Etape 2009 - Montelimar to Mont Ventoux.......finally

I had been a little concerned that the feeling of surreality, that I had been experiencing for the previous few days, would continue with me into the ride itself. I wondered if I would be able to concentrate on the task at hand or would be constantly in disbelief that I was actually doing it. I didn't need to worry - as soon as the alarms (3 of them) went off, I immediately sprang up out of bed, completely focused on getting ready and getting on the road. This was the moment I'd been waiting for and I was so glad that it had finally arrived. Not particularly nervous; I couldn't wait to get started.

Our accommodation was about 6 miles from the start but we decided to drive it anyway, as Colin had to get back to load up the car. It was still dark and as we drove down the road, we saw a growing number of cyclists riding down the road. The car parks along the road were full of cars being relieved of their cargo of bikes and riders. It was really exciting.

I got on my bike, handed over my cleat covers (I had no plans to walk!) and rode the final mile down to the start. I wasn't entirely sure where I was going but it was all very clearly marked and at 6am, I ended up about 20 metres behind the front of my pen.

I had a 500ml bottle of Torq drink and a gel to get through before the start so I started sipping away, listening to the different languages being spoken around me. I noticed a group of men with London A-Z jerseys on. I also spotted the SKY cyclists in the adjacent pen; the poor souls with numbers over 8000. The two blokes next to me were Brits so I said hello and started chatting about the day ahead of us. We very quickly discovered that we had been corresponding on Twitter for a few weeks prior to the event - Hello Paul Chilly! Pleasant conversation & a visit from Colin definitely helped to pass the time. At about 6.50am, there suddenly seemed to be a collective awareness that we should be getting ready for off. Perhaps there was an announcement that I had missed, but it seemed we instinctively moved as one animal mass, all getting up, clipping one foot in, moving into position for the off - quite amazing. The countdown passed at 7am to mild cheering and clapping and then we waited once again. It took about 20 minutes or so before we moved anywhere and over 25 minutes before we actually got over the start line.

I thought the opening kms were quite sensible - none of the haring off that I'd been expecting. The peleton was huge and took up the entire road and I was 100% focused on those around me. Before I travelled to France, Joe and I had talked about tactics for the day. Joe said that it was going to be a ride of two parts - Ventoux being part 2, all the rest of it, part 1. I planned to keep my HR in zone 1 and 2 and to only to upper zone 2 to low zone 3 if I was bridging a gap to a group that I would later take benefit from. As we got going on the first climb of the day, Cote de Citelle, I noticed that my HR had gone over 150 and I backed off. I was being passed mostly, overtaking only occasionally. I felt I could have gone quicker but I really wanted to make sure that I had enough in reserve for Ventoux.

Climbing around so many other riders was interesting - I just kept out of trouble at the right of the road but from the left, there were often loud French exclamations of annoyance as somebody or other had got in the way. Cresting the top of the col was amazing and was the first of many times that I cried during the day. The scenery was breathtaking - sure, the sunflower and lavender fields are very pretty and the neat rows of vines are a lovely view to behold, but what really gets to me are the mountains. They are so immensely huge. They stir something deep within me that fills me with awe and makes me want to cry. Cry I did - tears of joy were running down my face as I started to pick up speed on the first of many magnificent descents.
On this descent was also the first time I became aware of the excellent medical back up provided by the organisers - they were called into action many times during the day, particularly later on as I will explain. The group called a stop and we crawled past a guy who was lying on his side, being cared for by a paramedic - he didn't look too good. Time to regain FOCUS - I didn't want my ride to end that way.

I also didn't want my ride to end by being caught by the broom wagon - I had programmed the Garmin to bleep times at me when I got to various locations and as time went on, I increased my lead on it. I measured the distance between myself and it in terms of punctures allowed - so by Nyons, I was 40 minutes ahead and could probably manage 2 punctures and still just scrape ahead.

Col D'Ey was the next serious climb of the day and it was again an exercise in keeping HR down and not worrying about being passed. I was coughing a little but nothing too serious. I remember the descent of this col to be fairly twisty - just breathtaking again though. I was concious of not heating my rims too much and so I tried to keep off the brakes as much as possible. It was just amazing (I think I may use this word a lot in this post).

I was getting some serious rumblings in my stomach and I was concerned about that - it was a little painful to be honest and I thought I might have to get off and find a quiet bush! A quick wee I can just about handle but anything else would have been too damn much! It was also hot by this stage and I thought that perhaps my drink was mixed a little to strongly for the temperature. I wanted to drink lots of water but perhaps that meant I was getting more carbs than my body could deal with. I decided that at the first water stop, I would split my remaining bottle between the two and then fill with water - effectively diluting by half. The first stop was around the 76km mark in a town called Buis Les Baronnies. I was prepared for carnage and it was pretty much as I expected. I got off and fast walked with my bike to the tables of water but found it difficult to get close. Without any social niceties, I ordered the guy next to me to get me 4 bottles of water while I held his bike for him. I think he was English - he did it anyway. Apologies for bossing you around man :-)
With a quick "Thank You", I jogged along to a quieter spot and sorted the drinks - downing a gel (one per hour) and pouring the left over water over my head. I didn't bother with the food tables as I had everything with me - gels and bars.

I could be wrong on this but I think it was the next climb, the Col de Fontaube, that I got the first glimpse of Mont Ventoux, the Giant of Provence. Scary but exhilarating at the same time to know that I would be riding up it in only a few hours.

Another waterstop came in Sault - this time I avoided the first tables and got served really quickly. I was over an hour ahead of the Broom wagon by now. My feet were on fire but I was feeling really good. The climbs were going well, I was drinking lots, the descents were joyous, I was sucking wheels, using other riders ruthlessly to get further along whilst minimising my effort. I was feeling really strong.

The first significant test came with Col de Notre Dames Des Abeilles. It seemed longer and steeper than anything we'd had so far and I could feel waves of heat passing over me - full length zip, fully unzipped by now. I think I remember a few walkers on this col. A couple of times I crested what I thought was the summit and started a descent only to see a huge wall of tarmac rising up again in front of me. When I finally got to the true summit I was rewarded with the most amazing view across the Alps. It was simply stunning. I started crying again. At that moment in time, it was the best ever experience on a bike. The descent was wide & clear, very fast and oh so enjoyable. I was on a huge high - feeling fantastic and fresh. A bit more wheel sucking got me across the valley floor to Bedoin, where I had arranged to meet Colin. Here's a bit of film he took whilst waiting for me to get there:



Colin held my bike while I found a bush for a quick wee (they don't provide toilets on the course, Mum). Then he refilled my bottles while I had another gel. He asked how I was doing and I said I felt amazing. "You're going to do it, babe", he said and I said, "I know!". I had about four hours to climb Ventoux - piece of piss right?

Fully refuelled, I missed the stop at Bedoin and went straight through the town. The support was excellent along the whole course. They went nuts for ladies - bravo filles!! courage mademoiselle (yes, not madame)!! and if you gave them a smile or a little wave, they went even more crazy. I welled up a bit at that as well.

34x27 was recruited fairly early on into the climb - I knew I had 21km to go so I was just going to take it was easy as possible. It was so hot. I heard afterwards that the temperature was over 40 Celsius. 40! My water bottles were filled but if anyone was offering, I used the international sign language for "pour it on my head please". Sometimes the water itself was quite warm, other times it was wonderfully icy cold and the pourers appreciated the involuntary "ahhhhhhhhhhh" that escaped from my lips.

Graham, Team Lard, had warned me about the left turn at St Esteve and I had a bleep on the garmin to tell me that it was soon approaching. As I turned, I noticed the first of the walkers. The gradient for the next 9 km or so never seemed to drop below 9%. The little white markers at the side of the road showed many kms of avg 12% gradient. The heat was just incredible - the air so still, not even a whisper of breeze could be felt. As height was very slowly gained the walkers grew in numbers. It often seemed that there were more walkers than cyclists. It was hard going - whatever I write here will never come close to describing it. I can remember the sounds - the tapping of cleats on concrete, sirens of ambulances whizzing up and down the left of the road, and that tight pinging sound of metal under tremendous tension. Oh, and burping. The higher I got, the greater the level of devastation - walkers in increasing numbers, some slumped over their bikes, others slumped under trees, other unfortunates who were just being sick at the side of the road. There was one hell of a lot of suffering going on and the medics were kept very busy. I was resolute - I AM NOT GOING TO BLOODY WALK IT! I kept going at my snails pace. I promised myself that I could stop at 162km to change my water bottles around and have a breather. A little while later I stopped for a gel and I stopped a third time to eat a Clif bar in the shade.

I passed a few of the girls that I had noticed passing me earlier in the day. It was a bit like the tale of the Hare and the Tortoise at times - some riders would go flying by, only to stop a little further on, then same again, they'd fly along past me and stop. I just tried to keep to an even but very slow pace.

"2KM to Chalet Reynard". F***! 2KM to go???? By now I was getting desperate. I'd lost some time on the Broom Wagon and I had 2KM to do in about 40 mins. I wasn't entirely sure that I could even manage 2KM IN 40 MINS. I resorted to my song of desperation - Miley Cyrus, The Climb - and sang under my breath. Chalet Reynard, suddenly came into view, an Oasis. Unfortunately, the Oasis had run dry - no water left at the water stop. I stumbled towards some ladies who were sitting on the ground and they advised me to not wait for the hose but to go straight into the toilets. Walking was difficult. I was shaking and staggering about. I got the water and doused my head again and then made it back to my bike. I sat down and sobbed my heart out - big shoulder shaking sobs, tears running down my salt encrusted face. It was definitely the lowest point of my cycling life. A French guy patted me on the back. A medic asked if I was OK. A Brit called Mike asked me if I spoke English and if I wanted to carry on up with him. OK. Let's do it.

At only 6% and with a gentle breeze, it felt positively EASY! I even managed conversation with Mike. I saw one of the London A-Z gang and roared "COME ONNNNNN - you can do it!" at him as he slumped over his handle bars. The last few kms were hard again and I failed to keep up with Mike, but I was nearly there - only 3 more kms to go. I rolled by the Tom Simpson memorial and nodded my head. Then my eyes were back on the road. Not long to go now. With 500m remaining, there were still walkers and they showed no signs of getting back on. I just didn't get that at the time - surely if you've made it that far you'd want to cycle over the line. Thinking about it now, I guess they just didn't have anything left in the tank.

Finally, 9hrs 43 minutes after crossing the start line, I reached the summit of Mont Ventoux. I had finally managed it. Ventoux took me 3 hrs 16 mins! I was 55th in my age group. Here's me at the end - looking haggard and horrible but oh, oh, so happy.



Oh, and here is one of the beautiful beast that is Ventoux



Now I need to go and sleep :-)

ooooh ooooh, before I do go up to bed, just wanted to thank everyone who spotted me from the blog or Cycling Plus and said hello - those friendly voices en route were wonderfully uplifting and just added another level of enjoyment to the whole experience. Thank you again :-)