Friday 2 September 2011
Next Year ?
The obvious question isn't it ?
The instant answer is "No."
the more considered answer from the comfort of my desk is "Still No."
Riding the Etape is a big deal. It takes a lot of training, a lot of time and ultimately a lot of money.
The experience was good, but I can think of better things to spend the money on. With a bit of sponsorship I raised about £750 for the Teenage Cancer Trust, so that is something to he proud of. But on the other hand, if I had just sat at home and watched TV for 4 days and not spent money on hotels or fuel or Tolls or food etc.... then I could have donated twice that.
One of the first pieces of advice I got was to go and get a place on an organised tour. They seemd very pricey, but Mick assured me they were the best way to do it. As the family wanted to come it was not really an option, but he was right, there is no easy way to do this on the cheap. I guess travelling down in one go, avoiding the Peage and camping down there for a couple of days would be better. Making it into the family summer holiday would have been the best option, but it didn't fall in with school holidays, so not really an option.
I can see why people think the etape is amazing, but it is not for me. I love the mountains and I love my bike and I would love to go back and ride the big mountain passes again, but just for the fun of it.
Looking back at the Etape.
It has been a couple of months since the Etape and I'm back home, back at work and back to "normal" life. Looking back, I still have some very mixed feelings about the Etape. There were some good times, but the overriding feeling is of failure. It never occurred to me that I wouldn't finish, so elimination came as a big surprise. I expected to be near the back of the field, not that far back. I still don't quite know where all the time went, and annoyingly I don't have any data logging to study to see what I did. the race video and timing gates don't tell me anything; as I didn't finish they don't display any times.
I think I probably spent too long stationary, at feed stations and water stops, and then at every bit of shade I could find going up the last climb. Wile I was moving I was still climbing at the 10+ kph I had budgeted for. I think I was probably much slower than I wanted on the decents. Partly because the tops were much narrower and scarier than I expected and partly because when I got down to the long wide bits I was on my own.
I was feeling pretty good coming over the Galibier. Yes, it was hurting, but I was hydrated and fuelled, and moving along in a reasonable bunch at a reasonable speed. Ultimately, by the time I got to bottom of the Alpe d'Huez climb, I was getting too hot and that is was killed me off. I was starting to have all sorts of weird thoughts: I was obsessing about needing a towel to dry my face, I was worrying about the hotel on the way back running out of food, and was convinced that the crack in the car windscreen was going to stop Jo getting to Bourg, even though I had just seen them at the bottom. Finally when the time-car came past showing "15:15" on its big roof-top clock I had no idea what that meant, until someone said "it is quarter past three !" So, a big dose of heat stroke I think.
After elimination I tried to continue, but just couldn't do it. I struggled to get up off the hair-pin wall I was sitting on and get back on the bike. Couldn’t lift the leg over the saddle. As I started to move up the road the cramp just hit me and the legs stopped altogether. I tried to walk a little, but that was even harder than riding, and the only option was to go back down.
The following story may help anybody else who is heading for a future Etape:
Getting there
The drive down was much easier than I had imagined. We left Leicestershire at about 6am on Friday and got to the Eurotunnel at about 9am. Roadworks on the M1 slowed things down and the M25 wasn't great, but nothing too bad. Stopped for a bit of breakfast in the Euotunnel services and then onto the train. I love the tunnel - so much less hassle than the ferry, and less potential for sea-sickness.
The French Péage were fast and smooth as always, and we arrived in Beaune for our overnight stop feeling pretty good. The food in the hotel was brilliant. Very frustrating to stay in a great wine region and be tea-total.
The Saturday morning trip down to Modane passed with similar ease. A bit of a hold-up around the toll booths near Lyon, but again nothing to worry about.
All-in-all a lot less hassle than I had expected. Taking 7 and 10 year old boys in a 800+mile trip had the potential for disaster, but they were great. With a selection of audio books and a big comfy car the time passed without incident.
Picked up the race number from the Village and had a spot of lunch in Modane. Lots of nice bikes on show, but tried hard not to look and managed not to buy anything. Getting the number and race pack was really straight forward. no queues, no hassle. Joined the crowd watching the tour stage on the big screen.
Apartment in Lanslebourg was nice. Complex was deserted apart from Etape riders.
Sunday
Got the bike together and went for a spin. Only did about 30 miles, along a selection of local roads and up the pass behind the apartment. Really nice to be out in the mountains. Happy with the gearing and gradients, so all feeling good.
Race Day
An early start. Up at 5am. Packed. cleaned apartment and off we went. Modane was heaving and the diversions was making the traffic a problem. Quite a few people were riding to the start from a long way out. We parked easily in the middle of town and get to the start in plenty of time.
A nice mix of people in the pen. Rich Americans with every possible electronic device on their handlebars, cameras on their helmets and stupidly expensive bikes. ( Not sure the Zip 1080s on one guy's bike where really the right thing to have on an etape bike ??) Down to locals with ageing 5 speed steel Motobecane with a 2lt bottle of coke wedged into the frame. A few mountain bikes and a few touring bikes with luggage.
The Race
From Pen 8 we started at about 8am. (Pen 1 at 7am) There were obviously a lot of faster guys who hurtled past down the wide roads out of the start. I was able to join a train rolling along at a good 25mph.
The bottom of the first climb bunched everybody back up, and we climbed at a comfortable pace of about 15mph. There were faster guys moving up the left and slower guys sliding back down the right of the bunch. Being in a bunch of 1000s of people was amazing. I could hop on a faster wheel and start to move up, gain 50 or 100 places, but not see the front of the bunch. It felt like it just went on and on.
I stopped to take off my shell jacket about 3k from the top of the Telegraph, only to realise I didn't have anywhere to put it. Pockets were stuffed with food, gels, drinks powders etc. shoved it down my shirt front and got going again.
At the top of the Telegraph I texted Jo and helped someone with a puncture. I probably stopped for longer than I should have.
Down the short descent and though Vallorie things spread out again. People in the town were great, clapping and cheering, but the cobbles were a bit of a shock (look nice on your fancy pedestrianised town centre, not much fun on a bike :o/ )
The first feed station was rammed. I followed the advice from the veterans and dumped my bike in a bit of space and walked to the tables, grabbed the water and food and walked back to the bike to sort myself out. Again probably spent too long faffing with stuff : jacket, bottles, gels. I then rode up the road only to realise I had left my glasses and helmet on the bench and had to ride back to get them !!
Numbers started to spread out on the Galibier. I was still climbing at a comfortable pace and eating and drinking in line with the schedule. I stopped to take a couple of pictures at the bottom of the 10% section of the climb ( the classic view from the little bridge before the road bends back to the right and climbs the valley wall). From here you can see a long way up the road, and there was just a procession of little soles crawling up. It was probably at this point that I started to loose the feeling of how long a kilometre is. In a car it is nothing, in a time trial they flash past quite quickly too, but those little yellow and white road side market stones take an age to get past! The climb hurt, but I was surprised that I didn't feel the need to use the lowest gear ( 39x27) and was able to push on with 39x24.
Going past the entrance to the tunnel is a mental test. At one point you can just about see straight through to the riders descending on the other side. then you look up and realise you still have 1km of road and 100m of altitude to get up. On the last section I admit to having to stop to drink a couple of times. The breathing was struggling and the heart was pounding, and I just couldn't drink and ride at the same time. Obviously I had to ride past the video camera and photographers looking good !!
Finally reached the top and looked around. Stopped for a minute just to take in the view, and soak up the atmosphere. The first section of the descent is narrow and steep, no barriers, with brand new tarmac on an open hillside. It was pretty scary, and I obviously wasn't going very fast. the bike was shaking in the corners. It may have been me shaking or it may have been the loose headset, probably both. The next water point was at the cafe just below at the tunnel exit, so stopped there and filled up. At this point I started to realise that there were not as many people about. Time was about 11:45.
The long descent to Bourg was lonely. There were other riders around, some going very slowly, some stopped, others flying past that I tried to latch on to. At this point I was feeling the cold and shivering badly. Tried to keep eating and drinking ready for AdH. Got to the next feed station and decided to skip it. I had enough water and food. There seemed to be a lot of people around, so I felt like I was gaining a few places.
Finally came to the last feed station in Bourg d'Oisans. Again it was heaving, so it didn't feel like I was at the back. Again I probably spent too long faffing. I tried to call Jo and realised she was just around the corner, so nipped a bit further up the road to see them. It was good to see them, but felt guilty that they had been stood there for quite some time. It was about 1:15 I think. Temperature was rising and the spectators were hiding in the limited shade, but all still cheering and shouting encouragement. I did note that the shouts had changed from "go faster" and "allez" to "keep going" and "courage" as I passed - probably a reflection of my speed and appearance.
As I set off up to final climb, again, the gradient didn't bother me as much as I though. I was still able to push on in a reasonable pace in 39x24 (ish) but I was starting to feel the heat more and more. at every hair-pin there were people crammed into the shade of the cliff, people squashed under trees and people pouring water over themselves from the little streams. As I counted down the hair-pin numbers I started to try to pace myself. I had stop to drink, and decided that I would stop at every left hand hair-pin (because there was some shade). After about turn 15 it became stopping at every turn, and then at every piece of shade.
As I reached the cafe at La Garde, there was a man with a hosepipe. I just looked at him longingly and he new exactly what I meant and soaked me from head to toe. I stood for a minute to get my bearings, and overheard the riders sat at the cafe tables, having a beer and discussing how they were feeling better than last year, and where was fast, where was slow. From then on I was fighting a loosing battle, and every rider that came flying down the road from the finish took a little more out of my legs. As before, when moving I was able to climb ok, but the rests got more frequent, and the weird thoughts got weirder. I was in my own little world, not really aware of what was going on around me.
When the broom-wagon finally reached me I was properly cooked. In hindsight, it was probably good that they were there as I would have just carried plodding on until I expired. They probably saved me from ending up in a properly poorly state.
In my little world I didn't really know what was happening. First the time-car came past. Then some motorbike police and marshals. then a few official cars. At turn 11 someone jumped off a motorbike and tried to stop everybody. As she stopped to talk to someone and most people just rode past her, so I followed. At the next turn the same thing happened. This time she made it quite clear that we were not going to ride past her this time !
As we sat on the hair-pin wall, she explained that we had been eliminated and that we had 3 choices : 1. Stick our bikes on the lorry and get on the broom wagon bus. 2. Wait for the convoy you pass and ride up. 3. Wait for the convoy to pass and ride down.
I chose option 2.
The convoy was long and I guess they were opening the road up behind it as there seemed to be a lot of cars. I tried to get going again but struggled to lift my leg over the saddle. I pushed on and stated to make progress, but it didn't last long. I just about reached hair-pin #9 when my legs locked up and I just couldn't move. I don't think I made a conscious decision to go down, or to think about that I was doing. I freewheeled back down to #10 and texted Jo. At this point I just wanted to go somewhere cool, go somewhere to get clean. To go home.
Going Home
By the time I got back to the bottom 30 minutes later I felt much better. By the time I had ridden round the ring- road to where Jo had parked I was feeling almost normal.
A quick change of clothes in the car park and I was good to go.
Within a few minutes of sitting in the car's air-con and getting back to reality, I was starting to realise what I had just done (or rather not done) . The disappointment started to grow and the feeling that I had let people down, wasted their time, and spent a lot of money, all for nothing.
By the time we got back to the hotel a few hours later I was feeling better than I do a couple of hours after a 10mile TT. A couple of beers and I was fine. The following day was the next stage of the long drive home and again, 6 hour in the car on French Peage flew past without problems. Just that empty feeling of failure lingering in my stomach.
I think I probably spent too long stationary, at feed stations and water stops, and then at every bit of shade I could find going up the last climb. Wile I was moving I was still climbing at the 10+ kph I had budgeted for. I think I was probably much slower than I wanted on the decents. Partly because the tops were much narrower and scarier than I expected and partly because when I got down to the long wide bits I was on my own.
I was feeling pretty good coming over the Galibier. Yes, it was hurting, but I was hydrated and fuelled, and moving along in a reasonable bunch at a reasonable speed. Ultimately, by the time I got to bottom of the Alpe d'Huez climb, I was getting too hot and that is was killed me off. I was starting to have all sorts of weird thoughts: I was obsessing about needing a towel to dry my face, I was worrying about the hotel on the way back running out of food, and was convinced that the crack in the car windscreen was going to stop Jo getting to Bourg, even though I had just seen them at the bottom. Finally when the time-car came past showing "15:15" on its big roof-top clock I had no idea what that meant, until someone said "it is quarter past three !" So, a big dose of heat stroke I think.
After elimination I tried to continue, but just couldn't do it. I struggled to get up off the hair-pin wall I was sitting on and get back on the bike. Couldn’t lift the leg over the saddle. As I started to move up the road the cramp just hit me and the legs stopped altogether. I tried to walk a little, but that was even harder than riding, and the only option was to go back down.
***
The following story may help anybody else who is heading for a future Etape:
Getting there
The drive down was much easier than I had imagined. We left Leicestershire at about 6am on Friday and got to the Eurotunnel at about 9am. Roadworks on the M1 slowed things down and the M25 wasn't great, but nothing too bad. Stopped for a bit of breakfast in the Euotunnel services and then onto the train. I love the tunnel - so much less hassle than the ferry, and less potential for sea-sickness.
The French Péage were fast and smooth as always, and we arrived in Beaune for our overnight stop feeling pretty good. The food in the hotel was brilliant. Very frustrating to stay in a great wine region and be tea-total.
The Saturday morning trip down to Modane passed with similar ease. A bit of a hold-up around the toll booths near Lyon, but again nothing to worry about.
All-in-all a lot less hassle than I had expected. Taking 7 and 10 year old boys in a 800+mile trip had the potential for disaster, but they were great. With a selection of audio books and a big comfy car the time passed without incident.
Picked up the race number from the Village and had a spot of lunch in Modane. Lots of nice bikes on show, but tried hard not to look and managed not to buy anything. Getting the number and race pack was really straight forward. no queues, no hassle. Joined the crowd watching the tour stage on the big screen.
Apartment in Lanslebourg was nice. Complex was deserted apart from Etape riders.
Sunday
Got the bike together and went for a spin. Only did about 30 miles, along a selection of local roads and up the pass behind the apartment. Really nice to be out in the mountains. Happy with the gearing and gradients, so all feeling good.
Race Day
An early start. Up at 5am. Packed. cleaned apartment and off we went. Modane was heaving and the diversions was making the traffic a problem. Quite a few people were riding to the start from a long way out. We parked easily in the middle of town and get to the start in plenty of time.
A nice mix of people in the pen. Rich Americans with every possible electronic device on their handlebars, cameras on their helmets and stupidly expensive bikes. ( Not sure the Zip 1080s on one guy's bike where really the right thing to have on an etape bike ??) Down to locals with ageing 5 speed steel Motobecane with a 2lt bottle of coke wedged into the frame. A few mountain bikes and a few touring bikes with luggage.
The Race
From Pen 8 we started at about 8am. (Pen 1 at 7am) There were obviously a lot of faster guys who hurtled past down the wide roads out of the start. I was able to join a train rolling along at a good 25mph.
The bottom of the first climb bunched everybody back up, and we climbed at a comfortable pace of about 15mph. There were faster guys moving up the left and slower guys sliding back down the right of the bunch. Being in a bunch of 1000s of people was amazing. I could hop on a faster wheel and start to move up, gain 50 or 100 places, but not see the front of the bunch. It felt like it just went on and on.
I stopped to take off my shell jacket about 3k from the top of the Telegraph, only to realise I didn't have anywhere to put it. Pockets were stuffed with food, gels, drinks powders etc. shoved it down my shirt front and got going again.
At the top of the Telegraph I texted Jo and helped someone with a puncture. I probably stopped for longer than I should have.
Down the short descent and though Vallorie things spread out again. People in the town were great, clapping and cheering, but the cobbles were a bit of a shock (look nice on your fancy pedestrianised town centre, not much fun on a bike :o/ )
The first feed station was rammed. I followed the advice from the veterans and dumped my bike in a bit of space and walked to the tables, grabbed the water and food and walked back to the bike to sort myself out. Again probably spent too long faffing with stuff : jacket, bottles, gels. I then rode up the road only to realise I had left my glasses and helmet on the bench and had to ride back to get them !!
Numbers started to spread out on the Galibier. I was still climbing at a comfortable pace and eating and drinking in line with the schedule. I stopped to take a couple of pictures at the bottom of the 10% section of the climb ( the classic view from the little bridge before the road bends back to the right and climbs the valley wall). From here you can see a long way up the road, and there was just a procession of little soles crawling up. It was probably at this point that I started to loose the feeling of how long a kilometre is. In a car it is nothing, in a time trial they flash past quite quickly too, but those little yellow and white road side market stones take an age to get past! The climb hurt, but I was surprised that I didn't feel the need to use the lowest gear ( 39x27) and was able to push on with 39x24.
Going past the entrance to the tunnel is a mental test. At one point you can just about see straight through to the riders descending on the other side. then you look up and realise you still have 1km of road and 100m of altitude to get up. On the last section I admit to having to stop to drink a couple of times. The breathing was struggling and the heart was pounding, and I just couldn't drink and ride at the same time. Obviously I had to ride past the video camera and photographers looking good !!
Finally reached the top and looked around. Stopped for a minute just to take in the view, and soak up the atmosphere. The first section of the descent is narrow and steep, no barriers, with brand new tarmac on an open hillside. It was pretty scary, and I obviously wasn't going very fast. the bike was shaking in the corners. It may have been me shaking or it may have been the loose headset, probably both. The next water point was at the cafe just below at the tunnel exit, so stopped there and filled up. At this point I started to realise that there were not as many people about. Time was about 11:45.
The long descent to Bourg was lonely. There were other riders around, some going very slowly, some stopped, others flying past that I tried to latch on to. At this point I was feeling the cold and shivering badly. Tried to keep eating and drinking ready for AdH. Got to the next feed station and decided to skip it. I had enough water and food. There seemed to be a lot of people around, so I felt like I was gaining a few places.
Finally came to the last feed station in Bourg d'Oisans. Again it was heaving, so it didn't feel like I was at the back. Again I probably spent too long faffing. I tried to call Jo and realised she was just around the corner, so nipped a bit further up the road to see them. It was good to see them, but felt guilty that they had been stood there for quite some time. It was about 1:15 I think. Temperature was rising and the spectators were hiding in the limited shade, but all still cheering and shouting encouragement. I did note that the shouts had changed from "go faster" and "allez" to "keep going" and "courage" as I passed - probably a reflection of my speed and appearance.
As I set off up to final climb, again, the gradient didn't bother me as much as I though. I was still able to push on in a reasonable pace in 39x24 (ish) but I was starting to feel the heat more and more. at every hair-pin there were people crammed into the shade of the cliff, people squashed under trees and people pouring water over themselves from the little streams. As I counted down the hair-pin numbers I started to try to pace myself. I had stop to drink, and decided that I would stop at every left hand hair-pin (because there was some shade). After about turn 15 it became stopping at every turn, and then at every piece of shade.
As I reached the cafe at La Garde, there was a man with a hosepipe. I just looked at him longingly and he new exactly what I meant and soaked me from head to toe. I stood for a minute to get my bearings, and overheard the riders sat at the cafe tables, having a beer and discussing how they were feeling better than last year, and where was fast, where was slow. From then on I was fighting a loosing battle, and every rider that came flying down the road from the finish took a little more out of my legs. As before, when moving I was able to climb ok, but the rests got more frequent, and the weird thoughts got weirder. I was in my own little world, not really aware of what was going on around me.
When the broom-wagon finally reached me I was properly cooked. In hindsight, it was probably good that they were there as I would have just carried plodding on until I expired. They probably saved me from ending up in a properly poorly state.
In my little world I didn't really know what was happening. First the time-car came past. Then some motorbike police and marshals. then a few official cars. At turn 11 someone jumped off a motorbike and tried to stop everybody. As she stopped to talk to someone and most people just rode past her, so I followed. At the next turn the same thing happened. This time she made it quite clear that we were not going to ride past her this time !
As we sat on the hair-pin wall, she explained that we had been eliminated and that we had 3 choices : 1. Stick our bikes on the lorry and get on the broom wagon bus. 2. Wait for the convoy you pass and ride up. 3. Wait for the convoy to pass and ride down.
I chose option 2.
The convoy was long and I guess they were opening the road up behind it as there seemed to be a lot of cars. I tried to get going again but struggled to lift my leg over the saddle. I pushed on and stated to make progress, but it didn't last long. I just about reached hair-pin #9 when my legs locked up and I just couldn't move. I don't think I made a conscious decision to go down, or to think about that I was doing. I freewheeled back down to #10 and texted Jo. At this point I just wanted to go somewhere cool, go somewhere to get clean. To go home.
Going Home
By the time I got back to the bottom 30 minutes later I felt much better. By the time I had ridden round the ring- road to where Jo had parked I was feeling almost normal.
A quick change of clothes in the car park and I was good to go.
Within a few minutes of sitting in the car's air-con and getting back to reality, I was starting to realise what I had just done (or rather not done) . The disappointment started to grow and the feeling that I had let people down, wasted their time, and spent a lot of money, all for nothing.
By the time we got back to the hotel a few hours later I was feeling better than I do a couple of hours after a 10mile TT. A couple of beers and I was fine. The following day was the next stage of the long drive home and again, 6 hour in the car on French Peage flew past without problems. Just that empty feeling of failure lingering in my stomach.
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