Kritzo: yeah, I know...it has always been my weak side. Thank you
Ian Butler: Thank you. I can remember when this was on PCMFreaks. Somebody told me to make a movie out of it, every user liked it - hope it'll be the same here
My first race was the Vuelta a Burgo , a warm-up for the Vuelta a España . I was supposed to be a helper for one of the team's stars, Nicolai Buus. My brother, Jannes, was also there, and he got the label "Lieutenant" and it annoyed me . It annoyed me that he constantly got the attention when it came to us two. So what that he was better? It had always been that way. As very young, he was also the one who ran with it. I was always in the back and the jealousy burned in me. I was what I was.
The first stage was enormously difficult, and after the first day I had been given the title "lantern rouge". The legs were smashed; I simply could not keep up. I could not get the legs to do batter. I was not much help. I was ashamed for my own efforts, but I did what I could. Even on the flat stage, I could not keep up and I was put back once again. There was even talk of me in the field, and it was not praise. I was accused of being too poor and to be in bad shape, and I did not like it. It was something that made me mad. It was something that made me consider using unfair methods. It was far from me, but I would think cynicism would be inside me; deep inside me.
The time trial was once again a disappointment, but I had not yet the level to do something big. I was fifth last - one second from last place. The next flat stage was another disappointment and I ended up in last place, two out of four stages, and no one could be happy with it despite my level.
It was not looking good for the final mountain stage, and it was a nightmare. The stage ended up with a hard mountain. Even before the rise my legs was in acid and I was set as soon as the road rose a little bit. I was on pain threshold, and I heeded nothing. I was in my own world, and everything seemed distant. I was not in the present, and the sweat was dripping from me. The mountain slope was steep and I was close not to getting over. I drove a slow, boring, monotonous thread that could get even the most passionate bike viewer bored. I could sense the other riders on the horizon, and I was close to a mentally crash. I had pushed my body to the limit and I had to go a gear lower. The acid was totally into both legs, and it seemed that the mountain continued indefinitely. It was a loneliness fight I was in splendid isolation. I drove so slowly that I lurched across the road; I was close to smoke by. I was close to the smoking home, smoking the time limit. The fog disappeared, and I could see a little more. On the horizon I could see the finish line, but it felt as if there were an eternity until I was in goal. The finish line came closer and closer, and when I came across the finish line, I could take stock. I had entered within the time limit, but I was senseless. I could feel nothing, and a reporter had to step up my mind that I would not fall down, but I was offended for the credit. Offended for pride. The last square was mine.
Edited by Maddox on 24-04-2014 09:43
After this not so impressive performance in my first stage race I should not run more races this season. The explanation sounded that I only had to ferret out what it meant to run professional races, but I knew what it was about. I had shame about the cycling team Team Saxo - Tinkoff. I had dishonored their reputation, but then I did not think it was that bad. I deserved a second chance, I deserved to show that I could rectify it.
I trained a lot in the coming months. I was on fire. Each and every pedal revolution was shot out of rage. I trained much more than the norm, and I could also see it in our annual training camp. I had improved noticeably me, and I drove up better; especially on the bumpy hills that monotonous marched along tindernes peaks in the horizon. Those who did not reach up to the clouds, but those soft shaped up in the countryside and looked inviting. They almost tempted one to the foot of them, but once you were there, it was like hell. No. It was hell.
Coaching staff could also see my progress, and they came with words of praise, which I had never heard of them before. They were so thrilled with me they told me that I had to run several big races. I was handed a program where I could see my race plan. I took a quick glance at it, and I skimmed my way . Tirreno - Adriatico was the first race that stood there, and it seemed like a dream that I had to run a World Tour race. I looked further down on the slip of paper and there was the Tour of California and Tour de Suisse. They might have been really happy with my progress that I now had to run all these big races. I looked further down on the slip of paper, and it was written, black on white; Tour de France. It could not fit that I should run the world's biggest races already in my first full season as a professional. It was big, but it was only to help. Well, I knew it, but it could not take away the joy that was kindled in my heart and became a warm, tickling sensation.
Nothing could describe the happiness that characterized my body. The workouts were no longer driven to rage, but the joy, the desire to achieve, I would not disappoint once again. Granted, it was a small insignificant race, but there must have been something in my performance, which has been up bells ringing. Maybe my figures were too bad compared to what I actually worked, but it seemed strange that I was confronted with it. I had to show them that they had been mistaken. I wanted to show them that they could count on me when it all came to a head.
My brother, Jannes, should drive the Giro d' Italia as an important help for the team's captain, Nicolai Buus. I would try to help Yves Birtz to the victory in the Tour. Finally, I felt appreciated. I felt aligned with my brother and just as worth full. Jannes and I had always had a good relationship. I think it's as brothers, and in our company, we enjoy each other. We could not imagine running for two different teams, but I had a knack for being extremely jealous of him when he got more attention than me. It was something that could get me to go the dark, gloomy way .
In Tirreno - Adriatico was my captains Ole Kristian Aasbrenn and Edvald Boasson Hagen. Two big talents, and I was honored to run with them. It was early in the season, and the Tour de France was not until July, so my form was still good. It was miserable. It was important that we were totally focused, for the sponsors had a requirement to be met. We should have a rider in the top 3, but I did not make me hopeful that it would be me who fulfilled it. My expectations were not that great, because I had to be a strong helper. I should be the one rider who fetched water and protected them from the wind all day. A long, grueling, monotonous work. I was sure that they had the perfect until the end.
They also had, but when it really mattered, they were not quite where they should be. Ole was hammered together by the competitors, while Edvald had to settle for the fifth place. The sponsors agreed that we could not get a rider in the top 3, but I was even pleased with what I had performed. I had sat with them far up the battlements and I was praised to the skies, but it was only by riders and staff from my own team. No outside had noticed me; yet.
Tour of California was the first race the Tour de France squad was gathered in. Here we was shaken even more together than a milkshake, and we should get to know each other for real. It was for no use, I did not know anything about my roommate when we were living together for three weeks. It also meant that we each were given free space to run our chances. Yves Birtz, who was the teams standing captain, performed slightly below our expectations and was only number two overall, but I shined. I drove like a dream, and I rode the wave. I drove beyond all expectations, and it caused a stir from the team. I was seen even more, and I had done more attention to myself. I drove particularly well in the third stage, where it ended in a bunch sprint. Well, it was not my specialty, but I did what I could to get a stage win. I chose the right wheel, Gerald Cioleks, but I could not hold on. The pain sweat in my thighs and I strained myself more than ever before, but I had to capitulate. The forces did not suffice for more.
Then I had a little break before going to the Tour de Suisse with Yves. He had to run a top three home, but he never worked in these races. He only appeared in the Tour and the Vuelta, and he was my role model. He was one of the reasons why I chose Team Saxo - Tinkoff. The Sports Director had chosed that the Tour squad would be split up, so that was part of Dauphine and part of Suisse. I was fine with it, because I had taught the others to know quite well. Over a dinner table we talked about things in the east and west; I really liked that. I especially learned Yves better to know over the next few days, when I shared a room with him, and he has a very touching story. I have had a great childhood, and I certainly could not complain. I got almost everything I pointed at, and I was a little spoiled. That was probably why I was willing to take the next step to become a star.
The first stages I just had to go through, and overall I was lying in the middle of the field. I was asked to save energy for the last few days, they were very tough.
I could feel my progress throughout the body. It felt completely different than my first race last late summer. I was much more fresh, and it was also reflected in my performance. I was a great help and I stood and pulled in front, so the area was shaved down steeply until I had to let go. The string was released, and I zig-zag'ed up through the crowd, and I had no idea where I was. My watts was incredibly low, and my cadence was very low. Every revolution was a war to take, and it felt endless. The finish line came closer and I could just manage to get over it, and I had no more energy than listening to the race announcer. "Maillot Jaune , Andrew Talansky". Yves Birtz had lost the race, but we had to look forward to the Tour de France. Look forward to the French roads.
The Tour de France is something magical, something legendary. The heroes are celebrated and new stars emerge. It's the biggest race in the world, and no other race comes close. It's the same for me. It's not just a race, it's over. The race of all races, and I was honored to run it. I should look into it and learn. That's why I was with on the team. I was supposed to be a helper, but that was not made big, enormous demands on me that I would not be able to respond.
The tour didn't start well for us, as Yves lost a lot of time the first few days, but he did always. I was not able to help as much because my form was not at the top yet. It should first be in the final two weeks. I lay in the bottom half of the standings, but it reassured me even more. I knew I did not have to perform. In the battle for the white jersey was I number 3, but the leader of the race was much better than me, so I did not have to fight for the win here. I was sure of that.
In return, Yves tighten up, for he was above 3'' minutes together, and it weighed on the mood of the bus. No one was happy with the situation, and it was also me. Although I climbed further up in the standings, then it touched me, for the team had no ambition secondary places or stage victory. It did not matter, it was only the overall victory that spoke.
The ninth stage was therefore even more important than the others, because we had to get into the game again for the overall victory. The whole team seemed ready and we were together all the way up in the front all day. The plan was ready. We had to control the breakaway and on the penultimate climb I had, with the Ludvigsson brothers, put tremendous pressure on to thin out the field.
Fredrik started to put pressure , and there were violent bloodshed. He drove in a disgusting pace, and I could feel it in my bones. It was hard work, but it was what really could make the difference in the end. Fredrik struck out , and Tobias took over. The pace was inflated once again, and people continued to linger by. I was caught behind a number of riders and I had to spend much effort to get up again, and when Tobias struck out, I did not much profit back, so it was a quick, hard lead, I took, and the field was reduced further. Then it was important to relax as much, but the radio was called on me. I had to fight my way back because Sergio Henao had run away, and there was need that I could catch him on the descent. I got contact back over the top, and I chased like crazy on the descent. I could not quite get him, but that was cut a decent chunk of it. I had to give up. The forces were completely exhausted. I left the group, but on the radio, I could hear that Aasbrenn had put a lot of pressure and that all competitors had been set. Even Birtz took over and he said on the radio that he could not feel better. Finally, he won anything to recover lost ground.
The next stage I was destined to be careful with Birtz, and it was certainly not an easy task. A sea of attacks on a small rise before the finish meant that I had to go even deeper than I had done so far in my career. I had to strain myself like never before, but I could take it. Sweat dripped down on my face, and I had pulled the sunglasses up in the hood for a better view. The attacks were canceled and Yvez entered the same time as the other favorites. In the evening, I was praised by him, and when we were in a room I could see that Yves pulled out a small, silver-colored stuff was. He hid it well, so I could not see what it was, but it looked like a needle. He held it to the upper arm, and it was quickly packed away again , and he took a sigh. I asked what it was he was doing, but he said nothing but that what he did was a necessity to be wihere it was fun to be. Maybe it was just a criteria to be on the top level. I drew a conclusion that it must be doping. It could not be otherwise. At last, It made me open my eays to another side of cycling. A dark side of cycling.
Mont Ventoux. The bald mountain. A legendary mountain that always changes everything. It has always taken great riders into the fall, and it celebrates those who dare to take chances. Those who dare to go down with the flag. It's those who are rewarded in the end. I always hated the mountain. I once drove on it during a holiday and it was disgusting. It was terribly hot in the forest and the mountain just kept up . It would not end, and it felt like you just drove further and further up, but it would never be over. It was as if the piece of road that you had just driven, was put up at the top of the mountain, and continued such. I just waited for the weather station on the left, in my own world. You had to run your own pace, otherwise we would go down. That's something you do not want to, because it would cause great pain.
Today was the time trial on the mountain, and I feared it. Well then, I should be fine, but it would exhaust the energies. It was like getting a knife stauck in the heart , but it was loose, so you would suffer a slow, painful death. This was how the mountain were too.
I was always in a good mood in the morning, but this was different. Normally, I talked to everyone I came near to, but it was not the same today. I was nervous about the time trial today. I was nervous that I would touch upon my bottom level from last year once again. I knew I had improved myself since then, but they were just much higher in this race.
The team had also noticed that I was not like I used to, but they did not talk to me. Maybe it was both a mixture of a hard day and yesterday's experience. I never thought that Yves Birtz had cheated and deceived his colleagues, but when the other almost run straight up with him, so they had to be on something. It was my assumption anyway. Well, it did not seem that it was much he took but little had also a right.
At the startramp, there was much controversy as usual. People rushed around each other, and there was chaos. I felt far from a fish in the water. I did not like that there was no control of anything. I would have it my way, but it was clear that I could not get it like that when I was not known. Up on the start ramp, I was hailed as a huge star, but they did with everybody. I rolled off at a steady pace, for the mountain itself would be more than enough. My sports directors plan was to take it easy at first, but he thought it was too slow.
"Allez, allez, Edward. Tempo on," he screamed.
I could sense that something came from behind and just afterwards there came a rider whizzing by. I had to be focused and not let myself be distracted by. I had to stay in the bubble that you had to be in order to run a good time trial.
The road rose. It really took hold now , and it shot up into the sky. I could make out the top, and I could not help but think that I was going all the way up. The supporters cheered on for dear life, but I heeded them not. It was getting so steep that I was not aware of anything. I could just manage to understand where the road went, but no more than that. I was screamed into my ear constantly, and it was unbearable. I could not handle it , so I ripped mechanics from me, and I yelled.
"Vous êtes des meurtriers".
My heart was pumping away, and it burned. I was so marked that I was close to tears. I would not do this. I had a few meters back , and I was so exhausted that I lay down in pain and just screamed. Although I could hear that the time was pretty good. I had been running surprisingly well , so I would not have it like this again. I would not expose myself to what again like this. If there was a next time it would be on other grounds. The assumptions which Yvez had, I would also have them. I had made ​​a decision. I would do it.
Stage results, 9th stage
1 Yvez Birtz Team Saxo - Tinkoff 1h17'52
2 Ole Kristian Aasbrenn Team Saxo - Tinkoff + 1'47
3 Rui Costa Sorit srl Pisa + 3'41
...
22 Edward Mancini Team Saxo - Tinkoff +6'44
General Classification after Stage 9
1 Yves Birtz Team Saxo - Tinkoff 42h37'12
2 Vicenzo Nibali Omega Pharma - Quick Step + 2'51
Bauke Mollema 3 Pear + 3'27
...
68 Edward Mancini + 1h11'26
Edited by Maddox on 04-05-2014 15:10
We had taken the yellow jersey, and the mood was considerably relieved. We had raised our level in the right direction, and it was also reflected in the way we drove. We drove like a dream, and no one could catch up with us. Yves Birtz won several mountain stages and no one could roughly follow him. Although I climbed a few positions higher up in the standings, and I did well in the time trial where I reached #49.
Yves had won the Tour de France again, but at the same time we were told that he left us for Cannondale Pro Cycling. Thus we found ourselves without a clear captain and we would certainly going to miss him.
The night before Paris Yves and I was in our beds, and I could not get the episode from the other day out. I had thought more about it, the impact it could have, but I agreed with myself that I should try it. I had an even bigger reason to do so when he left us, and I could not keep silent any longer.
"Yves, what was that thing you did the other night," I asked.
"It gives me benefits. All the good use it, and I also started on last year," he replied.
"But ... You won the tour several times before. Why ruin it," I asked wondering.
"I'm too stupid . It is the only correct answer," Yves reflected.
The conversation went on and I got many things to learn. I was told how he was using doping, from whom he got them, how much he used, and how often it was used. I got the impression of a frightening world that everyone could look into, but I'd take the chance. I would not settle for being a helper. I wanted to the top of it all. The place where you were remembered for outstanding achievements that people noticed. The place where you were a star. I wanted to be remembered, I would win the Tour de France. That was my dream. I knew I could do it and I would try next year. I knew I could if I got the chance. At least now when I decided to take shortcuts.
I was thoroughly introduced into the environment, and the coming days I dug myself deeper into it. I dug myself into the ground , and I scented out every little piece that moved him. I wanted to find out how it was done even better. I wanted to find the doctor I could trust most, but also one that had the right preparations. I had heard about a doctor named Emanuelle Ciron, there seems to be very reliable, very organized, and not least he also seems to have a lot of different tools. I would contact him, but it had to be done on my terms. I would find time to visit him over the winter, it should look as if it was a natural progression, I had gone through. Well then, I was a middle-class rider in my first season, but sometimes there were people who ruled in through one season after they had performed something like shooting stats such as Peter Sagan and Michal Kwiatkowski. They would not be questioning me. I would not separate myself from the rest. Well, it would be a bit strange if I won the Tour de France after connecting at #58 this year , but I was sure I had the mentality to stand against the accusations would come.
I had researched the various substances which, I had come from the fact that it was EPO, I had to sample. I would not experiment with other drugs, I would stick to it. That was what riders were to be tested by.
I was ready. It was now, it should be done. I had agreed a time along the afternoon with Emanuelle Ciron a few hours away on the bike. It was in a slum with an old, small hotel along a dank, putrid lake that was unloaded tons of waste in. There was no one who would ever expect that I would get out there, so it was a perfect place to take doping the first time.
I took my bike and I drove off. There was not time for it to be done. I thought back to when I found joy in just being out on the bike with my brother and not think about things. It was ambivalent. I had always been against such fraudulent activity. It was I, at least back then. I had always told my brother that no matter what happened, we had to not fall into the jar. He even agreed, and I knew he would not be able to do such a thing. He could not believe that I would do it either, it seemed too far away, but I was doing it.
I ran on a wide road, and on the horizon I could see a forest shaping up. It looked cheesy in the way the trees were out of the ground at. One was higher than the other, and the colors formed the framework for the perfect environment to train in. It was actually kind of tragicomic that I was in such beautiful surroundings, when I was doing something that was exactly the opposite. I was going to cheat some of my teammates, but at the same time I came on an equal footing with the others. But I knew what I was doing. I knew it was not okay. I knew it could have an impact on my career , but I went to see it myrself. I was not forced into anything, I did it of their own free will. That, in turn, would plague me was that my brother under no circumstances should know about it. Only then I wpuld realize what it was I had done. Only then I would know that the bar deeply wrong, but deep down I might not care. It did not move much attention, and I deemed it no two thoughts that it was incorrect. It was unethical.
I came out of the woods, and I could see the little hotel I was going into. I could see Emanuelles car hold, and I remembered how it all would take place. I had never been fond of needles, and getting stuck a needle in my arm was not something that cheered me. I had delivered some blood to him a few weeks ago and I had to have it sprayed in again. I opened the door to the hotel, and I looked around. I took a glance over the place and the surroundings, and I began to come closer.
I was coming into the room, but I was naive, and I looked constantly backwards to see if anyone was following me. Five steps to the room, and there was a voice. My heart jumped a few extra times, but it was just a little noise from another room. I opened the door and saw a large, dark room with only a small lamp as the only light. It was creepy, but it was what I was doing too. I could see Emanuelle in a white robe. He was about to fill it up; fill it up with illegal stuff. I sat down and I could feel it in my whole body. I took an exertional bite my in lips, and I could feel that it disappeared off my body. I could breathe again. It was done.
Soon I was ready for the Tour de France , but first I applied at the Tour de Suisse, as I was going to win. It was an important race that I had to strengthen my self-confidence. I was ready for it, but I could sense that the pressure quietly came fully into the life of me. It was my first real captain role, but I felt that I could handle the pressure. It was not a heavy burden, it was more of an inflammatory factor. I was ready to fight, I was motivated.
I made ​​a good start and I lost no time in the first days. The first day was a prologue, and I drove it safely through to be sure, and I ended up in the middle of the field. The next stage was a mountain stage, but the favorites stuck together. I just snuck with, and it was a huge surprise. Not for me, I knew what I had done to be there, but for the rest it was weird. They had not expected that I would be so good. They thought I would continue the bars from last season and be a mediocre team rider, but I was not anymore. The team itself had no obvious captain before the race started, but I looked like a captain now.
The stage after I drove like a dream. Although the day did not start well when I had a crash in the neutral zone, I came back strong. There was a high mountain range to the end of the stage, and it ended with a descent. I had the advantage that I had a strong acceleration, I could create the hole, and I was able to extending their lead on the descent. That was the plan. I would attack over the top and give everything I had down. But it shaped differently. I could sense that I felt clearly the best, and no one was watching me as I had never performed anything, so I took the chance in the middle of the increase. I sped away from the other, and there was a world of difference between the speed I could hold over them. I was like an alien from another planet. I increased and increased, but Peter Sagan was in the group on the descent. It meant that I did not get further away on the descent, but I could run into my first win of his career to great cheers for my team. I had now turned my name in through for real!
The following days I 'just' had defend the jersey, and did I great. I followed my competitors close, and no one had enough energy to run from me. I did however have the strength to beat smaller holes just before the finish, so I took additional time, and the victory seemed assured. Nothing could go wrong.
The race ended with a mountain time trial, and I gave it everything it could to give my new fans a little more for the money. I won in convincing style, and I was the race revelation. At least, I was told it. However, it was not at all talking about the Tour de France, and I was a threat to the general classification. Was I really that? Was this a lone swan, or would it be great and beautiful and form an era? I thought most of the last one. No. I knew the answer was the last one.
some heavy stuff.
