Comebacks, don’t you love them?
As ever Mark Cavendish does it again. Of course this man is my cycling hero, not least for the reverence he treats the Tour de France. I remember standing at the top of the Col de Peyresourde in 2013 and being interviewed by a French journalist about our attitude to Team Sky (as was) and their dominance of the Tour that year. He was almost taken aback by our disdain for their metronomic approach, and surprised that I expressed the more romantic appeal of Cav, with his swashbuckling sprinting, and his struggles over the mountains to make the time cut. Go back to my posts in July 2013 for more.
But it is some comeback, even for him. Although I’d love to be 36 again, it’s not a young age for a professional cyclist. Those of you who have never ridden back-to back 100-mile days will find it hard to appreciate just how difficult that is, physically at least. But then Cavendish has been written off so many times over the years, and has proved his mental resilience is second to none. In the last five years he’s endured a broken scapula, the ravages of the Epstein-Barr virus, as well as missing the time cut of a mountain stage and being excluded from the Tour in 2018. His non-selection for the last two years has been accompanied by mental struggles as he fought his way back from the brink of retirement for another shot at the big time.
He was only selected this years because the other two sprinters on his team were injured. But that drive and will to succeed don’t go away do they? He may be more mellow, have a broader life perspective and all that, but the outpouring of emotion we saw as he crossed the finish line on Tuesday was vintage. Authenticity runs deep, and the relief, joy, euphoria and appreciation of what he’d done, came flooding out. He’s generous too, to his team-mates who worked so hard for him, but also to those who believed in him through the dark days. It’s so important that. In life there are people who will jump on your bandwagon when things are good or easy for them, but as soon as other plans take their fancy, well, they drop you like a stone don’t they? Often more than once if you let them.
Not content with winning a 31st stage, Mark Cavendish surprised no one by going and doing it again today in Chateauroux, a place he’s won twice before. I snapped this image from the TV footage, more measured celebrations amongst the team than on Tuesday, (they could hardly have been less!) but no less joyful.
My son gave me a wonderfully thoughtful present for Father’s Day, a quality silver pendant of a Green Man. It’s an ancient symbol whose origins date from before there was even any stupid notion of England, never mind a semi-constituted country intent on patting itself on the back every time it won an easy football match. I love football, or more specifically, I love West Ham, but winning a last-16 match is not yet an achievement.
Anyway, the symbol, if you haven’t already guessed, is about re-birth. I’ve always loved it and we have one on the gable end of our house, but now I have one around my neck too. Even the chain is hypo-allergenic.
If you read the link above you can find examples all over the World, illustrating yet again the commonality of our experience and how universal these things are. Again. I bet even Daniel Camroux knew what it meant, in 17th century Occitan (now referred to as France). See how meaningless your labels are?
I’m over the worst on my brachial neuritis as I said in my last post. But my arms are still only about 50% of what they were before it struck. But, I am re-born, a concept the Christians stole from the pagans, and they probably stole it from someone else. It all got co-opted into churches and now small silver pendants, bursting with with meaning. Because meaning, purpose and love are far more enduring than nations, tribes and petty tyrants.
Truth is, none of us are outsiders. None of us are elites, or the downtrodden. We can trust, believe, follow the science or not, it’s a matter of choice in the end. We are not Boomers, or Generation X or Millennials or whatever other labels we allow clever marketing folk to pin on us. We are born, grow old, then die. We can do this together, or alone, another matter of choice. But sometimes, on the road to the Arrivee, we are given opportunities to be joyful, loving and even to be re-born. What’s your choice?
