The Tour: When riding in a huge pack of 180 riders like that, you can’t really see where you’re going. You’re eyes are glued on the wheel in front of you, and you have to trust that the guy in front of you is paying attention and won’t let you run into a curb or a traffic circle or a traffic island that could cause you to crash.
Life: Sometimes we have no choice but to pedal along on blind faith and trust, huh?
*** ***
The Tour: Even for the most fit, fine-tuned athletes in the world, riding thousands of miles day after day in the heat of the summer through valleys and over some of the highest mountains in the world in all kinds of weather, isn’t fun. In fact, long about the 12th day, the commentators all start talking about the pain and suffering the riders are beginning to feel…pain and suffering that doesn’t end until the last day in Paris. You have a choice – do you stop, step off your bike, and retreat to the safety of your team car? If you do, that’s it, you don’t get back on your bike the next day and continue on. Or do you grit your teeth and push through the pain because tomorrow’s stage might suit you better?
Life: Living hurts some times. It’s hard. But pushing through the pain – learning how to suffer – ultimately leads to an even greater reward.
*** ***
The Tour: When you’re riding in the pack or with a handful of teammates, there’s less work for you to do. And, thanks to the physics of it all, if you drop out the back of the pack, it can be almost impossible to catch up on some days, but you definitely will expend much more energy than you would otherwise.
Life: Stay in the boat! Life is a lot easier that way!
*** ***
The Tour: A moment’s inattention or distraction can mean disaster. That’s how most crashes happen – a glancing brush of wheels, a moment’s turn away from the road and you miss the traffic island, a slight miscalculation on a curve.
Life: It’s like that driving, too!
*** ***
The Tour: The leader of the Tour, the man in the yellow jersey, and his team, must defend the jersey. You will be attacked as the leader and if you want to keep your standing you have to fight for it.
Life: There are lots of things you work hard for and then have to protect to keep it. But those are the things that are usually worth fighting for.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Life on two wheels: Lessons on living I
The Tour: In the end, despite all the technological advances in the construction of the bicycles, aerodynamic improvements in bike helmets, new formulations in the nutrition bars and gels the riders eat while riding, etc., the only way for a rider to advance and become a better rider is to put in the work. In the end, it all comes down to the individual rider and his abilities.
**** ****
The Tour: On a team of 9 riders, everyone has a role. Sprinters are the fast guys…they don’t do mountains. Climbers live for the high peaks of the Alps, the 8 percent gradients and the thin air. All-around riders are good at just about everything, but they can either be a workhorse or the one everyone works for to give him a chance to win the entire race. And then there are the riders who spend three weeks as what is known as “domestiques.” They’re the ones who go back and forth between the front of the group and the team cars in the rear to ferry water bottles and food to the guys at the front. They likely will never win a stage, but without them the winner couldn’t win.
Life: Talk about unity among many parts. And what would we do without the servants among us?
*** ***
The Tour: The team leader, the guy with the best hopes of winning the race, historically, cannot win without the support of a team. A road race is technically won by one man, but the race isn’t a solitary activity. The sprinters need the help of their teammates to lead them out the front of the pack, give them a slipstream to follow before they break free and fly to the line. The climbers preferably need a teammate, but will settle for competitors, in the mountains to share the work of the climb. The winner needs a team around him to help him protect him from falls, to sacrifice their own bikes in the event of a mechanical malfunction, to help him preserve his energy by riding in their slipstreams.
Life: While you can go through life as a loner, it’s a lot easier and more enjoyable with help from family and friends, isn’t it?
*** ***
The Tour: Teammates will sacrifice everything for their team leader and, ultimately, for the team itself – water bottles, bikes, food, bodies whether by expending the last ounce of energy you’ve got or being the first one to hit the deck at a high speed (never on purpose, but you expose yourself to that danger).
Life: There are people in life that are worth sacrificing for. And no matter how much pain it brings you, sacrificing for those people brings benefits that far outweigh the suffering. And, on the flip side, as the person on the receiving end of the sacrifice, sometimes you have to let people serve you.
**** ****
The Tour: On a team of 9 riders, everyone has a role. Sprinters are the fast guys…they don’t do mountains. Climbers live for the high peaks of the Alps, the 8 percent gradients and the thin air. All-around riders are good at just about everything, but they can either be a workhorse or the one everyone works for to give him a chance to win the entire race. And then there are the riders who spend three weeks as what is known as “domestiques.” They’re the ones who go back and forth between the front of the group and the team cars in the rear to ferry water bottles and food to the guys at the front. They likely will never win a stage, but without them the winner couldn’t win.
Life: Talk about unity among many parts. And what would we do without the servants among us?
*** ***
The Tour: The team leader, the guy with the best hopes of winning the race, historically, cannot win without the support of a team. A road race is technically won by one man, but the race isn’t a solitary activity. The sprinters need the help of their teammates to lead them out the front of the pack, give them a slipstream to follow before they break free and fly to the line. The climbers preferably need a teammate, but will settle for competitors, in the mountains to share the work of the climb. The winner needs a team around him to help him protect him from falls, to sacrifice their own bikes in the event of a mechanical malfunction, to help him preserve his energy by riding in their slipstreams.
Life: While you can go through life as a loner, it’s a lot easier and more enjoyable with help from family and friends, isn’t it?
*** ***
The Tour: Teammates will sacrifice everything for their team leader and, ultimately, for the team itself – water bottles, bikes, food, bodies whether by expending the last ounce of energy you’ve got or being the first one to hit the deck at a high speed (never on purpose, but you expose yourself to that danger).
Life: There are people in life that are worth sacrificing for. And no matter how much pain it brings you, sacrificing for those people brings benefits that far outweigh the suffering. And, on the flip side, as the person on the receiving end of the sacrifice, sometimes you have to let people serve you.
Life on two wheels: The chess game
For those unfamiliar, the Tour de France is the granddaddy of all road cycling races. It was the first tour and is the most storied. The riders, in teams of 9, strap on their helmets and get comfortable on their bikes for a three-week, 2,000-plus mile trip around France. There are 21 stages of an average 100 kilometers each day and two rest days where there is no racing.
There are flat stages that offer the best opportunities for the sprinters to win; there are two time trial stages that pit each rider against the clock…the fastest man wins; there are five mountain stages, divided among the Pyrenees and the Alps. To complete the Tour, all you have to do is finish each stage within the day’s time limit.
But to win the Tour, to climb the top step of the podium on the Champs Elyssees on the last day, to stand on that podium in the yellow jersey of the race’s leader, there are certain things that are necessary.
Of course, you have to put in the hours of training. You need a good bike and need to know something about the aerodynamics of your particular body on that bike. But you also need a team.
Cycling, a little contrary to what you might think, is a team sport.
And watching the team dynamics and the strategy – they don’t call the Tour a “chess game on two wheels” for nothing – has left me thinking about how much the Tour can teach life lessons and, in some ways, be a metaphor for life.What the next post are a few things I’ve noticed in the last three weeks. Some of these are applicable to a lot of sports, but I think this event sheds a particularly narrow light on these universal principles.
There are flat stages that offer the best opportunities for the sprinters to win; there are two time trial stages that pit each rider against the clock…the fastest man wins; there are five mountain stages, divided among the Pyrenees and the Alps. To complete the Tour, all you have to do is finish each stage within the day’s time limit.
But to win the Tour, to climb the top step of the podium on the Champs Elyssees on the last day, to stand on that podium in the yellow jersey of the race’s leader, there are certain things that are necessary.
Of course, you have to put in the hours of training. You need a good bike and need to know something about the aerodynamics of your particular body on that bike. But you also need a team.
Cycling, a little contrary to what you might think, is a team sport.
And watching the team dynamics and the strategy – they don’t call the Tour a “chess game on two wheels” for nothing – has left me thinking about how much the Tour can teach life lessons and, in some ways, be a metaphor for life.What the next post are a few things I’ve noticed in the last three weeks. Some of these are applicable to a lot of sports, but I think this event sheds a particularly narrow light on these universal principles.
Life on two wheels: Mesmerized by the bikes
One of the great spectacles of sport ended today. The almost superhuman, epic journey of 180 men and their bicycles through the valleys, flats, hills and mountains of France known as the Tour de France. (And, I'll admit, that's one of the reasons for the lack of posting lately.)
It’s a beautiful event that has, sadly, been under a pretty dark cloud in the last few years as the transgressions of entirely too many have sullied the reputations, dreams and livelihoods of everyone else. But the three-week odyssey that ended with a triumphant circuit of the Champs Elysees in Paris, I believe, started a new chapter in its 100-plus year history this year with the rise of a number of impressive young riders and a handful of new teams that have taken a stand against the cheaters and for the beauty, integrity and courage of the sport.
I was first introduced to cycling three years ago while watching the final days leading up to Lance Armstrong’s final of seven straight victories in the Tour de France. It was a historic moment in the world of sports and I’m a sucker for historic moments. I never watch the World Series, but the year the Red Sox foiled the curse, I tuned in with everyone else. I never watch college basketball, but when George Mason went to the Big Dance, I watched, and I did the same for the University of Maryland’s women’s team when they won their first championship.
But after witnessing the end of the Armstrong era, I couldn’t help but tune in again the following July to find out who would step up…again, an historic moment in sports. I watched the tour from start to finish. I found myself glued to the TV every night for three weeks straight – mesmerized by the glory of the French countryside, the dazzle of 180 multi-colored jerseys flying through fields of sunflowers like a cloud neon Skittles, the drama of the sudden and sometimes spectacular crash, the dashed dreams, the heroic triumphs over injury and physical suffering.
And I was hooked. I’ve watched the last two years, start to finish, and I have to say no other sporting event captures my imagination quite like the Tour.
It’s a beautiful event that has, sadly, been under a pretty dark cloud in the last few years as the transgressions of entirely too many have sullied the reputations, dreams and livelihoods of everyone else. But the three-week odyssey that ended with a triumphant circuit of the Champs Elysees in Paris, I believe, started a new chapter in its 100-plus year history this year with the rise of a number of impressive young riders and a handful of new teams that have taken a stand against the cheaters and for the beauty, integrity and courage of the sport.
I was first introduced to cycling three years ago while watching the final days leading up to Lance Armstrong’s final of seven straight victories in the Tour de France. It was a historic moment in the world of sports and I’m a sucker for historic moments. I never watch the World Series, but the year the Red Sox foiled the curse, I tuned in with everyone else. I never watch college basketball, but when George Mason went to the Big Dance, I watched, and I did the same for the University of Maryland’s women’s team when they won their first championship.
But after witnessing the end of the Armstrong era, I couldn’t help but tune in again the following July to find out who would step up…again, an historic moment in sports. I watched the tour from start to finish. I found myself glued to the TV every night for three weeks straight – mesmerized by the glory of the French countryside, the dazzle of 180 multi-colored jerseys flying through fields of sunflowers like a cloud neon Skittles, the drama of the sudden and sometimes spectacular crash, the dashed dreams, the heroic triumphs over injury and physical suffering.
And I was hooked. I’ve watched the last two years, start to finish, and I have to say no other sporting event captures my imagination quite like the Tour.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Civility lives
In addition to the random characters that abound on public transportation, every so often riding mass transit gives you a front row seat to some extraordinary acts of human kindness and civility. In a world where people are capable of walking past an elderly man lying in the street after being hit by a car, or ignoring a mentally-ill woman who's collapsed on the hospital waiting room floor, it's nice to know that people still notice each other.
I was on the Metro the other day, a few stops from mine. Living in this area there is often a smattering of military personnel in uniform riding the rails. On this particular day there was a young black woman in Army fatigues standing in the aisle next to my seat, peacefully zoning out a bit with her iPod. All of a sudden, out of a group of people further down in the car, comes this young white guy. He was maybe in his early 20s, maybe a little younger. Looked a little rough around the edges -- white t-shirt, raggedy black shorts, a biker's glove on his right hand. He walked up to the woman in uniform standing in the aisle and wordlessly stuck out his hand.
She looked at him a moment, took the earbuds out of her ears, and looked at him.
"Thank you," he said. She took his hand, and then he turned around and walked away.
I wasn't close enough to hear if she gave any response. But she put her earbuds back in and she and I both exited at the same stop.
It was a touching scene, especially because it took place in such an intimate space. This wasn't a crowded shopping mall or a bustling airport terminal. This was a subway car, a half-empty car at that, during the morning rush when there isn't usually much noise other than the scream of the air and screech of steel as the trains move through the tunnels. People are either reading their newspapers, catching a few more winks or zoning out on their iPods. In a word, this guy had a captive audience.
And yet there was something about this young soldier that prompted him to thank her for her service to her country. Something that transcended race, gender, feelings for or against the U.S. involvement in Iraq, and everything else that prevents people from reaching out to others in a show of human compassion and solidarity.
I think that something was this young man's sense of patriotism, yes, but also human decency. It is, afterall, polite and decent to thank someone when they've made a sacrifice for you, isn't it?
So just in case you were wondering, it does still exist.
I was on the Metro the other day, a few stops from mine. Living in this area there is often a smattering of military personnel in uniform riding the rails. On this particular day there was a young black woman in Army fatigues standing in the aisle next to my seat, peacefully zoning out a bit with her iPod. All of a sudden, out of a group of people further down in the car, comes this young white guy. He was maybe in his early 20s, maybe a little younger. Looked a little rough around the edges -- white t-shirt, raggedy black shorts, a biker's glove on his right hand. He walked up to the woman in uniform standing in the aisle and wordlessly stuck out his hand.
She looked at him a moment, took the earbuds out of her ears, and looked at him.
"Thank you," he said. She took his hand, and then he turned around and walked away.
I wasn't close enough to hear if she gave any response. But she put her earbuds back in and she and I both exited at the same stop.
It was a touching scene, especially because it took place in such an intimate space. This wasn't a crowded shopping mall or a bustling airport terminal. This was a subway car, a half-empty car at that, during the morning rush when there isn't usually much noise other than the scream of the air and screech of steel as the trains move through the tunnels. People are either reading their newspapers, catching a few more winks or zoning out on their iPods. In a word, this guy had a captive audience.
And yet there was something about this young soldier that prompted him to thank her for her service to her country. Something that transcended race, gender, feelings for or against the U.S. involvement in Iraq, and everything else that prevents people from reaching out to others in a show of human compassion and solidarity.
I think that something was this young man's sense of patriotism, yes, but also human decency. It is, afterall, polite and decent to thank someone when they've made a sacrifice for you, isn't it?
So just in case you were wondering, it does still exist.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)