Its Sunday morning, the 7th of July. The day of
the Rapha Womens 100 has finally arrived, after looming as a mountain emoticon
in my google calendar for so long. Im sat at the long dining table, trying to
eat a bowl of muesli, but the 5am time is making it harder than usual.
I quietly spoon in the Carrefour cereal, and observe the
group of fellow etapistes staying in this lakeside chalet in Annecy. A wide
ranging mix of riders, some serious, others novice, some even self confessed
non-cyclists. Some wear excited and toothy grinning expressions, others chat
nervously about the events that will unfold over the day, and a couple of our
group are pretty much silent. Heads down, their lowly eyes perhaps giving their
secret away that they are indeed rather terrified. Their downcast body language
looks as if they are almost resigned to an unpleasant experience, perhaps
mulling over the possibility of… dare I say…. failure?
The challenge that lay before us ladies was to ride the 2013
Etape du Tour, a punishing amateur jaunt around what will is to be played out as
stage twenty of the Tour de France on 20th July by professional
World Tour riders. 125km with six categorized climbs in 30 degree heat. Oh and
did I mention the finish? A Hors Categorie hellish beast at 11km long with an average gradient
of 8.5%... fab!
In the starting pen, I just wanted to get going, all the
stood around waiting for our pen to be released was proving a little anxious. I
was riding alongside Fran Millar, and my nerves were certainly abated
temporarily as she joked about the lack of loo facilities. I guess the fact she
couldn’t locate a toilet gave us a little extra impetus to get to the first
water stop that bit sooner!
After a breezy first 50km or so, Fran had hurt her back. I
panicked as I didn’t want anything to jeopardize her etape, and I dearly wanted
her to finish with me, as I needed the moral support and relief in a shared
joke to get myself around! Gutted for Fran, as she had been very strong in
training, I knew it would be a cruel blow if she didn't hammer the Semnoz. So I
set about being an annoyingly keen domestique, shuttling up the pack to commandeer
some pain relief from a classy rider named Claire in our group.
As it was, after the frankly disgustingly long laborious
slog up the Revard, a 16km beast that lay as the penultimate test to the legs
and head before the finale of the Semnoz, Fran was riding super strong and more
importantly was assuringly positive she would indeed be able to cruise the rest
of the parcours and finish. I then set off alone for my showdown avec the
Semnoz, not because I was stronger or faster, but I knew I needed to be alone
for the battle that lay ahead.
Photo by Yoko Akoi
I was indeed glad no one I knew was around to witness my
suffering – it was not a pretty sight. I adopted a zombie like state, staring
blankly ahead with a hollowed out expression, legs barely turning and eyes sunken. My body began to cook in the
unrelenting heat, and my Garmin only served to taunt to the length of time I
would have to endure what was frankly a nightmare in Satans kitchen itself. The
gradient never seemed to peter out, no respite to be found in a friendly flat
few metres, just up and up and up.
My eyesight began to blur as if a heated mirage lay ahead,
and tunnel vision crept in. To be honest im pretty sure I went into a mild hallucinogenic
state – digging so deep it seemed as if I was having some kind of weird out of
body experience…. I swear to this moment a man went past me Amy Winehouse's ‘Valerie’
blaring out from the rear of his jersey. I don’t know if it happened or not…. and
I don’t think il ever know!
Riders vomited under the stress on their bodies, and the
ditches on the right became strewn with casualties to the heat and the
unrelenting gradients. Think something akin to a battlefield and your halfway
there… only with more lycra and carbon. I don’t remember much of what happened
in the last 5km… I think I may have sworn like a sailor, iv never had to dig so
deep in my life. The heat was a major factor in sticking the boot in…
Despite all this, after a good half an hour atop the
mountain enjoying the view with some fellow riders, I decided to descend back
to the arrival village, freezing with the liters of water id dumped on myself
to cool down. What an insanely good ride… Id love to go back and do the course
again. We were treated to some of the most amazing views of Annecy, and the
roads and climbs were ace. The food stops sucked because I only ever saw
bananas, fruit bars ad apricots, all of which I hate (I know, fussy eater!), I
never saw any of the hallowed quiche or cheese and bread my mates raved about.
And apparently they had wine at one stop? Gutted I missed a quick glass of
that!
Its going to be pretty amazing to watch the pro’s on this
parcours on the 20th, Im so intrigued to see at what point a break
will go, and if a decisive move is made on the Semnoz. Proper exiting stuff.
(photo lovingly nicked from boom)
The highlight of my Womens 100 experience? It wasn’t the
seemingly endless descent off Mont Revard, and it wasn’t cresting the Semnoz to
an encouraging shout from Leo, nor was it even the amazing Nutella sandwich bestowed
upon me by Gemma back at the starting village…. The true highlight of my etape
experience was seeing those two solemn faces at breakfast conquer the etape, bury
themselves on some of the most hideous climbs in frankly brutal conditions, and
finish the course. The pride I felt in their achievement at completing it was
unbelievable. I don’t think iv ever felt so proud of my sport, and of the
achievements of my friends, both new and old. I know that day they endured
suffering with grace and a steely determination.
To say the day was inspiring would be an understatement.
Footnote > If anyone can tell me where I can buy a big weird block of Almond Paste like the one pictured that would be amazing, I got it in Carrefour, and I swear that voodoo sweetness is what got me up the last climb...
Extra Footnote > HUGE thanks to Fran for hooking all the Womens 100 crew up with a very special pep-talk with currently-on-le-tour Mr David Millar himself, dispatching some much needed pearls of wisdom via speakerphone. A truly awesome moment!
I am for encouragement. I will seek to share the beauty of cycling by being a good ambassador for my sport. Riding with those a little less familiar with the sport, showing them this is just about the most enjoyable act of freedom that can be found to escape the rat race of the daily grind! By helping others achieve their targets and goals, I get to share in that enthusiasm. Frankly... its infectious.
I am for the simplicity of cycling... not being required to compartmentalise each aspect of cycling into some sort of pseudo-theory and analyse every last ounce of passion and spontaneity out of the ride. Im for just tossing a lycra'd leg over the top tube and embracing the days encounters. A blank canvas if you will.
I am most definitely for that last rider shelling himself to finish. I love that within cycling, even bottom place is celebrated as a triumph. Gutsy determinism is praised in recognition of that slog to reach the flamme rouge. Take traditional team sports... there is always a winner and a loser. Losers are not liked, and the opponents despised. In our world, we celebrate all! If that isn't worth being proud of, I don't know what is.
I am most definitely for the suffering. The spikey sting of lactic post ride, glowing legs with a matching smile after pushing the pedals hard. The sacrifice and reward is abundant, but the ratio always seems to tip in the most favourable way.
I am totally fr the adventurous little detour, the roads less ridden. Give me friends, quiet roads and laughter on a bike and il show you a perfect day! 
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