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!