Adieu Laurent Fignon. 1960-2010.

Sad day today.

The passing this morning of Laurent Fignon after a very courageous battle against cancer hit home.   He was only 50, a milestone I'll reach myself within a few weeks.  Way, WAY too flippin young.   A forced reflection on the capricious nature of life, luck and health.

Fignon's life should be deemed full, but not complete.  He accomplished a lot in his short 50 years.  In addition to his well documented victories, he saved and then ran Paris-Nice for a few years, opened the Centre Laurent Fignon in the Pyrenees (a highly recommended lodging place for cyclosportifs), and provided insightful TV commentary during the Tour de France.  And like Jacques Anquetil before him, he campaigned one final Tour, while fighting a maladie that would take him a few weeks later.  He was, according to those who knew him better, a private family man. A loving husband and father.

I'm really bothered by Fignon's passing, this champion from my own age cohort.  It just doesn't seem possible. I remember perspectives from American US Creteil stagaries about confronting the amateur Fignon, way back in  summer1981 races around Paris.  Little things, like how he'd drop the others during warmups before circuit races.  His penchant for climbing in monstrous gears, out of the saddle.  His power.   His pedigree.  His Parisian mannerisms.

Ah yes, the Parisian.  Fignon was often portrayed by the press as a testy, slightly dismissive anti-hero.  A rare intellectual in a peloton of paysans.  Greg LeMond's nemesis, and opposite.  A hard to know guy, one prickly with press and public.   A Frenchman screwed out of a certain Giro win by the rule-bending Moser-Torriani mafia, while the tifosi snickered.

That popular characterization was lazy.  A way-too-easy play on a classic Gallic stereotype.  And one I never really bought into.

As I sit here trying to concentrate on work, just back from my 6-7am interval training session, and waiting for the exterminator to rid my house of termites, I find myself looking at the yellow Livestrong bracelet I've been wearing out of solidarity with Fignon (joining Soutien du champion Laurent Fignon dans sa lutte contre la maladie on facebook.).  My mind wanders, distracted by anecdotes and memories.

It doesn't seem either possible or 'just' that I got to feel so alive this morning -- flying along, oxygen flowing, feeding power into legs propelling me along at 25 mph on a velo that so effectively demonstrates what it means to be 'alive' -  knowing that at just about the same moment, over in France poor Laurent was fighting out his last, lone finale.   The stark contrast bothers me.

I recall a Miroir du Cyclisme article about neo-pros Fignon and best friend Pascal Jules back in '83 or so.   They were both riding turn-of-the-century bikes in Paris for the photo shoot, laughing at their ancient retro kit, not a care in the world.  Were we 'jeune and insouciant?'  Bien sur!   I can remember reading that article in my mom's kitchen, longing for battles in distant northern France, thinking how lucky they both were.

Lucky?  Who knew that carefree Parisian tough guy Pascal Jules would be killed in a car crash a few years later.  And now this.

I remember a flying young Renault missile, off the front in Blois-Chaville, suddenly breaking his crank and spectacularly crashing while alone in the lead.  And that same young Cyrille Guimard protege slaving like a beast a few months later to defend his team leader Bernard Hinault's 1983 Vuelta d'Espana victory.  And for an encore?   Filling in for his wounded captain to take a wide open Tour de France.

Today, we all need to forget those 8 seconds in Paris.  And remember instead, that brilliant '83 Tour.  It was a classic.

I was racing at Super Week in Milwaukee, but avidly following the daily results in USA Today in those pre-internet days.  I remember a friend who was at that year's Tour later analyzing it quite simply:  "Fignon won because he didn't have a bad day.  Arroyo, Delgado, Bernadeau, Anderson, Kelly, Winnen and Van Impe?  They all had at least one bad day."  

That climb in best young rider white and 80's-defining terry headband climbing in blazing heat on Alpe d'Huez, keeping Winnen and Bernadeau under wraps, and matching Van Impe and  Jimenez pedal stroke for pedal stroke. Taking a Maillot Jaune, confirming it in classic style during the Morzine hillclimb, and again in the final TT days later.  It was a coronation.

And how can we forget the confirmation, his imperial Alpine romp in the '84 Tour?   The journalists all compared him to Merckx.  It was the height of Renault domination.  He was the first guy to defeat Bernard Hinault in a major Tour.

There'll be no old sepia-tone memory of this departed champion...my lasting memory will be in vivid color.  Of a rider on a flying royal blue Gitane, offset against a yellow jersey and handlebar tape, all against a verdant Alpine backdrop.  The quintessential young champion, the sun king.  Alone, and imperial.

Today, we need to remember Fignon like this.

Photo Du Jour: Now THIS is a president.

Let's see, President Obama goes to Martha's Vineyard for 2 weeks and plays golf...

Nicolas Sarkozy visits the Tour de France, and hits the road himself.

I ask you, really, why any fat American thinks he can laugh at the French is just beyond me.  

Which of these guys would you want to ride with?

When it comes to le velo, French guys just have it in their blood I think. (Casque?  Bah!  Quelle Casque?)

He's even got the new long socks pro-thing going.  And a b-Twin house brand velo from French retail powerhouse Decathlon.    

...and after this sortie, he's got Carla Bruni to come home to. 

Sorry, I don't think even President Obama's newly released coffee table book (below) will be enough to get him style-votes over Sarkosy on this topic.     

"Allez Monsieur Le President...a Bloc!"

  

Dima Weltmeister!

Congratulations to Flandria Cafe's favorite Belorussian, my CCB International club-mate Dzmitry Buben, who this past weekend defended his FIS-RSC Weltradsportwoche Championship last week in Deutschlandsberg, Austria.

Dima dominated the competition.  Criterium -1st. Eibiswald RR- 1st (2'25" up). Sprints -4th.   Hillclimb -2nd, Bad Gams RR 2nd (behind teammate Vladimir Beliauski), and Steins ITT - 1st.

OVERALL WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP: 1st.

(thanks to Barry Boyce for the report and photos)  

I first met Dima this past spring at the Blue Hills Road Race.  A tremendously nice guy.   And a ferocious competitor of true class.

I remember riding together warming down after that race;  one where Dzmitry attacked incessantly but to no avail - in the end frustratingly buried in a mass sprint.

As we chatted he lamented, "Where is my form?"

Well, looks like you found it Dima.


Поздравляю.  Congratulations.

A doughboy's cronoscalata tale...

It was 'Back to School' this past Sunday... at the Berkshire Cycling Association's Mt. Greylock Hillclimb.    Fun race, run by a really nice bunch of guys from what looked like a great bike club.   (Thanks Kurt, for putting on a great race!)

OK, so maybe a hill climb is not the ideal debut effort just coming back after a broken collarbone, with no intensity training in months, and still ~10 pounds or so over a reasonable fighting weight.  But 8 miles flat out up Rockwell Road to the highest point in Massachusetts was just what I needed both physically and spiritually.

For a guy who never had 'natural climber' at the top of my cycling attributes list, I'm still attracted to the challenge of trying to improve on the big climbs.   The Quest for VAM.  Finding your inner Charly Gaul.

In the truth-be-told dirty little secrets department, I never finished a hill climb time trial happy with my effort.  My first time up Mt. Washington I put my foot down a few times (oh, the shame!)

My last clmbing TT was in the Tour of New Hampshire Milk race - way back in 1983 - up Vermont's Mt. Ascutney.  I was simply pathetic.  From top 10 in flat stage 1 - to bottom 10 on the big climb.  That memory is still the source of 'drowning man' nightmares - getting caught by rider after rider, zig zagging up the climb, praying for it to be over.   Demoralized and unfocused.  Like those dreams where you're running from something and the legs won't move...

So call it unfinished business if you will.  The ideal of climbing to the absolute limit.  A bloc.  With lionheart courage.  Penance for personal failings of character in too many other similar moments of truth.  Henious sins against the spirit of the ghosts of grimpeurs past.  It can't end like that, can it?

What's really fascinating to me about hill climb time trials is the mental concentration aspect, and the quest to learn (you'd think I'd have figured it out after all these years) how to balance cadence, gearing and breathing to stay right on the knifes edge of blowing up, without going into the red.   I feathered that edge Sunday at 168-172 bpm, spinning away at 90-100 rpm.   Panting.  I erred on the side of smaller gears (compact) and it kept me from my usual overgearing and blowing up, but unfortunately didn't propel me up at a very competitive velocity.

My time?  Bah, a mediocre-to-poor 42 minutes...totally forgettable.    I caught a few guys, but also got passed by a few including the winner Team Type 1's Will Dugan who blazed up in ~30 minutes.   Not very good, but I suppose it wasn't so terrible either after a month and a half of no racing or max level intensity.  I'm quite sure it's the hardest I've pushed myself for 42 minutes straight in decades.

What was positive about this test was that for literally the first time ever, I didn't get demoralized or quit mentally... I fought to the line and am satisfied knowing it was the most I could do that day.   Finally happy with the effort, if not the result.

It felt good to suffer again.   That's what it's all about.

Is this the Globalization of cycling?

Today the UCI announced how many riders from which nations 'qualified' for the U-23 Men's World Road Championships down under this year. Check out the list below.

Notably absent are two nations we're used to seeing there, and often in the mix at the end. Nations that produce riders in the top of the world's pro races. 

 Nobody from Luxembourg. And....nobody from the Republic of Ireland.

I think I just heard Shay Elliott's memorial stone just falling over.  What?  No Paddys in the worlds?  

I'll sleep comfortably tonight, happy to know that in the relentless pursuit of 'Mondialization', Eritrea, Iran, Belize, Netherlands Antilles, Moldova and Uruguay were all invited to send teams to the worlds U23 road race.

And that these countries with the robust cycling cultures that produced Kelly, Roche, Dan Martin, and the Schleck brothers are rewarded by exclusion of their Espoirs.  Their U23's aren't good enough?   But 5 riders from Eritrea are?   (Quick,  where'd I put that Africa map?)

I'm sorry, gentlemen, your selection criteria - whatever it may be (I'll leave the experts to figure that out) -  is flawed, and unfair.   These two nations have earned the right to be grandfathered in.  

.

These countries have produced and given back to cycling in many ways over decades.    Tiny Luxembourghas produced three Tour winners, (almost another this year), has top professionals, runs a top pro stage race every year, a super Gran Fondo in La Charly Gaul, and has several long-standing amateur clubs that have produced top pros like Bjarne Riis and Acacio daSilva.  Luxembourg deserves the right to have representation in the worlds road race.  

Mondialization should not be a zero sum game.  

Nice job, Paddy McQuaid!  Glad to see you're leading the UCI in bringing, (uggh) affirmative action to world cycling.   Ol' Ted Kennedy would have approved.   

But at least Teddy knew how to take care of his own.   

Remember Pat, as another Irish Political master Tip O'Neill once said, "all politics is local."   But that's not quite right in the case of the UCI, is it?   Once you're in power in Aigle, your 'local' - and the key to staying in power - quickly shifts to 'the whole world' itself.   .   

Under 23 men road race

5 starters (from 10 qualifiers): Eritrea, Venezuela, United States Of America, Colombia, Islamic Republic of Iran, Kazakhstan, Belgium, Netherlands, Italy, France, Slovenia, Germany, Poland, Belarus, Lithuania, Russian Federation, Portugal, Latvia, Great Britain, Romania, Denmark, Australia
4 starters (from 8 qualifiers): South Africa, Costa Rica, Canada, Netherlands Antilles, Hong Kong, China, Japan, Spain, Republic of Moldova, Serbia, Norway, Austria
3 starters (from 6 qualifiers): Tunisia, Burkina Faso, Argentina, Belize, Uruguay, Mongolia, Korea, Bulgaria, Greece, Turkey, Sweden, Switzerland, Estonia, New Zealand

The Cafe Conisseur's Guide to Ex-Pro Lodging

If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that nobody knows hotels like racing cyclists.   They see so many, they can be pretty critical of them too.  

Lance Armstrong's latest War?   It not against Jeff Novitsky and the FDA.  Nor is it against cancer.  This week, he declared war on French chain hotels.  C'est la Guerre!  See article here.

War is hell.  And take it from me, unless you've stayed in one, so is an Accor-hotels Formule1 on an autoroute outside Toulouse.  Particularly one without air-conditioning.  In July.     

After hundreds of nights in digs like that, it's no surprise that running hospitality establishments - from large hotels to cozy B&B's coupled with cyclotourism - is an oft-selected retirement option for ex-giants of the road.  After all, who better than an ex-cyclist to understand the nuances and frustrations of the guest?   Prototype:  Joop Zoetemelk was a Dutch rider and perrenial tour star who married a Tour executive's daughter, and they operated a large hotel in Meaux, just outside Paris.   I once read that while Joop focused on riding, his wife ran the hotel.  Many others followed the template.

In these establishments, wannabe schmoes like us can make a reservation, pull in, and end up raising a glass or two with the proprietor and listening to some great war stories first-hand.

Intrigued?   Here's eight of Flandria Cafe's top hospitality establishments.  Going to Europe?  Priceline, smishline.  Choose one of these places instead for an unforgettable experience, in an establishment run by a man of true character.   Not one under remote control 'management' by a suit in a high-rise office park.   

1. Le Pave, Horebeke, Belgium.  Ex-Classic Champion Peter van Petegem and his wife opened this high-end B&B on his retirement.  Here, you can stay in the quiet Flemish countryside, ride the cobbled hills of the Ronde, and maybe, if you can prove you're not a total Fred, even get to see his cobblestone Roubaix trophy.  De Zwarte van Brackel can also show you how to find to his supporters bar in Brackel where yours truly and his hooligan friends invaded the local patrons space.  www.lepave.be

2. Cinghiale, Tuscany.   If you're Andy Hampsten, after your '88 Giro win in a Gavia blizzard, you can waltz into any bar on the boot and never buy a drink for the rest of your life.  So who better than to organize a week of riding, eating and drinking across la bella Italia.   Andy's Cinghiale Cycling Tours take in some of the most cycling friendly stops in Italia, from Tuscany to the Dolomites.  One of our top cafesupporters, Il Bruce went with his wife a few years ago, and they said it was the experience of a lifetime.   www.cinghiale.com

3. Hove Malpertuus,  Riemst, Belgium.  Ex-Italian Professional and now HTC-Columbia Directeur Sportif  Valeria Piva and his Belgian wife run this well known hotel, founded by 40 years ago by ex-Belgian pro rider Yvo Molenaers.  Located just north of Liege in Riemst, the Hove Malpertuus has long been the home-base of choice for the top Italian pro teams during classics week in April.  For the rest of the year, it's a perfectly located strategic launching pad for any cyclospotive-assault on the hilly roads of Ardennes classics like Fleche Wallone, Amstel Gold and Liege-Bastogne-Liege.  You'll even get great Italian cuisine, if you ask really nice. www.malpertuus.be/en

4. Il Borghetto, Lamporecchio, Tuscany, Italy   So what do you do for an encore after you've won Paris Roubaix and De Ronde?   Well if you're a true Tuscan, and ex-Mapei star Andrea Tafi, you do what's in your blood.  You and your wife open the Tuscan version of Le Pave.   Centered between Florence, Sienna and Pisa, Il Borhetto is the quintessential agriturismo - a painstakingly restored circa-1600 farmhouse-mill with 6 apartments, each one named after one of the major race victories of the patron himself.  Road and mountain bike rentals are available.   You can ride the hills of Tuscany, taste the olive oil made on premises, and buy the cool jersey-di-casa.  http://www.ilborghettodiandreatafi.it,

5. Villa Flassan, Flassan, Provence, France. The 1984 Vuelta d'Espana winner, Provence's Eric Caritoux grew up in Carpentras, in the shadow of Mont Ventoux. Today, he rents a modern villa set in a cherry orchard with distant views of Mont Ventoux. Its three bedrooms sleep six. A sunny south-facing terrace has a private swimming pool, and there's a table-tennis table and boules pitch. Eric lives nearby and is happy to take visitors on rides of the local roads, and recommend the best local Cotes de Ventoux wine and specialities gourmandes. You can borrow the villa's two adult bicycles, or rent a bike in nearby Carpentras.

6. Chateau de La Roque, Hebecrevon, Normandie, France. Back in 1976, with team leader Bernard Thevenet ill and out of the Tour with Hepatitis, Peugeot's journeyman Raymond Delisle stepped up to the plate and took the Maillot Jaune off Lucien Van Impe after a great exploit in the Pyrenees. He may have lost the jersey back to Van Impe on Pla d'Adet, but hey, no worries, today he's got the Chateau de La Roque. This spectacular17th century Norman Chateaux is in a great location to explore the training grounds of Anquetil, or the Normandy beaches. Luxury digs, a spa, and war stories from one of the Peugeot stars of the seventies. We're not in the Hotel Ibis anymore, Toto!  http://www.au-chateau.com/Roque.htm

7. Roche Marina Hotel, Villeneuve-Loubet, France.   You can't argue that Stephen Roche was always one of the most friendly and open of pro riders.  After retirement, he started the Stages Stephen Roche cycling vacations at a few Mallorca hotels.  Several close friends have done these camps, and raved about Stephen's personal attention to every guest.  Stephen now has his own hotel, just outside Nice on the Cote D'Azur.  The Roche Marina Hotel is the perfect staging area for the kind of rides you dream about on cold wet New England winter days.  The undulating coastal road to Cannes and St. Tropez is still a super ride - bright sun, brilliant blue sky and sea.  Nearby inland lie the Col de Vence, Col d'Eze, and the legendary Madone of Lance-training fame.  Do 'em all.  After, have some seafood in La Baie des Anges with a nice Rose, and ask Stephen for his version about how he took the '79 Ras from Alan McCormack.  http://www.rochemarinahotel.com 

8. Cubino Hotel, Bejar, Spain.   Ex-professional Laudelino Cubino was a great Spanish climber of the '80's, a guy who won the toughest Pyrenees stage to Luz Ardiden in the 1988 Tour de France.   Today, Cubino runs a hotel in Bejar west of Madrid with superior climbs in the Sierra Bejar.  Bejar was hometown of multi-Tour of Spain winner Roberto Heras.   A great venue for a climbing camp, and exploration of some fantastic spanish mountains and villages.  http://www.cubinohotel.com

Oh Danny boy...

Daniel Martin won the Tre Valli Varesine today.

Add this one to his recent Tour of Poland victory, and it's clear that Garmin's Irish climber is finding super form now.   The roads that surround Varese are hilly and hard.   This Italian summer classic, which has a long tradition that goes back to the time of Coppi and Bartali, is no small race.  Winning solo against all the Italians who rode in hopes of showing new Azzurri D.T. Paolo Bettini they're got the form to be selected for the World Championships, is no small feat.  

The last big one- day pro race won by an Irishman?   I believe we'd have to go back to 1993, and that Milan San Remo taken by Sean Kelly.  For us bhoys, it's been a long time.   

And yes wielercafe fans, despite his childhood in England, Danny Martin is ours.  He's a Paddy.  Better yet, one on an American team.

Dan and his cousin Nicolas Roche are leading an Irish renaissance in the peloton.   Not since the eighties have we had so much to cheer for in top European racing.    Uncle Stephen must be smiling in his Pastis at the Roche Marina hotel outside Nice.

A great day for the Irish today.   I'd have a Guinness if I wasn't planning to race the Greylock Hillclimb on Sunday.

Maybe I'll wear that full-zip, Garmin Irish champions jersey.        

Remembering Jempi - 40 years later.

He was the James Dean of cycling.

Forty years ago yesterday, on August 16, 1970, Belgium's Jempi Monsere had the world at his feet.  Flandria's home-grown superstar had just won the World Professional Road Championships in Leicester, England - and seemed destined for a career that would rival that of his other superstar countryman, the legendary Eddy Merckx.

Tragically, just a few short months later, Jempi lost his life in a minor early season Kermesse in Retie.  It was March, 1971.  He was coming out of a curve, struck a car going opposite the race, and was killed instantly.  He left a wife and toddler son.  All of Belgium, and cycling, mourned.  

Jempi's best mate and sidekick was another Flandria discovery, a certain Roger DeVlaeminck.   Le Gitan, along with brother Eric, was there on the side of the road that sad day, yelling in frustration and anger for assistance that could not change what had happened.   Hardman Roger shed bitter tears as he walked alongside the coffin in that funeral train along with Leman, Schotte and the rest of the 'red guard'.

Jempi's wife's first cousin later married his young friend Freddy Maertens.  Jempi had been the matchmaker.   Freddy was racing the amateur Tour of Algeria when he got the news of the accident.  Devestated, his first reaction was to quit and go home.  His director, Eddy Merckx' father-in-law, Lucien Acou talked him out of it.

Freddy remained close to Annie Monsere.  In '76, at the peak of his career, he gave the gift of a bike to Jempi's cycling-crazy young son, Giovanni Monsere.    Tragically and ironically, Giovanni was also struck by a car and killed riding his bike in the summer of '76, while Freddy was winning the Green Jersey in the Tour de France.   His team kept the news from him until the the Tour finished in Paris.  Just an unspeakable tragedy.   Can you imagine?   I sometimes think of it whenever I go on a road ride with my son, a reminder that you can never be careful enough.      

Sporza just released a video tribute to remember Jempi, featuring an interview with Roger DeVlaeminck.  Check it out here.  There's another one here from a few years ago of Freddy with Annie Monsere at an exhibit dedicated to Jempi at the National Wielermuseum.

So remember Jempi today.  Remember him by keeping your head up, and riding defensively.  

Can Contador do the triple? Take our survey and tell us what you think...

You've gotta admit it, the great Dane Bjarne Riis is getting pretty good at this business called running a Pro-Tour team.  He's arguably as good, if not better as a manager and motivator, than he was as a rider.  His calm, soft-spoken, touchy-feely man-management style (see the film 'Overcoming') and commando survival camps somewhat oddly combine to extract the best out of his champions. Many CSC/SaxoBank riders who've frequented multiple teams (like Julich, Hamilton, Sastre) experienced their career peak results while living in the 'Bjarne-zone'.

Riis' navigation of the highly entrepreneurial business of team management is simply masterful. Take summer 2010. Here's a guy who's main sponsor had announced they were pulling the plug in a few months, and whose stars were going public that they were jumping ship.

But just as the press was getting ready to write the eulogy, he turns it around. In the space of 30 days or so, he secures one more year of coin out of Saxo Bank, pulls in a new co-sponsor (Sungard), shrewdly shores up continued support from Specialized's puppet master Mike Synyard, and uses Specialized's (or is it Merida's?) cash to...wait for it...sign the world's number one - Contador.   All this while motivating two soon-to-depart riders to take the Maillot Jaune, and contend for the overall win in the Tour.  Whether Contador or Schleck won the Tour, no matter, Riis came out the big winner.

Well played, Bjarne. You da man.

Oh yeah, we should add PR maestro to his repertoire. He didn't merely announce the addition of the best rider on the planet to his stable... he did it by coupling it with an audacious, BHAG - big hairy-ass goal:  Help Alberto Contador be the first rider in history to win all three grand tours in a single season.

Everest.  The four minute mile. The two hour marathon. The three tours in one season. Italy, France. Spain. Bing, bada boom, bada bing. As Napoleon said, Audace, audace encore, toujours audace.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Audacity won't get tired legs over the Angliru. Can it really be done? 

Only a few have even completed all three grand Tours in the same season. The first to pull off completing all three was Clermont Ferrand's Raphael Geminiani, who finished 3rd, 4th and 6th in the Vuelta, Giro and Tour respectively in 1955.   

Grand fusil Geminiani had a penchant for BHAG's himself.  

As directeur-sportif of the Ford-France team in 1965, he talked 5-time Tour winner Jacques Anquetil into a new goal of attempting an audacious exploit:  Winning the Dauphine Libere, and then the very next day, winning the 350 Bordeaux-Paris classic motorpaced marathon.

On cue, Anquetil took the Dauphine.  President DeGaulle lent him a plane, and the Ford funded entourage flew to Bordeaux that Saturday night just in time for the wee-hours Sunday AM start.   A middle of the night crisis and attempted abandon in the rain was averted by Gem pulling out all the stops and finally calling Anquetil a pussy.   The pissed-off Anquetil remounted, the adrenaline helping him ride through the fatigue. He stayed at the front, and finally dropped Tommy Simpson in the Chevreuse valley to solo in for an impossible win.  

OK, but as great a feat as that is, it not like taking three the big Tours.  On that one, the Italian, Gastone Nencini did even better than Geminiani. 

Nicknamed The Lion of Mugello and a hard-headed Tuscan, Nencini (left) won the Giro in 1957 and also finished 6th in the Tour and 9th in the Vuelta that same year.  Gastone went on to win the Tour de France in 1960.  But despite being a furioclass champion with a tour-winning pedigree, he was not one who could put two wins together in the same year.  Let alone three.  

And consider that the sport was different then.  There were fewer pros, you didn't have the specialization, and riders peaking for certain events.  It was more feudal, one star per team, supported by teams of selfless gregarios.   

In the modern era, the triple performance benchmark is El Junco de Berriz, the Basque star of the '80's and '90's, Marino Lejaretta (right).  

A climbing specialist from a small village outside Bilbao, Lejarreta was almost always in the top 10 of major tours. His sole grand tour victory was the 1982 Vuelta d'Espana, won after the fact on the doping disqualification of Angel Arroyo.   Later in his career, Marino completed all three grand tours a record four times.  

He tended to get better with each tour he rode.  In 1990, Marino was 5th in the Tour behind Greg LeMond - taking a mountain stage win - after finishing 7th in the Giro.   In '91, he was 3rd in the Vuelta, 5th in the Giro.. but only 55th in the Tour.  

I was lucky enough to meet Marino at the Bilbao bicycle show in 1993, and visited his shop in Bilbao.  Nice guy.  Great Tapas bar just down the road too.   I still have the ONCE team jersey I bought there... in fact I wore it training yesterday morning!    Lejarreta is a Basque folk hero, and living proof that finishing all three tours up the classification is possible for a reedy-mountain goat diesel.    Since then, Belgian Mario Aerts did the triple in 2007(article here).   Finish all three that is.

But win all three?  That's a horse of a different color!

I think Riis and Contador take should start with taking the 'Le Tour + One', and then start talking about all three.  Contador did do a 'time separated' Giro Vuelta double in 2008, bracketing both sides of a tour he missed due to Astana's exclusion.  But God knows, winning 'consecutive tours'  is a feat precious few greats have achieved.   Consecutive Grand Tour winners are a pretty select club:  Coppi, Anquetil, Merckx,  Battaglin, Hinault, Roche, Indurain, Pantani, Rominger.    The annals of cycling are littered with woeful stories of those who aspired to join them, only to be crushed by the harsh reality of keeping Tour winning form for two straight months.    This year Ivan Basso was the latest to bite off more than he could chew.   Two in a row is no slam-dunk.  Contador still has that feat to pull off.

 Our cafe mascot, Flahute the Bullshit Sniffing Dog, has asked to weigh in on this important question.  What do you say boy?

"Contador can win two.  But not three, no way.  I can see him winning the Giro and squeaking out another Tour.  


But as Hemingway would say, his Vuelta will end badly, likely with an S-Works Tarmac being hurled at a bald Dane on a rainy climb in the Picos d'Europa, in a telenovella drama reminiscent of defending champ Bahamontes quitting the 1957 Tour by taking his shoes off and curling up in a fetal position, refusing the frantic cajoling to continue for the sake of his wife, family and Generalissimo Francisco Franco!"    

You might have a point, Flahute.  Alberto has shown more vulnerability than superchampions like Hinault, Merckx and Indurain in their respective dominant periods.   From his bonk in last year's Paris Nice, to his inability to break Janiz Brajkovic on Alpe d'Huez in this year's Dauphine, AC has shown that while there's no doubt he's may be a great, he's no Hinault.

Many seem to agree with you Flahute, Irish Peloton has some great detail on the history of triple tour attempts here, and they concur with your Eukanuba-fed analysis.

But now it's time for the Cafesupporters to chime in on this.  Take our 10 second survey here.   Can Alberto Contador win all three grand tours in the same year?  Be sure to tell us why or why not.

Pass this on to your cycling afficionado friends.   Results coming soon.   Watch this space.  

Book Review: The Time Crunched Cyclist

I've always been highly skeptical of self-help guides or books in any way, shape or form.  And especially wary of those promising results faster than either natural, or reasonable.   10 tips to Climb like Lance this Summer....Lose 50 pounds and never miss a dessert.  You know, stuff like that...

So when one of my friends showed up at the office this Spring with a copy of Chris Carmichael's "The Time Crunched Cyclist", I scoffed in my predicable, grumpy, old school-know-it-all fashion.   "No way you'll be able to handle that intensity... after two weeks you won't want to get on your bike anymore...you've got to go slow to go fast..."  

My reaction was a combo of hard-experience, and misplaced ego.

The experience part was that back in the day, I'd accomplished my best form and results doing tons of high mileage, low intensity training.  Riding on 'feel'.   In contrast, every time I tried a more regimented, intense program, the wheels would come off.  Within a few weeks, my legs would be wrecked, and my desire to ride hard and suffer zero.  Bike nausea.  So I stuck with what worked...and developed interval aversion.

The ego part requires some explanation:  My teens and early twenties might just as well have been sub-titled "Chasing Chris."   I first banged handlebars with him in a Olympic Development Junior race he dominated in Smithfield, RI back in 1978.  And for several years following, Carmichael and his Stowe-Shimano sidekicks like David Ware and Tony Chastain were the scourge of New England Cat 1-2 races.   They come. They'd ride. And about 9 times out of 10, they'd conquer.   If I had a dollar for every time I chased after that skinny blond dude in some summer New England Crit , I'd be rich.  I never think of him as a 'Lance's coach'... more as a really talented guy I used to strive to beat years ago.   A few times I did.  But mostly he was up the road.

So after eating a little humble pie on my first 'comeback' race attempt in March, I found myself in Borders with 'ol Chris staring at me from the cover. Browsing.  Debating.  OK, what the heck, why not.   $20 poorer.

Fast forward 12 weeks.  I stuck with the program for the recommended duration, and was frankly blown away by how much my fitness improved.  In fact, I can't say enough positive things about this program, so I'll just keep it simple:  It works fantastic.  I followed it to the letter, and it took me from a ~185lb. overweight guy to a 160 lb. starting-to-get-fit-again guy.   All without losing my job, or family.  

As Chris says:  The workouts - particularly the 2-3 minute flat-out Power Intervals are really intense and painful, but the brilliance of this program is that he's got the volume of intensity just right - optimizing the training return on time:  Not so much you can't handle it or burn out... nor so little that you don't improve.

I was even more impressed by the ability to stick with the program without burning out.   Even at the end of the 12 weeks, I was still looking foward to the hard interval workouts.  Me, the guy who always used to dread and avoid intervals at all costs.  This program completely changed my outlook.   I can't wait to start another round  for fall and cross season.

While I didn't quite reach the results I'd hoped for racing this spring, I do know that the Carmichael program got me back to a higher level of fitness than I'd seen in over 20 years.    And changed my perspective on high intensity training.

Thanks Chris.

Separated at birth?

This 'occular jewelry' thing has just got to end. Could we just stop the madness, please.  

No commentary required.   Just cue 'don't let the sun go down on me'.  Followed by 'sorry seems to be the hardest word'...

The future of American cycling...

...is a kid from Texas named Lawson Craddock

You heard it here first Cafe-supporters:  This kid is the second coming of Greg LeMond.

Podium (3rd) in Paris Roubaix this past spring behind the defending Junior World Champion, Belgian Jasper Stuyven (above right) Took the 'triple crown' of crit, road race, and time trial at the US Road Championships this year.  The real deal.

This weekend, he rides the JuniorWorld Championships in Italy.  It will be a Roubaix-rematch against defending champion Stuyven.   Should be fun to watch, stay tuned!

The last time a Belgian and a Yank duked it out in a Junior worlds road race finale, it was in 1979 in Buenos Aires, Argentina.  It was a two-man break with Greg LeMond and Kenny DeMartelere.  Kenny had won the points race at the '78 Junior Worlds in Trexlertown PA.  One year later, and with the more prestigous road race title in his sights, little Kenneke led out LeMond in the final sprint on the autodromo motor racing circuit.

When Greg tried to come around him, Kenny hooked him into the tires lining the edge of the track, as any good Flahute would.   Twice in fact.  To his credit, LeMond didn't go down.  Kenny may have won the race to the line, but he didn't win the verdict of the commisaires.  On the judges' decision, American Greg LeMond was declared Junior World Champion, launching a star-studded career.  

Look at the photo, the constrasting faces an omen of the LeMond/Fignon tour podium we'd see a decade later in '89.

While Kenny's career didn't take the same trajectory as 'golden Greg', he kept riding the bike and still shows up at the top of results in world-class master's races.  An unsung hero, for sure.

The Junior worlds road race is an interesting event.  Some winners - like Greg LeMond, Roberto Visentini, Pavel Tonkov, Damiano Cunego and Roman Kreuziger - go on to great professional careers.    Others like Ronny Van Holen, Mark Scanlon and Giuseppe Palumbo, are never really heard from again.  Seems like a rather binary filter - stardom or anonymity.   Not much in between.   Maybe one of you can explain why.

With all the doping crap that gets so much of cycling's attention and press nowadays, there's nothing like elite Junior racing to make you fall in love the sport again.  It takes us all back to our teen espoir years.   Races full of wide-eyed new names, full of optimism for the future.  Nothing but possibilities.    
 
Good luck this weekend Lawson.  Or as they say in Italy, in bocca al lupo ('into the mouth of the wolf'...kinda like the Italian version of 'break-a-leg'). 

I've got a strong hunch you'll be one we're still talking about in a decade. 

Reasons why bike racers don't get taken seriously: #57 - Animals.

Just what is it about animals and bike races anyway?

Whether it's that sheep-in-the-road incident in this year's Tour, chezzy-cliche helicopter panning shots of a horse running alongside the peloton, or that unsuccessful slapstick attempt to corral a stray dog in a Giro finish straight (memorialized on film in The Greatest Show on Earth here) -- our four-legged friends can always be counted on to provide some of the more comical moments in bicycle racing.

I mean, just look at the cute shot of Toto leading Milan San Remo.  You can bet your last GU shot that LeBron James and Lionel Messi would never have to deal with that!

Well, cafe supporters - here's a new one that beats all prior entries for pure comedy value.

Check out the video here sent to me today by my pal Francis the Flahute - who rides with Threshhold cycling out of Boston.

This zany video was taken with an on-bike camera during the recent Cat 4 race at the Tour of Catskills.   It's destined to be a classic.  Flandria cafe gives it four lions.

Key take-away: When bikes meet horses, the horses win.

Photo of the day: Form? You know you've got it when...

..you can see the veins through your skin.  

Look at yours.  Then look at King Kelly's.   Put down the snack.   Go to bed hungry.