La Marmotte - the finish

Hairpin 1 - A very welcome sight

Finally I reached hairpin 1, the last corner before the finish. I had been following the wheel of another rider for about the last 3km but on the last hairpin he had some family and friends waiting for him who gave him a shout a push and provided him with an impromptu Evian shower. There is still a nasty kick to the point of the mountain where the road finally levels off but filled with an adrenalin rush my pacer up the final part of the mountain took off. I tried to go with him but after about 150m I couldn’t keep the pace and knocked it off. About 25m later I look up and he had completely blown up, “pedalling squares” as they say in cycling. Slowly I pulled him back and we looked at each other and smiled wryly. Finally we reached the flat section where the time trial finish line is, just next to the chalet I was staying at. A sweeping left downhill and then up again and then a right where the road finally flattens and heads slightly downhill to the finish. A fast approach through a roundabout and the finish line was in sight. Suddenly it sunk in, what I had done. The physical and mental pain I had put my body through, but I didn't let it beat me. Over the Galibier was an emotional moment because I started start to realise what is within my grasp, “only” one climb away from finishing the ride. But finishing La Marmotte on Alpe d'Huez was an incredible feeling.

An emotional finish

Maurice Burton

On the approach to the finish line I zipped up my flailing jersey, like I have watched the pros do down the years in the grand tours in order that they look smart for the next days back pages and, most importantly that the team sponsors get full exposure over the line. I didn’t really celebrate, behind my mirrored lenses I would admit my eyes were filling up. I had achieved something so massive in scale and something which I have watched my heroes do for years previously. I always knew the pros go through pain and suffering, but now I know how much. Greg LeMond once said “it never gets easier, you just get faster”. In other words, if you are a cyclo-tourist cycling up a mountain at 5mph or you’re a professional going at 15mph we all suffer the same as we're all at our limit. Rolling over the line immediately I felt relief, but then almost disbelief at what I had done. I knew La Marmotte would be hard but until you ride an event like this you just don’t know how hard. Looking around in the arrival village there were riders flat out, completely drained. Eyes sunken into faces and heads hanging between knees. I collected my official time certificate of 8:28:42 for the ride which I was pleased with. I was aiming for the 9:47 silver time but I ended up only fifteen minutes outside the gold standard. For about five minutes I just wondered around aimlessly convinced I was going to be sick, desperately trying not to for fear of embarrassment if nothing else. Eventually the feeling passed and I grabbed my food bag handed out to all participants at the end of the ride. The Coke went down a treat but trying to force pasta down was proving almost has hard as the climb of Alpe d’Huez itself. Another bottle of water was more what I needed and the food went in the bin. I bumped into Maurice Burton who was an ex track professional in the 1970s and 80s and competed against some of the greats, including Eddy Merckx. He now owns De Ver Cycles, the shop where my bike was built and bought from. 57 years young and 80kg and Maurice had hauled himself round La Marmotte for the fourth time.

Late finishers

I rolled back to my chalet and met up with some of the guys who had already finished. After showering I watched some of the later finishers roll past the chalet towards the finish. At 9pm after dinner some of us went for a drink in the bar neighbouring our chalet and cyclists were still coming in past 9:30pm. The final finisher rolled over the line with over 14 hours on the clock and like everyone else who had finished La Marmotte he was as brilliant as the man who finished in 5:33. The determination to keep going and the willpower not to climb off is something to greatly admire. It is akin to those brutal days in the Tour where the top climbers and overall leaders finish first, yet it is the sprinters and non-climbers people forget about. They have to race to keep within the time limit as not to be eliminated and like every rider in the peloton they ride at the upper end of their limit in order to make sure they make it to Paris and are able to say they have completed the Tour de France. They are all champions. I was already in awe of what the professionals do, what they go through in three weeks to drag their bodies to Paris, Milan or Madrid. If possible, La Marmotte has made me appreciate them even more. For me it is not open to debate, cycling is the hardest sport in the world and nothing is harder than a three week grand tour. Professional cyclists are the fittest and the toughest athletes in sport. They are simply amazing.

After a few cold pints of Guinness in the bar the day was over, La Marmotte chalked off as my greatest achievement. By far and away the best day I’ve ever had on a bike, but in equal measure the hardest day I’ve ever had on a bike. In fact just the hardest thing I have ever done. Someone asked me about five minutes after I had finished would I do it again. I said ask me in twenty four hours; because at that time I was doubtful I’d ever get on a bike again. But of course, now the memory of the pain has subsided all I want to do is get back on my bike and head back to the Alps. After all, I've got that gold medal to pick up!

Vive La Marmotte 2013!

Alpe d'Huez

Alpe d'Huez - profile

As I reached the start of Alpe d’Huez I decided I had enough water to get to the top. I didn’t need food now so I missed the last feed. Crowds had gathered at the bottom and gave the passing cyclists a huge cheer. Shouts of “allez, allez”. It gives you a lift and at first I thought the legs felt good and getting carried away in the moment I “danced” on the pedals and picked up speed on the first ramp towards hairpin 21. Quickly I realised my legs were not nearly as fresh as I thought, I watched my heart rate shoot up and before I knew it I was in difficulty. I quickly sat back in my saddle and it dawned on me this was going to be a tough grind to the top. On the Thursday when I climbed Alpe d’Huez relatively fresh the first few miles seemed hard with its steep ramps averaging over 10% with sometimes pitching up to 13%. This is tough at any stage in a ride, but after 100 miles it almost became and ordeal.

Dutch Corner, Alpe d'Huez - Stage 19 2011 TDF

The memory of climbing Alpe d'Huez with Chris and Tim in 2011 during the last week of the Tour de France seemed a long way from where I was now. We had gone up three times that holiday, going as fast as we could and also leisurely riding up during stage 19 which finished atop the Alpe, taking in the atmosphere, taking pictures and enjoying the sights and sounds. Now I was just in my own little world, which was mainly a world of pain. This mountain took on a totally new demeanour after 100 miles taking in some of the biggest cols used in the Tour. As the hairpins count backwards from 21 these almost became like a form of mental torture. Sections between some hairpins are longer than many climbs in England and they tick by at a painfully slow rate. I started to think “how am I going to get through this?” People at the side of the road continue to offer encouragement. In front of them are hundreds of cyclists labouring up this huge mountain. A stage of the Tour it isn’t, but the locals know their cycling, they know what you have been through, they know how hard La Marmotte is and they respect you for the pain and suffering you are going through.

Climbing the Alpe

Sean Yates, an ex professional and now a directeur sportif at Team Sky, once said, "Alpe d'Huez maybe legendary, but it isn't actually that hard". Well I must be on the wrong mountain. Each hairpin offers the briefest respite from the relentlessly steep gradient and it was an opportunity to drink some of the water that was getting ever warmer under the searingly hot sun. I get some further encouragement from more spectators and briefly surge forward to put on a bit of a show and they would reciprocate by cheering even louder. But soon enough the gradient kicks in and the speed quickly recedes as I aim for the next hairpin. Despite the amount of cyclists on the road the banter and chit chat of the Glandon and Telegraphe had long since disappeared. In fact that went 1km into the climb of the Galibier. Apart from the people lining the side of the road on parts of the climb everyone is silent, suffering in their personal purgatory. I'm surrounded by other cyclists but this is now a very lonely place, no one else can help me get to the top. It is my legs, my heart, my lungs and above all my head. The will to keep going, to believe this will be over at some point. It cannot go on for ever although with one, two, three, six hairpins in I wasn't  so sure.

Bourg d'Oisan

Fausto Coppi - Alpe d'Huez 1952

By hairpin 14 I had been climbing for 25 minutes, far longer than any hill in Kent. Down below is a spectacular view of Bourg d’Oisan but it barely registered, instead I looked up at what still laid ahead. It was not a pleasant sight. The lactic acid filled my legs, my thighs felt like they had been hollowed out and my body was now just aching from being in the saddle for almost seven and a half hours. My body was reaching its limit so it was down to my head to keep me going. It was a battle but if I gave in mentally I’d be walking up the Alpe rather than cycling. All the hours and miles of training back home were to cycle these iconic mountains and I was not going to stop on the most mythical of them all. From the legendary Fausto Coppi in 1952 to the great Colombian climber Luis Herrera, to the controversial Lance Armstrong and to the mercurial Marco Pantani, Alpe d’Huez has been the arena for some of the greatest battles and stage wins in professional cycling. Like securing a major in golf, or a grand slam event in tennis, if you secure a stage win on Alpe d’Huez your life as a professional cyclist changes for ever. Watching stage finishes on Alpe d’Huez is part why I love the sport of cycling and is the main reason why I was here.

Between hairpin and 11 and 10 I was just about halfway but again, like on the Galibier I looked up and I couldn't quite believe where I was headed. In front is just the sheer face of the mountain side and it is a wonder how they have cut a road into it. It is hard to take in, but again, there are points where I can look down to where I have been and see the line of cyclists making their way up the Alpe. Added to the steepness and length, the other problem with Alpe d’Huez is that when the sun is out there is barely any shade and very little breeze; you just cook on the side of the mountain. I like the heat, and I like cycling in the heat but past halfway I was willing the small clouds to cover the su n and give me some respite. At hairpin 7, “Dutch corner”, the event organisers had set up a water stop and it was sorely needed. I didn’t want to get off as I just wanted to keep my rhythm going. I took one cup off one of the volunteers on the move and threw it over my head. The next volunteer slightly further up the road didn’t even wait for me to take the cup off him, he just chucked the water in my face. It was cold and initially a shock but after a few pedal strokes it was relief just to have the cold water dripping down my head and back.

View nearing the summit

The relief didn’t last and before long I was cooking back in the Alpe d’Huez oven as I was before Dutch Corner. After hairpin 5 I knew I was much nearer the top than the bottom. An hour of climbing had passed and my altimeter was reading 1450m. I did the maths in my head, the climb started at 750m; it finishes at 1850m, so 700m done, 400m to go. It all helps. A local climb I regularly ride in Kent, Toys Hill, rises 100m in altitude so I started to use this as way to mentally tackle the last few miles to the top. 400m of vertical climbing, that is four Toys Hills. 300m, that is three and so on. Problem is when I cycle Toys Hill I never feel quite as bad as I was feeling on the Alpe. Even though I was inside the last 25% of the climb, stretches between hairpins can be so long, so much so that I just looked down and let them come to me rather than looking ahead to the corner which seems like it isn’t getting any closer. But the finish was near.

Col du Galibier

The Col du Galibier ,"the Cathedral of the Alps", is simply brutal. It is long, it is steep and it is exposed to the elements. It may “only” average just under 7% but that takes into account that the first few miles average closer to 5%. What this means is the longer the climb goes the trend is for the road to steepen. Added to this the road starts to head skywards immediately on leaving Valloire, however these lower slopes are not categorised as part of the mountain. The first part of the climb is a long road occasionally winding for about 7km and our tour guide had mentioned he had only ridden with a tail wind on three occasions at the most. His knowledge was invaluable as it helped me prepare for  what was coming as if I knew the road myself. However, once the wind hits and the road started to rise steadily upwards I knew I was in for a long, hard battle.

Col du Galibier - profile

Although I was suffering and concentrating on turning the pedals as fluidly as possible, it is impossible not to marvel at the beauty and sheer scale of the Galibier. It is truly an awesome place, and to be on bike makes you appreciate it all the more. You are tremendously small and insignificant in the face of what nature has created. In the valleys there are boulders which have fallen from upon high which are the size of buildings, neighbouring peaks permanently covered by huge glaciers and ahead a road which meanders to a summit topping out at over 2600m. It is almost intimidating. It was at the Galibier that it really started to sink in how hard La Marmotte is, the bike slows, my legs started to feel the increasing burn as I continued to turn my smallest gear as fast as possible. With about 7km to the summit the Galibier starts to really pitch up and I began to rise extremely quickly even though my speed was  anywhere between 5 and 7mph. At times you can look up and see where you're headed and the mental battle becomes even tougher in the realisation there is still plenty of road ahead before reaching the summit. Psychologically it almost becomes unbearable to look skywards. It started to grate, as after each hairpin you turn brings yet more road into view. I started to wonder how I would make it. Even with just 2km to go, the summit looks so high as if it is more like 5km away and I did the calculations in my head that to rise that high that quickly means only one thing. The road is going to be very steep.

Lower slopes

From 6km to the top the gradient averages over 8% with sections ramping up to 13%. It is almost a case of survival. Cyclists by this point are littered at the side of the road, resting, stretching out cramp, trying to relieve exhaustion. This sport really finds out us mortals compared to the super humans who compete on these slopes for a living. And then my own crisis hits as between 5 and 3km I went through the most horrible time as I started to cramp on the inside of both of my thighs. I didn’t want to stop, not only would I feel I’m cheating myself  it would be very difficult to get the legs going again on such a difficult climb. However, if the cramp continued I was thinking I would have no option. At 4km I was in agony and my only option was to stand on the pedals, out of the saddle in an attempt to stretch out the contracting muscles causing me such agony. Added to this I was now at over 2000m where the air is thin and the fewer red blood cells do not serve the muscles as efficiently as they do nearer sea level. The kilometres tick by so slowly and between 5 and 3km I was in all sorts of difficulty but eventually, my continued rising out the saddle to stretch my legs had the desired effect and I started to find my tempo again and began to tap it out in more comfort.

As I got nearer the summit instead of looking continuously up I began to look down and what a sight. Thousands of cyclists snaking their way towards the summit of this giant mountain. It provided great motivation. As much as this is a physical challenge it is a mental one in equal measure and every little thing you can do to help get over these hurdles you grab. Looking at line of cyclists on the hairpins below and stretching out for miles into the valley I thought “I’ve been there, I’ve done that, I don’t have to do it again”. Just seeing the sheer distance I had pedalled was almost unbelievable. With 2km I rarely looked up from the front wheel, watching the logos on the side of my tyres go round and round. Five minutes and I’ll see how close I am, then another five. With 500m to go and the altimeter reading over 2500m I now know I'm going to make it. The summit appears and from somewhere I found that little extra motivation to push towards the top yearning for the descent and the opportunity to rest the legs. One hour and forty five minutes and the Galibier had been summited.

Galibier descent

At the summit the snow lies at the side of the road as the temperature rarely rises above 5c. Quickly you cool down and after a quick photo of the Galibier sign with its altitude of 2642m written in bold black text I pulled up my arm warmers, put on my lightweight windproof jacket and started the 8km descent to the junction with the Col du Lautaret. The surface of the descent is not perfect an on the way down I hit a couple of hard bumps in the road, enough to cause a blowout if unlucky or even buckling the wheel rim. Our tour operator had set up a feed stop at the Galibier/Lautaret junction so we didn’t need to use the one positioned at the summit where space is at a premium. Coke, biscuits, meat, sandwiches. Again, all welcome breaks from the energy products sloshing around in my stomach. After the feed was a long, wide, sweeping descent of the Lautaret with plenty of opportunity to reach speeds in excess of 45mph. Caution is needed through some of the tunnels where the notorious bad lighting makes negotiating them safely trickier than it should be. With only a few rises, the road to Bourg d’Oisan and the foot of Alpe d’Huez is almost all downhill. It provides 55 minutes for the legs to recover as much as possible in preparation for the final ascent towards the finish.

The last section to the foot of  Alpe d'Huez is a long flat section of about 3km. While rolling along it was here I took the opportunity to stretch my back, pulling my feet from the pedals and stretching my legs up my back. In fact just about everything I could stretch I did knowing my body would be hunched in the same position for well over an hour pedalling towards the summit of the Alpe. Eventually I come to a roundabout and if you watch the Tour de France regularly you know it well, almost like you ride it every year. You swing right and images of the peloton speeding towards the first bend enter my head as they look to attack the climb from the bottom at such high speeds in order to break the race up and rivals look to crack each other at the earliest opportunity. A section of about 300m takes you up to the first ramp, you turn left and then look up and what faces you is a road that looks more like a wall.

Col du Telegraphe

Col du Telegraphe - profile

The Col du Telegraphe is considered the easiest of the four climbs of La Marmotte. First, because it is the shortest; and second because it comes relatively early into the ride at approximately 60km. However, easy in La Marmotte is only relative, the ascent rises to 1500m and consists of 900m of vertical climbing over 12km at nearly a 8% average gradient. Added to this, attacking the climb in 30c heat and with two bidons both less than a quarter full makes the climb a lot harder. After missing the last water stop just before the start of the climb at Saint Michel de Maurienne, panic started to set in. Not being able to hydrate properly really started to play on my mind and that this misjudgement could have hugely negative consequences for the miles to come. Getting over the Telegraphe wouldn't be a problem but dehydrating and not recovering was extremely worrying considering there were two huge climbs still to negotiate and miles of riding along hot valley roads. The Telegraphe is surrounded by lush green trees but they didn’t seem to help shield the swarm of cyclists from what was now an unrelenting sun. If anything the trees combined with the light coloured road surface seemed to trap the heat and created an oven like affect. This only added to my anxiety but fortunately at 3km in to the climb there was a water stand and I filled both of my bidons to the brim. Like a switch in my head the anxiety was  gone and I picked up my pace to something which was comfortable but at the same time pushing hard enough that my legs could feel a slight burn. It felt good and with the total ride time just over four hours as I approached the summit the day to this point had gone well. I wasn’t in difficulty and my pace was higher than I had expected. Knowing there was a feed stop before the climb of the Galibier I decided to miss the water stop at the summit and dropped down the 4km into Valloire which sits between the two mountains.

Acent of the Col du Telegraphe

The problem with a 4km descent is that recovery time is short. No sooner had I descended into Valloire the road started to rise again towards the Galibier. In fact the descent is so short that sometimes in the Tour de France they classify the Telegraphe and Galibier as one mountain. Our tour guide had told us that missing the feed in Valloire would be the biggest mistake of the ride. The Col du Galibier attacked from the Valloire side is amongst the hardest ascents in world cycling and doing it without refuelling and having no water on board would just about bring an end to the ride. He also mentioned that the feed, although documented on the map as being in Valloire is just outside the town. So you need to cycle through and then it will be visible. The problem was I cycled through and there was no sign of the feed stop. Again, worry started to set in. It is very hot, I know what lays ahead and I know I have very little water on board. I started to think whether I had missed the feed and was almost tempted to turn back, but surely I would have seen hundreds of Lycra clad cyclists milling around filling up their bidons and grabbing fistfuls of food. As I continued to ascend there was still no sign and I really began to believe I had somehow cycled past. And then, as I was about to ask someone I see the sign “Ravitaillement – 1km”. I got to the feed, filled up with water adding energy drink sachets to both bidons in view of what was ahead. I also ate some proper food rather than the endless energy products I had been forcing down. Bread, ham, fruit were all a very welcome change. A quick spin up the road and a brief stop for a "comfort break" and all that lay in wait was the mighty Col du Galibier.

Col du Glandon

Col du Glandon - profile

At almost a 5.0% average gradient the Col du Glandon doesn’t appear on paper a difficult climb except at two points it descends for almost 4km combined. Not only does this skew the average it also does two things. Critical to any long climb is finding a tempo and just tapping that out at a comfortable heart rate to ensure you don’t go into the “red zone” and expend too much energy unnecessarily. A descent in the middle of a long climb can affect this tempo or rhythm. It also means you are losing altitude and what that means is you will need to recover that height gain which has been lost all over again, thus adding to the difficulty. A positive aspect about the Glandon ascent is that it comes early in La Marmotte and at a point in the day where the sun is only just peeking out from behind the neighbouring snow-capped peaks, thus the mountain side stays relatively cool. Another aspect of the Glandon ascent, which starts with barely 15km on the clock, is that there is still a huge amount of cyclists in close proximity as the field is yet to thin out. As such it is always tempting to get carried away and try to follower faster wheels but the important thing is to ride within yourself and - to use a very well worn cliche - ride your own race. Fortunately a cyclist from my tour party was at a similar standard to me and I used him as a gauge and vice versa. The Col du Glandon is hard; make no mistake. Any climb where you are going uphill for 24km – barring two small descents – is going to take effect later in the day. You don’t feel it at the time but if you go too hard it will undoubtedly catch up with you later in the ride.

Lower slopes

The Glandon is a beautiful climb as well. The French being the forerunners in hydro-electric power have built huge dams flooding the valley basins with the deep turquoise waters synonymous with the Dauphine and Rhone Alps. Sweeping mountain sides with vultures circling above on the early morning thermals. There sometimes aren't any words to describe what is in front of you, it is just stunning scenery. The summit is at over 1900m and the views across the Alps are something to behold and on any other day the camera would have been whipped out recording the spectacular panorama. However, with the clock ticking unfortunately there is not much time to enjoy the views as the summit is also the point of the first feed stop of the day.  As the field is still yet to thin out the feed zone is complete chaos. Cyclists everywhere trying to get hold of water, bananas and anything else on offer. It can get frustrating but to miss a feed would be a huge error, this will be a long hot day and the hard miles are to come.

Glandon descent

Fortunately my pockets are still stuffed with energy bars and gels so water is what I need and what I get. With both bidons full and my hands sticky from the energy drink powder I had mixed into one of my bidons I started the descent from the summit of the Glandon. Wow. Steep, fast and technical. The first few miles are just a succession of short sharp ramps into tight hairpins. The worst thing to do is to keep feathering the brakes heating up the rims and risking a tyre blowout. Pick up speed, find you line and slam the bike into the corner braking hard and then release and do it again and again, at times hitting 40mph. As the descent meanders towards the valley road it becomes less technical and I can throw the bike into corners with more confidence whilst always being careful to gauge my line and speed. Seeing the aftermath of three accidents on the first descent of the day just reinforces how dangerous the sport of cycling is, travelling at anything up to 55mph on 23mm tyres with nothing but Lycra on. If you crash it doesn’t really bare thinking about. A bike lodged into a verge, a cyclist being stretchered into an ambulance and another who had gone over the side of the mountain all rammed it home that one mistake could have horrible consequences.

An alpine descent is fun, but it also hurts. Your arms are locked into position on the drops for anything up to 30 minutes, your neck starts to ache and your legs start to tingle with pins and needles. It is important to keep pedalling when you can just to keep the blood flowing and keep some sense of feeling from the top of your thigh to the end of your toes. While not as hard as climbing, descending also requires a degree of strength and skill to negotiate dropping to earth as fast as you can. By the time I had reached the valley road I had lost my climbing partner and I began the ride along the long flat road towards the second mountain of the day, the Col du Telegraphe. It is a long, hot, and not particularly pleasant stretch of main road dissecting the mountains either side of it. Our tour guide had said whatever you do, do not ride this section alone otherwise your legs will suffer later, if not on the Telegraphe then most certainly on the Col du Galibier.

The section faces into a stiff headwind so getting into a group is critical. At times I found myself towing two, three, four or more people. I sit up, let another group come through and attach onto the back wheel of the last cyclist. A rider throws his arms in the air when people refuse to come through and work, it is all good fun. Lets be honest we’re all enjoying the fleeting moment of riding like our heroes in the professional peloton. The arguments, the flicking of the elbows to get someone to come through and work on the front, the Gallic shrugs; “come through? I don’t know what you’re talking about”. The benefits of riding in a group are obvious. From labouring at 23mph on a pan flat road I'm now getting swept along at 30-33mph. It is a great feeling, almost like you are being sucked down the road. By the time I had reached the foot of the Col du Telegraphe my group had swelled to over 100 riders. We had formed our own peloton. The only problem with this from a personal perspective was I got caught on the wrong side of the road to get across to the water stop at Saint Michel de Maurienne before the climb of the Telegraphe. I had a small amount of water, a 12km climb ahead and the air temperature which was now reading 30c on my computer.

Preparation and relaxation

After reaching our chalet at the top of Alpe d’Huez and meeting some of the other members of the tour group I was staying with, I unpacked my bike, re-built and fettled with it and pondered what the best preparation for Saturday was. Eventually I decided an ascent of Alpe d’Huez was worthwhile. Being Thursday I had a full day on Friday to recover if my legs felt a bit tired after completing the climb. Although I had climbed Alpe d’Huez a number of times in 2011 it had been a year and I needed to reacquaint myself with the mountain to make sure I knew what was coming 100 miles into La Marmotte on Saturday.

Alpe d'Huez - July 5th

14 km to the summit

Alpe d’Huez is characterised by its legendary 21 hairpins, each named after a stage winner on its famous slopes, but it is the first two miles of the climb which are important to any cyclist because the gradient rarely dips below 10%. This is hard attacking the climb fresh, but after 100 miles I could only imagine how hard this was going to be. After reaching the foot of mountain and having a nagging sense of regret that I was at the bottom rather than the top I started the climb, eight miles and over 1100m vertical metres to the summit at 1860m. Immediately it was harder than I remembered and straight away my heart rate shot up to 185bpm and panic set in. “If I feel like this on one climb how the hell am I going to be able to do four in one day?!” After about two miles in I started to settle down and find a tempo and controlled my heart rate. I reached the summit in just over an hour, not bad after a 4:30am start to the day and a day of travelling. At the top I knew I had done the right thing. I had a picture in my mind of the mountain, the steep sections, the longer drags between hairpins and the overall distance. Eight miles up a mountain feels more like twenty in your head. Mentally I knew this would be tough come Saturday.

Peter Sagan winning stage 6 of the 2012 Tour de France

Friday consisted of a short ten mile ride to do no more than keep the legs spinning. There are plenty of side roads off Alpe d’Huez and they serve up spectacular views and fantastic cycling and on any other day it would have been great to explore further. Buying some new kit was inevitable and watching stage 6 of the Tour de France in the afternoon in the chalet’s TV room with about 25 other cycling fans atop Alpe d’Huez was a great way to wind down and prepare. To be honest, it doesn’t get much better. Friday night consisted of having a large dinner including plenty of carbs and protein. Conversation didn’t deviate from what we were embarking on the next day and nervousness permeated throughout the chalet like a bad smell. Saturday morning at 4:45am I was showered and kitted up and by 5:15am most of the people staying in the chalet were around the breakfast table eating anything from porridge to pasta. My breakfast consisted of a bowl of pasta two bananas, two croissants, cereal, a yogurt, orange juice and two black coffees.  At barely 5am it is hard to eat anything, but shoving down food for no other reason but to store and provide energy for later is especially tough but undoubtedly necessary. I had decided on the amount of energy bars and gels I would need for the ride factoring in the feed stops on route and packed them into my jersey pockets. After a final check that the bike was in working order I put on my long sleeve jersey for the chilly early morning descent of Alpe d’Huez and by 6:15 we were heading down the mountain into Bourg d’Oisan for the start.

La Marmotte start

Our tour operator parked at the bottom of Alpe d’Huez so people could ditch any cold weather gear needed for the descent. After a brief final chat a few of us headed off to the holding pens each consisting of up to 2000 cyclists, totalling 7000 in all. I was quiet just thinking about the ride and what lay ahead. Others chatted but the nervous tension was obvious, so much so that riders were frequently diving off into bushes and side alleys to answer one last call of nature. The role out took place at 7:30 and the first 30 minutes was a flat section in which the key thing was to find a group and get pulled along to save the legs. With 2000 cyclists rolling out at the same time this wasn’t hard to do. After a short climb over an impressive dam there was a slight descent and then we hit the first climb of the day, the Col du Glandon.

The decision to ride La Marmotte

Philippe Gilbert - Alpe d'Huez 2011 

In 2011 I saw the Tour live in the Alps for the first time with my good friends Tim Mackrill and Chris Mounsey. Although I had been watching the Tour for years on television, seeing the likes of Alberto Contador, Andy Schleck and Cadel Evans flying up some of the most legendary mountain passes in professional cycling was simply breath taking. To witness first-hand the suffering cyclists put their bodies through, to see their sunken eyes up close, their gaunt faces characterised by concave cheeks due to the weight loss over three weeks of brutal racing was almost overwhelming.

After returning home after the 2011 race, Tim, Chris and I had decided the next time we would visit the Tour would be in 2013 for the 100^th edition. However, cycling is mightily addictive and I wanted to return to the Alps in 2012 to do something which would enable me to experience in some part what I had watched my heroes do for years. I have ridden many sportives in England in excess of 100 miles over difficult routes but nothing to rival cycling in the Alps or Pyrenees. One cycling event stands out in Europe above all others, La Marmotte. Widely considered to be the most difficult single day amateur cyclo-sportive in the world. With over 5000 metres of vertical climbing and summiting four of the biggest mountains used in the Tour de France it is not difficult to understand why.

Kidds Hill, Kent - Jan 2012

So in October 2011 I entered La Marmotte and with it committing myself to training longer and harder than ever before. It meant no ducking out of the cold hard months of winter training where the muscles never seem quite warm enough to function properly and where the icy winds hit your face as if someone is rubbing it with sandpaper. There were days I would never have gone out on the bike if it wasn’t for the fact I had signed up to La Marmotte. Temperatures touching 2c, light snow at times and lots and lots of cold head winds. The wettest spring and summer I can ever remember did not help either, but when you are going to be cycling over mountains where you will be pedalling up-hill for anything up to one hour and thirty minutes there is no choice. You simply have to train.

Dartmoor Classic - June 2012

In late June I completed the 106 mile Dartmoor Classic cyclo-sportive in just over 6:30 knocking over half hour off my previous best time. I knew I was in good shape and the time confirmed that I had put in as much training as I could before heading to France. And so with 1000s of miles in the legs since October I headed to France confident I would be ok. I would get round. I didn’t have a time in mind but for the 30-39 age bracket the silver time was 9:47 which seemed a reasonable target. I arrived in France on Thursday July 5^th having ridden my last training ride on the Saturday before. Seventy five miles as hard as I could and one last chance to try and somehow replicate the suffering I was likely to go through in the Alps. As Kent’s longest climb is barely two miles long this is pretty hard to do. Actually it is impossible, but you have to make the best of it.

Discovering Le Tour

Greg LeMond - 1989 Final TT

As a child it was inevitable that I would get into sport. My dad has always been a keen and able sportsman throughout his life and I spent hours and hours of my childhood with him playing football, rugby, tennis, cricket, and of course riding our bikes. But it was as an eight year old I vividly remember sitting in front of my parents 15” JVC TV watching the final stage of the 1989 Tour de France which was an individual time trial finishing on the Champs Elysees. It was the year the Tour was decided by eight seconds. The American Greg LeMond beating the darling of France, Laurent Fignon, in one of the most dramatic finishes in race's long and illustrious history (the closest margin of victory to date). Fignon, wearing the Maillot Jaune had 50 seconds in hand on his rival and was favourite to add to his titles of 1983 and 1984. However, LeMond, using his – for the time – controversial and revolutionary tri bars on his time trial bike averaged over 34mph over a 15 mile course and stormed to victory taking 58 seconds out of Fignon and securing his second Maillot Jaune.

Laurent Fignon - 1989, Final TT

I remember the the grainy images of Fignon, with his body hunched over his bars, his blonde ponytail flailing in the wind and his bespectacled face contorted with pain as he propelled his bike towards the finish line in the desire to keep the golden fleece. The crackling live feed in which the voices of Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen gradually becoming more animated in the realisation they were witnessing one of the most dramatic finishes in Tour de France history. It was truly special and it stuck with me. The joy and glory for LeMond, the heartbreak and despair for Fignon, the magnificence and beauty of the event. As an eight year old I didn’t understand the sport as I do now and over time I learnt about the history, the intricacies, the tactics, the science and most of all the pain and suffering. However, I was old enough to understand that two supreme athletes were pushing their bodies to the limit to achieve a childhood dream. I had discovered my first cycling hero in Laurent Fignon and more importantly I had found a sport and a race that was brutal yet beautiful and had a romance for which no other sport could match. It was Le Tour, a special three weeks every July.

From then on the start of summer meant two things. The first was being able to play endless matches of football with my friends at the park at the end of our road.  More importantly it meant the start of the Tour de France was only weeks away and I would get to watch the half hour highlights package Channel 4 provided throughout the 1990s before the wall-to-wall coverage provided by Eurosport and now also ITV. As I got older I started to watch the two other three week grand tours, the Giro d’Italia and Vuelta a Espana and then the one day spring classics, such as Paris-Roubaix, the Tour of Flanders, Liege-Bastogne-Liege and many more beside. But it was the Tour de France, the biggest and most beautiful race in cycling which hooked me and it is still the one race that I and many other cycling fans look forward to more than any other.