As a professional cyclist, I once thought doping was black and white. I thought if someone was caught, anything they said in defence was merely an excuse. Then, I tested positive.
Before the final stage of the 2012 Tour of Tasmania, I asked my teammates if they had any caffeine supplements. I had started the race sluggishly but my form improved during an arduous week, and I thought I could give the last stage a real crack. I asked for some No-Doz, which I had used before. My teammates initially said they didn’t have any, but then one remembered they had some caffeine powder. I thought it was PreRace, which I knew was a legal supplement. He filled my bottle – I drank it and didn’t think much of it.
I finished third on the stage, and was selected for anti-doping. I remember thinking at the time it was pretty cool – I had only been tested a few times before. Only good riders get picked for anti-doping. But when I returned to the squad, my teammate pulled me aside: “Shit, Ben, I think what I gave you was dodgy.”
I was in shock. I remember the moment vividly – everything went into slow motion. We checked the Asada website and sure enough the powder, Jack3d, was a banned supplement. I immediately self-reported to Asada.
Three months later I got the call informing me of the positive test. That was that. Obviously I was expecting it, but the longer it took, the more I thought that perhaps I hadn’t consumed enough of the supplement, or maybe the test didn’t pick it up.
The whole time I thought: I’m not a drug cheat. How can I be banned for this? I thought even in the worst case, I would receive a reduced sentence. When I got the call, I couldn’t comprehend what was happening. I just kept thinking – I’m not a cheat.
I was given the maximum ban, two years. I tried to fight it. I had made an accidental mistake, while riders who had been caught for deliberate blood doping were receiving six-month suspensions. It wasn’t a problem of believing my story – they believed me, and gave me the full ban anyway. I was punished for the sins of the many.
Someone at Asada said to me: “If you were in any other sport, or at any other time, you wouldn’t receive such a harsh punishment. But cycling needs to make a statement.” I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I returned to my parents’ place in rural New South Wales and sank into depression. I sat on the couch for months. There was this big hole in my life, and nothing could fill it. Cycling was my dream – my career had been heading in the right direction – and suddenly it felt over. I felt abandoned by the cycling community. Cycling Australia didn’t offer any support; they made an example of me.
It took six months to get back on the bike, after watching Fabian Cancellara win Paris–Roubaix. I realised that I still loved riding and I could still ride my bike – no one could take that away from me.
I returned to racing as soon as the ban was over, but the suspension had come at a critical time in my career. I was 22 when I tested positive. At that age it is make or break. With the results I am getting now, if I had got those back then, I would be in the World Tour. Now it is too late – those key years were taken away from me.
I think about the ban less and less these days. This is the life I have and there is no benefit thinking about what could have been. I just have to make the most of the opportunities I do have. But I’m no longer eligible to ride for the national team as a result of the ban, which stings. I have had to give up on that dream.
I feel for Shayna Jack. People make mistakes. That’s not a complete excuse – athletes need to be careful – but, where mistakes are made, we need to show common sense. Maximum penalties without evidence of premeditated doping can be unfair.
We also need to provide better support for athletes in these situations. The mental health impact of a doping ban is severe. Sport owes a duty of care to athletes and their welfare.
Athletes are human, and humans make mistakes. Doping bans are not always black and white.
