Peyresourde loop

At the start of the week, Chris and I talked about building up to a grand finale to mark the end of my adventure. Despite being pretty tired, we decided I should have a crack at a ride the length of an early season sportive but with a proper TdF climb thrown in for good measure. That climb ended up being the Col de Peyresourde, a cat 1 mountain that the peloton will be taking on during stage 16 of this year's race.

The loop was around 105km and was mostly flat before the Peyresourde with some newly surfaced roads (something else to thank the TdF for). Unfortunately, there was plenty of wind and it was all blowing my way. My average speed slowed to around 19kmh and whilst making such pedestrian progress I decided to pull in for lunch. The situation with the wind is definitely something I will have to monitor closely on Etape day and factor into my broom wagon calculations.

In a small cafe in the town of Sarrancolin, I indulged in some typical rural French behaviour and asked the waitress for some red wine with my lunch. The old riders of the 50s and 60s used to raid bars and cafes before climbing the brutes of the Tour so I thought I'd try and do the same. I'm not sure whether that hampered my progress at all, but with the wind still gusting it took me a lot longer than I wanted to reach the bottom of the Peyresourde.

Fortunately, there was plenty of great scenery to keep me occupied. The western approach of the Peyresourde climbs up out of a valley flanked with snow-capped peaks. The gradient was steep without being savage. I've worked out that if the km markers say 7-8%, that means you are in for some 10% sections interspersed with some relief/recovery inclines. Any km markers that say 9% or more mean it is time to grit your teeth and grind away. With less fuss than I anticipated, I rounded the corner toward the summit (was this the red wine kicking in?) and found myself full enough of energy to crack a smile to all passers by. It was a great feeling to get up the Peyresourde so well, even if I did not break any records doing so.

As with Superbagneres, the descent towards Luchon was worth all the effort. Technical at the top, there were some great views to enjoy whilst swishing through the hairpins. With that first section out of the way, it was time to get the wind whistling through my helmet, put my nose closer to the handlebars and build up some speed. Working on my descending was a primary aim of this training week and with some tips given to me by Chris I was gaining in confidence. So much so that I ended up passing 3 cars on the descent (one was only a Fiat Panda, so I'm not sure I can count that one!) which was a real rush.

Back in Luchon, I passed the billboards advertising the arrival of the Tour. As the road was now flat, it gave me the chance to consider a few things. Like how on earth could anyone actually race up the mountain I just ascended? I mean the riders actually jockey for position, push out elbows, accelerate and counter-accelerate. I had felt good counting out my effort one revolution at a time, but there was no way I could have gone any faster if required. The experience gave me an even greater appreciation of the feats of professionals.

Leaving Luchon, the wind that was against me was now behind and I pushed for home at speed. I completed the loop with a ride time of 4hours 52minutes (not including my stop for lunch). Not bad for 102km covered and more importantly, I had a great time in doing so. Here are the stats from the Garmin.

Hospice closed, so things got a little silly...

Yesterday I set off at a fairly leisurely pace to cycle the 25km south from Bertren to Luchon. The sun was shining and when I stopped for lunch at a cafe in Luchon as recommended by my hosts, the temperature was a positively sweltering 20c. With time on my side, I set off for the climb of Hospice de France, which shares its first 6km with the climb of Superbagneres. After taking the left fork to Hospice, it soon became apparent my planned route would not be possible. There was heavy shade from trees to the west and there was plenty of snow on the road. The way to Hospice was shut.

This is where my ambition ran away from me a little. I rolled on back to the turning which takes you toward Superbagneres and thought to myself, "you've come all the way here, why the heck not?". By way of background, Superbagneres is a fair brute of a climb that lasts 18.5km in total - not a climb I had contemplated on doing when I flew out to the Pyrenees on Monday. Chris told me earlier in the week that it is only 1km shorter and climbs up only 200m less than the Tourmalet. "If you can climb Superbagneres, you can climb the Tourmalet" he said. With his words running through my head, I thought I'd give it a crack.

The gradient is a fairly steady 8-10% after the first 6km but it is the sheer length of the climb that makes it tough. Mentally riding within yourself for 90 minutes is not easy. But the views of the climb easily distract, there were huge mountain ranges to be seen over the border to Spain and with plenty of hairpins I really did feel like I was accomplishing something. In actual fact, I thought it easier to climb than the much shorter but much steeper Portet d'Aspet.

There is a ski station at the top of Superbagneres and I got some strange looks off the skiers on the slopes. But that made me feel all the more cool - I had got to the top under my own esteem, they had used a chair lift!

One more thing - the descent. What a descent! There are long straights in amongst the stunning views and switchbacks that mean you can really fly down the mountain. I was getting braver and leaning further down towards my handlebars and even registered my quickest speed on a bike (a rather pedestrian 67kmh may not seem much in comparison to the pros, but I felt like I was flying!).

I cannot understand why the TdF organisers don't visit that climb more often - I had a great time climbing it and the views in places were beyond words. Getting up Superbagneres gives me plenty of confidence going forward. I've only been riding a bike seriously since December, so if I can drag myself up 1800m in mid-March then trust me, anyone can!

A shameful secret

This post will probably receive a lot of disapproving shakes of the head from roadies everywhere when it is read, but it is about time I let the cat out the bag. Since I bought my first road bike late last summer, I have had the good fortune to have avoided all pot-holes, broken shards of glass, sharp stones and other assorted enemies of the road tyre. In 9 months of biking I've never had a puncture, not one, which in turn means that I have never actually had to fix one.

I’ve recently booked a biking trip to the Pyrenees (more on that another time) and the thought of being stuck at the top of a chilly mountain whilst clutching at a set of tyre levers wondering “what the hell are these things used for?” prompted me to run a puncture-fixing drill. So last night I cleared a bit of space in the living room (the missus is currently away on holiday so I didn’t get told off for fixing my bike indoors!) and set to work. I deflated the tube, played around with the tyre levers and eventually managed to get the tyre and the inner tube off. That act in itself took me far too long. The real pain however came in trying to put the tube and, more particularly, the tyre back on the wheel. The diagram I pulled off the net was not helpful at all and minute upon annoying, agonising minute ticked by as I wrestled Steve-Irwin style with the tyre. If that happened during the Etape I would have been in the broom wagon for sure - the whole embarrassing attempt took me just over an hour in total.

My blood was about the reach boiling point but just before steam started pouring from my ears I managed to find the trick to it and eventually got it sorted. I also took the opportunity to test out the new mini-track pump I got from Wiggle recently (very handy by the way). Despite the fact I probably burned more calories sorting the tyre than cycling along to Fight Club, I’m (fairly) glad I gave it a go. Better to discover the ins and outs of bike maintenance in the comfort of your flat than on the side of a road in the pouring rain. Maybe I’ll need at least one more try though…

Time to burn

A little glance at the date of my last entry tells me I’ve been too lazy the past few weeks. Unfortunately, that applies to my biking as well as my blogging. Not all of it was my fault you understand, I had a few days off the bike due to the lurgy that went round and then made a trip to Ireland where I spent more time working on the arm muscles which lift a pint of Guinness than much else. However, I am back now and determined to get into a groove. I spent a thoroughly enjoyable (if a little cold and wet) 3 hours in the saddle last Sunday. I’ve got my route sorted now from central London out south via Crystal Palace to West Wickham (my gateway to the North Downs). I’m pleased to report my fitness is good despite the recent time spent doing nothing - all the credit there should go to the authors of the Time Crunched Cyclist Training Plan. Now, to match their dedication with some of my own…

My provisional racing schedule

Cycling Weekly has quite helpfully published a calendar of Cyclosportives that you can view here. Over the last week or so I’ve been using the list to finalise my preparation for the Etape by entering a few events. As I currently don’t own a car, I’m a bit limited to those events which are close enough to London to ride to or that I can get to conveniently by train. That said, there are still plenty of good looking events on offer and I am excited to get going in early March (let’s hope for some good weather!). Here is my provisional racing schedule (I hope I can do the necessary training in time):

14 March - Spring Onion Cyclosportive, Leatherhead (100km)

11 April - Essex Roads Spring Lambs Cyclosportive, Billericay (150km)

21-25 May - Etape training camp, Skipton

6 June - Verenti Dragon Ride, Bridgend (190km)

18 July - Etape du Tour, Pau (174km)

Fitness, fitness, fitness

I have been reading a book by Chris Carmichael (one-time coach of Lance Armstrong) called "The Time-Crunched Cyclist: Fit, Fast, and Powerful in 6 Hours a Week". I can work quite long hours and so have searched for a training program that I can fit in with my hectic schedule. Committing to 6 hours a week should be doable so Chris Carmichael's program seemed like a good idea. The program asks you to train at a higher intensity to make up for the decrease in volume - meaning a lot of the riding you do is flat out (I suppose a bit like the Sufferfest offerings).

I've bought into the idea and although I will have to adapt my training the closer I get to the Etape to include some seriously long rides, the time-crunched plan will hopefully give me a base level of strength and fitness to take forward. To gauge my progress over the course of the 12 week plan, the book tells you to take a fitness test at the beginning of the first week. It involves two all-out efforts lasting 8 minutes, with a 10 minute rest in between. Let me tell you, after the second effort I went a little light-headed and almost fell over when I got off the bike. I'm glad I don't have to do that for another 12 weeks!

For the test, I hooked myself up to my Garmin 705 which recorded an interesting looking graph. Not need to tell you where my all-out efforts were!

A bit of background

First things first, a little bit about me and why I've taken up the Etape challenge. For as long as I can remember I've been into football. I started playing as a 6 year old and have been involved in at least one team every season since. Although I'd run a couple of marathons, I hadn't yet been converted to the world of the individual sport. However, that all changed when I started to watch the Tour de France a few years ago. I was hooked on the physical struggle, the sense of drama, the fantastic scenery and the sheer will of force that was required to drag 75kg of male frame over the steepest of mountains. It all felt so far from the money saturated world of football and the prima donnas who now call Europe's elite leagues their home. I build up a bond with my sporting heroes and what footballers could no longer provide me Mark Cavendish, Brad Wiggins and co. certainly could.

I've always been one for saying if you enjoy watching a sport, you need to try it yourself in order to truly appreciate what the pros go through. When you know how hard they have to train, what they have to give up and how much pain they have to endure to reach the top then you appreciate their achievements all the more. And so it came to pass that I took advantage of the Government's "Cycle to Work" scheme and bought my first racing bike.

Fast forward a year and I am in love. I love riding my own bike as much as I love watching the pro peloton. I've entered a couple of sportives but the biggest and most exciting challenge for a beginner on the road to true cycling addiction must surely be the Etape du Tour. I don't know quite how difficult a challenge it will be but I certainly can't wait to find out. I look forward to counting down the days and miles and sharing a few of my thoughts along the way.