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Shut Up, Legs!
Shut Up, Legs! Read online
Also by Jens Voigt
Man muss kämpfen! Nicht aufgeben—Siegen lernen
Also by James Startt
Tour de France/Tour de Force: A Visual History of the World’s Greatest Bicycle Race (with Samuel Abt and Greg Lemond)
Uniforme[s] (with Michel Pastoureau)
Armstrong’s Sixth: The 2004 Tour de France in Photographs
Tour de France: The 2005 Tour de France in Photographs
In Pursuit of the Yellow Jersey (with Samuel Abt)
Contents
INTRODUCTION
1: Growing Up in East Germany
2: Starting Cycling
3: Reading
4: German Unification
5: First Professional Contract
6: Cycling’s Big Time
7: Moving to France
8: First Win
9: First Tour de France
10: Crédit Agricole Days
11: Friends along the Way
12: Moving to CSC
13: Operation Puerto
14: Training
15: Sacrifice
16: Tour of Germany
17: Crashing
18: Armstrong
19: Leopard Trek
20: Family
21: Bad Food, Bad Hotels
22: The Cult of Jens
23: Radio Shack
24: The Art of the Long Breakaway
25: New Horizons
26: Preparing for the Hour Record
27: The Hour Record
28: Life after Cycling
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Introduction
“There could be land mines anywhere!”
And then there was a knock on my door. I was just sitting there doing homework in my dormitory at the sports high school in East Berlin when friends came in saying, “Hey, the Wall is open! You want to go see what’s on the other side?” That was November 9, 1989. I was just 17 at the time, but somehow I knew that my life was about to change forever.
Of course, I knew that there was another world out there, another world besides the one in East Germany. And even though the leaders and the state media always insisted that they built the Wall to protect us, we all knew that mostly it was just holding us back.
I, like just about any German, will never forget that night. Some people were actually afraid to step across and go into West Berlin. But that wasn’t a problem for me! Off I went to Invalidenstrasse, like Checkpoint Charlie, one of the three crossings where the Berlin Wall was open that first night. And that’s where I saw the West for the first time. As soon as I stepped across, I couldn’t believe my eyes! A whole other world just opened up before me. There was more chocolate on the candy rack in one store than I had seen in my whole entire life. And everything was just so clean! West Berlin was so much cleaner than where I had grown up in East Berlin. Everything, it seemed, was bigger and better. And everything was newer. Everything was well maintained. You could tell immediately that there was more money there. It was a new world. It was truly UNBELIEVABLE!
But at the same time, the whole event was weird. I was nervous. Let’s not forget that I’d had 17 years of brainwashing behind me, 17 years of people telling me that where I now stood—the capitalist West—was enemy territory. I had been taught to believe that in the West, somebody was always ready to steal my wallet. Like I said, we had been told that the Iron Curtain was there to protect us from the “Evil West.” Nobody told us that the Iron Curtain was there to keep us inside! So for the first couple of hours, at least, we really had the feeling that there could actually be land mines anywhere! It was a very strange, very singular moment, when we were fascinated but also well aware that we were not in our home country. It was uncomfortable in many ways, and you couldn’t let down your guard. But boy, was it exciting!
For hours, days, even weeks afterward, we half expected that the authorities would just close the Wall back up again and say, “Okay, you saw what was on the other side, but that’s it! Get back to your real lives!” Honestly, it took a good year until East and West Germany were officially reunited, before we understood that the Wall was down forever. Until then, we just thought that the Russians could show up at any moment and shut things down again.
And even today, I often think back to that night and what my life was like before. Such things are still very much with me.
You know, today people often ask me, “So what’s it like being Jens Voigt?” And when I think about it, even after two decades as a professional athlete on several of the world’s best cycling teams, I think a lot of it goes back to the days when I was living in a Communist country. It was a unique experience growing up in old East Germany. And to be very honest, it has served me well in life.
I know that may sound strange today, but growing up in East Germany was really great. It was a great place for kids—very safe—and there was a lot of support for us. Life was centered on the common good, the collective. It was much less individualistic than life in a capitalist country, so I learned to be a team player at a young age, which served me well in my career as a cyclist. But I was fortunate to be able to eventually turn professional and work with some of the greatest teams in the sport once the Wall came down, an opportunity that a lot of my countrymen before me never had. That said, a lot of the things I learned growing up helped me have a long and successful career. Because I had much more of a career than I could ever have dreamed of, I never took it for granted. Quite the opposite, it inspired me to keep working hard to simply continue doing what I loved, which was riding bikes.
And now people even come up to me wearing T-shirts featuring quotes of mine, like “Shut up, legs!” I go to the bike shows, and people come up and ask me, “Say it! Come on, Jens. Tell us what we want to hear!” And I say it again: “Shut up, legs!” People love it.
It was just a quote I once said to a journalist asking me how I could dig so deep. But it resonates. People respond to the attitude I bring to the sport. It surprises me, but yes, I’m also flattered. I’m proud. For me, this kind of attention is one of the highest compliments I can receive, because apparently it means that I inspire people! And how many people can say such a thing, that they actually inspire others or maybe change people’s lives just a little? That idea alone is worth more than all the trophies and jerseys I’ve collected over the years.
Yet it’s a feeling that also brings a lot of responsibility. It’s still sort of a surprise to me, because I was never aiming for such things. I’ve just been myself, and people always know what I think because I speak frankly and honestly, while still trying not to step on the toes of others.
After a while, I guess people just started to notice and say to themselves, “Hey, look at that! Jens walks a straight line. There are no bad stories, no scandals. He’s always reliable. He’s always there. You can count on him!”
And let’s not forget that my funny German accent helps a bit as well! I can only guess why I have become popular, but I think it has something to do with all those things.
People see what they get with me, and they get what they see. I don’t pretend. I don’t have brilliant earrings. I don’t have tattoos. I don’t have a Porsche or Ferrari in my garage. It’s just me. I didn’t grow up in a materialistic culture. Yet maybe that’s what connects. There’s so much crisis in the world. And throughout my entire career, it seems, there have been big problems in our sport. Things are moving and changing so fast, and maybe people see some sort of stability in me. I’m sort of like a rock in the ocean. The waves are crashing against me, but I just stand there, unmoved. There is a lot of risk in life, and there are so many scandals and disappointments in sports, so I think people respond well to the stable factor that I bring to the table.
I don’t know what it is exactly, but I can say one thing: All this attention provided serious motivation for me toward the end of my career and helped contribute to its longevity.
It was an amazing ride, really, and I still pinch myself sometimes when I think back on the road I’ve traveled. I won more races than I ever thought possible, but just as important, I traveled to more places than I ever thought possible and met more kinds of people than I ever thought possible. And all this time, that little East German village boy has still been inside me, his eyes wide open in amazement.
GROWING UP IN EAST GERMANY
“While the Communist system sometimes looked good on paper, unfortunately, it was run by human beings.”
“Just don’t shoot me in the back! You can run, but whatever you do, don’t shoot me!”
That’s what my father, Egon, would tell his patrol partner every night as a young soldier in the East German army. My dad was born in 1946 and was one of the first kids born into the new East Germany, established when the country was divided at the end of World War II. And even though East Germany and West Germany were two separate states throughout most of his childhood, the borders remained open.
It was not until they started building the Wall in 1961 that people were confronted with absolute choices, and some would flee desperately to the West. This is exactly when my dad was serving his military duty. Now when we talk about the Wall, most people just think about the Berlin Wall. But that was only a small piece of it. In reality, a whole barrier system was set up all along the border with West Germany.
You see, back in the early days of Communism, back when they were still building the Wall, soldiers always went out on patrol in pairs. Part of the logic was that they were supposed to sort of patrol each other, as well. And if one of the soldiers made a break for it, to try to flee to the West, the other was expected to shoot.
And since Dassow, where my dad lived, was next to the West German border by the Baltic Sea, a lot of soldiers would try to flee. The problem with this patrol method, though, was that if a soldier was going to make a run for it, often he would shoot his partner first, so that the partner could not shoot him when he ran.
Night after night, my dad would just make it clear to his partner that he wouldn’t shoot, so there was no reason for his partner to get paranoid and shoot him first. Pretty crazy! But then those were crazy times.
My dad was like most Germans, who are themselves like most other people. And like most other people, if you give them the choice to live wherever they want, the vast majority will choose to stay right where they are. My dad was like that. He wasn’t going to run, but he didn’t want to get shot for staying in East Germany, either!
And although my childhood in East Germany is more and more a part of my past, as I have said, it still remains very much a part of me. It’s funny. When you add them up, those years amount to less than half of my life now. But they were formative years, spent in an entirely different world than what my children know today.
Like most others, I try to erase the bad memories from my past and focus instead on the positive ones. And that’s why all these years later, there still aren’t too many bad things I can say about growing up in East Germany.
Basically, I had a good, happy childhood, one with no stress. Life was just slower. It was lived on a smaller scale than life today. And it was more relaxed. Part of the reason for that was that Dassow was such a small town. I remember back in 1987, we celebrated the 50th anniversary of Dassow’s first receiving official “city” status. Up until then, it was officially considered just a village. I thought, “Huh? You mean this little town is officially big enough to be considered a city?” It still looked pretty small to me! Up until then, I just never saw Dassow as anything more than a village, because, well, it really is.
Growing up, I spent most of my time outside. But even then it seemed as though 20 to 30 steps in either direction would take me out of the village. That’s how small it appeared through the eyes of even a child. We had one shoe shop, one clothing shop, one flower shop, one toy store, one newsstand and stationery shop, one food shop, and one bakery. That was about it. Now part of that was simply a result of living in Communist East Germany. There was never any market competition, so we just had one shop to supply each of our basic needs. But part of it was also just Dassow.
None of that could keep me from dreaming big dreams, though. My first great dream was to become an astronaut. Flying into space was just the biggest adventure I could imagine. The dream was fueled by East German television, which documented Soviet flights and the adventures of Sigmund Jähn, an East German, who became the first German to enter outer space when he joined the Soviet Intercosmos mission in 1976. Jähn was such a hero, I imagine most East German kids at the time wanted to be astronauts.
Soon, however, I decided that space might not be my thing and I would be better off as a forestry engineer, because I loved the great outdoors so much. That dream lasted until I entered a special sports high school in Berlin, where I quickly realized that it would be hard to spend my life in the forest if I was going to become a world-class athlete.
Once I got into the high school system, I thought journalism might be the best career path. I’d always loved reading, and if you can believe it, I was even in the poetry club for a while. I also enjoyed writing, so the idea of working for one of the news agencies was appealing to me. But once the Wall came down, everything changed.
Before the Wall came down, life was just so much simpler and more relaxed. The Communist system did its best to eliminate competition. There was no stress about careers, no stress about outperforming somebody else. For the average person, there wasn’t a big difference in status among different professions. You have to remember that in East Germany, an engineer, a doctor, or a factory worker like my dad pretty much all made the same salary. Egon worked as a metallurgist for a company making farm equipment, and my mom, Edith, was one of the town’s photographers.
Egon was the big one in the family. He is tall like me and as strong as an ox. But he was quiet, too, quite unlike me! As a kid, he was a pretty good soccer player, but he never really had the chance to pursue sports because of his responsibilities on the family farm. And once he was older, most of his strength was put to good use working in the factory.
To be honest, I didn’t see all that much of my dad when I was growing up, because he generally left for work before I got up in the morning. He would come home at 4:30 or 5:00 p.m. Sometimes we did homework with him, but I came to realize that when he came home from work most days, he was just exhausted.
I saw more of my mom. Edith was able to arrange her work so that she pretty much only worked half days. That way she could tend to us three kids. She would get up with us in the morning, fix us breakfast, and then go off to work. After school, we would often meet her at the photo studio and start doing our homework while she finished up. Then we would all go home together.
My parents didn’t have big, important jobs, but they only made, say, 100 marks (about 50 US dollars) less per month than a doctor did. And it wasn’t a competitive thing, either, because everybody knew they weren’t going to get rich anytime soon. This acceptance led to far less jealousy among people than you see today, because, well, people had a lot less to be jealous of. As a result, I do think that people were friendlier to each other back then. They just had a lot more time to spend in their gardens talking to their friends, having a barbecue, or kicking a ball around.
Also, although it might be hard to imagine today, consumerism basically didn’t exist back in East Germany. For starters, our choices of brands and products were very limited. Motorbikes were all MZ. Televisions were Strassfurth. Cameras were all Praktica. It was the same for just about everything: radios, bread, sugar, you name it.
There were only two types of cars: a big one and a small one! The Trabant was the small car and Wartburg was the big car, so people weren’t obsessed with the make, model, or size of their cars.
My parents were regular working-class people with three kids: my older brother, Ronny; me; and my sister, Cornelia. We never had much money, and we didn’t get our first car until I was about 15. But that said, we had what we needed.
In some ways, growing up in Dassow was different from growing up in most other parts of the country, because our village was located on the border of East Germany and West Germany. As a result, we were more aware of the differences between the two cultures than most other East Germans were. Heck, if we turned our antennas in the right direction, we could even get West German radio and television! But we had to be careful that the police didn’t see which way the antennas pointed, or there could be a knock on the door!
Nevertheless, we had few regrets about living in East Germany. My dad had made a life for himself in Dassow. That’s where he came from. That’s where he met Edith. That’s where he had his children. That’s where he had a job. He never had a reason to be unhappy. Really, when I think back on my parents, they were always very grounded, and they kept things in perspective.
Although they never tried to flee East Germany, they didn’t embrace the Communist system, either, and refused to become members of the party. There were consequences for such decisions! It definitely cost my father certain jobs, and I can tell you that it didn’t look good on my application to sports school later on, either. But Egon always said, “Jens, shortcuts in life just give you short-term advantages. Be true to who you are.”
My father also understood that if he ever did cross the border, he would be a nobody. He would have to start over again, and it was not a given that his life would be better, that he was going to make big money or anything. Plenty of people were actually worse off after crossing.
Shut Up, Legs!