Book Review: The Racer

The Racer, Life on The Road As a Pro Cyclist by David Millar

British cycling’s rise seems to have included a publishing phenomenon in its slipstream with many riders publishing their biographies. This new audience seems hungry for accounts from inside the peloton and The Racer sets out to explain plenty as David Millar recounts his final season as a pro.

What sacrifices must a cyclist make to reach the highest levels? What is it like on the bus? In the hotels?

That’s an excerpt from the sleeve of the book. It promises a manual, an insider account. There is a lot of this from explaining how echelons form or Millar’s warm-up routine before a time trial. But it’s also the story of a last season, a goodbye to youth and above all growing frustration with the Garmin/Slipstream team which leads to a fallout and bitter divorce.

“I want to write something else, a book that years from now my children can read and see what it was like.”

The book begins with a description of pre-season training, whether procrastinating when faced with bad weather or advice for the off-season:

“people always ask if I cross train. The answer is no. There’s not really anything else out there that works better for making a cyclist than simply riding a bike. The only thing we sometimes do is weights.”

The early season routines are explained, it’s similar to Michael Barry’s Shadows on the Road at times and races are evaluated. Millar departs from the calendar and routines to introduce friends and team mates. Ryder Hesjedal’s long history of car ownership is used to explain the man. Ramūnas Navardauskas is just explained. Along the way there’s plenty to read from a theory of crashes to TV rights money, the role of a team mechanic to prologue warm-up protocols. There’s info for newcomers and even some handy tactical advice from years of experience that could make the book worth reading for a World Tour pro too.

There’s an air of melancholia as Millar knows this is the bell lap of a pro cycling career but optimism too, he’s sliding out of pro cycling because he’s got a family and if the training is getting harder, he admits no shame in embracing a cyclotouriste attitude.

“The team was no longer what it had once been”

That’s Millar on his team’s declining ability in a team time trial. A factual statement but what the Greeks call parrhesia, meaning to point things out even if it’s polite not to, and it jumps out. It helps prep the reader for later criticism of the team and its management. Millar’s non-selection for the Tour de France is a big part of the book, for starters Millar explains his frustration and, months later, is using the book to unload. There’s no alternative account or attempt to see this though the eyes of others signalling no subsequent reconciliation. Charly Wegelius comes across as a HAL-like figure: “I’m sorry Dave, I can’t do that” as he tells Millar he is dropped. Colder still is Jonathan Vaughters, despite founding the team together the pair haven’t spoken sine he was dropped from the Tour. The non-selection means knock-on effects, media work during July with British TV and the start of a blossoming commentary tandem with Ned Boulting: goodbye Phil and Paul, hello Ned and Dave? The Vuelta then gets almost daily diary entries as he tries to help Dan Martin and Hesjedal, gets drunk and breaks his hand although not in consequential order.

The book is interspersed with postcards from the season written to his son. It’s cute but doesn’t work in the book, the black and white images defeat the gaudy tack of postcards and the “daddy pedalled hard” prose isn’t meant for us and feels voyeuristic to read.

The Verdict

An autobiography, a diary, notes from the peloton? This is all those and more as Millar recounts his final season as a pro. It’s readable and there’s plenty to learn from and laugh at. The 280 pages of the hardback are effortless to read, Millar can write as smoothly as he could pedal. But there’s frustration too, the book seems caught en chasse patate between a manual of the life as a pro cyclist and the diary of Millar’s last year. Few riders get to enjoy a final year own their own terms and this valedictory aspect contrasts with the other parts. For me Millar’s other book Racing Through The Dark is a superior read, a wilder ride but with more structure and purpose and one of the best cyclist autobiographies.

It’s published by Yellow Jersey Press / Penguin Random House. More book reviews at inrng.com/books