A Borne Guide’s Summer (Part 3): L’Etape, and 2x Tour des France

Alpe d’Huez on the menu, although not from the obvious side. The route of this year’s edition was very similar to La Marmotte, so I guess I don’t need to do the latter anytime soon. 170km and 5400m elevation gain. After the Dolomites, I considered myself ready. Was it for real? I had no clue what time to aim for. I told myself that 8h30 would be an ok accomplishment. Not sure what that meant, other than that it’s 2 hours more than in Italy. I recovered well after coming back from Corvara, and 2 weeks was a decent window to get my head back into an effort mode.

I love l’Etape. I know that it can be either or; some would stay away from it, pointing out (fair enough) that it’s too crowded. 16’000 participants is no joke, but it’s not my first time. I did 3 editions before, and I don’t plan to stop going for it in the foreseeable (and rideable) future. The Dolomites schedule and early start prepared me for a repeat, so it wasn’t a shock to the system. I am not a morning person, but can occasionally be if needed. And this was a good occasion.

On the first climb, I was feeling surprisingly good; all I kept telling myself was “don’t fk it up”. 24km of good cadence, good feelings, overtaking people, bumping into friends, and cheering them. With such a long distance, I knew that my second goal from the Dolomites was unachievable. I could not NOT stop. Accepting that taking breaks was essential, I focused on maximising each minute – water, snacks, toilet. For a solo ride, losing 15min over an 8-hour ride is not bad, at least that’s my opinion. The effort management has much larger scope here, and I am proud of myself.

The promising sensations from Col de la Croix Fer somehow didn’t last too long. I didn’t feel bad, but Galibier took a lot from me. Looking back, I think I lost a lot of energy on the false-flat, long-ish section after the first descent. Should’ve been looking for wheels from the very beginning, especially in the headwinds. Oh well, anxious me probably wanting to get over with that uninspiring section. Galibier, dear Galibier. Your name must’ve been mentioned so many times on that day. Probably more swearing than praising. The elevation takes its toll, too. The way down though… glacier in your face, I kept staring at it trying to pinch my sweaty skin, while battling the nasty wind. “Il faut pedaler”, one of the commentators said during a stage of this year’s TdF, describing a descent not quite steep enough, meaning the riders have to pedal. Yes, exactly that. Plus the headwind. What was supposed to be a nice, smooth section turned into an annoying buildup to the day’s last challenge.

Sarenne, oh Sarenne. I prefer you much more than the main road to Alpe d’Huez. You’re beautiful, calm, scenic. Of course it was difficult; its the last climb. And yes, some of the key “bornes” were missing. And yes, the last 3kms seemed so much longer, especially when we could see the top on the exhausting horizon. And yes, your descent surface ain’t pretty, nor smooth. And, lastly, it’s not all down to the finish line. So what? That’s part of this amazing game. That’s why my eyes teared up all over again when I did cross the finish line. Ride time 7h57. Elapsed time 8h13. Not bad, considering I was on my own. I sat down on the grass and stayed there for a good hour, soaking up the finish-line vibe and watching emotions fly left and right as each rider passed by. My hotel was just 200m away; I had nowhere to rush. The only anxiety slowly rising as the adrenaline phased away was… today’s stage of the Men’s Tour de France, happening 150 kilometres to the north.

The stage was going over our beloved Croisette! I wish I could be there, in the middle of Genevoise crowds, cheering and amazed by the pace of the steep gradients. But well, I had things to do, and I took it as a reward for my effort to watch the stage on TV, recognising all the familiar roads. The Tour de France continued as I returned from l’Etape, with “both of us” having Monday as a rest day. I followed this yellow soap opera on TV, as I do every year, being sad that it’s ending but excited for the upcoming fête around the Tour de France Femmes – avec ZWIFT—and it literally was avec ZWIFT for me and for our girls from the BroomWagon women’s cycling group in Geneva.

In only the third season of our community we linked up with ZWIFT and organised a viewing party of stage 2 (Aigle – Geneva), occupying one of the cafes in town. A day earlier, we rode to Lausanne to watch both the start and the finish, and on Monday we said goodbye to the riders departing from Plainpalais to cross the Swiss border and bring the Grand Boucle into its true home of France. So much happened during these three days and so few words can I find to describe it. We are just very proud of our community, and of women cycling in general – which is picking up year by year, with great interest from the audience to watch it, support it, and live it.

And here we are, in the middle of August, with the sun setting noticeably earlier. My summer has started way before its official date, with grinding up Ventoux, and is slowly ending, still carrying fresh memories of all the events. Scattered memories, sometimes blurry, or sometimes overly descriptive. Just like the thoughts going through my mind when suffering either up the Giau, or any other gradient, on or off the saddle. It seems to me that Pax is not only a reflection of global hopes but also of the hopes of each and every one of us – to be at peace with ourselves, or at least knowing we’re heading in a good direction. Something a GPS won’t point out, something we need to find within. So, good luck to me, and us, and let’s see what that results in for the next summer.