Floyd Landis
Tons happening right now. Our departure for Antarctica (Tony and I will leave the UK in mid-October) is looming large, but I'm going to keep you in suspense for a few days longer. I'm feeling a bit disillusioned with the whole blogging thing at the moment, partly because I can't tell you about the really exciting stuff until hands have been shaken, ink has dried and cheques have been cashed. But exciting is definitely the word. Stay tuned.
Anyway, on to Floyd Landis. He's a pro cyclist, and he's one of the favourites to win this year's Tour de France. Cycling is my favourite sport, but I'd never really taken to Floyd; he's never quite mastered the slick, poster boy charm of a white-toothed Armstrong, or the testosterone-fuelled charisma of a Cipollini or McEwen. He has ginger hair, he was sporting a dodgy moustache for part of last season, and he's prone to wearing goofy shades and a wrong-way-round baseball cap.
But as of today, Floyd Landis has very nearly out-heroed Lance Armstrong himself. He's well placed to win the toughest endurance event on the planet, yet it turns out that he's long overdue a hip replacement and has been riding through excrutiating pain for months, without even telling his team.
…Perhaps the funniest part is that Landis has been successful at keeping his hip condition a secret from teammates, rivals and the media for 20 months, confiding it only to a small handful of doctors and close friends. This maneuver has involved what Landis, who was raised as a Mennonite in Lancaster County, Pa., calls ‘‘a few adaptations.’’
‘‘I always have to get on my bike putting my right leg over first,’’ Landis told me. ‘‘If I tried to get on the other way’’ — tilting his pelvis against his damaged hip — ‘‘I’d be lying on the pavement. Then people would be standing around wondering what the hell’s wrong with that guy?’’
Landis’s right hip is afflicted with osteonecrosis, or bone death, a degenerative condition caused by lack of blood supply. Essentially, the ball has withered and collapsed, resulting in bone that his doctors liken to a chunk of rotten wood, a sunbaked desert and a half-melted scoop of ice cream. All of which transforms Landis into the embodiment of an intriguing question: Is it possible for someone with a ruined hip to win the Tour de France?
‘‘Well, I’m doing it, so it must be possible,’’ he said, his face flashing into the sharp, faintly incredulous expression he often gets when he talks about his hip. ‘‘All the doctors have ever been able to tell me is that I should get a replacement when the pain gets to be too much. O.K., that sounds fine, but how much is too much? Can anybody tell me that? How much is too much?’’
There's a wonderful interview on the New York Times website (you'll have to register to view it, but it's worth it) and there's a quote for the day from the latest Outside Magazine:
Everbody wants to say, ‘I couldn’t win because of this or that’ To my way of thinking , it doesn’t matter if your head fell off or your legs exploded. If you didn’t make it you didn’t make it. One excuse is as good as another.
— Filed under Cycling