A Tour de France Course Marker for Greg LeMond

The Telluride Film Festival  is the rare film festival that does not announce its schedule in advance, so I didn’t know until the day before the festival started when the schedule was released that a documentary centered on Greg LeMond’s 1989 win of the Tour de France was to play and that LeMond was to be in attendance.  That may have been the most exciting revelation in the thirty years I have been attending the festival, anchoring it’s shipping department for a four-week paid vacation in the spectacular San Juan mountains.  Well knowing the intimacy of the festival I knew I would have the opportunity to meet Greg, a heroic figure who had granted me much happiness during the height of his career, and that had me hopping with delight.

Luckily the first screening of the film, “The Last Rider,” was on the first day of the festival, so I didn’t  have to endure the anticipation of seeing LeMond and his film too deep into the four-day festival.  It would be my second screening on its opening Friday night at 8:45 p.m. in the 60-seat Backlot Theater in the town library.  

By sheer luck I had brought along from Chicago a Tour de France course marker as a gift for a friend from Los Angeles who was an ardent Tour fan.  It was to be a surprise for her.  I had yet to see her, so it remained in my possession and I could offer it to LeMond or maybe have him autograph it for her if he didn’t want it.  I had a similar experience with Christian Vande Velde.  I presented a Tour course marker to him for an autograph when he made an appearance at a Chicago bike shop, not so much for his autograph but out of curiosity to see his reaction to the marker. 

I didn’t know how aware riders were of these bright yellow signs with a black arrow on them pointing the direction at intersections since they were led by a phalanx of motorcycles and hardly needed them to guide the way as they served me when I was riding the Tour route preceding the peloton. I learned from Christian that the riders are fully cognizant of them and regard them as much of a holy relic as fans do.  They are the ultimate souvenir for the fans and the riders, especially since they are not for sale, but must be scavenged after the peloton has passed. Christian has been delighted to accept a handful of them from me over the years.  I wondered if Greg would have a similar reaction. 

He was late arriving at the theater, and I wasn’t even sure if the husky, white-haired masked gentleman was Greg, as he wasn’t accompanied by an entourage, though he did have a blue lanyard around his neck worn by guests of the festival.  I had been waiting in the lobby after claiming a second row seat.  He proceeded into the theater and took one of two seats in the  fourth row that had evidently been reserved for him at the far end from the aisle, as if he wished to be anonymous.  

I went to my seat and dug the course marker out of my backpack and discreetly held it at waist level pointed in his direction.  It immediately caught his attention.  His eyes lit up and he gave me a thumbs up. Hooray, it was him and the marker meant something to him. I sat down to await the introduction of the film.  The director of the film, Alex Holmes, whose previous film was the much acclaimed “Maiden” about a group of women who competed in an around-the-world sailing race, introduced the film.  He told us we were the first audience to see the film and nodded towards Greg and his wife, who had joined him, and said they were seeing it for the first time too.  He didn’t say anything about a Q&A afterwards, so I could ambush Greg when he rose from his seat and came to the aisle.

I couldn’t fully concentrate on the film knowing that when it ended I’d have the chance to meet this three-time winner of The Tour and have a bit of a chat.  The first half of the movie charted LeMond’s career from a youth to  becoming a Tour rider, finishing second to his teammate Bernard Hinault in 1985 and then winning it himself in 1986 in a most agonizing battle with Hinault, who seemingly reneged on his promise to help Greg win after Greg sacrificed himself to help Hinault win in 1985, his fifth Tour title, tying him with Jacques Anquetil and Eddie Merckx for the most ever.  Greg felt betrayed by Hinault and could hardly enjoy his victory, the first by an American.  He didn’t even want to attend the team victory party, putting in just a token appearance.  

Several months after his win he was shot by his brother-in-law in a hunting accident and was lucky to survive.  It took him three years to regain his form.  He was ready to quit the sport when he attempted his first Grand Tour after his shooting riding the Giro in 1989. He struggled mercilessly.  But by the end of the three-week race he had a strong time trial giving him a modicum of confidence going into the Tour de France shortly afterwards.

Fignon won that Giro and was a strong favorite to win The Tour.  He and LeMond traded the Yellow Jersey throughout the race.  It culminated with a time trial from Versailles to the Champs Élysées.  Fignon had a seemingly insurmountable fifty second cushion, but Greg pulled out a miraculous effort defeating Fignon by fifty-eight seconds, winning The Tour by eight seconds, the closest ever.  Fans of the sport know the LeMond story well, but it was still exhilarating to watch it unfold, especially accompanied throughout the movie by commentary from Greg and his wife.

The movie ended with hearty applause.  It was several minutes before I could speak to Greg as others around him engaged him in conversation as he headed in my direction.  With course marker cradled in my arm I said, ‘I didn’t notice any of these in the film.  Did you have something similar to this in your day?”

“Yes we did, I know them well.”

“Do you have any? This is for you if you’d like.”

‘I’d love to have one, but are you sure you want to give it up?”

“I have a few, as I’ve ridden the Tour route as a touring cyclist nearly every year since 2004 when Lance was going for his sixth win and always bring back a few to give to friends, including my favorite bike shop in Chicago, and Christian Vande Velde, a fellow Chicagoan, who I’ve given several to over the years.  He’s always happy for another.”

He wanted to know more about my Tour experience, asking where I camped and how many miles I did and if I shared the experience with others. When I told him I enjoyed that first Tour experience so much that I’d returned for sixteen more, he exclaimed, “That’s more than I’ve ridden.”  He well knew the pleasure of cycling in France and expressed the desire to experience France and The Tour in a similar manner.  

I said the festival director had mentioned that Greg might lead a ride to his final screening in one of the two outdoor theaters on the last day of the festival on Monday.  He said he didn’t know anything about that and that he hadn’t ridden his bike in two months after being diagnosed with leukemia In June. He said he was feeling much better than he had been, as he had started on a new medication.  He looked as if he was in the best of health and was as buoyant and upbeat as could be.  He betrayed no hint of being in ill health in any way. 

Several times more as we talked, while he clutched the course marker, he reiterated, “Are you sure you want to give this to me?”  I assured him that it was an honor to share it with him.  I knew others wanted to have a word or two with him, so after my friend Ralph, who has ridden a few stages of the Tour with me over the years, and is a staff photographer for the festival, posed a photo of us in front of the screen, I stepped aside and let others have the pleasure of time with him.  He seemed to be in no hurry and was as affable as could be.

I had much more to say to him, so I returned the following day for his next screening.  He and his wife and director were half an hour early this time lingering in the lobby.  As I approached them Kathy immediately greeted me with, “That sure was nice of you to give us the course marker.  We really appreciate it.  We already have a spot picked out for it over a doorway.”  

That was music to my ears.  I told them I had a Tour experience that related to Greg.  During my second Tour, which was consumed by Lance mania drawing thousands of Americans to the Tour, an older French cyclist, who wasn’t so enamored with the throngs of Americans new to the sport taking over the Tour, asked me if I’d heard of LeMond.  At first I thought he meant the French newspaper, but then realized he was a typical Frenchman who thought Americans had no appreciation for the past and he was actually referring to Greg.  Rather than taking insult that I wouldn’t know of LeMond, I replied with gusto, “Of course I know LeMond! He won the Tour three times, just like Bobet.”

“You know Bobet,” he replied in shock. “He was my childhood hero.  No one remembers him.”

Having won the Frenchman’s favor he invited me to his home to watch the end of that day’s stage.  I couldn’t take him up on it, as I needed to keep riding to get further down the course to keep up with the peloton. As Greg quizzed me more about my Tour experiences, I told him he could read my daily Tour posts with lots of pictures of course markers and fans along the road and Tour decorations on my blog.  He could find it by simply googling “George the Cyclist.” I said I would turn up, just above George Hincapie.

Kathy chimed in, “As it should be.”

Greg pulled out his phone and immediately googled “George the Cyclist” and there I was.

“You must have two million followers,” he said.

“Not that many,” I replied, “but quite a few around the world.”

I told him that I had emailed Christian to tell him that Greg had joined the fraternity of cyclists who have received a course marker from me. Christian replied, saying I was fortunate to meet Greg and his wife too, adding that she had midwestern roots and that he liked her a lot.  That was no surprise, as she was as easy-going and charming as her husband.

I told them how much I enjoyed Richard Moore’s highly-detailed book “Slaying the Badger” about LeMond’s 1986 win and wondered how much time Moore spent interviewing him.  “Only about an hour, isn’t that right Kathy?,” he replied.

 “Wow’s all.  I figured he must have spent a couple of days with you going through all the twists and turns of that race.”

“No that was it.  You know he died a little while ago.”

“Yes, that was a great tragedy. I’ve met him a couolof times during the Tour.  He was as nice a guy as you.”

In my brief time with them I could clearly see they were warm and caring and kindly folk, just like Christian, who has gone out of his way to acknowledge me a number of times during the Tour, even once breaking from his teammates to greet me during the opening ceremony in Liege as each team slowly rode a route through the city past thousands of fans after they had been introduced on a stage in the city center.

It was a gesture that seemed in character for Greg too, who couldn’t have been more humble and considerate, and like Christian deflecting attention from himself. I greatly look forward to crossing paths with him again, maybe even riding together in France. 

An addendum from a cycling friend and journalist who rode a three-speed coast-to-coast decades ago and holds Greg in the highest of esteem.  He sent me a copy of the note he had written to Greg while he was in the hospital recovering from having been shot.