Etape report - warning it's raw

You know I like to post stuff with all the immediate emotions and I've written this within 24 hours of the end. I don't intend to steralise it - so apologies for any inaccuracies and bad language as this is written from memory and without checking the Garmin etc....

Waiting at the start it was warm so I removed my gilet regretting bringing it. I kept my arm warmers on though and waited impatiently just wanting to get going. I was expecting some kind of gun to go off or something but it was only when I glanced to the right down the hill that I could see riders starting to move fast down the road and it must have started. Looking ahead and the wall of bodies and bikes started to weave like a thousand snakes and I realised that this must be it. I switched on the Garmin and at 7:11 clipped in for the first time. At 7:16 I pressed the start button as we crossed the mats at the start. This is it - I'm actually doing the Etape.

I went for it from the start as planned. Very aggressive. It was mostly gently downhill and I felt really strong, powering along.

We were held up in a town where the road had narrowed. A bloke to the side of me couldn't ride while moving so slowly and started to tumble. I dropped my shoulder as he lent out to grab me to steady himself. Sorry mate but you are not taking me down with you. Not today. I managed to keep pedaling - all those bike skills learnt weaving through London traffic paying dividends. I hopped up the pavement along with some other riders and we whizzed past a few hundred riders before rejoining the road at a left turn over a bridge, I was loving this.

On the Fred and the Etape du Dales I wouldn't bother trying to suck a wheel because I didn't have the confidence. A rider would come by and I would try it only to be pushed off by someone stronger. Not today though. I held strong and I could hear Kevin at the club saying to me, "Get on that wheel and hold it. You are working harder than the rest of us and you need to learn to hold a wheel". And I was doing it now.

As we exited the town at the foot of the Marie-Blanque eerie bells tolled which seemed so fitting. I've heard this is the hardest - so come on let's see how bad it is. I felt good. I got into a nice rhythm and although felt a little tired with the length of the climb but I was feeling fine. A voice said, "Hello Dulwich" and I recognised someone who I had ridden with a couple of weeks before. We exchanged a few words and then he powered on leaving me to my own slow but steady pace. Then a shout from behind and a crash. A wheel hit me from behind and I just managed to unclip one foot and stop myself from falling too. An American voice shouted at me, "get to the side if you are walking", and I resisted the temptation to shove him over the edge into the bushes. By now everyone had stopped even the big mouth and it seemed we would have to walk to the summit. Some English lads thought they would take it upon themselves to get everyone moving again. So they kept shouting, "stay to the left if you are riding", but much to the enjoyment of those around they didn't seem to get far as the slow moving wall of bodies and bikes was just too dense to pass through. After a good 20 minutes walking there was a break in the crowd and I tried to get back on and ride. I got one foot clipped in and tried to lift the other quickly to push on but just couldn't do it. I then scootered up the slopes ludicrously swinging one leg until there was a bend in the road and some spectators. One of the spectators was pushing a rider to give him the momentum to get riding and I motioned to his family that I'd really appreciate the same. They called him and bless him he grabbed the back of my saddle and launched me up the slope. I clipped in and then climbed to the summit before dropping down the descent. I descended like a demon. I felt so good. The Marie-Blanque was over - that could be the worst climb and I had got through it fine. It was going to be a good day.

I went faster and faster, overtaking so many and then on the flat again I refueled, checking my now soggy route card to see when the Soulor was coming. I got into a big group and we were doing around 36km/h to 40km/h and I felt strong. In fact I felt so good I pulled out of the group and powered to the front bringing a couple of riders with me. We worked quite well together but then I started to feel a little breathless so I eased off soon to be overtaken by the group I had previously left. I didn't mind. My average speed for the day was well up and I was confident. The first part of the Soulor was gentle and I stayed in the big chainring watching the Garmin move from 1% to 2% to 3%. I could go all day like this I thought. 4% and another Dulwich rider came alongside. "How you feeling?". I feel great thanks, I said, and so I did. This is the easy climb isn't it?, I asked and he said - yes but it does kick up at some point. True enough it got steeper. 4%, 5%.

"Andrew?" a voice said. I said "Hi" without really concentrating and then looked at the bike. Litespeed. I had finally met Karen. Karen - my god, well spotted!. Karen looked fit and was riding really steadily. Seemed to be oozing confidence. We chatted but I was starting to suffer a bit as I am prone to doing when climbing. I wanted to stay with her and maybe work together but she kept at her steady speed and I started to slow. I actually started to feel some pain in my feet at this point but thought it was nothing. Just a stinging around the balls of the feet and so I eased off just to wriggle the toes to remove the discomfort. I had really started to slow now though and was being passed by rider after rider. There was a nice calm though as everyone went about their business, engrossed in their own thoughts.

On and on we climbed. I saw a sign saying 10km to the summit. Bloody hell - 10km!. I looked at the Garmin and worked out that would be 125km total distance so I settled down to slog through it. My feet were getting more painful though and I was struggling with the heat. The climbing really did seem to go on forever and Soulor was by no mean the push over that I had thought it would be. By the time I summited I was feeling pretty rough, There was a food stop not far on and I filled up my bottles from the taps and went over to see what food was on offer but I couldn't get anywhere close so I pushed on content with an energy bar from my pocket. I couldn't enjoy the descent. My feet were agony. The pain was a combination of walking over baking hot sand barefoot on the beach and stepping on broken glass. Every pedal stroke sent a searing shot of agony through each foot. I pulled over to the side of the road and an old guy seeing that I was in some discomfort looked at me sympathetically and held my bike in silence as I took off one shoe and tried to massage the foot to bring some comfort. I had put some kiddies pain killers in my pocket as a last thought in the morning and I popped a couple in my mouth before putting on my shoe, saying "Merci" to my friend and pedaling gently away. No more than 10 minutes on though the pain was excrutiating. I was cursing myself for not wearing in these shoes that had only seen a couple of outings since I'd bought them. Idiot. You stupid idiot. I decided to OD on Calpol so I popped another couple of painkillers. I couldn't keep up any speed at all. Group after group came by and I knew I should get on a wheel and get some respite but I just couldn't apply any pressure to the pedals and maintain any speed.

I started to see signs for the Tourmalet. This is it - the big one. Oh dear - this is going to hurt. We started to climb and climb and climb. Unlike on the Soulor I didn't want to know the height or the gradient. I didn't want to know anything, I just wanted it to be over, The heat was unbearable and apart from some tunnel like sections where the rocks overhung there was no shade at all. God this is tough, My feet were so painful and the lack of gloves started to punish me too as my fingers started to go a bit numb, On and on we climbed. I don't know how I got through the pain, I was really suffering and starting to pathetically whimper a bit. I took a guilty and perverse comfort from the scenes of carnage around me. A bloke was puking beside the road. At least I wasn't him. Another was screaming in agony as his legs cramped up. At least I wasn't him. So many had now dismounted and were walking. Others were just slumped against the rocks desperate to get some respite from the beating sun. I didn't enjoy seeing other people suffer but at least I was still riding. I was swearing at myself (and my feet): I was Scarface..."F*** you, f*** you...f*** you".

We came through a shallower section with a few bars and I could see some riders were stopping to buy drinks. I was desperate for something to drink other than water but couldn't be bothered to rummage around to find my money in the saddlebag, There was a pump that some were using which you turned quickly to draw water up from somewhere below so I did the same and filled my bottles. One went over my head, the other I sipped. 7km to go. This is unbelievable, This is cruel, why do this to us? This is extreme. I was now almost wilting with the foot pain. Every chance I had to get a dousing from someone with water I took it. The heat on my head and the pain from my feet was making me crumble, About 5km from the summit there was a water stop. I had to get off the bike and take a break so I lent it against some barriers and hobbled over to a lady who filled them up. She said something to me in French which I didn't understand but it seemed from what she did to someone else that she was offering to spray my legs with the hose. This seemed like a geat idea so once I got my bike I went back, found an empty hose and soaked myself with the cool water. The next section was very steep and I think it was here that there was a photographer. I tried to put on a brave face but at one of the only flat sections in 20km I had to dismount and give myself a good talking to. I was annoyed that there was another photographer a little further on and I am dreading the picture of me sitting on the stone bridge wall, arms outstretched, holding the top tube of my bike, head in between my arms and saying to myself - you can do it - ignore the pain, it will soon be over...come on.. come on...you can do it. It was only about 90 seconds or so but it was enough for me to get some resolve to ride now all the way to the summit.

3km to go...this is going to be the longest 3km of my life I thought and so it was. So hard so painful...keep going, stop being a twat...just keep going. I looked up to see if I could see the top of the Tourmalet and I could see 2 long sections with a snake of riders making their way up. I looked up further and there were yet more sections and I hoped we didn't have to climb them but I could see vehicles so I realised I must have to go up that far.
,
181km: I see a lady over to the left pouring water over riders so I move over to get some. A gentle English voice, "Just 500m to go, you're so close now", as she poured to cool water down the back of my neck.
181.1km: I down the last of my water. It's warm and I'm glad it is the last because I'm sick of drinking water.
181.2km...181.3...every 100m seems to take an age but I am pushing harder. F*** you feet. F*** you. F*** you.
181.4km...Will it ever end...
181.5km: Cruel , cruel - it should be over. Another English voice, "You are there guys... just 100m to go", and the road seemed to steepen.
"50m", another English voice, "just this turn and you are there". It was true, I could hear the beep beep of transponders going over the timing mats. And then I was there myself, head slumped low with exhaustion and agony, crossing the finishing line. Arivee. Not too many people around, just some polite clapping from those that were there. From me no elation, no fist pumping, no joy, no tears. I pressed stop on the Garmin, a shocking and never in my wildest Etape nightmares 10 hours 35 minutes since I'd pressed Start. It's over. It's over. Thank god it's over. I've finished the Etape.