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On July 18 I rode the Etape du Tour, a stage of the Tour de France open for us mere mortals, to raise money for Cancer Research UK. 

Starting in Pau in the Pyrenees, the route covered 181km (114 miles) of vertiginous mountain roads taking in the climbs of the Col du Marie Blanque (at 1,035m) a steep 10km opener, the Col du Soulor (1,474m) a long 21km slog, before finishing at the summit of the mighty Col du Tourmalet (2,115m) after a climb as long as the Soulor and as steep as the Marie Blanque!

At 7:00am on a slightly overcast morning the first riders set off, followed by another 10,000 riders over the next half hour or so. With my poor start number (7530) it took 23 minutes for me to finally roll over the start line. The first 56 km to the base of the Marie Blanque were fairly undulating and included a 4th Category climb for good measure. With fresh legs the climb wasn't particularly strenuous - the several thousand riders on the road ahead slowing the pace to such an extent that a gentle cruise up the hill was all that was possible.

Then loomed the Marie Blanque...The first few kilometres were relatively gentle at around 5-6%, again the sheer volume of riders ahead slowing the pace - it was possible to pick your way past those who were already struggling, though the organisers instructions for slower riders to keep to the right seemed to have fallen on deaf ears.

After 5km the gradient really started to kick in, going from 8 to 10 to 12% with my heart rate rising to 167 - feeling strong at that point I ignored the incessant beeping from my HRM telling me that I was riding at my anaerobic threshold, the point at which your lungs cannot keep up with the demand for oxygen, though I did ease off a bit to prevent it going any higher. I needn't have worried for with another 2km to the summit, at the steepest point of the climb, all those who had been struggling on the lower slopes finally gave up all hope of being able to ride over the top and dismounted, causing absolute chaos behind! 

Unable to maintain forward momentum and with feet clipped into the pedals, a number of riders, including me, went down in an undignified domino effect. It was simply impossible to ride through the crowd so we were all reduced to walking the final 2km in shoes that weren't made for walking. I probably lost 20-25 minutes on those 2 km alone.

There was a short descent to the first food stop and a chance to fill up empty water bottles. Back on the bike there was another long fast descent to the valley below. With a clear view of where the road went it was possible to really let gravity take over - at points I was doing 70-75km/h before having to put the brakes on for the next bend.

There were another 30km or so along the valley before the next climb up the Soulor, with the crush of riders having diminished a bit it was possible to put in a reasonable pace, riding across the gaps between packs, spending a little time in the shelter of other riders before attempting to bridge the gap to the next pack. I rode past the second food stop at the foot of the Soulor, deciding that I had enough to get me to the water stop at the summit, even though the sun had long burnt off the clouds and the temperature was rising rapidly.

Fortunately I had checked the route profile before the ride and was aware that the Soulor was not a steady 5% gradient as implied by the official information, but a 12km climb at around 8%, as the first 8km only rose about 200m. Forewarned is forarmed, so I got into a steady rhythm and completed the climb with my heart rate not going above 160 - it might not have been quick, but there was still the Tourmalet to come and I was going past riders all the way to the top. 125km gone in 6hrs and I still felt good (I later discovered that the fastest rider completed the course in the same time).

The descent of the Soulor was quite tricky, with lots of hairpin bends, so it wasn't nearly as fast as the descent of the Marie Blanque. With a strong wind blowing down the valley, there were points on the lower slopes where I had to peddle to keep the speed up. Deciding I was better served conserving energy and keeping out of the wind at this point, I joined one bunch along the valley and stuck with it rather than using them as a springboard to the next. I skipped the last official food stop as the group I travelled with had a dedicated food stop about 6 km further on which would be far less crowded. Filling the water bottles for what I had planned to be the last time, with just 30km left to ride, I set off with the words 'Just the Tourmalet to go!'.

10km of gentle climbing up along the valley brought me to the bottom of the Col du Tourmalet and the timing strip that would give me a time up the final climb - the official time showing 7hr 54m. I wasn't going to make it in under 9 hours, even allowing for the time it took me to get to the start line, but 9:30 was well within my sights. Again I set off up the climb at a steady pace keeping my heart rate below 160 - I'd ridden the climb a number of times on the turbo trainer and knew that the final 4km were particularly hard, now was not the time to push.

It was just after 3:00pm, the sun blazing and the temperature still climbing, though it would cool a little the higher I climbed. With very little shade anywhere on the climb I was grateful for the huge crowd that had turned out and were lining the side of the road for the last 10km or so, many of whom were filling water bottles from the mountain streams and pouring it over our heads as we went past. One little boy handed me a bottle as I went by, running alongside me as I took a drink and taking the half empty bottle back - I may not have been as quick as the pro's, but that moment certainly made me feel like one!

Approaching the final water stop, with 8km left to ride, I took stock of how much water I had left - I was down to about half a litre. Normally that would be enough for around 1/2 hr, which would get me most of the way to the summit, but it was hot and there would be no shade further up the mountain. Deciding caution was the best approach I pulled into the water point. I was still breathing heavily as I filled the bottles, so leant on the handlebars to help get my breath back. With fully loaded bottles I was ready for the final 8km - or so I thought!

I don't recall much of what happened next, apart from the sound of my helmet hitting the gound (it was still on my head) and then looking up to see a couple of medics kneeling over me. Echoing the late, great, Tommy Simpson who collapsed and tragically died on Mont Ventoux whilst wearing the yellow jersey, I said 'Just put me back on my bike'. Being rather more concerned for my safety than my ego they sat me down in the shade of a camper van whilst taking my blood pressure and pulse - the reading was evidently not good as they then took me into the medical centre, not letting me go until my blood pressure was more normal. As they didn't speak much English and I speak even less French, this took a little while to determine.

Some running repairs were also needed on the bike, as the saddle and one of the brake levers had been knocked out of alignment, but sadly there was no service point. I was looking about for somebody who might be English to ask if they had a 5mm allen key, when one of the guys I'd shared dinner with the night before arrived. Fortunately he had packed a multi tool - unlike me who thought a puncture kit was probably all that would be needed - so I could at least complete the ride.

I set off up the final bit to the summit and soon found myself going past people I recognised - it was the same lot that I had gone past at the bottom of the climb! The further I went up the climb the steeper it got, with the final km averaging 10%. Rounding the final hairpin I could see the ski station at the summit and put in one final burst, though at 2100m it had little effect other than to send my heart rate soaring - I managed a mere 9.6km/h as I crossed the line. The clock at the summit showed 10hr28m, an hour inside the elimination time, for a net time of 10hr 05m.

My battle with the Etape lasted just over 10hours, not including the many hours spent training, but at the end I could say definitively that I had beaten it and that, unless I choose to, I won't have to go through that again. Those who are diagnosed with cancer do not have such certainty as, even if the primary treatment is successful, it can and does come back.

Whilst both my mother and mother-in-law have overcome Breast Cancer, my cousin Karen was not so fortunate, passing away in 2005 at the age of 42. Lest we not forget those with other types of cancer, (my father-in-law has also been treated for bladder cancer) I have decided to support Cancer Research whose work covers all types of cancer rather than one specific cancer charity.

Please help fund this vital work by giving generously. I am funding my entry fee and accomodation, so every penny you donate goes directly to fund Cancer Research UK's work.

 

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