After fighting with the Greeks for ten long years to capture Troy, Odysseus’ and Greeks’ mission was finally accomplished when Odysseus came up with that full-proof plan involving a wooden horse. And his reward for bringing antiquity’s most famous war to a close? Ten more years of arduous journeying home to his island of Ithaca. On that long journey Odysseus crisscrossed the Mediterranean world, sailing from island to island, surviving storms and shipwreck, he even made a trip to the Underworld. He encountered psychedelic Lotus Eaters, massive whirlpools, sea monsters, monsters with one eye, bags of wind, cannibals, shapeshifters, hypnotic singing sirens, and forbidden cattle. Many and more than just the most classic gods of Greek mythology showed up throughout the whole adventure—some aided him, some captured him, some worked for his destruction. And thus finally landing on Ithaca’s shores once more, he found the island changed, his estate changed, his family changed, and he himself changed. The Odysseus who returns to Ithaca is not the same Odysseus who left twenty years before, he is not even the same Odysseus who victoriously left Troy ten years before. Lovers of literature, wise men, and psychoanalysts consider this story of one the ultimate examples of a Hero’s Journey.
The Hero’s Journey is the story of a human—usually one many of us can relate to—who leaves the normal and comfortable life they have always known and crosses a threshold into the wild where unpredictable adventures await. Along the way the hero makes friends and enemies, meets mentors, is given gifts to aid his quest. The hero goes on to accomplish great deeds and feats of fame he or she did not think they were capable of. Ultimately the Hero achieves their goal: finds the treasure, rescues their loved one, kills the dragon, or wins the fight. Thus the Quest is accomplished and it is time to return to normal life…but when the hero gets home, they realize they are irreversibly changed—usually for the better. It is not so much the gains and glory of the quest that has irreversibly changed the hero: it is the journey and the achievement of the Quest itself that has grown the Hero into a better version of themselves. Yes, yes, in the Odyssey, such transformations happen to Odysseus over the course of his journey. And thus as described in the previous two Stages, I am sure you can tell where I see the Hero’s Journey in our contemporary world. Yes, I see narratives of bicycle racing easily lending themselves to the Hero’s Journey formula.
Before discussing the heroes themselves, let us compare the adventures of these journeys. When one sees the route of the Grand Tours circling or sometimes zig-zagging around or across France, Italy, and Spain, does not the map of Odysseus’ plotted route around the Mediterranean quickly come to mind? Are there not similarities between the winds that blow Odysseus off course constantly compared to the crosswinds that denotate and ravage a bicycle race? To pass through an ordeal or hurdle like that of Scylla and Charybdis seems comparable to how the riders of Paris-Roubaix feel when they manage to conquer the ferocious Trench of Arenberg cobblestone section that always manages to catch a dozen men out—ruining their race prospects. To see a cyclist skid around the road in a gnarly crash is as treacherous as a hero’s ship being ripped apart by the waves or hurled against the jagged rocks of a rough coastline. To sail from island to island and rest reminds one of the cyclists’ nightly recovery process in a stage race or even the full Rest Days of the Grand Tours. To pioneer and explore the places where no men have gone before—whether to a new island or even beyond the river Styx to the Underworld, surely that is the feeling the cyclists have when they lead the race over a great and grisly mountain pass far from safe and comfortable villages nestled in valleys far below. When the rains are fierce or even turn to snow or hail, then surely the experience speaks for itself how it is related to an ancient hero’s ship being tossed around at sea and then the shipwrecked men surviving a brutally chilly night with little supplies. The jerseys, prizes, and trophies the men go on to win in cycling surely sound like the gold, treasure, and gifts the ancient heroes won as well. And surely the feeling of accomplishment and completion and conclusion that the hero experiences when they finally reach Ithaca or any other home is how every rider of the Tour feels when they finally reach Paris. Yes, a plethora of cycling adventures are comparable to those faced by the heroes of epic literature. With that said, now let us turn back to the steps of Hero’s Journey itself, for those also are comparable to cycling.
Reviewing all the Hero’s Journeys of literature: anyone can be a suitable choice for the main hero role: man or woman, from great king or emperor down to lowly slave. The only common starting point of all the Heroes is that they are in an environment they seem to understand or can even control. In cycling, many heroes’ journeys start when they see a cycling race for the first time: on TV or in person or have read about a great race in the paper: they receive their call, their road to professional cycling begins in that moment. Thus they work and struggle to buy a bike, learn how to race with the help of friends or mentors, they are given the proper gear, and finally when they have mastered the local criteriums they travel to far lands trying their luck in the bigger races. By then, surely they have crossed a threshold into a world of unknown adventures. Think of all the North and South American, Australian, Asian, African, and even British riders that make the Quest to Continental Europe to pursue their dreams of professional racing: not only is the transition rough for the competition is much higher, but they must settle into life in a foreign city and country where they can probably count the number of people they know on one hand. Those first couple of years, these young heroes get their heads kicked in, their teeth punched out every race; they never feel they properly recovered between these ordeals of endurance; they become bruised and battered; many of them give up and forsake the Quest. Yet some, the most elite, go on to ride the biggest Classics—the most prestigious single day races, and biggest weeklong stage races. The ones that proves themselves there are given a spot in their team’s Grand Tour lineup. To do a single day Classic or weeklong race can be a mini-Hero’s Journey of its own for so much can happen in a matter of hours or over the course of a couple days: people have gone from Zero to Hero many times in the course of these races. But for a rider to do their first Grand Tour: that will 100% of the time be a Hero’s Journey on its own—a Hero’s Journey within the cyclist’s career-Hero’s Journey. All the cyclists by that point will be experienced racers, but no weeklong or 10-day stage race can prepare them for the uncomfortable beasts the Grand Tours are. Every interview you hear from a youngster in their first Grand Tour is he cannot believe how hard the first week is raced. He assumes the race will settle down the further in they go. To their disappointment: it does not. Nothing can put more proverbial hair on a cyclist’s chest than completing a Grand Tour. They finish physically stronger, tactically more astute, psychologically more formidable. And then there are the riders in the Grand Tours, the Classics, and the stage races that do anything worthy of public note.
The top races of the sport provide conditions for cyclists to reach their zenith: to have their day of glory, to fulfill their childhood dreams, to be forever irreversibly changed. Over the course of a handful of hours Mat Hayman went from journeyman cyclist at the tail-end of his career to feel-good hero of the decade when he won the stunning 2016 edition of the single day Classic and Monument he had been chasing for fifteen years: Paris-Roubaix. Colombian Egan Bernal entered the 2019 Tour de France as a dark horse contender—but still one much too young and inexperienced—and yet he walked away with the Yellow Jersey and became the first Colombian Tour winner, it was quite a celebration when he came back to home roads to celebrate with all those rabid cycling fans. Bernal took off that Yellow Jersey off the shoulders of Frenchman Julian Alaphilippe who had become a hero to the French people as he unexpectedly battled against the inevitable downfall like Hector did at Troy centuries ago. And to see Slovenian Tadej Pogacar accidently slay his compatriot mentor Primoz Roglic at the 2020 Tour: I felt like I watched Young Beowulf rise to prominence by slewing the monster Grendel—but instead of killing a monster Pogacar committed a spicy act of Fratricide. Yes, yes, these riders complete such feats and they are no longer the same. Not just because they now have a splendid new jersey, but for all they achieved along the way of their quest. And then yes, you have guessed rightly: it is not limited only to the victors of these races to be the heroes: all the riders—even many of the ones that crash out, their support crews, the race organizers, and the journalists that follow in toe complete Hero’s Journeys of their own.
Thus I believe I have laid out the case for why this show shall be called the Cycling Odysseys. It shall chronicle riders who are Heroes and over the course of their Journeys they are changed like Odysseus was in the Odyssey. There is a bountiful supply of Hero’s Journeys to pick from: Gilgamesh, Dante, King Arthur, Shackleton, Neo, or Luke Skywalker to name a few. But I have chosen Odysseus, because his is arguably the most famous Hero’s Journey and it reminds also of Homer’s war epic the Iliad whose presence in my mind while watching cycling has already been touched on in previous Stages. So now we near the end of the Introduction of Many Stages. This penultimate stage is finished, only one more remains.
Cycling Odysseys 