Throughout the Tour de France,a Colombian rider on the Kelme – Costa
Blanca
Team, Santiago Botero, has been keeping a diary for the newspaper.
Each day
the newspaper publishes his diary from the previous day.
Unfortunately, the
only diary entry I have seen appeared in this past
Sunday’s edition.
However, it was worth the read.

There I am all alone
with my bike. I know of only two riders ahead of me
as I near the end of the
second climb on what most riders consider the third
worst mountain stage in
the Tour. I say ‘most riders’ because I do not fear
mountains.

After
all, our country is nothing but mountains. I train year-round in
the
mountains. I am the national champion from a country that is nothing
but
mountains. I trail only my teammate, Fernando Escartin, and a Swiss
rider.
Pantani, one of my rival climbers, and the Gringo Armstrong are in
the
Peleton about five minutes behind me. I am climbing on such a steep
portion of the mountain that if I were to stop pedaling, I will fall backward.
Even for a world class climber, this is a
painful and slow process. I am in
my upright position pedaling at a steady
pace willing myself to finish this
climb so I can conserve my energy for
the final climb of the day. The Kelme
team leader radios to me that the Gringo
has left the Peleton by himself and
that they can no longer see him.

I recall thinking ‘the Gringo cannot
catch me by himself’. A short while
later, I hear the gears on another
bicycle. Within seconds, the Gringo is
next to me – riding in the seated
position, smiling at me. He was only next
to me for a few seconds and he said
nothing – he only smiled and then
proceeded up the mountain as if he were
pedaling downhill. For the next
several minutes, I could only think of one
thing – his smile. His smile
told me everything. I kept thinking that surely
he is in as much agony as me,
perhaps he was standing and struggling up the
mountain as I was and he only
sat down to pass me and discourage me. He has
to be playing games with me.
Not possible. The truth is that his smile said
everything that his lips did
not. His smile said to me, ‘I was training while
you were sleeping,
Santiago’. It also said, ‘I won this tour four months ago,
while you were
deciding what bike frame to use in the Tour. I trained harder
than you did,
Santiago. I don’t know if I am better than you, but I have
outworked you
and right now, you cannot do anything about it. Enjoy your
ride, Santiago. See
you in Paris.’

Obviously, the Gringo did not state
any of this. But his smile did dispel a
bad rumor among the riders on the
tour. The rumor that surfaced as we began the Prologue several days ago told us
that the Gringo had gotten soft. His wife had given birth to his first child and
he had won the most difficult race in the world – He had no desire to race, to
win. I
imagine that his smile turned to laughter once he was far enough not
to
embarrass me. The Gringo has class, but he heard the rumors – he
probably
laugh all the way to Paris. He is a great champion and I must train
harder.
I am not content to be a great climber, I want to be the
best.

I learned much from the Gringo in the mountains. I will never
forget the
helpless feeling I had yesterday. If I ever become an
international
champion, I will always remember the lesson the Gringo taught
me.»