Each issue starts with a two-page spread of an epic scene from road racing folklore on the left page, and on the right a well-chosen quote referring to the scene.  The first issue I opened had a photo Eddy Merckx, complete with grimace on his face, accompanied by the quote, “On some days I would sit on my bike, weeping from the pain.”  The next was of Bernard Hinault, growling at an empty road, paired with, “As long as I breathe, I attack.”  Seattle is filled with short, steep climbs similar to the Ardenne with gradients of up to 25% and up to 4km in length; one of the hardest things for me as I clawed my way back into cycling form was the pain of hauling my fat ass over our route and its 1.5km vertical.  These spreads reminded me to shut up and ride.  In cycling, suffering is glory.

If the life of a cyclist is about suffering, why do we do it?  Well, the fact is that on rare occasion, you don’t suffer.  I’m not talking about those days when you top up on amphetamines or EPO; I’m talking about those days when you find the rhythm and when you find that place in your head where pain doesn’t tread.  Many have sensed it, some have claimed to have felt it but haven’t, and fewer still have actually found it.  The French call this La Volupte.

I recently read Jean Bobet’s book, Tomorrow, We Ride.  This isn’t a biography of his older brother, Louison, but instead is a book about his life as a cyclist.  Obviously, that life is deeply intertwined with Louison’s career, but none-the-less, this book is about a passion for cycling that goes beyond careers and racing results.  In some places it is historical, in others touching, and yet in others is downright funny.  But mostly, it’s about a love for a cycling life. Jean recounts two cases where he found La Volupte.  The first was a training ride with Louison around Lake Como before the Giro di Lombardia.  You can almost smell the thick, misty air by the lake as he describes their ride and the perfection of that moment on the bike.  The second was on a lone training ride on the Cote d’Azur where he floated up one of the climbs on his route in perfect harmony with his machine and the gradient.  La Volupte is fleeting, and the spell is usually broken by some external interference, as was the case for both of Jean’s accounts.  On Lake Como, it was broken by the horn of a passing vehicle – on the Azur, by taking a sip of water from his bidon at the top of the climb.  In an instant, La Volupte is gone and what remains with us is an unquenchable thirst to find it again.

La Volupte translates roughly to “voluptuousness”, and while the first thing the mind goes to is a sexual definition, my favorite is, “the property of being lush and abundant and a pleasure to the senses”.   In a sport where pain is worn like a badge of honor, those times when cycling is lush and abundant and a pleasure to the senses are what makes us want to climb onto our bikes again tomorrow.  When Bobet returned home from his ride on the Azur, his brother asked him how it went.  His answer was simply, “I was flying today.”

This was originally posted on Velominati.com

The reason I started the blog is partly because I love writing about cycling, but I am also hoping to find other people who enjoy it and want to contribute as well.  Topics could cover local racing, pro racing, Pacific Northwest cycling routes, technique, bicycle maintenance, gear reviews, or something cool I haven’t thought of.  So, I am inviting anyone who enjoys cycling and writing to become a contributor and help make the voice of this new blog.  Contact contribute@velominati.com add tell us why you would like to contribute!

Boonen tested positive for cocaine during his recuperation time between Paris-Roubaix (which he won) and the next goal of his season, which is to win the Green jersey at the Tour.   Tom says he doesn’t remember taking the drug, but acknowledges that he suffered a blackout from drinking too much the night before the test and, given the apparent availability of cocaine in nightclubs in Belgium, does not rule out that he may have taken some.  However, it has since been revealed that his “positive” test was for a concentration of 0.09 ng/mg, which falls well below the threshold for a positive control and should therefor actually be considered a negative test.

This has not stopped the most autocratic organization in cycling – the ASO (who organizes the Tour de France and is thus the most powerful organization in cycling) – to declare that Boonen is “unwelcome” at the Tour due to his positive test.  Meanwhile an independent panel has asserted that in order for the concentration to be so low, Boonen must of had only indirect contact with the drug and in any case does not use regularly.  Basically, he didn’t inhale.

It is absolutely necessary to have out-of-competition drug tests.  The most effective drugs in cycling like, for example, EPO, have lasting effects for up to 30 days and can only be detected for a small number of days after taking the substance.  Obvsiuosly, any rider with even half a brain will not take the drug immediatly before or during a competition while the substance can be detected but will instead take it some time ahead of the race.  Therefor, the UCI has to be allowed to test for the drug arbitrarily during the season.  Cyclists are required to account for their whereabouts for each and every day during the year and guarantee their availability for a drug test for a 4-hour window each day.

Obviously, this is a huge sacrifice of personal freedom and many consider it an invasion of privacy.  The argument that it is required in order to gaurentee fairness in the sport and an invasion of privacy both have merrit, but I strongly believe that out-of-competition tests should test – or at the very least report – only drugs that are on the out-of-competition prohibited substance list.  The fact that Boonen had cocaine in his system is irrelevant to the sporting world and a private issue between him and legal authorities in Belgium.  I find the fact that it was made public disgusting.  If I take a drug and test positive during an interview process, I expect that to be a matter between me, my prospective employer, and any authorities they would be obligated to report the test results to.  It should be no different for a professional cyclist, especailly given that they may be tested any day of the year.

ASO, please reconsider and let Boonen race.

I didn’t get a chance to write very much about cycling this year, which is one of my favorite topics when it comes to this blog. It’s been quite a year for cycling in our household, with both Michelle and I buying our dream bikes and, more importantly, us getting out on them much more frequently and moving towards something that resembles fitness.

But the professional cycling season was something of a mixed bag. Doping continues to cast a huge shadow over the sport and, while the nature of the racing seems to point towards the sport getting cleaner, the emergence of the blood-booster CERA seemed to make it seem just as dirty as it has ever been. Add to that the re-emergence of riders who have tested positive (Alexander Vinokourov, Floyd Landis, Tyler Hamilton), admitted to involvement with doping (Ivan Basso), and were suspected to be doping despite any actual proof (Lance Armstrong) and it paints cycling into a corner that I don’t believe it should be in.

The bottom line is that cycling is doing much more than any other sport to clean up, and – whether or not these guys have the right to return (they probably do) – the sport and the fight against doping is complicated considerably by their involvement.

Drugs also spoiled what I look back on as the best ride of the year: Frank Schleck’s ride up Hautacam during the Tour de France. He happens to be my favorite rider, and not just because we almost have the same name. It’s also not just because he’s tall and lanky like me. It’s because he rides his bike beautifully, races intelligently and aggressively, and is a really nice guy. But those other things don’t hurt.  It also helps that he rides my bike.

Team CSC played the perfect tactical game over the day’s earlier passes to demolish the race and set up their leaders to take the lead in the race. Jen’s Voigt set a brutal pace over the Col de Tourmalet (Michelle’s and my favorite pass) to shell some of the main contenders off the back before the final climb even started. Meanwhile, they had sent Fabian Cancellara up the road in a break which was caught by the Voigt group in the valley between the Tourmalet and Hautacam. Together, they set a brutal pace that put pre-race favorites Damiano Cunego and Alejandro Valverde out of contention for good.

Then, at the base of the climb, Frank Schleck attacked and did a magnificent ride to get within 1 second of the Yellow Jersey. Disappointingly, his breakaway companions included eventual stage winner Leonardo Piepoli who later tested positive for CERA. It’s a perfect example of how drugs damage a sport: Frank Schleck would have won the stage and taken the Yellow Jersey but was cheated out of that experience by a rider who was on a blood booster. It breaks my heart that my boy was not given the stage win, but watching that stage was the most exciting moment of racing of the year.

I moved to Seattle a few months before Michelle did.  The first weekend I was here with a bike, I headed down a route that I’d driven with the car and veered off onto a road that looked “interesting”.  (To cyclists, “interesting” means steep.) It was a one-way street (the wrong way) heading up Queen Anne.  I figured, “one-way-street, schmone-way-schtreet”.   As it turns out, this isn’t a one-way street because it’s better for the flow of traffic.  It’s a one-way street because if a car tries to drive up it in wet conditions (this happens in Seattle more than you’d think), it will spin out and not make it up the hill.  It’s somewhere around the 35% mark.  Traffic is allowed down, but not up.  When I drove down it in my car, my bumper scraped the road as I reached but bottom.  I haven’t ridden it since, but it’s the only hill I’ve ever ridden a bike up where, when I got to the top, 2.2 km later, I got off my bike and laid in a stranger’s front yard for a while.

The point is, I will ride it again.  That’s because cyclists love to hurt.  A friend of mine turned Pro for Jelly Belly a few years back and at one point I was talking to him and I said, “It’s hard to attack when you hurt so much.”  His response was, “It doesn’t matter how much you hurt.  You just have to go harder.”

I think at a primordial level, cycling is about the locus of control.  In Seattle, people never, EVER jay-walk.  But it’s one of the most innovative cities in the world, which means we have innovative thinkers who don’t follow the “rules” (you can’t be innovative if you follow the rules. Einstein said something about this.)  Obeying the law and breaking rules are not mutually-exclusive.  It’s about the ability to choose.

Cyclists love to suffer because they choose to suffer.  Because it challenges your mind.  As Jens Voigt – my all-time favorite cyclist – says, “When you go hard, your body says, ‘STOP!’ and your mind says, ‘BODY, SHUT UP!’ And, sometimes it works!  And then you GO!”

Cycling is about the glory of suffering, which is something few other sports can say.  The men and women that race the Tours de France (yes, there’s a women’s race and no, they don’t play it on Versus, and yes, it’s every bit as challenging and exciting as the men’s race) suffer for 21 days, 6 hours a day, over the most challenging terrain and awful weather you can imagine – and they race hard.  Cyclists don’t refer to their legs and “their legs”.  Cyclists refer to “the legs” as though they are a separate entity from themselves.  Something to tame but not to control.  We can control our mind, but we can not control our legs.

Cycling folklore speaks of “The Man With the Hammer”.  He is a man who lurks around any corner and will unexpectedly bang you on the neck with his hammer.  He will cause you to go from smoothly spinning your pedals to pedaling squares and putting your bike in “reverse”.  The Man With the Hammer strikes when your mind takes more from legs than your body can provide.

Most endurance sports refer to this as “bonking” but in cycling this is out of your control.  For a sport that is centered around forcing your body through suffering unlike any other sport, this an interesting paradox.  Cyclists can avoid him temporarily, but all cyclist are hit by him at one point or another in their careers.  Eddy Merckx on the climb to Pra-Loup when he lost the Yellow Jersey to Bernard Thevenet.  Bernard Hinault when he lost the Yellow Jersy to Greg Lemond at Serre Chevalier.  Lance Armstrong when he nearly lost the 2000 Tour on the Col de la Joux-Plane.

So, next year, when the weather is warm and the roads are dry, and when my morale is high, I will ride up the 35% ramps of 4th Street to the top of Queen Anne and I will not climb off my bike at the top and rest in a stranger’s yard because – I am quite certain – the Man With The Hammer will be waiting on another hill.   The next hill.

While communism in theory is sound, in execution it breaks down.  It means I would have to share my new Cervelo R3 with all the other assholes in this country.

A few weeks ago, Jess’s life was altered by ownership of a full carbon bike.  This re-awakened a monster inside me.  Since 2003, I have been coveting a Cervelo full carbon road bike.

Michelle and I traveled to France for the month of July in 2003 to train, watch the Tour, and ride L’Etape du Tour.  That year’s L’Etape went from Pau to Bayonne and featured some of the Tour’s most difficult and steep climbs.  (3000 of the 8000 starters finished; Michelle was the 19th female overall of the 900 women who finished – she won her age category.  “Allez la femme!”)

A few days after Michelle and I rode it, the Tour covered the same stage; it was won by Tyler Hamilton aboard a Cervelo R2.5.  Spurred by the success, Cervelo began improving upon the frame’s design in a project they referred to as “The Bayonne”.  This project first morphed into the R2.5 Bayonne, but ultimately became the R3.

Hamilton was already one of our favorite riders, but to watch him race over the same course we had suffered over just a few days prior and win the stage was a magical experience.  (While the stage was the last mountain stage in the Tour, it covered over 4000 meters of elevation gain in 225 kilometers, with the final 1000 meters’ elevation gain over hilly farmland made up of short 1-2 km, steep, cobblestone climbs.  It was raining.)  When I later read that the new bike Cervelo was working on was codenamed the Bayonne in honor of Hamilton’s win, I instantly fell in love with the bike.

The R3 has a few very unique features that set it apart from other bikes.

First, it’s made entirely of carbon-fiber.  While carbon is very light and strong, if it fails, it fails catastrophically – breaking into pieces.  In order to protect against such a failure, Cervelo wrapped all the critical joints of the frame in Kevlar so that if it fails, it will still hold together so the rider can come to a controlled stop.

Second, it has a unique tube shape to give it strength and stiffness where it’s needed, but to remove material where it’s not.  They call it the “squoval” for it’s squared-off oval shape.  It’s extremely stiff and extremely light.

Third, in order to deliver maximum riding efficiency, they designed the chainstays to be very strong so they don’t compress at all when the rider pushes on the pedals.  By the time the chainstays stopped compressing, they were strong enough to eliminate the need for a standard seatstay.  Given that, Cervelo added a thin tube which allows vertical flex in the frame to make the ride ultra-comfortable while not sacrificing any efficiency in power transfer.

I ride a big frame and although I’m not a very strong guy and I’m pretty skinny, I experience lots of frame flex due to the length of the tubes and my weight.  To ride a really light yet really stiff, comfortable, safe bike is a dream come true – add to that the fact that the project was born out of the stage we rode to Bayonne and I’m just in my element.

Michelle knows I have always wanted Zipp 404′s and my dream bike has always been the R3 with Zipp 404′s.  We were getting ready to buy my new frame when Michelle walked up to me with a giant Zipp box.  Having never seen new set of 404′s before, I thought Michelle was simply showing me the box that wheels come in as if to say, “Check out how cool it would be to get a pair of these.”

I looked at her, nodded, and said, “That’s pretty cool.”

Michelle was confused by my low-key reaction.  “Why don’t you look inside?”

“OK.”

I looked and there was a brand-new set of 404′s in the box.  My confusion deepend.  “What is going on?”

Michelle smiled and said, “I figured you might as well have your dream bike.”

The next 25 minutes are kind of blurry and I remember a loud buzzing sound in my head.  I think ultimately, my reaction was pretty mellow compared with what Michelle might have expected, but if that’s the case, it’s because I was in complete shock.  Never in my wildest dreams had I expected to get my dream frame and my dream wheels on the same day.  OVER.THE.TOP.

Every time I get something new that I’ve been super excited about, I get really anxious to build it up and use it, usually rushing through it and breaking something in the process.  I call this “counter productive”.  It has happened pretty consistently and I was really freaked out that I was going to ruin my bike or the wheels before I even rode them, so I resisted the temptation to open a bottle of wine and head downstairs to build up the bike Friday night.  Instead, Michelle and I mounted the stem, saddle, and the tires on the wheels and left it at that on Friday.  We made a nice dinner and enjoyed a great evening examining every detail of the frame and wheels.

As it happened, the final time trial of the Tour de France was Saturday morning, so I got up early and drove down to Cafe Besalu to pick up a baguette.  I popped home and cooked up some omelets, cut the baguette in half and brought Michelle breakfast in bed just as the tour coverage started.  We watched the stage in bed (with the frame and wheels) and after it was over, headed downstairs to build the bike up.

Later in the afternoon, we headed out on the maiden voyage for the bike.  It was amazing.  It’s hard to say what is better, the wheels or the frame, but one thing is clear: together, it is the stiffest, most comfortable, and fastest bike I’ve ever been on.  It feels like it pedals itself.

We won’t know until Time shuffles on a bit further exactly what impact the 2007 cycling season will have on cycling’s future, but I believe that after the dust settles, cycling will be recognized not only as one of the cleanest sports in the world, but as the sport that set the stage for how to battle drug use in professional sport. That’s not to say that we’re not up to the gills in drug use now, and that the governing bodies such as the UCI and WADA didn’t completely ball the whole thing up this year. I think the 2007 road cycling season will be seen as the year that the cycling community finally woke to the damage that drug use can cause in a sport.

I have written many times about how poorly the UCI, National Federations, and WADA have been conducting themselves in the fight against doping. The governing bodies as well as the teams have been complacent in allowing drug use throughout the peleton; by the worst measure, they have encouraged, demanded, and even organized it; by the best measure, they have turned a blind eye. Public opinion has slowly but steadily declined, and in response they have fought not to change their behavior, but to save their reputation and push the blame onto another source: the riders.

2006 will be remembered for the outbreak of Operation Puerto and the ejections of the major stars from the Tour de France. 2007 initially appeared to be cleaner. In years past, the top riders rode strongly at the front of races from start to finish. This year saw racing that seemed much more human, with top riders carefully burning their matches, making sure they had enough left for crucial moments. At the same time, more and more information came to light about how wide-spread drug use has been in cycling and – if you look for it – how unfairly the riders were treated by the UCI, National Cycling Federations, and their teams in order to save face in a culture steeped in drug use. I call that a “transition year”.

The season’s key developments, in no particular order:

• A bunch of guys won a bunch of great races.
• Floyd Landis was found guilty of doping during the 2006 Tour de France despite proving that the Châtenay-Malabry laboratory conducting the analysis of the samples deliberately broke protocol, destroyed data that produced negative results, and only kept data that produced positive results.
• Ivan Basso admitted to involvement in Operation Puerto.
• Bjarne Riis admitted to doping to win the 1997 Tour de France.
• Iban Mayo returned a positive dope control for testosterone during the Giro d’Italia. The positive result was overturned after Mayo pointed out that he has naturally high testosterone levels. (This medical condition has been filed with the UCI for several years.)
• Iban Mayo returned a positive A-Sample for EPO during the Tour de France. When the laboratory at Châtenay-Malabry (which tested the A-Sample) was not available to test the B-Sample, the UCI sent it to a lab in Belgium, which declared the B-Sample negative. The UCI then sent it to Australia to be tested there as well; that lab also found the B-Sample negative. Finally, the UCI sent the sample back to Châtenay-Malabry which found the B-Sample positive.
• After having fired Jan Ullrich in 2006 for alleged blood doping – and after participating in a subsequent fraud lawsuit against him – it has come to light that there was team-wide, organized blood-doping at T-Mobile before the 2006 Tour de France. As was the case with Pantani in 1999, it now appears that Ullrich was singled out in order to preserve the image of his team.
• The Yellow Jersey of the Tour de France was ejected from the race for having lied to the UCI about his whereabouts in the months before the Tour de France and missing anti-dope controls. The level of his team’s involvement is currently not known, but is being investigated.
• Alexandre Vinokourov suffers a catastrophic Tour de France, culminating in a positive test for a homologous blood transfusion. A few weeks later, his teammate Andrei Kashechkin returns a positive test for the same offense.
• Discovery Channel ends its sponsorship of Team Discovery Channel. Despite winning the Tour de France with Alberto Contador, the team failed to find a new sponsor and announced it would quit at the end of the 2007 season. The failure to find a sponsor is blamed on negative publicity due to doping in cycling.
• T-Mobile, one of the major sponsors over the last 12 years in cycling, abruptly ends it’s sponsorship due to the negative publicity of doping in cycling.
• Danilo Di Luca is suspended for 3 months for involvement with a sports doctor who allegedly is involved with the Oil for Drugs scandal in Italy; despite the fact that the doctor was certified by the Italian National Federation at the time Di Luca worked with him. There is also some question as to whether Di Luca saw him as a sports doctor or if he was his family doctor.

But there is a beacon of hope. Now that sponsors are leaving the sport, there is a chance that things will change and the UCI, teams, and riders will become serious about cleaning up. Team CSC has hired an anti-doping expert to manage a strict, internal anti-doping plan which involves over 500 additional blood and drug tests conducted by the team. After a successful 2007, other teams are adopting CSC’s plan.

Only time will tell if this is in fact the beginning of a new era, but I hope that what I smell in the air is change and not smoke.

While Evans has had a spectacular season by placing second in the Tour de France and just off the podium in the Tour of Spain, but to win the ProTour this way has got to be almost as meaningful as Oscar Pereiro’s 2006 Tour de France win, which was awarded to him after American Floyd Landis lost his crown last week.

I’m all for fighting doping in cycling, but the various cycling governing bodies appear to be more interested in appearing tough on drugs than actually being tough on drugs, as is evidenced by the fact that the UCI failed to conduct any doping controls at last week’s Paris-Tours ProTour event.

Danilo Di Luca, who won this year’s Liege-Bastogne-Liege and Giro d’Italia, and is the current UCI ProTour leader, has been suspended for three months for alleged involvement in a doping case which dates back to 2003, dubbed Oil For Drugs.

Di Luca has not been suspended for failing a drug test or for possessing drugs, or for being involved in a drug investigation. No, he has been suspended because he used to work with a doctor who now is under suspicion of supplying doping products to cyclists. Di Luca worked with this doctor several years ago when the doctor was a member of the Italian Cycling Federation as a sports doctor.

His lawyer…clarified that the suspension was not for anti-doping offenses, but for collusion with [Dr.] Santuccione, and also pointed out that during the period in question, Santuccione had been re-admitted into the ranks of the Italian federation as a sports doctor.

What makes the Di Luca case odd is that he’s not being suspended for any wrongdoing. His suspension is for working with a doctor who was then working for the Italian Cycling Federation but has since come under suspicion for being at the center of a doping ring. Even though Di Luca has since cut off ties with this doctor, he has been suspended for having worked with him in the past.

Compare this to the case where Lance Armstrong was working with Dr. Michele Ferrari who was facing similar accusations. At the time, Armstrong claimed that Ferrari had never suggested anything illegal to him, and continued to work with him until the doctor was convicted of sporting fraud. At that point, Armstrong finally stopped working with him and there were never any consequences for Armstrong.

As much as I believe Armstrong used doping products during his career, that is the proper way to handle a case like that: governing bodies can’t go around suspending riders without evidence. If doping is causing damage to cycling’s reputation, what does suspending cycling’s top stars for no reason do to it’s image? As Cartman says, “I used hangover brown on this wall.”

(Interesting side note: Dr. Ferrari has since become active as a sports doctor in cycling again. Alexandre Vinokourov was a client of his and famously returned a positive dope test for homologous blood doping during this year’s Tour de France.)

I have mixed feelings about this case: I was never a fan of Floyd’s, but Stage 17 of the 2006 Tour (where he later returned a positive dope test) was one of the most exciting I’ve ever seen, and I instantly became a fan of his.

We were in France during the 2006 Tour, and were at the roadside of the stage to Pla-de-Beret where Landis first took the Yellow Jersey. We then spent the next few days following the Tour on-and-off, catching the news in the French daily paper, L’Equipe, or watching some of the day-long television coverage. (By the way, one of the great things about being in France during the Tour is listening to the commentators go nuts whenever a Frenchman appears on the TV; some random French domestique will get in a breakaway and they immediately start jabbering about the rider’s chances of winning the Tour. Their optimism is kind of sweet, really. )

Then we headed into the Alps for a few days and missed one day of coverage. That happened to be the stage to La Toussuire where Landis cracked and fell more than eight minutes behind. We turned the television on the next day and were completely confused by what we were seeing: the stage had just hit the first mountain, and Floyd’s team was on the front racing as though they were 10k from the finish. Suddenly Landis – who we were surprised to see was no longer in yellow – rode away from the race. We feverishly tried to figure out what was happening, and why Landis didn’t appear to be in contention anymore. (Another odd thing about being in France during the Tour is that unless you’re up to speed on all the French slang around cycling, it’s a big struggle to truly understand what’s going on from the papers.)

We finally figured out that Landis had cracked and lost heaps of time; what we were seeing was a super-hero mission to gain back as much of time as possible. He managed to pull it off, and eventually won the Tour. It was epic. It was inspirational, and we immediately became fans. One of the first things we did when we set up our workshop in our basement when we moved to Seattle was pin up L’Equipe’s issue from the following day showing Landis cruising to a beautiful stage win.

I don’t know if Floyd doped, and doping in cycling continues to be a topic that I’m incredibly conflicted about. Does it matter whether he doped? Was the inspiration I felt that day as well as the excitement over the next few days false because he doped? Not necessarily. That experience belongs to me; just because his performance may have been “enhanced” doesn’t invalidate what I took away from it. I spend my life building software and none of that is real, either – you can’t touch it or prove it exists, but you can still experience it and take something from it.

At the same time, if he doped – and especially if he was doing so while everyone else was clean – then he should be punished. If Oscar Pereiro was clean and got second, then he deserves to be named the winner.

The problem of doping in cycling is both a cultural and scientific one. Doping in cycling – and, in fact, sport in general – is deeply rooted into the culture surrounding the sport. Young riders are told by older riders and team management that they need to dope in order to succeed. The young riders become the older riders, the older riders retire and become team directors and managers, and the circle continues.

Techniques to pass and avoid doping controls are shared among teams and riders, and the various agencies and labs conducting the doping controls are allegedly bought off by teams to suppress results. That doesn’t even touch on the fact that a huge number of items on the World Anti-Doping Agency’s prohibited substances list – something like 80% – can’t be tested for. Of those that do have tests, many depend on allowable thresholds – including the test for testosterone which Landis failed. In those cases, there is no flashing red light that indicates a positive test; the lab technicians use their judgment and experience to decide if a sample is positive for doping. Although the lab scientists are highly trained and disciplined, the fact that one could claim that the findings are subjective opens the door to questioning the credibility of the results.

The culture, the possibility (or even likelihood) of riders doping without being caught, and the credibility of the tests conspire to turn the fight against doping into a big hairy mess. You have people speaking out against doping and claiming the sport is cleaning up while rumors persist that doping is rampant. And, those riders who do fail dope controls swear they are clean and are wrongfully accused.

I hate the idea of riders being singled out if everyone else is also doping. I hate the idea of riders being wrongfully accused. I hate the idea of riders doping. I hate the idea that there doesn’t seem to be a good way to deal with the problem. But I love cycling, and with or without doping, it’s still the most difficult and beautiful sport.