There’s a difference between simply cheating like everyone else, denying with every breath you can muster like everyone else, getting caught like unlucky few, and then getting on a speaking tour circuit vs. deciding to writing a book professing your innocence , dedicating it to every name in your family, and starting a foundation to raise a million dollars from your supporters. I don’t owe you my empathy because ’everyone else is doing it’. But I can name a person who owes at least one million dollars.
“Let me be specific: I am a bicycle racer who makes frames, not a framebuilder who races. And all these years, the sport has driven me, taken me places, has been my muse and mistress, and has also confounded me to no end on the worst of the bad days.”—The Bicycle, The Sport, And Me | RICHARD SACHS CYCLES
“We come from a culture that, not long ago, to have a bike made by a master, made in his workshop, was the epitome of a bicycle. There were no other options for a serious cyclists. Pro racers had Serotta or Peggorietti make their bike and then paint it with the logo of their sponsor. That’s not the reality now. The reality is the best bikes are made by that 30-year-old woman in China. […] In 15 years from now, when bikes are made by robot fabricators, people will be saying yeah, sure they’re fast, but there was something about those Asian bikes made by those Chinese women you just cant find in the robotic bikes.”—Ritte Van Vlaanderen | NY Velocity - New York bike racing culture, news and events
“After a race, the hot water that pours over my head and down my back eases the aches from the day. I look as if I am wearing my cycling clothing in the shower, so thoroughly am I marked by grime on the skin that had been exposed on my legs, arms, neck, and face. With a washcloth, I scrub the thick, black gunk from my body, starting with my face. When I reach my legs, I once again feel the effort of the race. The muscles, empty, stripped of glycogen and of water, cry out. The veins pulsate against the washcloth. My legs are destroyed. But redemption comes. Even reduced to rubble like this, as the dirt comes off, my legs in their smooth state show each ripple, every indentation carved by the lack of the fat, every bulging muscle that pushes the skin taut, every scar. They are sculptures, monuments to my love of cycling, and it is right that they should not be covered.”—Shaving Your Legs for Cycling: Michael Barry | Bicycling Magazine