A philosopher and former racing cyclist examines how competitive riders lose their sense of self as they pursue perfect motion and mastery over pain
After ten years as a racing cyclist, riding in up to ninety races a year, Olivier Haralambon became a journalist and philosopher. In The Cyclist and His Shadow, he writes about the world of competitive cycling with rare honesty and self-reflection, exploring it not merely as a sport but as a spiritual and artistic practice, imbued with a mystical quality. In prose at once poetic and precise, Haralambon depicts the intensity of cycling as physical activity in which the rider's consciousness becomes inseparable from the instantaneous movements of limbs, the exertion of heart and lungs, and the marshaling and expenditure of energy. He describes riding as an ascetic activity always accompanied by pain that the cyclist can control but never fully eliminate. But cycling for Haralambon is not only suffering but also an addictively pleasurable activity in which the rider's sense of self dissolves and melds with the bicycle, mind and body exploring the vibrant solitude of the course and limits of human endurance. Engaging in the repetition of ascension and the endless hours immersed in an oceanic interior, cyclists are artists in the vastness of landscape, both interior and exterior.
Published in association with The Cycling Podcast, The Cyclist and His Shadow offers an illuminating meditation on what drives cyclists to devote their lives and bodies to training, racing, and even doping. Drawing from personal experience, Haralambon presents cycling as simultaneously physical and creative, technological and mystical, torturous and ecstatic.
I want to give this 6 stars. There isn’t a more evocative book capturing the spirit, the essence, of the Cyclist. The Rider is brilliant. This more so because somehow the description and narrative collide to draw one into the rider’s emotion. Of course I’m a cycling but so this book may speak to me more than my wonderful Goodread pals but there’s something about descriptive literature that can capture the soul. Fair play to Thomazeau, the translator. I know him from the Cyclist Podcast and I could hear his lyrical French accent in every sentence. The final chapter is beautiful.
Block that metaphor! Comically overwritten and overwrought. For some reason, writing about sports can occasion the most romanticized twaddle. Includes a defense of doping that could be written by the Marquis de Sade. (Also, “contre le montre” means “against the clock” not “against the mountain” which does not inspire confidence in the translation. Maybe it’s better in French!)
Mesterlig refleksion over cykelsportens væsen - skrevet af tidligere middelmådig fransk prof cykelrytter, nu forfatter og filosof. Til forskel fra vores J. Leth har Haralambon selv siddet i feltet. Meget filosofisk, men det er det hele værd. Læs den.
As a lifelong, sometimes competitive, cyclist, I found the book delivered on the points that inspired its purchase. The author captured the subtleties of being one with your bike, as well as the mental highs and lows of riding, training, racing, and all things in between.
However, I found the writing style (perhaps due, at least in part, to the translation?) to be tedious and exaggeratedly flowery. Right from the outset, it read like a stream of consciousness more than a clear recounting of the author’s many years and experiences with cycling. The details were great, the delivery not so much.
You’ll probably enjoy the story if you’re an avid cyclist, but it takes some work to get through it.
I received an ARC from goodreads. This memoir has beautiful passages that capture some of the most abstract aspects of cycling: the deep motivation of riders, the physiognomy and dynamics of the peloton, the relationship between machine and body. The author doesn’t avoid the realities of coping but may give readers a new perspective on why it is so pervasive.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Poetically captures the essence of being in love with the bicycle and where it takes you internally as well as externally, as well as having a good portion on the angle of pro racing which is something most of us can only look on at, so the peloton sections are unique too. The kind of book you'll read in a sitting as it has very punchy chapters all telling their own part of the whole.
incredibly tonally focused collection of essays. Reminds me of Carlo Levi. Reading this once counts only as reading it halfway. I'm interested to see what I notice more clearly when I pick it up here and there again.
Son Matt recommended this book to me. I first listened to a podcast that explains about the translation from French to english. a very beautiful well written story that brings tears to your eyes.
I like how right away, in the forward, Thomazeau François is pitting this book against The Rider as the seminal classic of cycling literature. I arched a skeptical eyebrow, and… was in total agreement by like, chapter 3.
Brilliant. Insane. Philosophical. Spiritual. Erotic. I read it during the nearly-hallucinatory six hours of Milan—San Remo and feel like bits of it have embedded in my brain like gravel, because I think of it every time I watch a race.
(Like The Rider, it was also gift from a fellow cycling-obsessed friend, and aren’t I the luckiest one.)
Strikingly beautiful homage to the sport of cycling, the best cycling book I have ever read by far. I can't wait for a translated version to appear (hopefully) so I can read it again, though I suspect it will loose some of the magic in translation. The author's descriptions are unmatched -- from young amateur and the thrill of the first race, comparing a peloton to blood flowing through veins and arteries, his exploration of motivations for doping -- this is a work of art.