It was fascinating for a number of reasons, most not relevant here. In short, the titular figure is an adman of rare renown. In the middle of much success, he dropped out of his role to pursue...something. (You need to read the article to find out more.)
Near the end of the profile is the following set of quotations (emphasis is mine):
"I don't think we're good at being selfish," Bogusky had mused to me on one of those idyllic Boulder mornings. "Most of humanity, we're total rookies at being selfish and being narcissists. Because if you're really good at narcissism, you get to the point where that rookie kind of selfish doesn't even exist. A really excellent narcissist would be a really powerful tool for saving the planet. If everyone was a perfect narcissist, there would be nothing to worry about because we'd automatically fix everything and our purchases would be so benign. It's not self-absorbed, it's just knowing what's good for self. Let's say that steaks, scotch, and lots of cigars are what you put in your body -- that's a rookie-narcissistic move. That's where we're uneducated narcissists. But as we perfect our narcissism, it comes around where you're actually doing things that feel like sharing, that feel like connected behavior."
I told my friend this theory, and he said, 'You may be the most narcissistic person I know. It used to piss me off, and now I've come to be okay with it.' "
Does this sound like anyone?
Inadvertent though it may be, it perfectly describes and explains Lance Armstrong. But, does it damn him?
I plan to explore that question in a coming post: Lance Revisited.
Since Pelotonia, I have spent my time recovering--emotionally and physically. I've spent quality time with BCB and the LAs, and I have several drafts of posts that are to come, including:
Real Men Wear Pink
Saddle Sore
Pelotonia 10 Ride Report (Day 1)
Pelotonia 10 Ride Report (Day 2)
Life as a Symbol
Lance Revisited
Those are working titles. They are teasers. They are coming soon, as well as a non-cycling post entitled: "Off Topic: Thanking The Charlatans".
With help, I have compiled a list of cyclocross races in the Mid-Atlantic region, with particular care paid to Maryland. There are two regional, season-long competitions:
In 1989 I was one of (maybe) 15 other people in the United States who cared.
I watched this, enraptured:
We celebrated Greg LeMond's incredible victory. The comeback. The impossibility of those eight seconds. The shotgun pellets in his heart's lining. It was an American story with an American hero, defeating some damned foreigner.
Nous étions jeunes et insouciants ("We were young and carefree")
The story appealed to our American virtues—work ethic, innovation, humility, family—and one of our great vices—jingoism.
Yet, vices aside, it was impossible to not sympathize with the man who was beaten; for Laurent Fignon was a champion. A champion's champion.
No shrinking violet, he was the perfect, media-made foil for the aw-gee-shucks child of the American West that was Greg LeMond. Fignon looked the part: he was "continental", "euro", and "sophisticated". Her personified panache. Nicknamed "The Professor", he was bespectacled—favoring not-quite-round lenses—with a streaming, blond ponytail, pulled back from his receding hairline. Fignon was debonair. He instantly stood out—even within the peloton of the 1980s.
Fignon: a studious, stylish champion
But he was more than a notable, if unique, fashion plate. He was also a tenacious rider. As Reuters reported: "[He] had made no secret of the fact that rivalry, almost hatred, was necessary for him as a competitor and he had few friends in cycling."
His approach—however unsavory in these days of the Contador/Schleck lovefest—was effective, as his results testify. His palmarès? Outstanding:
Tour de France (1983, 1984)
Giro d'Italia (1989)
Milan - San Remo (1988, 1989)
La Fleche Wallonne (1986)
Criterium International (1982 and 1990)
among others...
As LeMond ascended, Fignon demurred, retiring from the professional peloton in 1993. But he remained close to the sport, managing races (notably Paris–Nice) until 2004.
Suffering.
You know he fought his cancer with the same tenacity.
He resurfaced on the global stage in 2009, for tragic reasons. As reported in CyclingNews.com:
Fignon disclosed in June 2009 that he was undergoing treatment for cancer. It is said to have started in his intestine and then spread further through his body. He continued to commentate for French television on the Tour de France this summer despite a tumour affecting his vocal chords.
In this book, "We Were Young and Carefree", Fignon admitted that he had used amphetamines and cortisone during his career. To me, it's interesting, but not surprising, and certainly within cycling's long history of improving performance through the transforming power of chemistry. I do not think it diminishes his legacy. Considering the way the cycling culture embraces and celebrates Tom Simpson's death on Ventoux, it would be churlish to dismiss Fignon as anything less than a champion.
In both 2009 and 2010, despite his treatments, Fignon remained a Tour de France commentator for France Television. In one of his public statements about his cancer, he declared:
“I don’t want to die at 50,” he said, earlier this summer. “All I know is that my cancer isn’t evolving. I’m still fighting.”
He died at age 50.
Rest peacefully, M. Fignon. And many thanks for the memories.
A fellow on my team had a problem, and he posted it to our team mail list:
The glue that holds my seatpost onto the part that lets you adjust the seat has worn out and I can take it apart. Should I reglue it and with what or should I buy a new seatpost?
You can imagine the responses. Here was mine:
Ellicott City, MD
Sunday, August 29, 2010
For immediate release...
An Ellicott City man was admitted to Howard County General Hospital this morning with a rare and unsettling case of cycleous anus insertus irreversus. The CDC has been alerted, and the ward is under quarantine.
The man, Christopher Hilfiger, a middle-aged cycling enthusiast and noted collector of imported beers and obscure bicycle parts, is reported to be in serious, but stable, condition.
Cycleous anus insertus irreversus only manifests when certain two-wheeled transportation devices come into contact with the human perineum, while in the presence of high tensile-strength bonding materials. Under these conditions a most horrid confluence of man and machine occurs, where the bicycle is no longer removable from the (deleted for propriety's sake!).
One complicating factor—rumored to have occurred—is the influence of methane gas upon the bonding materials. Mr. Hilfiger's flatulence, it seems, caused additional chemical reactions to occur. Biochemists on the scene recounted their wonder.
According to Dr. I. Rather Schtinky: "We've never witnessed quite such a collection of volatile materials in open space. Usually, such toxins are released only under tightly-controlled laboratory conditions. It's a wonder he's alive!"
The victim—unable to comment due to the aluminum tube thrusting out of his gullet—has been communicating with medical personnel by assorted grunts and a deep, resonating chime, reminiscent of a tubular bell....
The best response from the list was from Dr. Bill (anesthesiologist, RAAM veteran, and endurance/adventure racer):
One thing I will never forget, while Ray was having surgery on his clavicle. A nurse said to me afterward, "are all cyclists that funny when they are on morphine"?
