didn't care how foolish or insane or even blasphemous any of it seemed. We wanted to worship at the altar of martyrdom. So we did.

An umbrella in Alpe d'Huez: A change in how cycling can be portrayed

Graham Watson

You've seen this picture before. You know what it signifies. That Tour, and that day were both filled with meaning. The image can't help but be iconic, because of what it depicts. In fact, a whole book has been written about the events surrounding that day. But you know all this, so let me tell you about something else: the moment when the picture above was taken.

I'm now going to try to defend myself preemptively, and attempt to prove that I didn't go to YouTube, in search for clips of that stage, so I could find the exact moment when the iconic picture was taken. I'm a bit obsessive at times, but that would be too much...even for me.

But perhaps the way it happened makes me sound even weirder. I had the video of that stage playing, while I tended to some work on my computer (fan mail doesn't read itself you know). Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the video, and noticed a folded up, black umbrella in the background. I remembered seeing that same umbrella in the Graham Watson image. I knew instantly that it was on that switchback that the picture was taken.

So perhaps in my attempt to make myself look less obsessive and sad, I've only made matters worse.




Here's the very moment when the picture was taken:




If you want, you can see it in the video below. They go into that hairpin at around 2:04




But really, there are other things that we can talk about within the realm of photography. For example, the pictures below. They are from a book that I came across recently, which you can see here. These are not pictures of cycling, but rather of football/soccer in Argentina. Although the topic may not interest some of you, the sentiment these images convey is very much in line with the passion that many have for cycling. Actually, it far outweighs it, since Argentines have been known to take their love of the sport to unimaginable extremes.





I share the link to these images because regardless of what you make of football (and its fans), I believe this particular photographer has managed to capture the essence of football in Argentina (the few photos I'm posting here don't do the book justice), something that many cycling photographers fail to do for the sport they document.

You see, a few years ago, I was able to see Boca Juniors play their arch-rivals River Plate in the famed Bombonera stadium in Buenos Aires. I've been unable to explain what I felt and saw that day, but these images begin to capture what I've tried to convey to people over lengthy conversations. The mood in the stadium that day was insane, beautiful, scary and unlike anything I'd ever experienced in the context of sport. These pictures start to get the message across. And I'm left hoping that more pictures of cycling did the same.

Luckily, there are some photographers who are beginning to capture the real mood of the sport, its fans, and perhaps even the reasons why we love and follow cycling. I must admit that I don't know the names of many of these photographers, although Tim Kölln's work, and the Manual For Speed project certainly come to mind (a commenter also suggests the work of Stefan Vanfleteren). Surely you've seen these pictures.

When you look at this type of photography, you instantly recognize parts of why you were first drawn to cycling. Those images also fill in the blanks, since they depict scenes you are not familiar with, or always wondered about. In some cases, they're the type of images that you could show to someone who doesn't know anything cycling, to help them understand what attracts you to it. It explains a bit of what you know and understand about it.

Cancellara by Tim Kölln

By comparison, the work of many photographers from the Graham Watson era seems dated and detached. Almost clinical. Yes they took some great pictures too, but they sometimes leave a bit to be desired. Perhaps those photographers came from a strict photojournalism background. Perhaps they only cared about documenting the one thing they were supposed to keep their eye on, the race. Perhaps their work will have lasting power, and the current trend in photography is nothing more than that, a trend. Perhaps that's why some of the great images I'm referring to are found on sites like Flickr, and less often in magazines and books.

Perhaps I'm way out of my element too, since I'm by no means knowledgeable about photography. But not knowing about a subject has never stopped me from writing about it. I mean, I have a blog about cycling after all.


But while I may not really know anything about photography, I know when an image captures an emotion, and when it doesn't. A photo can be beautiful, well composed...but still fail to tell a story, and the drama behind it. We fill in the blanks with our knowledge, not the other way around. But photography can actually do all these things at once.

Paris-Roubaix by Jared Gruber

Could the same be said for writing? Do any writers convey parts of why you love cycling? Do any news stories, articles, interviews or fiction speak to what you love about riding a bike, or watching others ride a bike? The number of writers who can do this is amazingly small. How can it be that a sport that takes place in some of the most beautiful places, one that is replete with incredible plot lines, and features suffering on a grand scale has so little great writing done about it? The same could be said for the personal act of riding a bike.

As with photography, however, there are some writers who are leading the charge. They are telling personal stories, choosing to look inward for inspiration and answers. Is this part of what we might call the post-Lance era? Are some cycling fans and writers choosing to look inward, rather than outward, for inspiration and to figure out and express how they feel about the sport? Perhaps I'm connecting dots that don't exist, or don't need to be connected

Manual For Speed

In writing, blogs have certainly helped expand the notion of what is possible when writing about bikes and cycling. Yes, there are way too many blogs that are bad (as is often the case when we, the people, are given free reign over the means of production), but the good ones usually rise to the top. While the point of view given by people like Bikesnob may seem almost commonplace now, the radical departure they represent is substantial, as is their value. The same could be said of blogs like All Hail The Black Market, which at times dabble in Gonzo-style journalism, while looking away from the action of big-name cyclists.

Then there's books like A Dog In A Hat. How could a book about a professional who never broke into the most upper echelon of cycling paint give such a complete and compelling picture of the sport? Perhaps that's exactly why it does. Even a book like Lance Armstrong's War, which at first appears to be only about a superstar, can turn out to be revelatory, because it gives unbelievable details about the things we don't normally see in cycling...and in the end has nothing to do with Armstrong himself. The writer sees the world of professional cycling as an outisder, noticing the surreal aspects that we as observers would fixate on...but ones that jaded journalists would likely ignore.

Similarly, Matt Rendell's writing excels in its thoroughness, while exhibiting the author's passion for the subject. Even in his book about Marco Pantani, which is largely an investigative affair untangling the life of the Italian rider, Rendell's closing chapter details the struggle of today's cycling fan in a manner that no one has before or since. It's personal, and tries to make sense of the current state of sport in a way that no one else has managed to. Most importantly, it does so from the point of view of the observer. Are there other examples? Even better ones? Perhaps, as I'm sure I'm forgetting a good few.

As I see it, great writing doesn't always have to answer big questions. It doesn't always need to be irreverent, contrarian, or feature professional athletes to convey a compelling story. I say this merely as a reader, not any kind of expert or connoisseur since I'm neither. But consider Bill Strickland's recent piece titled How To Own A Bike. It's the kind of writing that showcases a simple idea in a way that makes you wish you'd thought of it. It's personal, and certainly in the "turning inward" model I mentioned earlier. It's not about the epic struggle of a professional fighting his way through Alps. It's not about Contador's ban, or Armstrong either. It's better than all those things. It's about a guy, and the relationship he has with a bike. Can you get to a more fundamental, basic concept? The sport of professional cycling can burn to the ground, it can rise and fall. It can do whatever it wants...but you still have your bike, and Bill's writing does a marvelous job of detailing one part of that relationship. It helps settle our gaze back on our own relationships, and our own lives.


In photography, it appears as though the strategy of turning inward, can also be aided by turning away from the action. Instead of focusing on the race, for example, a photographer can look around at everything else. What are the fans like? What are the places that a race goes through, the ones we only get to see from helicopter shots like? What are riders up to before and after the race? What is it like to ride a bike when you don't race, and will never race? What was it like when a professional trained through the winter? The seemingly mundane becomes sublime in the hands of a a talented photographer or writer. But we need more of it (something I've written about before).

Juan Antonio Flecha by Tim Kölln

And to think that some of these unusual images and vantage points probably came about due to some photographer's inability to shot from the back of a motorcycle mid-race, or a writer not having access to professionals for an interview after a decisive stage at the Tour.

There will always be a need for simple race photos. There's certainly a place for them, as there is with simple day-by-day accounts of Grand Tours, but both of these are often as dry as a baseball box score (for those outside the United States, this is what a baseball box score looks like. It's as boring as any Excel document you've ever seen. And keep in mind that the box score I linked to is for a "perfect game", a rare and exciting event in baseball).

So while basic race images are needed, they can be better (though I know "better" is largely subjective). Cycling is a personal pursuit. The riders struggle on their own, even when surrounded by teammates. That struggle is full of beauty, pain, and numerous other clichés that you've heard millions of times along with words like "epic". As silly as those words are, however, they are fairly accurate. So shouldn't they be expressed more readily? I think so. And I hope that more quality photos, videos, interviews, articles and stories keep popping up online. If not, I'll be left to look for folded up umbrellas in Alpe d'Huez switchbacks.




Are there photographers or writers whose work you enjoy? Feel free to tell everyone in the comments section. Remember, sharing is caring.

Name changes, helmets designed by Lando Calrissian, and adult braces in the peloton

As a man of scant height, I will always support fellow short men and women. It's for this reason that I would never mock someone for their height, or lack thereof. Having said that, I must admit that seeing Levi Leipheimer hoist a wine glass at the Tour de San Luis made me fearful for him, as he will surely be crushed soon, if given a wine bottle during a podium celebration.





And while early-season races like the Tour de San Luis can keep us entertained, this is also an ideal time of year to go back and re-watch old races, particularly the ones where you don't remember who won. It was while watching one such race (a late 90s edition of Liege-Bastogne-Liege I believe) that I was reminded of a simpler time in cycling. A time when Lando Calrissian worked as a design adviser for Rudy Project.





Amazing helmets with rearward facing visors aside, I wanted to share a video with you because of my post two weeks ago, regarding nicknames in Colombian cycling. In that post, I mentioned that cycling legend Cochise Rodriguez is known in Colombia exclusively by his nickname, not his given name (Martin Emilio). Not surprisingly, it turns out that only a few days ago, Cochise legally changed his name to Cochise. The video below announces this bit of breaking news (which I've subtitled). It's worth noting that the velodrome in the background is named after him (its official name is: Velodromo Martin Cochise Rodriguez).





Lastly, the video below is one I share with you in the spirit of cultural exchange. You see, years ago, as I was flipping through TV channels I stopped for a second and watched a bit of Sabado Gigante. As I watched this long-running variety show in Spanish, my lovely American wife commented that she never understood why shows from Spanish-speaking countries so often featured puppets, and adults dressed as children or clowns. At first, I thought she was crazy...but I slowly started to realize she was correct.

Quico, a character in the Mexican children's show Chavo Del 8. The show was largely made up of adults dressed up as children. Quico was alway dressed in a sailor's outfit, and a cycling cap (in Colombian colors no less). If you want to see some of Quico's greatest moments, you can watch them here.

The video below, which I didn't translate because of its length and because it didn't really warrant it, features a man dressed as a hobo clown. His guest is none other than Cochise Rodriguez. I'll spare you the details of their conversation, but will tell you that Cochise has a good sense of humor, and manages to say a couple of things that are actually funnier than the weird hobo clown.

If you can't watch much of it, I can't blame you. Watching someone like Cochise ride a stationary bike along with a hobo clown is unsettling to say the least.






And as if the videos above weren't enough, here's one of the Colombia-Coldeportes team training. Notice that their bus has the words "Inspired by Climbing" written on the side. It's the team's slogan. Forget Leopard's "True Racing". Forget Sky's inspirational bit about excellence and the "the line". These guys are not looking to be all-arounders, or do well in team time trials. They're just inspired by climbing.

Chavez, Forero and Henao

If you watch the video closely, you'll also notice that Esteban Chavez (winner of last year's Tour de l'Avenir) can be spotted wearing braces. Another rider in the team, Juan Pablo Forero, is sporting adult braces as well. Along with Sergio Henao, who will also have adult braces at Sky this year, I'm happy to be in good company...as I too am a Colombian adult with a mouth full of metal bits.

With Colombian riders in Movistar, Lampre, Liquigas, Acqua & Sapone and Sky (not to mention the Colombia-Coldeportes team), this will be a landmark year for Colombian cycling.

But more importantly, it will be a landmark year for us Colombians with adult braces.






You can watch another video of the team here, and you can see their Facebook page here.