Throughout the Tour de France, a Colombian rider on the Kelme - Costa Blanca
Team, Santiago Botero, had been keeping a diary for his local newspaper.
This submission offers a different perspective and is well worth the read
"There I am all alone with my bike. I know of only two riders ahead of me
as I near the end of the second climb on what most riders consider the third
worst mountain stage in the Tour. I say 'most riders' because I do not fear
mountains. After all, our country is nothing but mountains. I train
year-round in the mountains. I am the national champion from a country that
is nothing but mountains. I trail only my teammate, Fernando Escartin, and a
Swiss rider. Pantani, one of my rival climbers, and the Gringo Armstrong are
in the Peleton about five minutes behind me. I am climbing on such a steep
portion of the mountain that if I were to stop pedaling, I will fall
backward. Even for a world class climber, this is a painful and slow
process. I am in my upright position pedaling at a steady pace willing myself 
to finish this climb so I can conserve my energy for the final climb of the 
day. The Kelme team leader radios to me that the Gringo has left the Peleton 
by himself and that they can no longer see him.
I recall thinking 'the Gringo cannot catch me by himself'. A short while
later, I hear the gears on another bicycle. Within seconds, the Gringo is
next to me - riding in the seated position, smiling at me. He was only next
to me for a few seconds and he said nothing - he only smiled and then
proceeded up the mountain as if he were pedaling downhill. For the next
several minutes, I could only think of one thing - his smile.  His smile
told me everything. I kept thinking that surely he is in as much agony as
me, perhaps he was standing and struggling up the mountain as I was and he
only sat down to pass me and discourage me. He has to be playing games with
me. Not possible. The truth is that his smile said everything that his lips
did not. His smile said to me, 'I was training while you were sleeping,
Santiago'. It also said, 'I won this tour four months ago, while you were
deciding what bike frame to use in the Tour. I trained harder than you did,
Santiago. I don't know if I am better than  you, but I have outworked you
and right now, you cannot do anything about it. Enjoy your ride, Santiago.
See you in Paris.'
Obviously, the Gringo did not state any of this. But his smile did dispel a
bad rumor among the riders on the tour. The rumor that surfaced as we began
the Prologue several days ago told us that the Gringo had gotten
soft. His wife had given birth to his first child and he had won the most
difficult race in the world - He had no desire to race, to win. I imagine
that his smile turned to laughter once he was far enough not to embarrass
me. The Gringo has class, but he heard the rumors - he probably laugh all
the way to Paris. He is a great champion and I must train harder. I am not
content to be a great climber, I want to be the best.
I learned much from the Gringo in the mountains. I will never forget the
helpless feeling I had yesterday. If I ever become an international
champion, I will always remember the lesson the Gringo taught me.
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Thanks to Gary Saunders for forwarding this piece to me and also to Loraine
Gruber Marketing Communications Manager for  VeloNews/Inside Triathlon for 
putting this piece into wider circulation.