A little while ago, I came across the following picture on Reddit:

I saved the picture, and I look at it every day to remind myself that I am puny and weak. I’m not sure whether it’s the upsettingly monstrous legs, inner tube slung casually round his upper chest, or the fact that he appears to be cycling through some sort of half-plowed field, but this picture exudes testosterone and masculinity. Actually, I know exactly what it is about this picture that makes me feel hopelessly inadequate, and it’s a combination of all of those things. If you look up the definition of the term ‘Hard Man’ in the dictionary, this would possibly be the picture given (next to a picture of Jens Voigt, anyway). And if you can tell me that you looked at that and felt anything other than amazement at the fact that that man can even sit astride his bike, (given the massive lead weights that he has in place of testicles) then you’re a liar. A filthy, stinking liar. Sorry, but it’s true.

When I first saw this picture, I had no idea who this was, so I did a little research, and found that it is professional road racer Gino Sciardis, and it was taken during the 1949 Tour de France. He was either Italian or French – I can’t seem to find a definitive answer about this, but the official Tour de France website tells me that he was French, but rode for Team Italie, so we’ll go with that, unless anyone would like to correct me.

This picture really sparked my interest in the early days of the tour, and it is fascinating. I can’t take anything away from the modern peloton – of course I can’t, the Tour is still the toughest race in the world – but pictures of the early years of the tour tell an incredible story. Men on single speed bikes, with flat caps and steampunk goggles, grinding themselves over some of the roughest roads and highest mountains in the world. No support cars with mechanics ready to swap out bikes at a moments notice, just tired, dusty men with inner tubes hung around their necks in case they get a flat. And more than that, especially in the years following both World Wars, riding those bikes through a country still bearing visible scars from two of the most violent conflicts in human history. Did you know that the 1914 tour started on the same day that Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated? Or that war was declared only two days after the race finish in Paris? Or even that the 1919 tour departed only 7 months after Armistice Day? The mind boggles.

The pictures themselves tell similar stories – lonely, exhausted figures dragging themselves along what frequently look like rutted cart tracks. Just check some of these out:

And it’s not just the limitations of the equipment that increase my admiration for these men. The 1926 Tour, for instance, remains the longest ever edition of the race, clocking in at 5745km over 17 stages – compare that to the figures for the 2012 tour: 3497km over 20 stages. Again, not to diminish the achievements of the modern peleton in any way, but the early riders of the tour were something else. Hard men, all.

It’s hard not to feel a little saddened by the movement of the sport – from the days when massive slabs of leg muscle and a stop off in the local blacksmiths to make repairs were what you needed to compete in one of the toughest races in the world.

Would I support a return to those days? Well, no. Today’s Tour de France cyclists are sculpted into absolute peak physical form, and riding on bikes that are practically works of art (even if the team kits frequently aren’t), capable of tearing along roads at speeds not dreamed of by the cyclists in the early days of the tour. The sport is more exciting to watch, and more accessible to anyone to get involved in, whilst still remaining impossibly tough at the top level. But I think it is important – not to mention interesting – to look back at where it all came from – not standing on the shoulders of giants, perhaps, but certainly balancing precariously off their absurdly muscled legs.

I snapped the above picture of Cav at last years final stage of the Tour of Britain – a stage that he won – and have added it to my photo album of ‘Legs to lust over’, but ultimately, the picture I look at the most is Sciardis in 1949. I think it would be very difficult to find a photo of a contemporary cyclist that exudes such obscene amounts of leg-based testosterone….

Oh god. I stand corrected.

For further reading about the history of the Tour, I can highly recommend ‘Mapping Le Tour’, full of amazing pictures and interesting stories and facts about the history of the Tour de France.

In August I am cycling the London Ride 100 on behalf of Farm Africa. Farm Africa’s local staff provide the tools and expertise to enable smallholders in eastern Africa to increase their harvests, whether they farm crops, livestock, fish or the forest. They train them to be more commercial, adding value to surpluses by milling, drying, or turning their produce into products that fetch a higher price. With better food for their families and reliable incomes from their businesses, farmers can build for the future. Please support me by donating to this fantastic cause here.