This is a big confession, for two reasons. First of all, it signifies the past tense: used to be. Meaning, no longer am. And secondly, because tragic I was, indeed. In all fairness, cycling was my life and my work. I was a staff journalist at one of Australia's biggest cycling magazine publishing houses. I was paid to write about cycling, talk about cycling and think about cycling ALL THE TIME. It was great! I loved it.
I also got very little sleep at this time of the year, Tour de France time.
Right now, as I write this, I can hear the all-so-familiar tones of cycling's famous English-speaking commentators, Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen, drifting from the lounge room. I still know most of the riders' names. I can picture the team tactics in my head without seeing the vision - sometimes fuzzy, sometimes fragmented by dropped-out satellites, sometimes without the audio and just the cheering of the crowd and sputtering of the media motorcycle as it weaves around riders and team vehicles.
I can see the dramatic steep ravines, the fields splashed with yellow sunflowers, the moonscape mountaintop and the cobbled village streets. The shirtless fans running crazily up the road alongside their compatriot. The flags, the campervans, the media trucks and the finish arch.
The team colours and names have changed, as they do from season to season when sponsors chop and change. Each year brings a slight alteration in the syntax of cycling style; one year, jerseys were fashioned with loose-fitting sleeves and riders took to cutting them off with scissors; another year saw longer socks than the previous. And who could forget the bright yellow rubber wristbands that spread like fire through the peloton (much like the more unsavoury practices now associated with that shade of yellow).
Let's take, for instance, 2005. See up above here? That's my name, the author of the pre-race write-up of the contenders for that year's edition of le Tour. That year, my TdF daily schedule went a little bit like this:
5:45am wake up
6:00am training ride
7:45am breakfast, shower
8:30am ride to work
5:30pm ride home from work
7:30pm work at home
9:30pm nap on the lounge
11:00pm start watching tour
1:30am go to bed
The next day, I'd rinse and repeat. I really don't know how I sustained this, considering I was on deadline for a major annual magazine and also going through a massive life change. How did I manage to keep deadline, stay upright on a bike, keep my eyes open at work? I'm not entirely sure. I think I ate a lot of bananas.
I remember when I first started learning about the tactics and how the race actually worked. My dad explained to me the timing system and the points and the way that the teams operated to shield their favoured rider, or to increase tempo to try and drop riders off the back, or how a rider in a breakaway group didn't 'have to' pull a turn depending on who was where in the peloton and the GC. Once I understood, I was hooked. From then on, me and July and the couch had a 21-day (or night) date.
Until now. I don't know what it is. I'm mildly interested, in the sense that I'm following without investing any energy or time. Was it the doping scandals that have doggedly plagued the Tour? Perhaps, partially at least.
I think we've just grown apart, le Tour et moi.
For now, à bientôt.
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