The Podium: ‘Motorised doping’ explained… and why it’s on a par with standard doping

As cycling and athletics compete for the unwanted tag of most distrusted mainstream sport, the former nudged back ahead after allegations of ‘motorised doping’ resurfaced over the weekend.

The alleged perpetrator: Belgian U23 rider Femke Van den Driessche, who had a motor concealed in her seat tube at the World Cyclo-Cross Championships. She tearfully protested her innocence, insisting she “would never cheat”, but her cries merely plunged the sport further into the morass of public doubt.

Allegations have floated around for some years now, with the UCI clearly concerned. In March, they dismantled bikes at Milan-San Remo and have continued to make random checks since. Does cycling have a new demon?

Ryder Hesjedal’s crash at the 2014 Vuelta a Espana aroused suspicion from conspiracy theorists and fans alike, after his stricken bike continued spinning on the ground as he frantically tried to remount. Concerning? Initially, until it was highlighted the bike’s cranks were stationary – the opposite being a tell-tale sign of a motorised bike. Hesjedal laughed off the incident and was cleared of wrong-doing.

However, the debate has lingered. A handful of the peloton’s biggest names have had accusations levelled at them. Now, one big question remains: is ‘motorised doping’ this generation’s answer to rivalling the feats of the drug-riddled nineties and noughties?

Basically, a motor with a gear is hidden inside the seat tube, which is then attached to the crank axle – allowing the pedals to rotate freely when a wireless button is pressed.

Last year, Cyclingtips investigated such a device – the vivax Assist – which provides an additional 110 watts, approximately – with its battery capable of providing for up to 90 minutes. The power source can be hidden in a saddle bag, be disguised as a water bottle or – potentially – hidden inside the seat tube itself. All that equipment… available for the modest sum of £2,500.

Of course, the technology comes with drawbacks. It’s slightly noisy, the start-stop button could be spotted and a tiny pin – used to keep the motor in place – might be visible. Three problems, but all solvable according to the publication: a) it would not be heard deep in a peloton, b) it could be hidden under a saddle, and c) it can be covered by a strategically-placed sponsor’s sticker.

Sure, it would likely require an entire team to be in on the deception, but – in theory – it could work at the highest level.

Team Sky, keen to waft away doping rumours about Chris Froome during his recent Tour de France triumph, released the Brit’s power data for the climb to La-Pierre-Saint-Martin on stage 10. Froome has already broadcast his concerns about mechanical doping.

"It's a concern that I've had, something I've brought up with the UCI independent commission when I sat down with them and said, 'listen, from my point of view there are these rumours, it would be my advice that the UCI implements controls and measure to start checking bikes more regularly'," he said.

[LINK: What can we learn from Froome’s power data?]

Tim Kerrison, the team’s head of athlete performance, declared Froome’s average power output was about 390 watts for the 41-minute climb.

In a hypothetical scenario of mechanical doping - and there is of course no suggestion that Froome has been involved, he simply has published data useful for comparative purposes - a rider performing at this level would actually only need to expend 280 watts of his energy (assuming the motor added the predicted 110w). That’s a mammoth 28 per cent reduction in effort.

If they chose to attack at full pelt, they would then be able to reach 500 watts. Comfortably enough to break their rivals.

Even a short bonus of 110w would help launch a decisive breakaway, helping a rider get away and sustain a brutal pace, while the peloton panics about whether to cover the move. This tactic has the added bonus of provoking less suspicion – as it may only be required for 20 seconds or so. Similarly, it could be switched on when a rider hits the front of the peloton, then turned off when they slip back into the mass slipstream.

Now Italian publication La Gazzetta dello Sport has suggested ‘wheel doping’ could be prevalent on the elite circuit, where electromagnets provide a power increase of between 20 and 60 watts.

Using the Froome example above, it could provide between a 5-15% boost. So imagine the potential benefits for mediocre riders dwarfed by the power output of Froome. “It’s enough to transform an average professional into a phenomenon,” states the report.

Gazzetta also quoted an unnamed expert, who said: “It’s such a perfect system that I’m sure some riders don’t know they’re using it. They just think they’ve had a great day.”

Sure, it’s safer. The previous generation was desperately pushing their blood levels towards haematocrit perfection, endangering their health as a result.

But dopers still feel pain. They toil on the road, battling each category climb as the elements scupper their momentum. You have to be a superb athlete to win on drugs, training intensely to get the maximum benefits. It’s not a case of plugging EPO into the system and winning the Tour de France; it’s about a concerted effort in training that brings about immoral results. Ultimately, doping is still about one human against another, even if it’s a tussle tainted by therapeutic aid.

That’s not the case with ‘motorised doping’. Stick a powerful enough motor on a bike and you or I could win a Classic. As our rivals wince on the inclines, we can fake a grimace and pretend peddle across the undulating terrain. It becomes Formula 1 with pedals, where machine trumps man.

Currently, the ban for mechanical doping is a minimum of six months. In comparison, four-year bans are commonplace for doping.

Five-time Tour de France champion Eddy Merckx has lead calls for a lifetime ban for technological fraudsters. “For me, it’s the worst thing you can do. You might as well go by motorcycle,” he said. It’s hard to disagree.

There is no glory in doping, either through drugs or technology. But the latter should be punished as severely – it is an unashamed form of cheating, and an idea that has to be eradicated to preserve the slim integrity cycling still has.

But sadly, in a sport ingrained with a ‘win at all costs’ mentality, it seems plausible that such cheating could be unleashed without detection. The UCI most move quickly to eliminate such doubts.