The Old Man And The Bicycle

Just finished reading Hemingway’s “Fiesta” (a.k.a. “The Sun Also Rises”) and like most of his books I finished it feeling like someone who’d arrived late at the theatre and never really caught up with the plot.

The book is mainly about a week long bull fighting fiesta in Pamplona. In the third and final part of the book, after leaving for San Sebastian, the main character stays in a hotel where a team of professional cyclists also spend a night on the Tour of the Basque Country. This felt like the only part of the book I could really get a handle on. Both sports are all about glory and suffering, they involve brain and brawn and they are popular in Catholic countries.

Hemingway seemed like cycling, saying once “it is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them”. That said, I can’t imagine the photos in his album of Papa cycling next to those of him game fishing, big game hunting, running bulls and all the other stuff he got up to.

Matadors and cyclists have plenty in common beyond their whippet-like figures. Bull fighting, much as I dislike it follows a strict hierarchy, with different skills being brought into play at different stages of the bull’s death. The peleton has its own hierarchy climbers, sprinters, rouleurs, domestiques, super domestiques and team leaders all attempting to complete the course yet in complex plots and sub-plots within the team structure.

There’s also the fact that most professional cyclists live on the edge of death, whether it be through the use of blood thickening, heart slowing EPO, descending alpine cols at 70kph or simply by reducing their body fat down to the point that their rids are visible through their lycra tops. Like Pedro Romero, Hemingway’s matador, professional cyclists live a life that is close to the edge.