“Now that I've made the determination that I really could and would walk away from the sport forever, it's liberating. USADA, WADA, and the UCI no longer have power over me. But I will continue to jump through a few hoops (if not neither too high nor on fire) in order to leave the option open for a return in years to come (though I sort of hope I have the courage to begin a completely new career and never look back).”
"...though I sort of hope I have the courage to begin a completely new career and never look back.”
So many people think I am a bastard and should be anally-raped in prison, or that I'm an emotional wreck after losing a wife, never meeting my son and experiencing financial ruin after my doping positive. Sure, I'd like some more emotional support, but God help the pro cyclist kicked out of his sport when he was just entering his prime and about to sign a ProTour contract, forced into a (doping-derived) retirement yet boasting:
“I've come to the realization that I would rather be a David Benke [math school teacher who rushed a gunman on his campus] than a Cancellara. I would rather help the boy I'm mentoring graduate from college and break the cycle of poverty in his family than win a Pro Tour TT. To me, the life I'm choosing from this day on is more challenging and potentially rewarding than the life of training to ride in a straight line really fast for 40 minutes. For whatever reason, I haven't been able to do both so it's time to step back and re-prioritize.”
"...though I sort of hope I have the courage to begin a completely new career and never look back.”
While we were soft-pedaling at the back of the bunch in one of the greatest stage races in Latin America, the now-defunct Vuelta a Chile, the classy Colombian climber Ivan Parra (then riding for Kelme, but pictured below taking a stage in the Giro) told me that (and I paraphrase) "Pro cycling is like a disease or an addiction, a sickness that we cannot cure ourselves of. I am just lucky to be good enough at it to earn a living that provides a comfortable life for my family."
During one of my last races in Italy, the GF Valli Parmensi, I wept as I led the field in a single-file line for dozens of kilometers with only modest help from my teammates (I was working for them, on sort of a suicide mission or something out of Gallipoli - though we'd go on to finish 1-2-3). Our medical prep for the day consisted of the usual EPO, HGH and Synacthen, but we'd also been dosed with some form of pot belge. Of course I was cheating, in the wrong, morally bankrupt and a scoundrel, but like Parra said, the love for the bike and il ciclismo was itself an addiction. I knew full well that my career would be over in a matter of weeks because I'd cheated myself and my sport, and the pain that realization caused in my heart was one-thousand times worse than the burning in my legs that I still felt, even with an Hct of 55. I was a doper. Tom Zirbel says he wasn't, though USADA says he is and Tom didn't contest the two-year ban he received - neither did I. But what's salient is the fact that, doped or not, caught cheating or safe-for-another-day, some riders come to love cycling so much that the fabric of their very souls is stitched into the rich tapestry of the sport. I was one of them. Maybe Tom Zirbel is not. But to "sort of hope" that you "have the courage to...never look back" is to all but admit that you, too, live to ride and ride to live.
Good luck, Tom Zirbel, but take it from me, you're probably going to look back - maybe infrequently, or maybe every goddamn day...so give me a call if you need to talk.
[UPDATED: Please follow through to the comments as there are some very powerful responses from first-time commentators and veteran readers alike. All are welcome.]
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