Lance, for once in your life....

      I would be remiss if I did not share a brief story here in the hours before Lance Armstrong's interview with Oprah Winfrey airs.

      Those who follow my blog (or my life) know that I have been a fan of cycling for more than three decades--OK, probably since I got that Stingray bike for Christmas in 1964.  I have followed Lance's career in amazement--pre-cancer, post-cancer and beyond--and I have defended him in the past.  When riders of integrity--George Hincapie, Levi Leipheimer, Frankie Andreu and others--came forward to finally tattle on him, I knew that the niggling thought in my sub-conscious--'But what if he really does dope?'--was in fact true.

      When my youngest son (not Ezra, for those of you who know him) was a boy, he was constantly in trouble--like most boys--for doing hare-brained, goofball things like ironing his clothes on the linoleum floor in the kitchen because he was too lazy to drag out the ironing board. When all evidence pointed in his direction, he would lie, loudly and repeatedly, no matter how long he was interrogated.  I could point to the evidence--in this case a burn mark in the flooring that exactly matched my steam iron--and remind him that only two of us lived in that house and that it wasn't something I had done, but he would adamantly deny any knowledge of the crime.  Why?  Because he is a man of stubborn pride.  He simply couldn't bring himself to confess that he had done something so stupid.  Sitting in a chair, looking me in the eye and telling me over and over he had no idea how it happened was easier for him than admitting he had made an enormous mistake.

      All that is to say, I understand why, up until this time, Lance has denied using performance enhancing drugs.  He is a man of stubborn pride.  He wanted so badly to win and win again and not be called a cheater.  And once he had won a Tour de France by doping, he knew he could never attempt to win without it, because by then everyone in the cycling world--including the sweetest, most moral of men--had stepped over the line.  Which is what I suspect we will hear in today's interview.  I would love to hear Lance--for his own sake--simply say, 'You know what?  I screwed up.  I cheated.  It's no one's fault but my own.  I've let a lot of people down, and I'm deeply sorry.'  But I doubt we will hear that.  We will hear excuses and blame, see shrugs and those hard-as-steel eyes, the windows to Lance's soul shuttered against the light of Truth.

      Many times in my son's life--months or years after doing some knucklehead stunt, then denying it repeatedly--he would tell me, in a moment of sober clarity and confession, the truth.  'Yeah, Mom, I don't know why I lied.  I did that.  What an idiot.'  And we would laugh together.  He always knew--I pray he always knew--that I had forgiven him long ago.

      And I forgive Lance.  But I hope and pray that no governing athletic body ever allows him to compete anywhere ever again.  Because if you can't--eventually--tell the truth, you simply can't be trusted.

It begins

A few of my friends believe that, for some unknown reason (at least to me), I became enamored of Lance Armstrong some years ago and began to watch professional cycling as a result. The truth is, I began watching cycling in the early 1980’s. At that time, there was an arrogant young punk named Greg Lemond who gifted the United States with some long-denied respect in the cycling world. When Lance came onto the scene a decade or so later, he was an arrogant young punk, too. But I liked his style, and it was fun, in those first years, to watch him battle it out with the Europeans in the Tour de France.


His fierce courage and bull-headed determination—especially after the cancer years—made the sport more interesting, for certain. But seeing those qualities plus an indomitable spirit in all my cycling favorites over the years is the lure that brings me eagerly back every year to planning 21 days in July around the Tour de France. Add to that, of course, the drama and intellectual stimulation of cycling’s particular chess game.

At least once a year someone mentions to me that they find cycling “boring,” or they don’t see what all the excitement could be about regarding ‘a bunch of guys in spandex riding bicycles.’ Which actually just reveals they’ve never watched a race. If you can’t appreciate the elite level of athleticism in these ‘guys in spandex,’ try riding 115 miles at an average speed of 30mph. Throw in some steep uphill climbs and maybe some sections of the road paved with cobblestones from the Sixteenth Century. If you’re still alive afterward, let me know how your ride went.

With the debut of Amgen’s Tour of California seven years ago, I now have a mini-drama right here in my own backyard in gorgeous sun-drenched California to look forward to every May. And that race begins today.

In recent weeks, the spring classics in Europe have been going full tilt, and fortunately for me, NBC Sports has been providing great coverage. I’ve watched big Tom Boonen win the Tour of Flanders and then, a week later, Paris Roubaix (his fourth win in the latter, tying a record). He will be here this week with the new team, Omega Pharma Quick-Step, and I’m excited to see how he negotiates the tough terrain of Mt. Baldy next Saturday.

Levi Leipheimer, a favorite of mine for years, will also be riding in the Amgen ToC this week. Levi survived a wicked crash in the second to last stage of the Paris – Nice race some weeks ago, only to be hit by a car during a training ride last month which result in a fractured fibula. Levi has won the ToC before, though he is saying at this point he doesn’t expect to be a contender in the overall standings. His leg is still on the mend, so props to him for coming out and competing anyway. How could he not? The ToC begins in Santa Rosa, where he currently resides.

Here’s hoping all my favorite guys ride safe, ride fair and sans performance enhancers for the next week. As I did last year, I will no doubt post quick daily updates on the race—if I’m not too busy watching.

What the Amgen has to do with my pizza

Yesterday, to celebrate getting down to… a certain weight… I stopped on the way back up the mountain from my writers group meeting to order a pizza at Giuseppe’s. Giuseppe's is at the top of Euclid, just north of the Y split on the west side of the street. The restaurant serves Mediterranean and Italian food, so you can order a killer veggie kabob or a humus plate or lasagna or Persian ice cream, all of it scrumptious. You can also get pizza to go, so I thought I was being smart by calling ahead and ordering a pizza for pick up. My plan was to get up the mountain as fast as possible, then hang out on the back deck eating pizza and basking in the sunshine.


But yesterday the Amgen Tour of California (ToC) amateur stage was held in Mt. Baldy. It has a fancy name—L’Etape du California—whatever. Locals just call it the “Amateur Amgen.” For a substantial fee (some of which goes to cancer research), bike riders can attempt the route that the pros will ride in this year’s 7th stage of the ToC. Starting in Ontario, the route winds slowly up through the foothills, then partway up the mountain, then heads west for a good long time along the scenic but challenging Glendora Ridge Road, then comes back to Baldy Road and takes a vicious turn north, heading up the grueling switchbacks to finish at around 6500ft. elevation in the ski lift parking lot. Who’d wanna ride that? Crazy people, I’m tellin’ ya.

So I get my pizza and I start driving and my first thought is, “Oh my Buddha, that smells heavenly,” and I’m really, really hungry so I open the box at the last stop sign at Shinn Rd., thinking I might snag a piece to eat while I drive. But it’s too hot and too drippy, what with all that great sauce and melted cheese, so I close the box and think, “I’ll just hurry on home—I’m 20 minutes away!” What a goofhead….

Because there are all these cyclists on the road going up the mountain. And being a cyclist myself, I know what it’s like to try to ride on a narrow road with little or no room to move over when cars come roaring indignantly up from behind. So I put on my emergency flashers to warn the cars behind me and those that threaten to hit me head on, and I start passing small groups of cyclists huffing and puffing their way up the mountain. When I say “passing,” I mean pulling over into the southbound lane to give the riders a wide enough berth so they’re not having to think, “Is that truck going to plow into me?” while they’re nearly totally oxygen deprived.

So instead of 20 minutes, it takes me 40 to get home. And by then my pizza with the bubbly cheese and golden crispy crust is nearly cold. But I happen to have an oven…. So while I’m re-heating my amazing lunch/dinner, I get my backyard chair ready, my iced tea on the table, and I contemplate how exciting it’s going to be when my heroes get here on May 19th to ride our version of the Alpe d’Huez right here in Mt. Baldy. I. Can’t. Wait.

Two Heroes: 2011 Amgen Tour of California Mt Baldy

Photo courtesy of the Amgen Tour of California website

My friend Matt Davis once told me that I was doomed to live single. His contention was that I would never find a man who would sit and watch the Tour de France with me but also go to poetry readings. So far, he’s been right….

Of course when Billy Collins deigned to make a rare California appearance, it had to be on the same date as the most exciting day of the year for me, the day a stage of the Tour of California came to Mt. Baldy. Of course. Murphy’s Law strikes again. When I declined the ticket my daughter bought for me, I felt as if I were choosing between two heroes—Billy Collins or Levi Leipheimer. And yes, I realize how unique that makes me in the world, and no, it does not console me.

I say all this as prelude to my description of sitting yesterday with a group of warm, funny, cheerful Mt. Baldy folk who knew nothing of bicycle stage racing before our adventurous afternoon began, but who tried excitedly to educate themselves as the hours wore on and we watched the race progress online (via live coverage on Radio Shack’s Race Tracker). From time to time during the day, as we shared communal chips, guacamole and apple pie and chatted about water rights on the mountain and how much snow was still up top, my mind would be distracted as I envisioned my daughter—who will begin a Master of Fine Arts program in the fall because she is a fine poet in her own right—standing and chatting with Billy Collins after that evening’s reading. At some point, I wished I’d thrown one of Billy’s books in my bag. Two years ago when the same group of people invited me to join them for a Leonard Cohen concert in L.A., Tamara had brought along a book of Cohen’s musings, reading them aloud to us on the car ride into the city. Yesterday, in quieter moments, I imagined myself reading to my neighbors “Shoveling Snow with Buddha.” These are the fantasies that swirl in the mind of a writer. We learn early in life to keep them to ourselves.

For months prior to yesterday’s stage, on my drives to and from work, I would scan the race route, trying to figure out where the Best Spot would be to watch Stage 7. I finally decided on my buddy Vince’s driveway, as it fronts the highway at nearly the top of The Dreaded Switchbacks, and also because I enjoy Vince’s company. (When I’d asked if I could watch the race from his place, he casually remarked that he’d probably be playing tennis that day, but he’d leave me a key to his cabin in case I needed anything. I had to convince him that this bike race might be kind of a big thing.)

So there we were at Vince’s, seated comfortably in lawn chairs, watching hundreds of spectators and recreational cyclists mill around. Our normally quiet and peaceful mountain was abuzz with commotion. It was a gorgeous spring day with warm sun and clean mountain air. When stage coverage began online, Vince brought out his laptop and began to give us updates. “They’re on Glendora Mountain Road!” There was a break-away of eight riders trying desperately to stay ahead of the peloton, but they only had two minutes on the rest of the pack, and eventually most of them would fall away.

When the riders were on the return route along Glendora Ridge Road, we began to get excited. By now Tamara was holding the laptop, and she gave us updates based on locations we knew. “They’re passing Cow Canyon Saddle!” Since our location was so strategic, we’d amassed a small group of cycling fans and professional photographers who were waiting to make noise or shoot pictures as the cyclists came into view. We kept them apprised of the riders’ progress and in turn they exchanged insider information with us. One of the photographers was on staff for Team HTC and used to ride with Chris Horner. And yes, he replied to my question, he really is as great a guy in “real life” as he seems to be when interviewed on TV.

The riders sailed through Mt. Baldy Village in a matter of seconds, and then we knew they were just minutes away. CHP vehicles rolled up the switchbacks in advance, lights flashing, loudspeakers squawking, warning fans to stay off the road, the riders were coming. I know I asked Tamara to the point of being annoying if she could see (in the glare of the computer screen) if a rider in yellow was near the front of the pack. I wanted to know that Chris Horner and Levi Leipheimer would be the first riders we’d see. They weren’t. They were third and fourth, so consequently, I snapped photos of the first two guys (hangers on from the break-away), and just started cheering along with everyone else when Chris and Levi rode by ten feet away. They were together, with Chris drafting off Levi, and they rode the final two miles of the grueling ascent that way, Levi leading his teammate and friend up the last steep incline. The minute they were past us, Tamara continued to call out updates as the crowd—bless their hearts—cheered for every single rider in the same way they’d cheered for the leaders.

By the time they reached the ski lift parking lot, Chris and Levi were alone on the road, the next rider many seconds behind. As they pulled up to the finish, Chris reached out and patted Levi on the back as a gesture of thanks. Levi reached back and they touched hands. This, in cycling, is a universal signal. It meant that Chris would “give” Levi the stage. He would allow him to roll ahead unchallenged to take the win and all the glory that came with it, because they’d ridden together all day, Levi helping Chris to keep his overall standing of race leader. It was a tremendous and heroic ending to an incredible day.

As it turns out, my kid did end up chatting with Billy Collins, just as I'd imagined it. Yep, that's her.  Wow...

Aah, says the Buddha, lifting his eyes

And leaning for a moment on his shovel

before he drives the thin blade again

deep into the glittering white snow.

From "Shoveling Snow with Buddha," by Billy Collins



2011 ToC Stage 6: One for the record books

Photo courtesy of the Amgen Tour of California official  website.

It only took me a few minutes this morning to find my journal from 2005 and hunt up the July 4th entry on David Zabriskie. Two days prior, Zabriskie had won a time trial in the prologue stage of the Tour de France, thus having the honor of beginning the Tour wearing the yellow jersey. Back then, he was only the third American to have worn the maillot jaune, after Greg Lemond and Lance Armstrong. (George Hincapie would wear it the following year, making him the fourth.) Here’s how my entry for July 4, 2005 reads:

“Today a young man from Utah, David Zabriskie, wears the yellow jersey. He is only 22… and beat Lance by 2 seconds in the prologue time trial… so Lance—bless his heart—gave him a tip for yesterday’s stage: 'Don’t get any further back than 20 guys.' So Zabriskie made that his goal, and kept the yellow jersey, and he wears it again today!”

Of course, it was Lance Armstrong who went on to win the TdF that year—for the 7th time. But for awhile, the soft-spoken man who has now made California his home was proud to wear the yellow jersey for a few days.

I recalled all of this yesterday as I watched David Zabriskie push himself across the line in Stage 6 of the Tour of California. For those unfamiliar with stage particulars, in a time trial, riders compete against the clock, leaving a start house at one-minute intervals, riding as fast as they can to a finishing point (but having no one to ‘help’ in terms of drafting). The man with the fastest time wins. Yesterday, for Stage 6, it was David Zabriskie. Though Levi Leipheimer holds the record for that particular time trial, he could not beat Zabriskie’s time. Neither could Chris Horner. And while Horner still has the fastest time overall, Zabriskie can take away a stage win in the ToC—and a new course record in the time trial.

And now, my friends, the day has come. As I write this, it is 4:30a.m. I can still feel the electricity that was in the air last night on Mt Baldy. Of course, part of that electricity was bristling tension from Baldy cabin owners who lost all water pressure at 7:00 last night. Seems the work crew setting up tents uses water in 55-gallon drums for ballast. They turned off our main water supply so they could use their hoses to fill the drums. So I was happy to speed off on an adventure with neighbor Rob in which I impersonated—not for the first time—a member of the water board up here. Well, I actually was a member of the board up until last fall, so it wasn’t that big of a truth-stretch. And the crew members were cheerfully compliant. Rob turned the big valve and water was restored. Whew. It’s nice to be able to shower and make tea.

Meanwhile, there are crazy people camped in odd spots all over the mountain. Rob and I laughed about some people who had a camper set up and lawn chairs situated inches from the highway and were just sitting there, watching—as if the arrival of the peloton was imminent. And on the way home yesterday, I saw a big pick-up truck dragging a boat up the mountain. Apparently no one told those fans that Baldy doesn’t have a lake.

I’m sure the morning will hold more opportunities for adventure as I wander among those who spent last night down at Snowcrest Inn or over in the campground.

Most exciting, though, is that Chris Horner still holds first place, so he’ll be wearing the golden-colored leader’s jersey—easy to spot if he is the first rider pushing his way up the switchbacks a few hours from now.  I can already hear Phil Liggett saying, "Well, the wildflowers are blooming in Mt Baldy as we prepare for Stage 7 of the Amgen Tour of California!"

2011 Amgen Tour of California (ToC) Stage 1 (Pre-race)

Last week in the Giro d’Italia, Belgian cyclist Wouter Weylandt crashed on a steep descent and died. The cycling world has been in a somber mood, which no doubt influenced the decision of Amgen Tour of California (ToC) officials yesterday to cancel the first stage of the race around Lake Tahoe due to inclement weather. Although it was snowing intermittently, ice on the road was the deciding factor, and wisely so.

I am pleased to see that George Hincapie will be participating in the ToC this year, as he has suggested this may be his last year of professional cycling. He is one of those great, reliable, steadfast riders who have been ever-present. Can’t imagine a Tour de France without him.

Also happy as always to see 3-time ToC winner and California boy Levi Leipheimer looking fit and ready to take up the challenge again this year. Look for him to do well in the time trial on Friday. (Come on, Levi, win it!)

I’ve been watching David Zabriskie since his first Tour de France and have always liked his courage in jumping on a break-away or hanging on when he just has nothing left to give. Expect to see great things from him in this race as he tunes up for July’s little race in France.

Have to mention Taylor Phinney here, the son of cyclists Davis Phinney and Connie Carpenter. This boy, from conception, could not have escaped being a professional cyclist. It’s in his frickin’ DNA, for crying out loud. Back in the day—before everyone was worried about everyone doping—Phinney and Carpenter were both forces to be reckoned with in their respective cycling arenas, so I’m wishing all good things for him. And he may just take that time trial in Solvang….

Who will win the race? There’s a good chance Andy Schleck will. As much as I would love to see Levi dragging himself up that last steep section of Mt Baldy road to the finish at the ski lift parking lot—and yes, I’ll be there—I live there!—chances are, if all goes well for him, Schleck will take Saturday’s stage. He has been second in the Tour de France, and Andy is a monster on the mountain stages. Mt. Baldy will be a monster stage, and it takes a monster to conquer a monster, so I think we'll see goofy young Andy hauling himself up those switchbacks ahead of everyone else.

Some things to remember: NBC Sports via Versus will be broadcasting coverage of the race every day, with our good friends Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwin (who do the Tour de France every year) giving us stats, info and commentary on the riders. (Paul, if you need a place to stay on Saturday, I have a big beautiful cabin in Mt. Baldy. I’m just sayin’….)

The ToC is a stage race, but times are added collectively, so the winner of the race is the man with the fastest time over the entire week of racing, while there will also be individual stage winners each day.

Most of the riders have Twitter accounts, so if you find yourself favoring one man over another (and who doesn't?), you can read their tweets (usually posted in the morning before the race, then later after the finishes) to get inside information, photos and chuckles.  Lance Armstrong was always good about this--especially photos of the team's antics.  Sigh.  We'll miss you this year, L.A.!

Cycling is a team sport, and there are 18 teams in the ToC this year. Team RadioShack and BMC will be my sentimental favorites, but there are some other very intimidating teams out there, so at this point, it’s anyone’s trophy. Here’s to safe riding for all the courageous legmen!