allez le dope
For as long as it’s been a competitive sport, it appears cycling has been in the doping-doldrums. Back in the early days of the Tour de France, it was the odd bottle of booze, liberated from the local village bar, that the intrepid and uber-hardy cyclists necked before staggering up the indomitable Alpe d’Huez or Le Tourmalet. Cocaine, ether, LSD and amphetamines quickly followed, only to be usurped by the drug choice of today’s cyclists, EPO, steroids, growth hormone, and the scientifically named, GW1516 (an illegally manufactured drug known to cause cancer), not to mention the use of self-administered blood bulking and ‘ozone-treated’ blood transfusions. And contrary to the protestations of many within the industry, professional cyclists are still allegedly taking them by the bucket-load.
According to figures quoted in the recently published Cycling Independent Reform Commission Report, as many as 90% could be doing so. In reality, the actual figure is more likely to be closer to 30%, but even so, this certainly represents more than just the odd bad-apple dabbling in the doping dark-arts to gain a slim advantage over his rivals. It’s accepted that certain teams are ‘cleaner’ than others – just take a look at one of Lance’s old teams, Astana, were five riders have been found guilty of doping in the last year, and who are managed by one of the most high-profile and prolific dopers of all times, Andre Vinokourov – but the spectre even falls on our own Team Sky, where both riders & coaches have recently been ‘let-go’ for suspect misdemeanours.
As cycling continues to dominate the mid-life-crisis market for many men, it should come as no surprise that doping is on the rise even within the lower levels of amateur racing, sportive attendance and triathlon competition. One French amateur recently tested positive for twelve banned substances, though it has to be said he was more likely to be a drug-addict first and a cyclist second! So, why do they do it? Having competed in a 200km race last weekend, I can confirm that the words of yellow jersey winner, Jaques Anquetil, certainly still ring true: when asked if he doped Jaques replied “Yes, but only when absolutely necessary.” “And when exactly is it absolutely necessary” pushed the reporter. “Why, all the time!” was his retort.
Here’s the write-up of the race:
The day had yet to dawn when, with an equal sense of optimism and trepidation, Grant and I popped over to West London for the early start of this year’s first cycle race, the 200km London to Oxford and back, Steam Ride. Optimism, in that the distance was going to show us we are fit enough to have a go at the non-stop cost-to-coast escapade we have planned for May 2nd, and trepidation, in that it was our longest ride this year. By about 85 miles. Uh oh.
The first thing to point out is that the organising club, Hackney Cycle & Audax, go to great lengths to stress this ISN’T a race. No, it’s a group of like-minded long-distance cyclists who enjoy each other’s company whilst spending a lovely day in England’s green and pleasant land. It’s just a pity none of the cyclists got the message and I have to say I’ve ridden slower time-trials: at one point Grant, after about 50 miles, clocked a measured mile and it registered 24 mph. I’ve also ridden less undulating hill-climbs for that matter!
The first half to Oxford, was surprisingly good fun. It was chilly and damp but tolerable and the too-hot-pace kept us relatively warm. We’d teamed up with Tomas, who had travelled all the way from Lithuania just for this race, and Robert from Burnley, and, with both of them doing their pull at the front, they carried their passengers to the turnaround point of Oxford’s ‘Head of the River’, in just under four hours. But then it got messy. I’ve never seen so many wheels fall off a two-wheeled machine.
Tomas understandably grew tired of the two wheelsuckers and dropped us. The rain came, the temperature fell and Grant’s sat nav watch started to play up. It was only now that the true nature of the ride became apparent and it’s really a strange combination of orienteering and treasure-hunt, and one where a Garmin is not only de riguer, it’s absolutely necessary. It turned out Robert’s a mathematician who’d intend to self-navigate with six A4 sheets of notes and maps. Anyone who knows me would already realise that I’d leave everything to Grant. And Grant was suffering so badly he’d lost the will to live, let along the will to navigate!
Needless to say, the next six hours were tortuous, but, following several off-piste and unintentional diversions, we finally made it back to HQ and my, did that pint taste good. So, we did prove to ourselves that the 2015 escapade is all-systems go, but that we need to get a few more miles in. And then it’s just the small matter of a marathon run and the swim across Lake Windermere to worry about. With six weeks left to train, what could possibly go wrong…
