Tyler Hamilton: The Secret Race: Inside the Hidden World of the Tour de France: Doping, Cover-ups, and Winning at All Costs
"At the foot of Alpe d’Huez, five Posties went to the front. Heras and Chechu started sprinting—full gas, as vicious a sprint as they could manage. It was the kind of punch that had won four previous Tours, superhigh wattage for a couple of minutes. For a second, I got dropped. Then I got back on.
That’s the moment. If someone wants to see where doping affects a race, I’d point them to those ten seconds at the foot of Alpe d’Huez in 2003. When Lance and company accelerated, I was instantly twenty, thirty feet back. Without the BB*, I would have fallen further back and never returned; my day would have been over. But with the BB, I had those extra five heartbeats, those twenty more watts. With the BB, I could claw my way back. On the video, you can see me rising out of the bottom of the picture; I catch on to the lead group. And when Lance looks back, I’m right there.
Lance keeps attacking, spinning the pedals, hitting his numbers. But he can’t drop us: it’s Mayo and his teammate Haimar Zubeldia, Beloki and Vino. And no Posties—because Lance is alone now; he’s burned up his helpers.
A few minutes into the Alpe, Lance gets out of the saddle, standing like he does when he’s going his hardest. I can’t stand—my collarbone hurts too much—so I grit my teeth, keep sitting, and go as deep as I can. It was like those old training days: just him and me in the mountains above Nice. He’s giving his all, and I’m answering.
How’s that?
—I’m still here.
How’s that?
—Still here.
A little math: the leader on a climb typically spends 15 to 20 more watts than the guy in his slipstream. That’s why you want to follow as much as you can, conserving your energy for the key moments, the attacks and replies. The phrase we use is “burning matches,” meaning that each rider has a certain number of big efforts he can make. Now, on Alpe d’Huez, Lance was burning one match after another.
We sense it, and start attacking him. First Beloki, then Mayo, then I give it a dig, leaving Lance behind. And it works. For a few seconds, I’m in the clear. On the television broadcast, commentators Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen are going crazy.
“We’ve never seen a climb like this before,” Liggett shouts. “They believe [Lance is] vulnerable! They actually believe Armstrong can be beaten!”
Lance has the bad face going: deep lines on the forehead, lower lip pushed out, head tipped forward. He drags himself up to me. Then Mayo escapes, charging up the road, his unzipped orange jersey flapping like a superhero’s cape. Vinokourov follows; Lance lets them both go. I try to escape again, but Lance follows. Now we’ve reversed roles; he’s the one telling me, I’m still here, dude.
By the last switchbacks, we’re both out of matches; we ride the last few kilometers of the climb close to each other. Mayo scores the victory; Vino is second; Lance and I finish with five others, with Ullrich only 1:24 behind. Afterward, all the talk in the media is of Lance’s weakness. But we riders know that they’ve got it wrong. The truth is that the playing field, for the first time in my Tour de France career, is level."
*blood bags