The Road to Ventoux: Part I

So, finally, the big day dawned. Except it hadn't. Not at 4.30. But that was when my alarm went off.

The alarm was superfluous anyway, as I'd already been awake for some time, checking my watch every ten minutes as I tried, in vain, to get some rest.

Bleary eyed and cotton headed, I slid into my cycling gear and walked down the corridor to breakfast at my allotted time of 4.45, knowing I had to eat as much as possible, but still finding it nigh on impossible. The best I could manage was three slices of raisin bread and a cup of coffee. Luckily I'd made up a litre bottle of SiS PSP22 to try and top up my carbs and fluids, and at least that was going down ok.

Amazingly, considering how many of us there were to herd, everyone was ready to go at 5.30, and we set off on the short ride from the hotel to the start line. It was good to actually be on the bike, although not so good to be taking on the HGV's on the Montelimar bypass in the dark.

We were already getting our first 'honks' of encouragement though, and as we rolled into our start pen, I told myself that I'd finally arrived: fit (ish), healthy and as well prepared as I was ever likely to be. Whatever happened, I'd given it my best shot.

By getting into Montelimar early, despite having pretty much the lowest possible numbers (mine was 9453 out of 9500), we'd at least managed to get to the front of our pen - giving ourselves an extra 5 mins or so on the broom-wagon, but meaning a wait of an hour and a half before we were likely to get away.

I got chatting to a couple of people waiting with us - an American guy who'd done the Etape before a few times, and a fellow Brit first-timer. Again, it made the time go a bit quicker, and took my mind

off the pain to come, and (almost) before we knew it, 7 o'clock had come round.

In the distance, we could hear the announcement of the start and a few cheers, but not much else. It was going to be at least 20 mins before we set off, and that was 20 mins nearer the broom wagon.

In fact, the start took a bit longer than I'd anticipated, and it wasn't until 25 past that there were some signs of movement. It was about this point that I noticed my front wheel was rubbing. I don't know why it decided to do this at the precise moment that I was about to start the biggest bike ride of my life...but it did. I quickly tried adjusting the quick release to see if that would do any good, but no joy...so eventually the only thing to do was slacken off the front brake. It was still usable, but only with significant pressure on the brake levers...but at this point I didn't have a whole load of choice.

Eventually, around 7.27, there was a chorus of clicks as the last 1500 of us stepped into our pedals, and we were off. We were a fair way back from the actual start line, and there was plenty of congestion, so as we picked our way through the traffic, moving forward gradually, it was almost 7.40 before we finally got across the line, and started the Etape proper.

Alarmingly, 7.40 was the first elimination time. I was going to have to start fast, to get a buffer on the broom wagon.