Last 3 weeks before the race
I hit my stride at the end of May and kept a regular training schedule. I gradually started reducing the duration of my long rides and switched to shorter rides with intervals. My legs were feeling good, and I even set a PR on the climb that would be part of the KOM competition in the race. Unfortunately, the weekend before the race, I caught a respiratory virus. Instead of doing a route recon and continuing my taper, I was in bed, stressed that I might miss the race entirely.
Morning of race day
Thankfully, I started feeling better during the week. It wasn’t the taper I’d hoped for, but I was just glad to be healthy enough to race. One thing that was making me nervous, though, was the weather forecast. May and June had been unusually cold, and I’d done most of my training around 22°C, which is great in the moment but doesn’t prepare you for racing in tropical heat. The weather turned suddenly the day before the race, and on race day, it was a scorching 34°C with blue skies. Racing in that kind of heat is always tough, but especially so when you’re not used to it.
I had to adjust my expectations for the race. I stopped thinking about my time goals and focused instead on enjoying the spectacle and collecting experience from a big race. I ate my big breakfast as planned, pinned my race number on my bike, and headed to the start corridors. My girlfriend played the role of my personal soigneur, bringing a cooling bag filled with ice packs, my bidons, and extra water bottles to the start line. I had the ice packs on my back and poured icy water on my head several times while waiting for the gun to go off.
First hour was wonderful
The pre-cooling at the start line helped a lot. I was feeling surprisingly good in the first hour of the race despite the heat. The racing kicked off almost right away, with people trying to pass left and right, and I saw the first crash less than 3 km from the start. After about 11 km of flat terrain, we came to the first climb, the KOM segment. I decided to pace myself more carefully despite feeling good. I knew that if I overheated too soon, it would be a problem later on. I stopped at the very first feed station to pour some water on my head. It wasn’t part of the plan, but it was worth it. The second climb went well, and I was enjoying the race. The fans were loud, I was passing people, and I was even getting messages directly on my Garmin screen from my girlfriend, who was following me on LiveTrack. But things started to shift during the third big climb. I noticed that I couldn’t keep up with the same people anymore.
The feed station turned things around
Following the third climb, I started feeling worse and worse. The heat was getting to me, my carb mix was too warm and tasted overly sweet, and I was craving chilled water. People were passing me, and my mind wasn’t helping. I was getting crushed by the idea of having to suffer like this for another three hours. I was counting down the kilometers to the feed station at kilometer 47, where I planned to refill my bidons.
When I arrived, I saw a road filled with bikes lying on the ground and a big crowd of people swarming around the tables with food and water. This wasn’t what I’d imagined, but I had no choice. I left my bike and started pushing in. I reached into a barrel with electrolyte mix, bidon in hand, and quickly got scolded that I should wait to be served. The whole operation seemed inefficient and chaotic. Finally, I managed to get one bidon filled with water and the other with an electrolyte mix. I also poured a bunch of water on my head and had a few bites of watermelon. I hustled back to my bike and set out.
I almost immediately felt better. Getting cooled down put power back in my legs, and I was ready to start racing again. I also noticed clouds appearing in the sky, and even though it didn’t feel much cooler, it was another mental boost. I took my caffeine gel and pressed on.
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I got carried away
I arrived at the next feed station at kilometer 75, a bit under 3 hours into the race, and I was starting to feel some aches and pains in my lower back, neck, and sit bones. I was much more efficient at getting the liquids I needed and was quickly on my way. Most of the climbing was done at this point, and I enjoyed the long descent to the river, passing people and feeling surprisingly good in terms of legs and overall energy.
Then followed about 12 km of flat, straight road along the river, and this was probably my favorite part of the race. It was clear that the dynamic of the race had shifted from every rider for themselves to forming groups and trying to get shielded from the wind. I found it super fun trying to bridge the gap to the nearest group, then hopping onto a train of much faster cyclists passing us, then switching to another group as this one dissolved. I was rarely going under 40 km/h, and I did a good stretch of this road at 45 km/h thanks to drafting. Towards the end, it was only me and one other guy. He flicked his elbow, and I knew it was my turn. I went to the front and did a pull at around 40 km/h. It was probably only about 40 seconds, but it felt like forever. My legs and lungs were at their maximum capacity. It was painful, but I also felt like I was truly racing. I kept up with the fastest groups at pretty high speeds, even if just barely, and it felt amazing. I was proud of myself.
The death march to the finish line
After the long flat road came the second-to-last climb. I saw a surprising number of cyclists walking their bikes or simply standing hunched over, looking unwell. It was clear that the heat was taking its toll. Little did I know that I was about to trend in that direction soon. With about 8 km left in the race, I started feeling a bit nauseous. I got my final mental boost with about 5 km to go when my girlfriend cheered me from the side of the road. But I fell apart soon after that. I started feeling weak and couldn’t even hold the wheel at 35 km/h on the flat. And I knew it was going to get worse because the race finished with a final climb: 1,3 km long with a 5% gradient, mostly on cobblestones with ramps up to 9%. It was as bad as I’d dreaded. I was fully fighting against an urge to vomit, feeling weak, and could barely stay on the bike. Everyone was passing me, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I just wanted to be done. The fact that I could pretty much see the finish line is what kept me from stepping off my bike.
l’Étape was a success!
I crossed the finish line so weak I couldn’t even wave to the wonderful cheering crowd. I had to sit down. I couldn’t breathe properly, I was coughing, and my legs were shaky. It took a good 15 minutes of lying on the ground for me to recover. Not a glamorous end to the race, but I wouldn’t change it. It was super fun to race and give it my all out there. I’m already thinking about future races.
And how about my original goals for the race? I completed the course in 3 hours and 50 minutes, which is better than my conservative goal of 4 hours but not quite as good as my dream goal of 3 hours and 30 minutes. Considering the heat and coming off a viral infection the weekend before the race, I’m actually super happy with my time. And as for my competitive goal (wanting to finish in the first half of the field), I exceeded my expectations. I finished 474th out of 1410 people. This result really encouraged me. Maybe I’ll have to change the title of my article for next year’s l’Étape to “Slightly Above Average Amateur Cyclist.”
