7-21-89 . . . Despite my other preoccupation, I spend a lot of time thinking about the Tour de France. Every morning, as soon as I get out of bed and dress, I go outside to buy two newspapers. Then I get the coffee started and sit down to see what happened in the previous day’s stage. (Laurent Fignon is still leading the tour.) It occurred to me that the tour (any bicycle tour) symbolizes something larger: the tension between sociality and individualism in our lives. The peloton, or pack, represents society at large. The teams that comprise [sic; should be “compose”] the peloton represent factions—trade unions, political parties, families or clans, religious groups, and so on. Individual riders represent citizens, the basic constituents of society. Now, in any society there are bound to be tensions between collective interests or goals and individual aspirations. We want, and need, to be both individuals and members of groups. Most of us go through life trying to find an acceptable balance between these wants or needs. In my case, I strike the balance on the side of individualism; others strike it differently. The interesting thing about the tour is that it embodies and symbolizes these tensions. Perhaps that explains its deep attraction to the French, for whom bicycle racing is a long and beloved tradition. Other European nations—Spain, Belgium, the Netherlands, Italy, Switzerland, Austria, and Portugal, for example—have the same love affair with bicycle tours. Only now are Americans becoming interested in the sport.
In a typical tour stage, dozens of riders form a peloton. This represents the mass of humanity. The peloton retains its identity over time, as the race proceeds. Some stages take several hours. As I understand it, there is lighthearted banter even among members of different teams. There’s a sense of commonality, or shared interest. Every now and then, however, a single rider or small group of riders will “attack”, or strike out on their own, hoping to get away from the peloton and win the stage. Their goals are factional or individual rather than communal. They want to separate themselves from the rest of the riders in order to achieve some objective. This is represented in society by rebels—those who resist the norm, either socially or financially. Entrepreneurs, for example, try to “get ahead” (of other citizens) by working long hours and making shrewd investments. In most (though not all) cases, the peloton succeeds in “reeling in” these attackers. To do so, its members must work together, taking turns fighting the wind. For the most part, members of the peloton take advantage of the windshield provided by others. This is the interesting and exciting part. Will the attackers get away with it? Will they succeed in their rebellion from the group? Perhaps; it depends in part on whether the teams work together to assist their individual members.
When I first heard about the Tour de France, three or four years ago, I was confused. Why are there teams? Bicycling struck me as such an individual sport (perhaps because I had always ridden alone) that I couldn’t fathom giving myself up for a teammate. Now, having thought long and hard about it and ridden a lot myself, I’m attracted to the idea of teams and teamwork. I still value individual goals and aspirations, of course, but these things can be accomplished within the context of a team effort. After all, baseball, which has for so long appealed to me, is a team sport. Perhaps that is the attraction of sports in general. They combine, in a structured way, individualism and sociality. It takes superb individual effort to prevail, but no individual alone can do it. One must strike a balance between achieving one’s own goals and sacrificing those goals for the larger good. Bicycling, in this respect, is no different than [sic; should be “from”] baseball, football, basketball, or hockey. I have other thoughts about the representational significance of bicycle tours, but I’ll save them for another time. Meanwhile, I have some bicycling achievements of my own to report and discuss.
With clear skies, a temperature of ninety-two degrees [Fahrenheit], and a relative humidity of only thirty-one percent, I set out to ride a thirty-mile circuit around Bryan and College Station. Little did I know that it would be a record-breaking ride. The wind was in my face during the first ten miles, but the route is downward sloping, so I averaged 17.32 miles per hour during that segment. I always calculate my average speed in my head at these intervals, so I knew how I was doing. When I turned onto Highway 6 at about the fourteen-mile mark, I knew that the wind would be at my back the remainder of the way. “That’ll be nice”, I thought. I averaged 18.06 miles per hour for the second ten miles, giving me an overall average speed of 17.68 miles per hour. That’s nothing special. In fact, I was still hoping for an eighteen-mile-per-hour day at that point. But as I made my way along the freeway, the wind made pedalling easy. I decided to use it to my advantage. By pedalling as hard as usual, I got up to twenty-four miles per hour—sometimes more. Piece o’ cake! Let me tell you: There is no better feeling in the world than cruising along on a flat stretch of road on a nice summer day at twenty-four miles per hour. None. Zero. Zilch. In a flash, I resolved to shoot for my all-time speed record of 18.62 miles per hour, which I’ve attained twice. I knew I’d have to maintain my present speed, but I wasn’t even breathing hard. It was easy! Sure enough, I averaged 21.09 miles per hour for the third ten-mile segment, giving me an average speed of 18.71 miles per hour for the 30.33 miles. I did it! That’s my best average speed ever for a closed-loop ride.
Keith Burgess-Jackson, J.D., Ph.D. 