Olivier Haralambon - The Cyclist and His Shadow: A Memoir

The Cyclist
and His Shadow

A Memoir

Olivier Haralambon

Translated by Franois Thomazeau

A Univocal Book

Published in association with
The Cycling Podcast

So very grateful to Bernard ChambazI know I owe him everything.
And brotherly thanks to Philippe Bordas for hosting my efforts. O. H.

Originally published in French as Le coureur et son ombre
by Olivier Haralambon; copyright Premier Parallle 2017

Published by arrangement with 2 Seas Literary Agency

Translation copyright 2022 by Franois Thomazeau

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Published by the University of Minnesota Press
111 Third Avenue South, Suite 290
Minneapolis, MN 55401-2520
http://www.upress.umn.edu

ISBN 978-1-4529-6727-1 (ebook)

A Cataloging-in-Publication record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

The University of Minnesota is an equal-opportunity educator and employer.

Sweat came over me: do you want to see racing
stars glow red? And, standing, hear the humming
influence of milky stars and swarms of asteroids?

Arthur Rimbaud, The Righteous Man

Richard Moore

Franois Thomazeau

This is a book that only a Frenchman could have written.

I mean this in the nicest way, even as a compliment. The language, although it has been beautifully translated by Franois Thomazeau, is French. The sensibility is French. The themes and preoccupations are French.

How did The Cycling Podcast become involved in publishing it?

On the last day of the 2020 Tour de France, Franois, Lionel Birnie, and I were having lunch outside a brasserie in Paris. This has become a bit of a ritual, one that is both happy and sad. It always provides a moment for celebration and reflection over our salades de chvre chaud, but in 2020 all emotions were heightened. The Tour had been delayed by two months because of Covid-19, and it took place in a strange, sometimes sterile atmosphere. We felt lucky to be there at all but melancholic, too. The final stage in Paris

Throw in an ongoing pandemic, and in 2020 we felt this even more keenly, as well as feeling uncertain about the future. Which might be why our discussion over lunch was dominated by precisely that topicthe future.

Not explicitly, of course. But perhaps to try and will ourselves into feeling more confident about whatever might be coming, to set down some markers or points to focus on and aim at, we discussed ideas and plans. Books came up. We had made an episode during the Tour about The Rider, Tim Krabbs semi-autobiographical book written from the perspective of a rider in a road race in the Massif Central. It is a brilliantly vivid read, hailed by many as the best book ever written about cycling.

Franois disagreed. True, he had never actually read The Rider, butbof!this was a minor and rather irrelevant detail. In his opinion, nothing could top Le coureur et son ombre (The Cyclist and His Shadow) by Olivier Haralambon.

Lionel and I were intrigued. We had never heard of the book or the author, but we did know two things about Franois: he doesnt offer praise lightly and he is a man of impeccable taste. For this we could vouch, having spent several Julys traveling around France eating in restaurants and drinking wine that he had carefully selected.

Reading Franoiss translation of The Cyclist and His Shadow evoked similar sensations. It was like tasting a rich jus. It was exquisitely constructed, as complex as a fine red wine, and it left a long, lingering, and very satisfying impression. It was certainly a text to be savored, to take your time over, not to be rushed. As soon as I finished the manuscript I wanted to go back to the beginning and start again (this is where the food and wine metaphor breaks downor does it?).

The writing is dazzling. It is audacious and at the same time intimate, starting with an invitation to you, the reader, to ride along with me because I want to open up my skull.

And boy, does he. Haralambon recalls as a teenager sleeping and even showering(!) with his bike, as well as spending hours lying on the carpet stroking the braking surface or the butter-smooth anodizing of my gray service course rims. Reading this, I felt pangs of nostalgia for my old Mavic GP4s: butter-smooth anodizing is perfect.

I am sure I will not be the only one to read passages of this book and blush slightly in recognition of descriptions that ring true.up stairs, step by step or two by two, without the obsessive thought of a change of gear or cadence.

This is a book about obsession, the nobility of suffering and striving for perfection. Trigger warning: there are provocative passages on doping (I find their incredible disdain for their own health moving) and the vogue for data (as though the measurement of performance is seen as more real than the performance itself). Some will nod along while reading of the diminishing powers of the aging cyclist: When I stand up on the pedals to tackle a climb, the sway of my front wheel is not as sharp and neat as it used to be.

Reading this book, I can see and understand cycling and cyclists, including myself, in new ways. I know I will keep returning to The Cyclist and His Shadow, searching for a description, a line, even a word that captures the essence of the thing better than any other I have reador succeeds by simply describing it in the most poetic way.

Franois was right. Of course he was.

Reporting on the Tour de France is nothing like being on vacation, honest.

I have never taken my bike into the shower.

The question returned several times while The Cycling Podcast team was touring Britain to spread the word in theaters near you: what is the best cycling book you ever read?

I often mentioned Paul Kimmages A Rough Ride not because I am a great fan of Kimmage in person but because it was the first honest, authoritative, and credible take on the extent of doping that plagued the pro peloton and it was a revelation for most. It also was available in English.

Whatever its qualities, A Rough Ride was overshadowed in my personal hall of fame by the publication in France in 2017 of Le coureur et son ombre, the small and dense book you now hold in your hands. I had never heard of Olivier Haralambon, even though he was familiar to lots of my friends riding in bunches in Bois de Boulogne, Paris, every Sunday. A publisher friend called me to say she was about to publish a great book about cycling. It sounded pretty odd to me as she had never been a great fan of cyclingor of any sports, as far as I could tell. It was not without some reluctance that I started to read Oliviers manuscript. And it was a revelation. Once I started it, I really could not put it down.

I remembered writing a TV film script titled Contre la montre (Against the mountain) shortly after the Festina scandal in 1999, and the director kept asking me: What does a rider feel when hes on his bike, what does he think about in the peloton, how much does he suffer? To be honest I never really held the answers to those questions, having never been close to being a professional rider myself.