The Secret Race: Inside the Hidden World of the Tour De France: Doping, Cover-Ups, and Winning at All Costs: Inside the Hidden World of the Tour De France: Doping, Cover-Ups, and Winning at All Costs by Daniel Coyle, Tyler Hamilton Read Free Book Online
Authors: Daniel Coyle, Tyler Hamilton
racer” doesn’t look great on a résumé. But they came to a race that July, in Fitchburg, Massachusetts, and I was fortunate enough to win, so they could see that while their daughter might be dating only a bike racer, at least she was dating a decent one. That December I left my little house in Nederland, Colorado, and moved into Haven’s place in Boston, though we didn’t tell her parents; we pretended I was just visiting.
When I look back, those might have been my happiest days. I was twenty-five years old. I had a budding relationship with Haven, a boisterous new golden retriever pup named Tugboat, and maybe a future racing my bike, if I kept improving. It felt like magic—I pushed the pedals, and this fun, interesting, challenging life was assembling itself around me. Around us.
Over in Europe, there were also hopeful signs that the days of the circus strongmen might be numbered. Riis’s 1996 Tour de France victory had been marked by moments of superhuman dominance, and people were whispering about doping. For example, at key moments on big climbs, Riis had done something no one had ever seen: he coasted back to look at the other contenders, almost taunting them, then accelerated away as if on a motorcycle. Around Europe, voices of reason began to speak up. An Italian judicial report had put a spotlight on EPO abuse among pro cyclists in that country; the French newspaper L’Équipe had published a series of articlesin which riders said they could no longer keep up without taking EPO, which was as yet undetectable in tests. Columnists wrote about how the new drugs were endangering the dignity of the sport. All this pressure fell smack onto the shoulders of Hein Verbruggen, the Dutchman who ran the UCI, cycling’s governing body. I hoped the UCI would act, if for no other reason than that I reasoned it might improve my chances of keeping up.
But all that seemed like small potatoes when I heard in early October that Lance had been diagnosed with testicular cancer, which had spread to his abdomen and brain. It was shocking, a reminder of how quickly life can change. The photos of him shook me to the core. I’d just seen him, so big and strong and invincible, winning the Tour DuPont that May. Now he was skinny, bald, scarred. I heard that he had vowed to come back, and my first thought was, No way . My second thought was, Well, if anybody can, it’s Lance .
As the calendar turned toward spring, I found myself looking forward to the 1997 season with new enthusiasm. Weisel was the talk of the cycling world, because he was getting it done. He was signing some of the sport’s biggest names. We’d heard he was overhauling the staff and the schedule, and that some of us—hopefully me—would be based full-time in Europe, in a town near the Pyrenees called Girona. As this news arrived, Haven and I talked it over, and tried to figure out how we were going to navigate these changes. One thing we settled on fast: whatever happened, wherever it happened, we’d make it work.
* Historical note: Doping and cycling have been intertwined since the sport’s earliest days. In the first part of the twentieth century, cyclists used stimulants that affected the brain (cocaine, ether, amphetamines), reducing feelings of fatigue. In the 1970s, new drugs like steroids and corticoids focused on the body’s muscles and connective tissues, adding strength and reducing recovery time. But the real doping breakthrough happened when the focus shifted to the blood—specifically to increasing its oxygen-carrying capacity.
Erythropoietin, or EPO, is a naturally occurring hormone that stimulates the kidneys to produce more oxygen-carrying red blood cells. Commercially developed in the mideighties to help dialysis and cancer patients who suffered from anemia, it was quickly adopted by athletes—and for good reason. A 13-week study of fit recreational cyclists in the European Journal of Applied Physiology shows that EPO increased peak
When I look back, those might have been my happiest days. I was twenty-five years old. I had a budding relationship with Haven, a boisterous new golden retriever pup named Tugboat, and maybe a future racing my bike, if I kept improving. It felt like magic—I pushed the pedals, and this fun, interesting, challenging life was assembling itself around me. Around us.
Over in Europe, there were also hopeful signs that the days of the circus strongmen might be numbered. Riis’s 1996 Tour de France victory had been marked by moments of superhuman dominance, and people were whispering about doping. For example, at key moments on big climbs, Riis had done something no one had ever seen: he coasted back to look at the other contenders, almost taunting them, then accelerated away as if on a motorcycle. Around Europe, voices of reason began to speak up. An Italian judicial report had put a spotlight on EPO abuse among pro cyclists in that country; the French newspaper L’Équipe had published a series of articlesin which riders said they could no longer keep up without taking EPO, which was as yet undetectable in tests. Columnists wrote about how the new drugs were endangering the dignity of the sport. All this pressure fell smack onto the shoulders of Hein Verbruggen, the Dutchman who ran the UCI, cycling’s governing body. I hoped the UCI would act, if for no other reason than that I reasoned it might improve my chances of keeping up.
But all that seemed like small potatoes when I heard in early October that Lance had been diagnosed with testicular cancer, which had spread to his abdomen and brain. It was shocking, a reminder of how quickly life can change. The photos of him shook me to the core. I’d just seen him, so big and strong and invincible, winning the Tour DuPont that May. Now he was skinny, bald, scarred. I heard that he had vowed to come back, and my first thought was, No way . My second thought was, Well, if anybody can, it’s Lance .
As the calendar turned toward spring, I found myself looking forward to the 1997 season with new enthusiasm. Weisel was the talk of the cycling world, because he was getting it done. He was signing some of the sport’s biggest names. We’d heard he was overhauling the staff and the schedule, and that some of us—hopefully me—would be based full-time in Europe, in a town near the Pyrenees called Girona. As this news arrived, Haven and I talked it over, and tried to figure out how we were going to navigate these changes. One thing we settled on fast: whatever happened, wherever it happened, we’d make it work.
* Historical note: Doping and cycling have been intertwined since the sport’s earliest days. In the first part of the twentieth century, cyclists used stimulants that affected the brain (cocaine, ether, amphetamines), reducing feelings of fatigue. In the 1970s, new drugs like steroids and corticoids focused on the body’s muscles and connective tissues, adding strength and reducing recovery time. But the real doping breakthrough happened when the focus shifted to the blood—specifically to increasing its oxygen-carrying capacity.
Erythropoietin, or EPO, is a naturally occurring hormone that stimulates the kidneys to produce more oxygen-carrying red blood cells. Commercially developed in the mideighties to help dialysis and cancer patients who suffered from anemia, it was quickly adopted by athletes—and for good reason. A 13-week study of fit recreational cyclists in the European Journal of Applied Physiology shows that EPO increased peak
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