The day started at 3:50am when my alarm went off. Truthfully, I was not really sleeping but dozing, flipping in and out of consciousness, obsessing that I was going to miss the bus to the start. That 3:50am cell alarm just allowed me to get up from that not sleeping state I am always in before a race.
I had laid out my cloths and gear the night before and began to dress quietly in the dark as to not wake Ruth. I had decided to carry enough supplies in my jersey pockets to last me to the second water stop, in case I missed the first stop, as recommended by others that have done previous ETapes. I put on the blue and yellow VQ kit and packed the back pockets with powdered drink mix, 3 GU packets, 2 air cartridges, a course guide, my cell phone (required by Ruth so I could call for help), 20 euros (may have to buy water), extra Nuun, Saltstick and a partridge in a pear tree. I dumped the extra tube and the extra water bottle because I was just carrying too much weight. Also I did not want to wear a vest to ward off the early morning chill so I brought newspaper that I was going to stuff inside my shirt to add another layer of insulation in the starting pens.
I had been pretty sick for the 2 days before the ETape with an upset stomach and the runs. The change in climate and time zones were had been doing a number on me. I dipped heavily into our stash of Imodium and Pepto and I had been pushing fluids in an effort to flush out whatever was attacking my system. The good news was on ETape Day I was not nervous just nauseous and I was hoping my calmness would chase the runs away. I was only semi-successful in feeling 100% and went down to breakfast with the mantra “nothing new.” Breakfast consisted of white toast and Nutella; it tasted delicious.
4:30am, and it was time to load the coach-bus. The bike trailer that came the day before had no way to secure the bikes so we packed the 16 of us and our bikes on the bus and took off for the start. It was quite a sight; each row was sitting a bike or 2 guys fully dressed with helmets on. On the way we saw other groups heading to the start. My goal during the 50mn ride was to rest and not try not to stress about French traffic. Earlier in the week Ruth and I had driven through Lyon. The traffic was so bad it took 3 hours to drive 10 miles. Several other times traffic would just stop on the highway for no apparent reason. It seems the French are worse rubberneckers than the Americans.
Fortunately the traffic was light considering that 9,500, mostly amateur, riders were descending on a town of 35,000 to start the 20th leg of the Tour de France. ETape Day is a local holiday in France. The course is closed, meaning only official vehicles (mostly motorcycles), are allowed on the route. The streets are narrow so the locals just hang and watch the show. Once we left the highway it was a short drive into town. We found our parking spot, reassembled our bikes, I lined my chest with newspaper, mounted up and departed for the starting pens.
Once I was riding my nervousness ebbed. I was a lot calmer because the day had started and I was doing something very familiar, I was riding. We had a quick ride to the gates where we were sorted by our race numbers. There were 7 pens each holding about 1250 riders. My pen was about half full. We rolled in and then waited, we were about an hour early.
Being in the starting pens can be fun but is mostly boring. I was able to scout out the others riders, watch people run off to pee, and see what everyone else was using for nutrition and hydration. One French rider caught my eye. He had long frizzy blond hair, a killer handlebar frizzy mustache and unique nutritional supplements. He had divided a bagget into 5 equal parts and stuffed them into his rear pockets. No need for all those expensive goos and gels-- just bring a loaf of bread. (On the other hand the guy looked like a killer rider.) I am going to suggest to Robbie that he dump all the goos and put in a bread store in the HP location.
Finally the start sounded and we were off. OK we were not off. I was in the 5th pen and there were 3000 riders ahead of me so we just sat there and looked at our navels. I was psyched, my illness forgotten and I was ready to roll. After about 10mn we could see the people ahead of us moving. 5mn later we could mount our bikes a ride.
The ETape had finally begun. 20,000+ feet of the climbing 15,000+ feet of descending with the finish on the legendary Mt. Ventoux, the most feared climb in France, all wrapped in a 90°+ package. The early part of the ride was calm. Everyone was focused on riding and not crashing. Spectators lined the streets and cheered as we passed. I was totally excited and pumped, what a great way to ride.
The beginning of the ride was one of the most enjoyable experiences I have had on a bike. The town’s folk came out to cheer on the riders. If you said merci or acknowledged their presence you got more cheers. The scenery was awesome and included tiny medieval towns, ancient castles, panoramic views of the countryside, purple fields of lavender and bikers as far as the eye could see both in front and behind me. The first climbs were not difficult-- just long 3-5% climbs. One the way up you could see a 3K line of riders snaking up the mountain. At the top you could see and smell the fields of lavender and the surrounding countryside. It was glorious.
Descending the mountains was dangerous because of the large number of riders and the aggressiveness of some of the other cyclists. Just after the 1st climb we bunched up and came to a stop. A rider was down having crashed on the descent. While I did not see the crash I am sure it was caused by the more skilled riders who would bomb down the mountain brushing by you and you had better get out of the way or you were going to crash. Several times riders came so close to me I felt their front tire on my legs. I would calmly steer away and yell, but riding defensively was the way to go.
The ETape can be boiled down into 3 experiences; the water stops, the ride to Ventoux and Ventoux. There were 3 official water stops plus we had 2 club stops where I stored my critical supplies of extra Carbopro, Gu, tubes, air and my secret weapon, Oreos, pure sugar in a chocolate wrapper. I was carrying enough food and Gu to last 6 hours. I expected to finish the ride in 9+ hours so I had to find a least one club stop. I had marked the stops and the kms on my cue sheet so when I was tired and not thinking terribly straight I could just look at the distances and know where I had to go.
The first club stop was just after a descent and I blew by it. I went by at about 25mph and my brain said, “hey you just blew a food drop,” but the body said push on. The 1st official water stop was 20k later and I was set so off I went. When I got to the stop I needed water. This is what I saw empty plastic water bottles and people everywhere. I could not see the water tables so I found a place to lean my bike and went into the water scrum. I elbowed my way to the table and grabbed 5 small bottles not knowing how many bottles I needed to refill my supplies. There was an Aussie rider beside me and we talked as we drank, mixed our drinks and took electrolytes. It turned out I only needed 4 bottles, 3 for refills and 1 to be carried so I could dump it on my head for cooling. I traded my extra bottle for a banana that I tucked in my jersey and off I went. Total stop time about 10mn.
After refueling, the ride became more congenial and less congested. I had time to look at the other participants. There were several para-riders, people wearing funky things on their helmets like feathers, tandems and groups of riders hanging together. I was able to draft behind a tandem for at least an hour. I remembered Robbie saying that tandems punch a big hole in the air. I jealously guarded my wheel position and did not let anyone get in front even when they motioned to be let in the groupetto. “Hey, I don’t speak French, sorry buddy. “
It was fun to watch the groups of riders. The one group I saw most often was dressed in a total white kit and did everything together. They pace lined, waited for their buddies after a climb and even peed together. It was quite a site.
I also noticed there were a ton of bike makes that I had never seen before. There was Time, a French bike, Trek, Cannondale and I even saw a Litespeed. There were also a ton of Cubes and other makes I had never seen before. The bikes looked the same, mostly carbon, but had exotic names.
Most riders were riding road bikes with climbing wheel-sets. However there were some exceptions. The most notable were: the woman on a mountain bike, she was fast and passed me on a climb; the person riding a time trial bike with a disc rear wheel, that guy was struggling up every climb; and the people who had the deep racing wheels like Zipp 404s or cosmic carbons, those people were fighting to stay erect in the strong cross-wind.
Because I missed the first club refueling stop I had to make the second. It was at the 141.2 km mark or in the area just before Ventoux. By the time I hit the stop I was hot, tired and hungry. Thankfully my group was easy to spot and I stopped to refuel. However, the people manning the stop were only semi-organized and it took time to find my pre-packed goodie bag. It had been sitting in direct sunlight at 95°+ heat for a few hours and most everything in my musette was hot and melted. In 10mn I was able to slam a coke, mix my bottles, soak my head in ice, eat 1 Oreo and take off. Unfortunately my secret weapon, the Oreos, were too dry to eat.
I had taken about 30mn in stops total up till then and I wanted to push on because Ventoux was looming. After the stop it was a short downhill ride through a beautiful town. The town was packed with spectators cheering, yelling and sitting in café’s drinking. It looked like a great way to watch a race. Up until now the heat had been manageable. Then, I turned a sharp corner and crossed the timing mats indicating the climb had begun. (The race rules required riders to hit the base of Ventoux by 3:30pm or they wouldn’t be counted as finishers.) As I made the turn I noticed the heat; I wasn’t even thinking that I had made the qualifying time. It was about starting the Ventoux climb.
The first 3ks of Mt. Ventoux are very deceiving. They are not very steep, about 3-5% grade and you can’t really see what is coming. After those relatively easy ks the real climb begins. A relentless 19K climb at an average grade of 7.5% with pitches as steep as 12%. After I entered the 10k forest leg of the climb I noticed the mood of the ride drastically changed. It was desperately hot during the forest ascent, there was very little shade and no hiding from the climb. No one was talking. There were riders littered everywhere. Some cyclists were walking up, others were passed out on the side, and still others were throwing-up beside the road. I polled the riders in my group and we feel that 25% of the riders cracked on Ventoux and had to walk up. At least 5% were laying beside the road and could not even move. There was no first aid there was just Ventoux.
The heat in the forest was oppressive. When I took out my other secret weapon, a cold bottle of water. I poured it on my head in the hope of cooling myself off. However the water was hot. No relief there. I just kept climbing one pedal stroke at a time, riding Ventoux like walking up stairs.
My average speed uphill was 5mph. There were times when I looked down at my speedometer and found that I was going 5k an hour or 3mph. I did not even know that a bike could go that slow and stay upright. I had hoped to do the final ascent in 2 hours so I would not have to refuel, but it was going to take longer. There was a water stop at the final 6k mark, and I knew I would need to stop 1 more time.
Unfortunately the stop had run out of water. But there was a huge bar with a mob scene of riders sitting around drinking beers and I calmly fought my way inside. I felt like I was in the scene from Blues Brothers when the cops are surrounding City Hall and Jake and Elwood are serenely riding the elevator. It was pure chaos outside with cyclists scrounging for water so they could continue. Inside people were calmly cued up paying for beers, water or whatever. That stop cost me 20mn.
I grabbed my water and mounted up: 6k to go and the steepest yet to come. Push, push I told myself. I made agonizingly slow progress up Ventoux. I tried dancing on the pedals but I did not have enough energy to stand up. I sat back don and slowly climbed past the spectators sitting by their RV’s and the riders walking up the mountain.
The top 6k of Ventoux is a barren wasteland that looks like the moon. There is nothing there just the weather station and lots and lots of white rocks. Campers were already lining the race route waiting for the pros on Saturday. I just pushed on. 5-7k an hour and up I went. At the 2k to go point I passed a guy changing a flat. How depressing is that? I could see the top but could not see the finish line. It was too high above me.
Finally I summoned the energy, from where I don’t know, and finished. There is no ribbon at the finish, just an electronic beep registering my time. But the Ride is the Thing. I finished. I was very excited and satisfied with the accomplishment. I rolled past the timers and went to the rim of Ventoux to watch the other riders make their tortuous assent.
I finished the ride in 9 hours 50mn. The official cut off time was 10 hours 30mn. I could have ridden faster but halfway through the ride my goal shifted from time only to include, enjoy the journey. The ETape was an epic experience. I learned to trust my coaches, my training and myself. ETape also was a group effort and Joe Wroble, Harry Bliss, Robbie V, my VQ buddies and my wife all get a huge assist. I could not have done the ride without them. Thanks to you all for your help and encouragement.
