Balance. It can be achieved by never deviating from the middle, or it can be achieved by violent swings to and fro. It is said, however, that the great peaks can’t be reached without crossing through deep valleys. Tragically, we were reminded today that our sport is one of great peaks and deep, deep valleys.
Cycling is a sport of risk and danger; the beauty and harmony of a speeding peloton masks the risks and dangers involved. Mountain descents see riders reach speeds of 80 or more kilometers per hour with little to protect them should something go wrong. Stars and watercarriers alike share in the risk; no one is immune.
You have to love this sport intensely to become a professional. The nature of road competition demands great sacrifice in every aspect of the athlete’s life; eat like birds, work like horses, and live like monks. Not only does a professional cyclist spend every waking moment focussed on their sport, but from January to October, they are away from their families as the race calendar carries them all over Europe and, increasingly, the world. This sacrifice is most often in the service of others, as the Stars are few and the Watercarriers many.
While only a few weeks ago we watched as one of these domestiques reached the pinacle of our sport by winning Paris-Roubaix, today we witnessed the tragic swing to the other end as Wouter Weylandt lost his life in the pursuit of his passion. We can be philosophical and say this man lived for his sport and died doing what he loved, but the fact of the matter is that his is a man who, at 26 years old, was in the prime of his life and that he died today is tragic beyond articulation.
As Velominati, we are disciples of cycling. Our lives revolve around cycling. At moments like these, it is unimaginable that life and sport will continue. It will, and we will again reach the peaks. But we breathe still, and our devotion cannot follow where others’ continue.
Today we walk through a valley and mourn as Velominati the tragic loss of a man who gave everything – everything – to his sport. Our deepest sympathies go out to his family, friends, and colleagues.
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I went for a ride today. That's my primary cure for the downs.
As often, I had to start late, just after sunset. My preferred "late route" is a loop with a large curvey run along the edge of a lake just outside of town; no street lights and little habitation. Good shoulders on roads in and out and little traffic make for relatively safe night ride; though it's dark and a little more than don't-give-me-a-ticket lights are advisable due to, for one, small wildlife; few rides ago I sideswiped a 'possom because I over-road my lights & didn't see it/frighten it away. I guess.
I'm not a goofy new age hippy type. I believe I've experienced an advantage of aging, that being: the older you get the less you know. I've come to suspect that there's more, Horatio... I don't know what "more" is, but we'd be fools to think that just because we have a set of senses that shows us a certain "reality," that's the end of the story. We used to think the world was flat.
So this evening I'm on the lake road, outside the lights of town. Official sunset about 45 minutes ago. The narrow road is lined with tall oak trees; it took me a while to notice the sky. Purple. REALLY purple. Not lavendar or sunset pink, but glowing purple. Not dark-indigo-almost-night-blue. Purple. Even the moon was tinged. "I knew I shouldn't have cleaned my glasses, I got something on them," was my first thought. Remove glasses. Instant bugs in eyes. But still purple.
Florida skies, especially sunsets, are almost always gorgeous, and vary crazily in colors, with all of the small (or large) clouds present, humidity in the air, and I don't know what else. Never exactly the same thing twice. But this was pretty wild. Sun pretty much long gone. The light wasn't from the city, which was ahead of me to the west, because sky was the same behind. Glowing purple. Lavendar tinged moon. Beautiful. Awesome.
Before I ran off the road I looked down... the sky is falling! Or at least, the stars are! Oh. Fireflies! TONS of them!! This is really unusual for this part of Florida. We get them, but usually they are just twinkles here and there. I remember being up in the Chicago area, where my parents' families are from, as a kid; tons of fireflies in the summer up there, we chased them... not like that here.
Except tonight. I've never seen so many in all the years I've lived here. Stars falling from a purple sky. I rode through the area where the concentration of them was, it was pretty large, I dunno, 100 meters? After that still a good number twinkling along the dark road. With the purple glowing sky.
OK, it probably doesn't come through very well in writing, but it was fairly wondrous. Today's sadness had been on my mind. I decided that this was a memorial. From the Universe. Why not?
Even weirder, I was thinking about Weylandt's wife (partner/girlfriend? seen all terms used, doesn't matter), carrying his unborn son, almost crying for her, tears under a purple sky in a field of stars and wishes, strong strong wishes to her for peace, belief he didn't suffer, peace, peace, peace... hail mary, full of grace Oh my god I'm saying hail mary's. And it took me a few to realize it. I am an ex-ex-ex-ex-ex-Catholic, I mean WAY ex. Where in the hell those came from I don't know. But turning onto the main drag off of the lake road and kicking into my standard hard push home at this point on this ride, I decided to let 'em roll, whereever they came from, the hail mary's, breathing too hard to say out loud but rolling through my head, and they were for the people left behind... Weylandt is gone. I hope it was fast. But he doesn't care about anything now (not to lessen in the least his sacrifice)... the people he left behind are the sufferers now.
Ride on. It's what we do. Including non-cyclists.
Peace be with you. All.
I could not stop thinking about this all day.
Tribute video
@Karolinka
...and also with you.
Having read Farrar's comments about Weylandt, I remembered another tragedy Tyler faced a few years ago when his father was hit by a car while riding his bike.
Tyler has been handed some tremendous emotional adversity.
Here's his father's story...
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=caple/090721
Tragedies like this remind me that there are many people who will walk out their front door this morning or any morning and never return.
Most people are lucky enough to work in occupations where death is not a considered risk, but all of us depend on people who have a shadow of death ever present... construction workers, miners, farmers, police, even journalists, as I know from personal experience.
I say this not to diminish the tragedy of Wouter Weylandt's death and the devastating effect on his family and friends, but in the spirit of 'for whom the bell tolls'.
Yes it's annoying that the media only covers cycling when there is a scandal but there'll be a host of other deaths today that won't even rate a mention. They won't be people doing something they loved either, they'll be average people who were doing it because that was the best job they could get to provide for their family.
So spare a thought for Wouter Weylandt as we should, but share a part of that thought or prayer with those 'others' who every day will pass unremarked but leave just as big a gap in people's hearts.
To the top of the mountain we say "ride strong", WW
To the finish line we say "ride long", WW
From our hearts we say "ride on", WW
RIP, mate, tailwinds all the way...
Great post Frank. RIP Wouter Weylandt
@Jeff in PetroMetro
That was always my favorite part of Mass.
@Karolinka
Hai scritto una bella cosa.
Or
You wrote a beautiful thing.
Grazie. Grazie mille.