Results tagged “2010”

It sits there in the hallway, untouched. It pleads with me every time I pass it, but I ignore it.

I ignore it as long as I can. But there comes a point where you have to take the bike out of the box and reassemble it.

Out it comes, number still attached to the centre of the bars, dustier than I remember. The frame sticky with a coating of sweat, energy drink and road dirt.

It's almost a week since the Etape and it's the first time I've looked at my bike since packing it away for the journey back. I've ridden the 4km to work a couple of times without thinking much about exerting myself and that's as much as I've concerned myself with riding a bike.

What are you meant to do after you've achieved a goal as massive as the Etape? There's no reason to go out and ride it again. (There wasn't much reason other than the "because it's there" one in the first place)

Mentally there's no next step to take. Physically my body craves rest and complains when I so much as suggest exertion.

I take myself down to Hillingdon on Tuesday for the first ride since the Etape. People say how much they liked my video piece while I fret about my handlebars not being on straight.

It's the usual 4th Cat routine, so I try my legs in the first quarter hour to see how they feel. Sore, no snap when I click up a gear and push the pace.

So I do what I always do: wait for a slight lull in the pace, then increase the effort and move off the front.

My breathing is steady but I can feel the pain rising. Nobody will come across the gap, they'll just drag me back within a lap or two.

Then there's suddenly someone across and we're two away. He's pulling harder than I can manage and every time I try to come through my legs choke, forcing me to drop back into the wheel.

A few more riders come across but I can't hold the wheels, my legs are numb. I need to let this one go. So near to making that magical break happen.

Shuffle back through the pack, I've done my turn.

Wait for three laps to go and the watching to begin. There'll be a drop in pace and that's the time to go hard.

There it is. Bit too far back but I'm going anyway. Pace hasn't dropped as much as I thought and there's still two to go.

Another Dynamo follows the counter and goes away. That's the ticket: attack in pairs or follow the chaser and use them.

He's away, I'm spent, sit in the back and let the race go away from me.

Don't see the finish. Wonder where and when I'll find the courage to stop making excuses for not getting up there in the sprint.

07:44 it read at the foot of the Tourmalet as I swung left over the timing mat and up through Luz Saint Saveur.

"No danger from the voiture balai here. Should be able to do this in under ten hours still - this is good."

"Good" had stopped happening some time ago, somewhere along the valley floor, as I emerged from a series of tunnels that offered brief respite from the heat of the afternoon sun. Like walking into a hammam, it hit me again and the strength faded from my legs as I slid back through the group at 13kmh.

There had been a point somewhere in the day when my optimism had me swearing I could get round quick enough to achieve the silver medal standard. Now, barring a miraculous upshift in pace that was never going to happen.

Perhaps I was feeling a little to euphoric at Argeles-Gazost and pushed on too hard to get to the foot of the Tourmalet. Perhaps I mistook myself for a better rider than my fitness would allow.

Whatever the cause, the outcome was simple: I was going backwards at a steady rate and no amount of energy food and drink was going to put me on the right side of "good".

A can of coke put me near enough functioning to get me up the first half of the final climb, as far as the Cycelfit guerilla feed station and within reach of the finish.

At least I'd managed to stay upright that far which is more than my friend Rune had managed. He'd fallen on the Marie-Blanque, refused the offer of an ambulance and now realised that riding the etape was all a horrible mistake. He had a point.

We rode on together until the trees disappeared and the bald, sun-bleached tarmac traced its remaining 7km to the summit. There I stopped in the last patch of decent shade and settled that this could still be done in under 11 hours.

A kilometre at a time, hopping between the shade of camper vans and overhanging rock, I made my way to the point where the gleaming statue and path cleaved through the rock told me it was done.

Pau to Col de Marie-Blanque

I'd started with a good number and tried to stay with Jules from Cyclefit early on then settled for tracking Graham Bell's bright pink jersey as far as the Cote de Renoir. The pace was fierce as we shuttled through villages like the TGV cuts a path down from Paris.

Cote de Renoir was a proper climb, albeit short, enough for me to see the futility of chasing a very strong rider and former international skier. "Let him go, ride within yourself" I told myself as the gap stretched between us.

My pace was good and Escot - the first marker on my schedule - drew near, bringing with it the Marie-Blanque. I reached it feeling ready for the climb, fed and watered with adrenaline still pumping.

Like good Catholics at Mass, a hush fell on the congregation as we made our way along the lower slopes, waiting for the gradient to bite at our bodies. Conversation was perfunctory as more serious thoughts filled our minds.

Only 4k of it to endure as a ethereal mist slashed by shards of morning sunlight hung over our heads. The whispering groan of thousands breathing hard, sweat rolling down our forearms and dripping from the elbow, brushing our hips as it fell.

And then it was done. I hadn't gone deep into myself to make it, I wasn't hurting yet. Or the pleasure of achievement masked the pain of getting there.

The dark tarmac ahead suggested a still wet road and with a few bend there were signs that some had not given the respect due to both sides of the mountain. The sound of gendarmes' whistles and cyclists braking, scattered bikes, an ambulance: someone had fallen.

Don't look, just keep focused on the curve ahead and the space around. The usual inconsideration of those who confuse being fast with being good as they cut across a wheel was a menace all the way down.

Fast down into the valley, skip the feed station at Plateau de Benou and push on to Ferrieres. In good groups as we continue to descend, the valley floor hits the legs hard, straining them once again and stretching the time to the 112km marker and food and water.

Col du Soulor

Like the least reknown of the Pelissier brothers, the Col du Soulor has its own merits but between Marie-Blanque and Tourmalet, it shines less bright. Never underestimate the potential for surprise from the least feared opponent.

Interminable the winding slopes through the trees and the distant summit along an exposed road. Around me riders start to wail with cramp. I offer them a bottle of electrolyte drink to quieten them and allow me to resume my focus.

The clatter of loose rocks, the low belching bleat of a mountain sheep, a brebis, as it drops off the roadside above and onto the tarmac just behind me. A day nearly brought to disaster by "a local" out for a walk. Someone at the roadside chases it away as I sigh with relief.

At the top, the cheering, the family handing out beer and pretzel sticks to anyone who wants them. TC and Wei from the Rapha gang, both smiling through the suffering.

Stop a moment to remount camera and lose them in the crowd before the descent. Should have just ridden on. Thought I could catch them but saddlebag coming loose puts paid to my brake-free pursuit downhill.

On to the Tourmalet

The chaotic noise of the town square at Argeles-Gazost with the kindly spectator volunteering to hold bikes while riders refuel. Feeling good now. Descending always does that for me.

Cracking on strong groups, saddlebag comes loose. Have to stop and re-attach, work hard to get back on this fast group. This is starting to get annoying now. Why wait until today to give me grief?

Keep on moving forward through the groups as the collective will ebbs, following stronger riders across. Perhaps I should have eaten more.

Somewhere we turn right along a river and a moustachioed man on his terrace serenades us with accordion music. Typically camera is in pocket when you want to capture such a beautiful moment. Or am I remembering something from earlier?

Le Col du Tourmalet

Left past the timer clock, reading 07:44 and into a town, Luz Saint Saveur perhaps, most certainly the start of the Tourmalet.

Now I'll stop briefly, I'm going well. Craving a can of Coke, two euro in my jersey for just this moment. I'll not quibble the price for the quenching of that desire.

Swelling sensation of the achievable as I push on towards the Cyclefit stop near Barreges. Too much food in the pockets of my Rapha Lightweight jersey, bottles replenished, so offload the Percy Pigs and jelly babies to Sandy who has spent the day watching us pass when he could have ridden it quicker.

All well here, even as Geoffroy Lequattre of Radioshack passes us, not even breathing hard as he pushes his girlfriend up the Col at a pace few of us can hold. Past the final water station without stopping and into the final stretch of shade along a wooded rise.

7km to go and time has slid away from me. Nine hours is passing, ten is hope, eleven more likely. Just getting through now. No fun, no fun, no fun.

I can see the summit and there's a gang of us hopping between each meagre patch of shade like the flies hop from cow to cow in the valley below. A sense of massive distance as we stare glassy-eyed towards the ridge.

Three to go, or is it three and a half? The french can't decide but the sign says three. Ticking away at it, huddling beside the final camper van shade before the summit.

Then on, on, on. Two comes and goes as I blank out the walkers and finishers descending on the left and those hurting too much to ride on the right.

Pass the inflated obelisk of the final kilometre, stop for video then clip in and keep going past that final bend. The shouts of support ring for the individual and the collective mass.

Two hundred meagre metres, fighting for breath, the gradient eases, the bleep of the timer mat and it's over.

No chance to take in the summit, to savour the moment, just to slump against the barriers. The pain wells up, the emotion pours out, choking on my breath through exertion and elation.

10:43:00

Find the road to Pau

Not having organised my travel properly, I had only one option: ride to the nearest town for a train back to Pau.

The ravitaillement pack consumed I feel almost alive again, hunger no longer haunting me.

Down through La Mongie, Campan. Past the static traffic descending and the Tour packages with their hotels on the descent. Weaving through the caravane like the real thing.

Bagneres de Bigorre. No taxis here on a Sunday to save my legs. On to Lourdes hoping the road is flat.

Over my left shoulder, a climb, the road to Lourdes. Cars passing toot and cheer me as I ride, number still pinned to my back.

The evening sun is still hot and my patience is thin. But I'm over it and there's only 10km to Lourdes, another interminable ten.

Head down, in the drops, draped over them, time trialling to Lourdes across the flat valley. You wouldn't think I'd ridden 220km already.

Through the town to the station. There's a train, 20:45, to Pau. 20 minutes to spare. Chat to some locals who had come to watch us ride like they do every year it passes through the region.

Train to Pau with another Brit making their way back. He'd ridden further to Tarbes to avoid the hill.

Pau station and find the lift to the town level is working. Blessed be the mechanical elevator.

At 21:30 I'm back at my hotel. I left at 06:00 this morning. My computer says 235km today.

Here's something I ran up for the event and which I'll be taping to my top tube on the day. It's a cut out and stick on guide to the key distances, times and locations for the day.

It should be fairly self-explanatory, but in case it isn't:

• Black numbers on left are the distance in kilometres from the start (to nearest kilometre)
• Place names are of key points on the route including climbs and feed stations
• Place names in red are elimination zones
• Times in red are the cutoff times for the broom wagon/voiture balai
• Green picnic tables indicate food is available at feed station
• Bottles indicate drink is available at feed station

I'm heading off today on Eurostar and then the sleeper to Pau. I may tweet a bit along the way but this will be my last post before the big day, unless I find an internet cafe or something.

So we've done the bike, now to deal with the other big area of equipment: what to wear for the big day.

The most important elements to get right are those that will have most contact during the ride: shorts and shoes.

Shorts

Shorts are a deeply personal affair for numerous reasons including their contents and their fit. What works for me won't necessarily work for you because my sit bones and thighs aren't yours.

What does generally hold true is that this is an item which rewards a bit of extra spending. If you are someone who finds a cheap pair of shorts that fits like a second skin and gives you the padding and comfort you need, then you are truly blessed.

Otherwise, I'd suggest that you should be looking to spend upwards of 50GBP on a pair. How high you want to go will depend on how high you need to go to find the desired level of fit and comfort.

Shoes

Again, this comes down to you and nobody else. One thing I've found is that a shoe that is comfortable in milder weather might not be so in hotter conditions. I've got my old Specialized S-Works Boas that I'll be taking with me as well as my Bont A1s to cover such eventualities.

Getting custom footbeds done for your shoes really helps. I've got one pair that gets transferred into whichever shoes I'm riding and which give me excellent support because they are made for my feet. You can probably get some done for around 50GBP and the investment is worth it.

Jersey

I say this regardless of the event: DON'T WEAR JERSEYS YOU HAVEN'T EARNED. There's something fundamentally wrong about wearing a classification jersey if you haven't earned it.

Here's why: A pro gets a bloody hefty fine for not wearing the jersey they are entitled to, at least 1500 Swiss Francs. Just remember that the next time you think about wearing something like the rainbow or polka dot jersey replica.

There are literally hundreds of jerseys on the market that look good, wear well and are suitable for riding the Etape. Light colours are recommended, white if you are happy for it to be nowhere near as clean at the end as the start. They'll reflect the heat better. There's a wide array to choose from on the market.

If the ride is as hot as it tend to be then it needs to be made from a lightweight material but one which holds its shape well and won't sag when the pockets are full as they will be. Full zip or half zip depends on whether you fancy displaying your pasty chest to the passing Pyrenean mountain goats.

Talking of pockets, it needs to have plenty of space in them and be accessible. Try a few on to find out which one works for you as almost every manufacturer positions them differently and some are more accessible than others, depending on your size and flexibility.

Traditionally three pockets is the style but there's a few out there now with two. I like three for the ease of segmentation it offers - solid food and money in one, waterbottle or gilet in the middle, gels and powders in the other.

My recommendations are to look up something from Rapha or Shutt Velo Rapide for simple effective designs.

If you want something retro then try Prendas. Pro team kits are allowed if they are no longer an active jersey. That is the only exception to the "no pro jerseys" rule I will allow.

Helmet

As you're required to wear one, it's worth spending the cash on the lightest, most comfortable one you can afford. That will be dictated by the size and shape of your noggin and the depth of your wallet.

People who fit Giro helmets tend to have a different shape to those that fit Specialized helmet or Bell helmets.

Personally I'd be happier not wearing one but, as it is, I've invested in the Giro Prolight which is incredibly comfortable and light enough not to feel like a burden on the longer days.

Gloves

As a main contact point these are again somewhere that finding the right pair can make a big difference. Look for something lightweight and which isn't going to feel like you're wearing clown hands.

I've got a preference for classic leather mitts and I'm still wearing the same Rapha criterium gloves that I rode my first Etape in. But I do like to ride without mitts at times so I'm investigating something a bit lighter on the backs of the hand at the moment, preferably without the annoying velcro fasteners.

Baselayer

A good baselayer is one of the best pieces of kit you can invest in. It'll help reduce road rash if you fall and removes that horrid clinging dampness that jerseys can suffer from.

On descents it acts as a bit more protection from the chill and on the climbs it'll draw the sweat away from the skin.

I like the merino wool ones but lots of people swear by the Defeet mesh ones. Most manufacturers feature them in their range, so there's no excuse for not getting one.

And no, they don't cause you to overheat.

Gilet/jacket

Unless it's extremely wet you're only going to need something to keep the windchill off your torso on the descents. Don't waste time taking arm and knee warmers that take up pocket space.

Take something that packs small and even then don't waste pocket space with it. Instead, shove it up the back of your jersey where the elastic and contents of the pockets will keep it in place. If you're worried about it slipping out, then shove it in the top of your bib shorts. After about ten minutes riding you'll forget it's there.

I'm going to take my Montane Velo which packs down to the size of an apple but I may also take a look at what else I can get my hands on in the event of wet weather.

So it's about six weeks away now and most people have done a handful of long tough sportives to get in shape. I've been battering out the bike time with a mix of riding in the Surrey Hills (usually a door-to-door of around 140km) and racing on Tuesdays.

This is the first in a series of posts on advice gleaned from experience, common sense and advice read/heard elsewhere. I thought I'd start with the bike as it's the most central piece of the experience, apart from fitness which I can tell you nothing about.

• Get comfortable with you bike AKA Get yourself fitted

This is probably the single best thing you can do to improve your on-bike experience. The Etape hurts, so minimising the discomfort from the bike is one key area that is constant and fixable.

Some people swear by getting yourself fitted by someone with experience who simply knows how to fit you. But there's also a range of fit systems out there with a more scientific (or at least pseudo-scientific) approach. I can't say one is better than the other as I've not tried them all, so take your pick from what's available.

I've had my setup from Cyclefit since 2007 and it has greatly improved my riding. Retul is a system used by Team Sky and Radioshack while Specialized have their own BG Fit system which has been used by Saxo Bank and Astana.

• Use a compact crankset

Sammy Dumoulin of Cofidis runs a 50/36 or 50/34 chainset with an 11/23 cassette. Michael Barry and David Millar both train on a compact. If you run 50/34 and an 11/28 cassette, you've got a range covering walking pace to hurtling down a mountain full bore.

Those three will probably finish the Etape stage at least 30 minutes faster that the fastest finisher in the Etape. Now tell me you think you need a 53/39. Unless you are an elite, or near elite level rider, it's far more likely that a compact is what you need.

• Run your tyres at slightly lower pressures

This is one I heard Greg Lemond talk about. He suggested dropping five to ten PSI out to account for the heat generated from braking on long descents and from being in among 8000 other cyclists. Both are things you don't do that often and mean the rims heat up much more, increasing the risk of blowout. Dropping a bit of air out before you set off can help counter this.

• Use 25mm tyres

They've got a bigger contact patch. They can be run at slightly lower pressure, resulting in a much smoother ride, for negligible extra rolling resistance. They soak up the bumps and chatter much better than 23mm.

I would be riding them but Eddy Merckx didn't see fit to leave too much clearance for them. He doesn't seem to like anything bigger than a 500ml bottle either. I used to run Michelin Pro Race 25mm but they scraped the inside of the fork. It was hard giving them up because they were a great ride.

• Make it practical

I use clinchers for the same reason I almost always carry a frame pump: they are practical and effective at their job. There's no point riding silk tubulars if you then puncture both. Do you really want to be trying to swap a tubular with time against you compared to sticking in a new inner tube that you've grabbed off the nearest person?

I'd avoid using anything which you think you might spend time worrying about on the day.

• Don't crowd the bike

I've seen people heading off on what look like mobile repair shops. You don't need to weigh it down. So long as you've got a saddle bag with a couple of tubes, levers and a multitool, plus a frame pump and a computer that tells you time, distance and speed. You really don't need more hanging off the bike.

More importantly, carrying anything more just looks rubbish.

The big headline is Rapha for Women at last!

Obviously my first response is to make a list of the things I want.

The lightweight jersey in light blue would be nice if I'm doing the Etape this year (of course this means the moment I get one it'll be hellish weather).

It's got something of a classic Bianchi team jersey vibe going on and not being white gives it a bit more usability in my book.

I need a new gilet and I'm quite tempted by the new white one. Although I do really like the contrast stripe of the old one which feels a little bolder than the piping.

The full preview shows plenty of things that I WANT and expansion in the range that look interesting.

The city riding stuff is nice enough but doesn't turn my cranks. Perhaps I'm a bit binary about having bike mode and town mode. I like what they're doing but it doesn't grab me for riding around town. That said the pocket t-shirt may turn out to be an opportune purchase at some point.

Would love to hear what you guys think of the new stuff. Any standout items, any duffers?

On the women's stuff, I'd really love to hear what women who cycle think of it. Grit & Glimmer have got a first look with an American perspective I guess, but what about women cycling in the UK?

For me the three items are the core of any good cycling collection and the decision to go with normal shorts, not bibs is well thought out given the likely audience and type of event they'll be riding.

I am reliably told that nude and flesh tones are the most happening colours in fashion this season.

My friend Lance Woodman pointed me in the direction of this fashion hate crime.

I hereby declare the competition for the worst professional kit of 2010 OVAH!

Did the designer accidentally pick up a copy of Elle rather than GQ when putting this number together? Or did the poor soul get handed a list of permitted colours and despair before getting the job done as quickly as possible and invoicing extra for loss of dignity.

See these guys?

Those are the faces of men who know they've dodged the bullet by not having to wear the team kit for at least the first six months of the year.

The only question that comes to mind, apart from the Peter-Alleneque "WHY?" is

"Which came first, the kit or the bike?"

Ultimately it doesn't matter because what we do know is that metallic colours do not translate into lycra without the use of sequins. Come to think of it, if it had been sequined jersey I would have applauded the iconoclasm.

I had been preparing myself to dissect the relative merits of the new BMC kit over on Bianchista but frankly whether or not the red shorts work is neither here nor there. They are wrong but does it even matter now?

First up, Astana. I think we can dispatch this one pretty quickly.

Is there anything good to say about it? The visual branding is weaker than last year even if the logos are less confused. That's about as good as it gets.

There's just no definition to the colour blocks and it all just goes nowhere. The previous iterations were stronger visually. Perhaps it's an embodiment of a team lacking direction and identity, not to mention lacking strength and depth in the squad.

And now to Quick-Step (found these photos via Maglia Rosa blog although they've been doing the rounds for a while now in various places)

Ignore Tom Boonen in his Belgian Champion's kit, that looks pretty cool and follows a well-worn formula that works: Champion jersey + predominantly black shorts.

And that's where they've gone wrong. Take a look at Tom in last season's abortive "retro look" out on a Paris-Roubaix reccy

The blue up-and-over on the 2010 kit looks like generic cookie cutter kit that any club can get made up by any number of suppliers. Black shorts with white sponsors' names would have worked so much better.

Then there's a concessions to television airtime. The white side panels don't say "guaranteed return on investment while in a break", they say "we're hedging our bets in case our man doesn't win and you can't read the really big logo on his chest".

Both kits also suffer from the poor application of red. In Astana's case it's Specialized; in Quick-Step's it's Eddy Merckx.

Corporate identity is big business, and Specialized have established that red S icon pretty well over recent years. It just doesn't work with that strange cyan and yellow though.

The new Merckx M on the other hand is an absolute abomination. Gone is that incredible EM logo and loving heritage typeface, replaced by another generic re-branding exercise.

It's vile and hateful, but most of all it's typical of the unnecessary need by new owners to make their mark. It brings nothing to the brand at the same time as removing all the acquired heritage value and support.

So on Sunday 18 July 2010 9,500 riders will head off from Pau in search of the summit of the Col du Tourmalet, the summit on which the centenary visit to the Pyrenees will focus.

I've gone two years without the Etape, next year I'm very eager to return to the challenge. It's tough looking at the profile, but I don't see how it can be any worse than 2007. Boy are those words going to haunt me.