Tour de France: Tadej Pogacar’s memories

We need our memory to help us reason and to improve the brain’s efficiency; and because the human brain is complex and has so much to do, our memory is longer-lasting than that of many animals.

Memory in cycling is often linked to history, and more often still to nostalgia. Whilst the former helps to sustain a sense of wonder, the latter often goes hand in hand with disappointment and leaves us in the uncomfortable position of preferring the past to the present. What exists today, however, is so powerful that it finds little foothold in the past. And that is fortunate. Provided, that is, we do not become entangled in dark and gloomy memories that often lead to conspiracy theories rather than joy.

There have been few riders capable of doing what Tadej Pogačar is doing. The Slovenian champion does not, however, look to the past; that is none of his concern. His concern is the present and the future, and what currently comes very naturally to him: being first and alone. How long this will last is impossible to say; nothing is fairer or more democratic than the passing of the years. That is why the world champion seizes everything that comes within his reach and goes out to claim the rest – especially what feels familiar to him.

Tadej Pogačar had a bittersweet day on his mind: that afternoon on the stage to Le Lioran at the 2024 Tour de France, when he had set off in pursuit of a straightforward victory but instead encountered a little too much suffering along the way and a bitter finish to swallow: Jonas Vingegaard overtaking him in the final metres. A trifle. He went on to win that Grande Boucle.

A trifle, however, can be more annoying than a serious matter. That trifle had to be swept aside. Tadej Pogačar managed it with a powerful surge and sixteen kilometres on his own, fifteen of which he spent at the front of the pack.

Tadej Pogačar embodies the beauty of cycling, an absolute beauty measured in minutes – often tens of minutes. A defiant beauty, self-sufficient and needing neither context nor justification. This Tour de France was already his; he had clearly demonstrated as much on the day of the Col du Tourmalet. He didn’t need those thirty-odd seconds gained in the mountains of the Massif Central. He racked them up to settle a score with history, to ensure that Le Lioran, too, would be a place associated with Pogačar at least once in history.

A beauty that managed to outshine even the indomitable and desperate spirit that Richard Carapaz tried to convey and to embody, despite his legs not being what they were in his best and happiest days. He had tried to pull off a dramatic move thirty-eight kilometres from the finish, in a stage that strongly suggested there would be no escape for the brave. Richard Carapaz, however, lacks neither courage nor talent; he attempted to carve out a place for himself in the memory of this Grande Boucle. He came close. Close enough, but not quite close enough. He’ll try again; the Ecuadorian is certainly not lacking in stubbornness either.

Remco Evenepoel’s head and legs were brimming with determination; he broke away on the penultimate climb, yet managed not to give up, caught up with the pack and left everyone behind on the final sprint to the finish line. He secured a few seconds’ lead – just a few seconds, but ones that carry enormous weight, serving as a reminder to keep believing in a podium finish.