Tour de France and its hearty champion capture the spirit of

global togetherness

CATHARINE COOPER

Nine cyclists, side by side, press into the city of Paris, legs

pedaling rhythmically. Eight wear the blue of their team sponsor,

U.S. Postal, while the one in the center, American Lance Armstrong,

wears the bright yellow of victory. Shoulder to shoulder, the team

flanks their hero, who at age 32 has won the 91st Tour de France, the

first man in history to achieve six consecutive victories.

No cyclists challenge this victory ride down the Champs-Elysees,

even though there is a stage yet to be won. They will wait until the

last minute to break from the Peloton in a mad dash for the finish of

this final stage in cycling’s most grueling exercise. The Tour de

France is rich with etiquette and honor, and all the riders

acknowledge the remarkable accomplishment of Armstrong by granting

him an unchallenged lead.

Upon the celebratory podium, Armstrong waves his trophy and a

handful of flowers into the air, and I am unexpectedly moved to

tears. With him, stand Basso, a Spaniard and Kloden, a German, and

for a moment, all that is good in the world is present. Men have come

together in a contest. They have struggled, they have jockeyed for

position, they have aided and consoled one another, and they have

been as one, while being of many.

By all odds, Armstrong should not be standing victorious.

Diagnosed in 1996 with testicular cancer that had spread to his brain

and lungs, he was given a 50/50 chance of surviving. Aggressive

chemotherapy healed his body, but it was his personal tenacity that

brought him back to the racing circuit. He calls the bout with

cancer, “a special wake-up call,” and I can’t help but acknowledge

the mark he set for us all.

The Tour de France is unique in its composition as a sporting

event; teams are drawn from multiple nationalities and financed by

corporate sponsors. While this year’s winner, Armstrong, stands tall

for America, the team that carried him is international in scope.

Three Americans, three Spaniards, one Russian, one Portuguese and a

Czechoslovakian completed the roster for the 2004 team U.S. Postal.

So rather than nations battling one another in a contest, it is

individuals drawn from a vast pool of talented riders, who gather for

the competition.

The affect of this construction is to remove a kind of

them-versus-us thinking which tends to permeate our relationships. We

gather in an event like this, in and of one mind. Our differences

slip aside. Our commonalities come together.

For moments that I wish I could extend for hours, we are not about

borders, cultural differences or language discrepancies, but about

our likeness. We agonize with the riders during the 3391 kilometer

race; the flats, the rain, the vicious climbs through the Pyrenees

and the Alps, and the wild and deadly descents. We cheer each stage

victory. We ache with moments of personal defeat.

The race, in a sense, becomes a metaphor for our daily lives.

Challenges we face and how we approach them. Armstrong’s

accomplishment, while remarkable, simply was not possible without the

support of his teammates, who not only paced him, but also protected

him from perils and obstacles on the course.

The music on the podium, as Armstrong accepted his trophy, was

“America the Beautiful.” My breath caught when the words “ ... land

of the free and home of the brave” played. In that moment, yes, I was

glad to be an American. And simultaneously, I was glad to be a part

of the larger world community.

Together, we humans are really something. When we stand together,

in support of one another, even while in contests, we can continue to

change the disparate places we call home.

* CATHARINE COOPER loves wild places (and races). She can be

reached at [email protected].