One tiny hill to go!

I'm lying on my back at the top of the Bales, and I can't tell you how relieved I felt. Despite facing one more Category 1 climb to reach the finish, I now knew that barring disaster I was going to finish L'Etape.

The weather seemed to be deteriorating on the top of the Col, and it was windy. I was relieved to be able to rehydrate and ate a fair few chunks of banana and fruity sweets. I was feeling shivery again , so I put on my lightweight jacket before swinging a tired leg over the crossbar for the final time ( I hoped).

The road leading away from the summit has been freshly laid for this year's Tour, and it was a perfect smooth surface. What wasn't so great was the lack of any sort of barrier or perimeter at the edge of the road which made the descent a bit hairy. An 'off' here could mean ... err death ! So, despite the fatigue I made sure I concentrated hard.. Luckily, the beautiful new road made it all a lot safer and I felt like an old pro as I swept through the corners as fast as I dared. Unfortunately, I sounded like a prat because my jacket was flapping ridiculously and the noise was horrific.

Talking of old pros, Greg Lemond was wearing the No'1 bib, and my mate Steve overtook him going up the Bales. He said, 'Hi' and Greg grunted something about, 'Can't do this anymore'. He put quite a few minutes over him and didn't expect to see him again. Steve was halfway down the descent when who should come past him at incredible speed?

Anyway, I had one final climb, the Col de Peyresourde, a 7 to 8 mile climb at 8% gradient. It started in a small town with a big wide road, and just seemed to go up in a constant unpleasant manner. I suspect this would be a reasonably pleasant ascent if it was the first Col of the day, but by now I had been on the road for over 8 hours. It was still very hot and windless.
There ain't much more to say about it except it was another hour and a half of teeth-gritting pedal grinding hellish effort. Everyone was suffering up here but we all knew there would be no quitting. It's one of the Tour's most popular climbs and you can tell why as you wobble your way up it.... beautiful scenery stretches away on your right hand side. I guess it took about an hour and a quarter to get near the top where the road took a right hand sweep. High above I could hear the crowds cheering and hollering, and I could see 4 great big switchback corners. I enjoyed every one of them and felt some energy flowing back into my legs. I tried to accelerate and started to savour the moment. I can't describe the feeling of triumph as I rolled over the top... it was pure joy. All that lay before me now was a short descent before Loudenvielle.

All the agony of the previous hours was forgotten. I started thinking about having a beer, a pot of tea, beans on toast, lying down etc. Annoyingly, there was a short but sharp final climb to negotiate before the final straight. One poor chap was sitting by the road vomiting violently.

And finally, I entered the wide funneled area leading to the finish line. Hundreds of spectators lined the barriers waiting for their loved ones, cheering and clapping. I have to admit, I did the ultimate daft thing. I sat up in the saddle, I pulled up my zip, and then held my arms out in the famous Tour-winner's pose. I'm glad to say I didn't fall off, and I got a huge cheer.

9 hours 58 minutes of ride time. 32 minutes was spent stopped for food, fluids and rest.
My position in the race accounting for the time spent to cross the line at the beginning of the day was 2147 th.
I believe about 8000 started (but I believe numbers were down as the severity of the route put off many people).
2600 people failed to finish.

And that was it.
A great way to spend a day.
It was tough.

Part 2

My previous post left me a little past the halfway mark on the top of the Col de Mente.

I'm pretty sure the vast majority of Etapists had done their homework , and knew we now faced the true test of the day... the hors categorie (ie. the worst sort !) climb Port de Bales. This is about 12 to 13 miles of ascent at a gradient of a little over 6%. 6% ain't much... a piffle.. but unfortunately for the complacent, the French quote averages. We had quite a few miles of flattish riding in a valley following a river into a surprisingly strong headwind before we started to ascend. Like Tom Boonen, I let everyone around me do all the work and made sure I was fully hydrated and refuelled.
One of the great features of the day was the roadside support from local people. This included small impromptu bands, lots of cheering, 'the girl in the red bikini', unfeasibly old people, the inevitable stray dog causing havoc, and the traditional painted slogans on the blacktop.It was really great to hear the cries of 'allez' and 'courage'. In many small villages, people had rigged up hosepipes to cool us down, or were offering to pour water over our heads. I had accepted a good dowsing from someone, but unfortunately most of the water ran into the padding of my synthetic chamois and formed a big soggy mess between my backside and the saddle. Now I know why babies cry when they have soaked their nappies because I immediately started to chafe. It was really giving me grief and I cursed my inexperience for letting this happen. I was also burning in the sun. What sunblock I had applied had evaporated by now and my upper arms were visibly red. Oh well... nothing I could do about it now.

The beginning of the Bales was gentle and I was feeling strong. Another factor of the day which made you feel like a real pro was the constant stream of support and paramedic motorcycles zipping along, overtaking on our left. There was a sudden flurry of activity and as I came around a corner I found out why. A large tree had literally just toppled over across the road and we were having to duck under the trunk. Bizarre. Anyway, the road began to narrow and deteriorate in quality, and after 7 or 8 easy climbing kms the gradient ramped up steeply...... from here on the point I was trying to make about the average gradient becomes relevant. This second half of Bales almost certainly will be remembered as most Etapists' time of suffering. The heat was by now at its worse, and we all hugged the edge of the road searching for tiny nuggets of shade which might have given us a few nanoseconds of heat relief. Hard to believe in retrospect but it's true! This section was very narrow and the road surface had recently been repaired by Bodgit and Scarper because huge sections of tar were melting really badly. The bike seemed to bog down as the friction coefficient peaked. Why waste money on top tyres with low rolling resistance if you have to ride through sticky soup like this? It all added to the misery as we all slowed to our minimum, bottom gear, grinding, weaving and groaning. Regular signs indicated the distance to the top but only increased the torture when a quick bit of maths made it obvious that I had at least another 90 minutes of this hell before I would reach the top. The temptation to join the ever increasing numbers of people getting off for a rest or a lie down was palpable, but I decided that to stop may be terminal and I just tried to keep making small circles with my feet. I also set small targets... the next corner, the next signpost, the next man in tears, the next person receiving medical attention.... that sort of thing.
A steady stream of walkers were clunking up the right hand side of the road in their cleats. One guy lost it and chucked his carbon machine against the rocky side of the road, yelling, 'I can't even walk up the f**^er , let alone pedal'. This actually spurred me on.

I expected my heart rate to be at my known max in the high 160's but for some strange reason I was way down in the low 150's. I can only guess that this was a sign of the virus load in my body that would be giving me the runs 24 hours later. I also experienced a couple of disconcerting sudden shivery sensations that seemed to zip through my body and down my arms making my hairs tremble. I wondered if this heralded the onset of the hunger bonk, so sucked down another caffeine-gel as soon as possible. I was parched too, so stopped in a tiny patch of shade for a 5 minute lie-down and took the chance to drink a good half bidon of water/electrolyte.
Eventually, the trees cleared and the mountain top opened out to more switchback corners and great scenery. I could sense the top of the Col, and sure enough, the sound of cheering and more delightful amateur music started to drift down from the ridges ahead. I dared to succeed. I stopped and looked back down the valley at the slow snake of riders who were still on their way up. A youngish woman passed me on her bike and drew huge cheers of roadside support...' incroyable, une fille!' they were yelling. She grinned as she passed, clearly enjoying herself. I took a couple of photos. Near the top it was much cooler, overcast, and windy. I watched a huge bird of prey soaring on the thermals and made a mental note of the moment. You can't buy this sort of stuff, you know.
There was slight relief from the gradient, and eventually after two hours or so of special suffering I pushed over the top of the Bales. Bliss. I now felt assured of success barring a crash or mechanicals, and it felt good. A moment to relish.

I had a small lie down. Jacko did the same apparently and found himself in someone's own personal toilet area. Nice. I don't think he cared at this point, and nor would you.

More in my next post.

Get ready to ride L'Etape.

It’s Thursday afternoon as I sit here typing. My bowels are still in their own special world of turmoil. I’ve just stepped off the scales and I’ve lost 11lbs since Saturday afternoon. Not surprising really, considering I’ve eaten almost zilch since spending 10 hours in the saddle.

Let’s go back to the big day on Monday.

I was up at 4-15am local time, feeling tired but adrenalized. We had to dress in our cycling kit, pack all our stuff, and then load the bags onto the coach in order for them to be taken to the other end in Loudenvielle. Then a quick breakfast, trying to eat as much as possible, and forcing fluids down to bursting point. What I really needed was a big bowl of porridge and 4 mugs of tea, but it wasn’t to be. We boarded the coach for a quick transfer to a gymnasium where the bikes had been stored overnight in a small town near Foix. Everyone was rushing to grab their bike and other stuff in order to get to their designated starting point as quickly as possible. There was a big queue for the khazi, but it had to be done despite a feeling of panic as the clock ticked by towards the start time. We then faced a 6 mile ride to Foix where we entered our start pen and joined the other 7500 riders nervously waiting for the off at 7 am local time (that’s 6am in England and ‘No’ we hadn’t adjusted within 2 days). One guy crashed when he braked and his bars twisted because he hadn't tightened the clamp properly when he had re-assembled the bike off the plane. He went over the front and seriously knackered his knee. He couldn't continue, and his Etape finished before it had started.

There was plenty of nervous banter and bravado as we all anticipated the day ahead. The weather was perfect, cool but clear. We could hear Phil Liggett over the PA system, and then the klaxon sounded for the off. The hotshots and Greg Lemond were at the front, and I imagine they all sprinted away while we stood still. It took 16 minutes to roll gently over the start line, and my friends Steve and Simon (top Northern semi-pro in the photo above) set a fast pace as we steadily overtook hundreds within the first few miles.

I drafted like a sneaky thing following the big blokes, conserving energy until we reached the first proper climb of the day, Col de Port after about 16 miles. This is a Category 2, so I settled into a decent pace and watched my heart rate, keeping it well down as I ascended reasonably comfortably. There were occasional trains of very fast riders overtaking on the left and you had to have your wits about you at all times in order to avoid collisions. Halfway up the 7 mile climb I let my friends pull away and decided I would proceed at my own pace, but I was a bit disappointed and a little perturbed that I couldn't keep up with them. No matter… all my training has been done on my own.

The woodland cleared towards the top and the gradient seemed to ease as we approached the Col with fabulous views over my left shoulder. I was pretty warm by now and it was obvious we were in for a hot one.

Over the top and then it was time to see how fast I dared to go. This is the first time I have had the chance to descend on closed roads, knowing that a 2CV or a French farmer won’t be coming up the road around the corner. The art is to choose your line to hit the apex in a controlled manner having finished any braking well uphill, weight low, watch the road like a hawk and trust in your tyres, forks and brakes! It was a buzz. Exhilarating and scary as I hit almost 50 mph trying to take it easy. Some of the bends were very tight and the road surface was far from perfect, so total concentration was needed if you weren’t to join the growing number of casualties. Because we were so near the start, it was still very crowded and there were loads of kamikaze dudes swooping down from behind cutting me up and swerving into my line. I saw some bad accidents. One guy unconscious, medics in attendance. One girl sobbing holding her shoulder in the middle of a multi-bike pile-up. Two guys remonstrating with bloodied knees. Sadly, one of our group, Chad, was taken out by an Aussie and fell, collecting a good dose of road rash. By the time he had mended his bike/puncture etc and been sorted by the medics he had lost 45 minutes. As a consequence, he was mopped up by the broom wagon and forced to quit on the 3rd Col. He was gutted. That's his dodgy shoulder in the picture above.

The road then meandered quite comfortably with a long run through a valley for about 25 miles. There were a couple of nice villages with people enjoying a coffee and croissant on the pavement as we whirred past.I can hardly remember anything else, except I made sure that I drafted and conserved energy. The first refreshment stop arrived at 45 miles and I stopped for fruit and water.

At this point I didn’t feel like the real Etape had got going knowing that 4 major climbs lay ahead. Climb 2, Col du Portet d’Aspet was also a Cat 2 and it was fairly comfortable. The descent was the opposite, very steep and scary, and we passed the monument to Casartelli who died in a crash here in 1995. Huge stone barriers line the edge of the road to pulverise anyone unlucky enough to slide into them. Again, I witnessed plenty of trauma as people overcooked it. It’s so sad that some peoples’ Etape experience ends in pain and even hospitalisation for the sake of a little more care and caution.

Almost straight away with no respite we started the Category 1 Col de Mente. It was a bugger. Very steep, very hot and this section heralded the start of the day’s suffering. I was grinding in my lowest gear for an hour, although I couldn't get my heart rate above a meagre 150. After your classic switchbacks in the intense sun we seemed to enter a long straight bit towards the summit. By now , people were walking, sitting and resting by the road. I heard 3 of 4 tyres literally explode. I was so pleased to get up and took 15 minutes for food and water and a lie down.

I now faced the real test of the day, the horrific ascent called Port de Bales followed by the Col de Peyresoude.

There would be real suffering. Grown men cried.

Part 2 tomorrow.

Poorly sick but happy

I should have gone back to work this morning, but I'm still ill. It would have been a day of triumph, swaggering around the hospital with a smile on my face, shaking hands, lots of hugging and kissing small babies. The potential for storytelling would have been enormous, and I would have basked in the glory of it all. There would be no need for any exaggeration.

Instead, I've spent nearly the whole day in bed with irregular but frequent visits to the bathroom for you-know-what.
I've tried to eat a small bowl of grapenuts but thirty minutes afterwards pebbledashing became fashionable again on the south coast.

In all other respects I feel fine. My legs are virtually 'normal'. No aches or pains there. I've got sore botty cheeks because I was chafing for the last 70 miles or so after my chamois seat became soaking wet. I'm a little sunburnt.

I'll tell the full story when I'm feeling better, but thanks to everyone for their congratulations and support.

Can I implore you all to try and watch the Tour coverage on TV next Monday when the pros tackle our route. I hope some of them suffer like we did, and not make it look too easy!

10 hours of suffering.

Well.. I did it. Just under 10 hours of suffering.
It was horrific at times. The Bales was pure agony. I saw men crying, collapsing, puking and throwing their bikes against the rocks. The tarmac was melting. Many dropped out.

I didn't really 'go' very well, and I had a strangely slow heart rate. I had 3 shivering episodes which made me think that I was about to bonk. After today I think it was the first signs of a bug.
This morning at 5am I was vomiting by the side of the peage, and unfortunately I've been ill all day, with a fever and shall we say... 'stomach upset'.
I'm too weak to blog properly and I need to dash again.

Hopefully I'll be better tomorrow.

The Big Day!!!!

The current Mrs C here!
I have spent all day wondering how things were going for Pete, nervously anticipating a call or text. It came at 4.50 p.m as a text.
I've done it. 10 hours.
More news - he's fine but has suffered. One of his team mates suffered more so, having taken a fall and had to give up. Very sad after all the training. Hope he's ok.
I've just had a brief phone chat ....4th climb was absolute hell and the 5th climb - er that was hell too....... it was hot, hot, hot, melting tarmac and gravel sticking on his tyres.... no wind except in the valleys where it was against them.... Some of the descending was wild (not by him I hope!) - lots of crashes and people being carted off in ambulances. He was absolutely on his beam end (???)... but now he feels ok.
I'll let him fill you in properly on his return.
For now, many thanks to everyone who has supported him and donated sponsorship money.
Mrs C.

You don't get any fitter by thinking about it..

I've got to the stage where I'm so looking forward to L'Etape... I probably think about it about every thirty seconds (by 'it' I mean L'Etape; not the other thing we men are thinking about).

As promised, I've had a trawl through my training diary to compile some statistics.
Here we are:

Total weeks: 18 (I haven't counted this week)
Total miles: 2020
Longest ride: 105 miles
Average miles per week: 112
Average time per week: 6:30
Total hours: 118

I hope I've done enough, but to be honest, I couldn't have done any more without ruining my life! I have said all along that the biggest challenge would be juggling family, job, football, other hobbies etc with the need to get out on the bike and pedal. Also, very important, is the need for rest and recuperation in between the sessions on the bike, and the fact that at 47 years old, I need more of the latter than the youngsters in their 30's. Warning to the tyros... as you get older the heart and lungs are fine, and the mental toughness is still there. The problem is the muscles, tendons and ligaments don't quite match up, and it's easy to injure yourself. I have never claimed to be a lard arse at the outset... I suspect I was far fitter than most blokes my age, but it has been a bit tight to get it together in 18 weeks. I am lucky to have retained my fitness into my forties and have a reasonable tall and lean physique for endurance events such as L'Etape. Also, I've managed to avoid any bad colds or other viruses. I hope I have used my time wisely , and applied a bit of science and 'trained smart.'

I'm lucky to be able to afford to buy a top-of-the-range carbon bike, and to get excellent advice and support from Top Northern semi-pro Jacko (he of the shaven legs). Lightweight equipment undoubtedly makes my task easier.

What (if any) have been the highlights? It's nice to know I have become accustomed to long hard sessions in the saddle, having developed the necessary stamina and mental strength. I relished the 100-mile Hampshire Hilly sportive. This was my first real event, and gave me my first exposure to semi-competitive riding and riding in a group (dare I say peloton?). It awakened my competitive instinct, and I loved every mile. I did a good time which gave my confidence a massive boost. I like feeling fit, and hope it helps my football next season.
I also really enjoyed my 4 day sojourn to the south of France to ride with my friend Chris in The Cevennes. Heat, mountains, pain and suffering... a perfect holiday.
I've learned so much about my bike, about the sport of cycling, and I've realised what a massive hobby this is. The cycling world is a big friendly community, and to quote my injured friend Stoney...'cycling is the new golf '.
I've also acquired a lot of knowledge regarding modern training techniques, nutrition and other aspects of sports physiology. Thanks to JBST.

It hasn't all been fun. The weather has been pretty grim at times and I've done a fair bit of riding on wet and windy days. I also had an episode of nagging mardy bum ache which was....well , a pain . I also initiated myself into the brethren of cyclists when I fell off at 30mph and acquired a nasty case of road rash. In retrospect I was lucky not to break anything. Many of the early starts have been grim and required massive willpower. The disruption to normal family life has been wearing and I need to thank my wife and children for putting up with me for the last 4 months.
I was gutted to snap my chain during the Tour of the Cotswolds. Up to that moment I was flying, having started near the back and then overtaking at least couple of hundred people. I had then joined a fast strong group of riders and I felt confident that I could ride with them to the end and so hopefully post a really good time. I felt at my peak that day, but it all went pear-shaped when the old chain gave up. At least I learned something that day about carrying tools for any emergency and the need to replace your chain regularly.

I hope I'll find time to post tomorrow and maybe Saturday. If not, let me offer huge thanks to everyone who has wished me luck and offered support. You are too numerous to count or mention, but can I say 'hello and thanks' to The Shanklin Webbs who have sponsored me AND taken the trouble to send me a card.

Anyway, I'll be 'on the rivets' next Monday, and I'll finish barring illness, falls, catastrophic breakdown or Acts of God (including BA losing my bike in-transit).
Bring it on.

Helmet hair

I went back to work yesterday after a week's annual leave, and spent the whole day glancing at my watch and thinking about how far around the course would I be at the same time next week. I also constantly have been asked 'when is it?' At least people are interested.

Things must be getting pretty serious because for the third night in a row I have dreamed about L'Etape. Last night I was in the leading bunch when a couple of hotshots accelerated past me. I waited for my group to respond, but they didn't, so I jumped out on my own and chased them up to road. Obviously I caught them, and then beat them up a long climb. Then it all went to pieces, because I got stranded at the apex, and everybody else disappeared down a road which I didn't know existed. So I had a disturbed and frustrated feeling of wasted effort. Perhaps that explains why I felt really tired when I woke despite a reasonably early bed time last night. I'm not feeling particularly energetic but I'm putting that down to patheticness/neurosis/nerves.As long as I have not got the Close family virus then I'm going to be OK.

Top Northern Pro Jacko has organised for me and the 4 other superstars from The Bard Prostate Cancer Charity team to wear some special kit for the big day. It's loverly; top quality Bioracer apparel. I went for a test ride today over my 20 mile course and did a good time, although I didn't break my record. I'm blaming that on a strong headwind all the way home, plus I was baulked by two coach loads of tourists blocking my run down the fastest bit of the course. Annoying. Anyway, I got the missus to take a photo of me with my sweaty helmet hair sporting the new outfit. It's quality and must be worth at least 30 minutes time saved. My spies in the far north have also predicted hot dry weather next Monday in Foix... it's good to know all the training in the cold rain will amount to nothing. Actually, I have been going out in the last month deliberately wearing far too much clothing in order that I at least attempt to acclimatise to the sensation of being too hot! A bit nutty I suppose, but how many of you are familiar with that awful airless stuffy feeling when you're exercising in hot weather? It's horrible and you feel as if you're suffocating. It sounds as if we'll fly from 15 degree England to 35 degree France and then get on the bike and pedal for 9 hours after 24 hours adjustment! All part of the fun.

The Tour is on Eurosport with brilliant live coverage every day. It's fantastic to watch and the commentators are superb. Sean Kelly is so funny, and has mastered the art of non-stop babbling without drawing breath. He and David Harmon are now able to convey so much more information and insider knowledge to we viewers, making it much more exciting and watchable. Yesterday's stage in Belgium was marred by a horrific crash which blocked the road. These guys are so brave and tough. The Belgiums got a one-two finish, which is a bit more than we Brits can claim after our prologue and first stage on home soil. I wonder how bad Wiggins and Cavendish feel after such disappointment on the first two days. I suppose the important thing is how they deal with the failures in their careers, just as much as the successes. Look at the way Robbie McCewan handled the shock of crashing on Sunday, gritting his teeth, ignoring the pain and somehow getting himself to the front and winning by a few yards. A lesson in life? Boys I'm deep. Today's finish was also fantastic. That fella Cancellara is the one to beat on his Cervelo.

So, with just a few more days to go, there aint much more to do in terms of training. I'm getting all my bits and pieces together. I need to go shopping and buy some malt loaf, Nutrigrain bars and a few other nick-nacks. Passport. Currency. Camera.

I promise to have a careful look through my excel spreadsheet training diary and compile some data. I was listening to a podcast from the JBST boys at the weekend and they were interviewing a very experienced guy who has done 5 or 6 Etapes. He was recommending at least 8-10 hours per week from January in order to get prepared.
I have done nowhere near that much! Not even close.

I also need to post a running total regarding the money which I have raised for the Prostate Cancer Charity. I hope I've made the thousand mark. If there is anyone out there prevaricating.... you want to sponsor me but you can't quite be bothered.. all I can say is go on, go on, go on go on, go on...

Finally, my 12-year old daughter has started her own blog. http://chickensrockmyworld-soyouthinkyoucan.blogspot.com/

I don't believe it

What a weekend of sport.
The papers are full of analysis of the mens' Wimbledon final, and there are at least two articles about Bjorn Borg. When I was a lad he was The Man. He ruled the game. Clearly he had the game for grass, but his main asset was his incredible temperament. The cliche which will be repeated ad nauseum will be 'ice cool' but it sums him up perfectly. No matter what was happening on the court, he registered no emotion and, more importantly, his game never wavered. He is a legend. When he was finally beaten by McCenroe, he shocked the world by announcing his sudden unexpected retirement from the game. He has subsequently declared that he was never enjoying himself when he was playing tennis. How very odd. I would have thought he was having a ball out there thrashing everyone. I would love to be doing that. A one-on-one combative and gladiatorial game, played out in front of the eyes of the world. I hope he his a contented man. Glory and respect last forever.

Lewis Hamilton looks as if he has the mental side of things pretty much sewn up. Despite everything going off around him, he just gets on with his job. You can't help but think old Monty would have been one of the all time great golfers if he had been able to control the psychological side of things.
I suppose none of us really know if we've got it upstairs until the chips are down. When I was doing the Hampshire Hilly 100 I spent a lot of time riding with a guy who is also doing the Etape. He was telling me about his first attempt the previous year, and how he blew up on the first climb. He described how he was psyched out by the sheer magnitude of the mountain. He finished eventually, but the Etape experience for him was a bad one and he took no good memories from the day.

I can't stress how much I want my Etape to be a day of good memories and experiences. Obviously the number one priority is to finish. Then I want to have enjoyed the atmosphere, the crowd, the climbs, the descents, the scenery... the whole lot of it. I'm not trying to get a medal. I also want to avoid too much dehydration with the accompanying headache and wasted feeling.

For those of us with access to Eurosport TV, the Tour de France has been amazing so far. Basically, we've got live coverage of the entire prologue and first stage. Wouldn't it be funny if they covered L'Etape du Tour? I'll have to make certain that I record the programme on the day when the pros do the stage from Foix to Loudenvielle so that I can relive the event through the eyes of the TV cameras.

I'm planning to do another gentle ride today, and then will do a full-on 20 mile 'time-trial' on Tuesday to see if I can beat my record time. Then Wednesday and Thursday will be leisurely recuperative rides just to wind down and keep my legs going. I don't want to stop completely because it doesn't suit my physiology. I'll make certain that my legs are not stressed too much so that any muscle damage will be repaired by the weekend.

I've just checked my travel itinerary and I've realised that my flight next Saturday is not early morning, but late evening. This is good and bad. It means I avoid a ridiculous early start in order to set off, but I'm going to arrive in my hotel around midnight on the Saturday. On the Sunday, I'll have to reconstruct the bike after the journey, and then report to race control to check-in and claim my race number and transponder. I'm anticipating sleep deprivation, rushing and anxiety. It's going to be worse for Jacko and Atkinson, cos they've got to drive our vehicles to Loudenvielle and then get on the coach in order to return to the Foix. That will be a 5 hour round journey. It's all part of the Etape experience.

Tour de Wight

I've done a gentle recuperative 20 miles this morning, keeping my heart rate down and cruising like a dude from Big Sur. The idea was simply to stretch out the legs and keep it relaxed. Tomorrow I'm aiming to do a 20 mile 'time trial'.

With about a week to go, it's hard to believe that this project which has taken up so much of my time is finally coming to fruition.
I think it's time to have another QandA session.

Q. Are you going to finish?
A. Of course... barring illness, mechanical breakdown or other serious unforeseen problems. If there is some sort of catastrophic failure, then I'll return in August during my summer hols and I'll re-ride the course within the allotted time to prove to myself that I can do it.

Q. Will you carry on cycling after the Etape?
A. Yes, but not nearly to the same extent. I've got my mountain bike in the garage, and I have missed getting out on the trails through the woods in the last few months. I've enjoyed the speed and rhythm of road riding. I won't be doing any more sportives this season. I definitely won't be getting up at 5am to get out for 6 hours of riding on cold wet, windy mornings. Almost straight away I'll be getting back into the footy training for next season. There is no doubt that the cycling is excellent for cardiovascular fitness, leg strength and weight control, but I need to get back into the football. Cycling has been time consuming and there are a few of my other interests which have taken a back seat in the last 4 months, such as kitesurfing, fishing and my guitar.

Q. How have you found time to fit in all the riding
A. You make time.

Q. When is it?
A. Monday July 16th. It's a 7am start (that's 6am English time).

Q. How long will it take.. do I think?
A. I'm not sure, but I'll guess 9 hours.

Q. Does that saddle hurt? Have I had any problems in the (snigger) manhood region (snigger), any complaints from the current Mrs C (snigger)?
A. It is pretty clear that the population know virtually nothing about cycling, but the single fact that has entered general consciousness is that racing cyclists are susceptible to traumatising the pudenal nerves on those hard saddles with resulting problems of impotence. Have I suffered on the saddle? Yes, I've had my fair share of sore bum. Have I had any problems in the you-know-what dept? What do you think?

Q. What do you think of while you're riding?
A. The inference is that a 5 hour bike ride is boring, and you'd be pretty much correct. Having said that , it's about 4 zillion times more interesting than walking. I virtually always wear in ear headphone plugs and use my iPod, so I'm either listening to music, podcasts or the radio. My tiny mind is also ticking over regarding all manner of subjects.... footy, kites, fishing, cars, agas, wife, children, filth etc.

Q. Who takes all those photos on the blog and what sort of camera do they use?
A. Me, and 90% of the photos are from my mobile phone camera.

Q. Is the current Mrs C going to be there with you? Are the children going too?
A. No and No. This will be a whirlwind trip. Logistically it's a nightmare. Imagine 8500 people needing to stay near Foix on Sunday night, and then that volume of cyclists riding 125 miles over 5 mountains to another small Pyrenean town. The roads in-between will be closed. Then we all need to stay near Loudenvielle on Monday night. We fly home at 7am Tuesday.

Q. Are you doing it on your own or with others?
A. There will be a mini peloton of 5. We're going to try and stick together for as long as possible. I was invited to take part in the Etape by Steve Atkinson and Simon Jackson who work for a company that make medical equipment called Bard. They are both keen amateur racers. There are two other guys in our group who are, I think, radiographers.

Q. How much money have you raised?
My target was £1000. I'm almost there. If you add on the reclaimed tax then I definitely have cracked the grand.

Q. What will you do if you need the toilet during the event?
A. Errr... well, what I won't do is mess my pants.... if that's what you want to know.


That's all for now. The 2007 Tour de France prologue from London is about to start on UK Eurosport so I've got to go.

It aint over 'till it's over

The Etape is getting so close, I am starting to get that end-of-term feeling.
Clearly, last minute revision never helped anyone pass their exams .. did it? But that doesn't mean that I'm lazing around watching Wimbledon for the last 10 days. I feel there are definitely some more mitochondria and capillaries to be recruited between now and the 16th. I want to do a few more hard rides and then taper down next week.

So on Thursday I got up early and was out on the road at 7am. It was very windy, cold and there was rain threatening. I really didn't relish the prospect of a 3 hour session. However, like so many times before, once I got going I started to enjoy myself. The plan was to take in as many tough hills as I could find and keep my heart rate up around the 80-85% mark. I also wanted to avoid using my lowest gears and keep my mardy bum firmly planted in the saddle. I'm trying to get myself a little bit stronger. On the flatter sections, I made sure I had a few hard sprints. I made sure I took in the Zig Zag road. Does anyone recognize the location of the photograph? My last 10 miles were directly into the horrendous wind but I got my head down and just tried to think of a nice pot of tea. I like my tea. I'd hardly got back in the house before the skies turned black and we had another afternoon of torrential rain. I had a nice self-satisfied glow. I think it's them there endorphins.

I'm feeling reasonably happy with the way things are shaping up. I've got the bike sorted the way I like it. I've formulated my drinking and feeding strategy. I've been told by Jacko that my race-day go faster suit is ready, and I've got all the other bits and pieces together. I've got to work out the detail of getting to Gatwick in time to check-in for my flight next Saturday... this could be tricky bearing in mind that I'll have to get a ridiculously early ferry. Most important of all, it looks as if I've avoided catching the wife's cold.

I'm going to take a look at my training diary in the next few days and see just how much (or little) time and distance I have actually done.

Finally, I'm pretty confident that I'm going to hit the £1000 mark for The Prostate Cancer Charity. I hope so.

Wind, rain, fumes.

A glorious summer's day for we kitesurfers. A tad windy I suppose, and some nasty squalls blowing through. I'm not complaining.

I've had a day of rest from the cycling. My legs are not surprisingly slightly achey after yesterday, but I'll be up early in the morning for another hard ride. I'm feeling healthy which is the most important thing.

I've said before that there are multiple variable factors which I need to manage in order to complete this ride. One unavoidable thing is going to be the need to get up very early on the Saturday morning when I fly out to Toulouse and then again on the big day. The race starts at 7 am local time. Remember, in France they are an hour behind so effectively we can call it 6am for my body clock. I believe my hotel is about 40 km from Foix, so I suppose I will be crawling out of my bed at something like 3 am. Given that I'll probably sleep like a condemned man, I'm going to be bleary eyed. Oh well..... all those years of sleep deprivation practice whilst doing junior doc on-call may have been worth it after all. I'm going to simulate the race day by getting up early and going for some pre-breakfast rides in the next week. I don't really mind getting up early, but I definitely don't feel like exercise first thing in the morning.

A brief update on the troublesome aga. Despite getting it burning nice and hot again after overhauling the burner mechanism last weekend, the house was smelling very fumy. I decided to get it sorted properly so have got a professional in. He was aghast at what he found. The flue is illegal, blocked, and very dangerous. And that's just for starters. I can see a very big bill looming in the near future.

In the spirit of Graeme Obree...

I've just been reading about Graeme Obree. We actually share the same birthday.... September 11th, although I am 6 years older than he. He is famous for breaking the one hour record on a virtually home made bike. He also developed his own unique riding position and famously used the bearings from his washing machine when he realised that the spin cycle occurred at 1200 revs per minute.
He was an amateur cyclist who decided that he was going to break the record. Note... he didn't think he would try and break the record, or have a go at it. No; he would break it , full stop. In his delightfully simplistic manner, he decided he would train harder than anyone else, endure more pain, put in more hours on the track etc. He also took a totally original sideways look at bike design and came up with an idiosyncratic machine which he called Old Faithfull. It was later banned by the controlling bicycle authorities in an amazing sour-grapes ruling..
Ultimately, he hired a track for the record attempt, but failed in his attempt by about an inch. No matter. He had paid his money for 24 hours worth, so he came back 23 hours later and had another go. He did it on the second attempt.

Anyway, the point is I think, the power of his mind, the sheer determination to succeed. Inspirational. There is no doubt that the Cols which await me in The Pyrenees are going to be very tough, but I am trying to drum up Obree-style levels of self-belief in order to get me up and over. The mind contributes 50% of my strength.

Today, on his 40th birthday, fellow blogger Mark had a crack at riding up L'Alpe d'Huez in less than 60 minutes. He set that abitary one hour target as a benchmark. He has been documenting his training on his blog for weeks and I have gained a lot of advice, knowledge and a sense of comradeship from him. He has just missed out by a small Obreesque margin. www.markliversedge.blogspot.com Wouldn't it be amazing if he had another go tomorrow morning and did it on his second attempt? It's a big ask though, especially because he's probably drunk a few scoops of beer/wine/champagne. He's doing the Etape as well, so I guess I'll be following him around on the 16th.

I'm very relieved to report that I have had a good ride today.
At 7-30 this morning I got the nippers on the school bus during torrential rain. The missus is in her sick bed. Because I'm on leave I was then able to luxuriate on the settee with my feet up, reading the paper from cover to cover, and enjoy a nice pot of Rosy. By 10-ish, the skies cleared, and soon we had a nice sunny but windy day. Despite a very strong temptation to go kiting, I got out on the bike and did a full-on 50 mile session. I deliberately did all the horrible Island hills... 3 times up Strawberry from the Brighstone side, Cowlease twice, and virtually did 3 circuits of the Ventnor hills. I felt strong... what a relief. After my recent lethargy, I needed the affirmation of my fitness for my mental well-being. I also got my second-ever puncture, so I had a chance to practice my changing-the-inner-tube skills. A McClaren pit-stop it was not. It was actually pathetic, so I'm going to be honing my skills in a few dry runs tomorrow.

After my ride, I had poached salmon, salad and yoghurt. What a healthy devil I am.

Stub out them fags

Strewth... I've just seen Serena Williams on the box. If she's got herself back into condition then I'd hate to see her when she's a bit lardy. It's sad because she was fantastic when she first arrived on the scene, and I feel she has wasted her potential. Is that fair? I know she has won plenty of big titles, but she should be totally dominant. Such power and speed. I'm a sad man cos I wanted the pretty one to win.

I've also had the misfortune to see Gordon Brown making a statement in response to the terrorist threat. Oh dear. The spin doctors are going to struggle with him. A more un-natural rabbit-in-the-headlights performance I have never seen. You could actually see his beady baboon eyes scanning the autocue like a robot. He is supposed to be a bit brainy, but he's the man who sold all the gold at rock-bottom prices, presided over the pension fund debacle, and has driven up house prices by forcing money out of stocks and shares and into property. I'll give you a simple analogy. Just because the cleaner is good at sweeping up you don't promote him/her to be the next sales manager.

My little girl got home at 11 pm last night clutching a brace of medals plus two bruised knees and blisters from her new boots. She was ill this morning, as is the current Mrs C. I don't need to stress how much do I not want to catch her cold!

I have not been for a ride today. I wanted to be sure I didn't feel tired after yesterday's effort. It's early to bed tonight and then I'll do a hard hilly session tomorrow. The forecast is poor, but I've got no option but to get out there whatever the weather.

I bet I'm in a comfortable majority who welcome the ban on smoking in public places. It certainly will make gigging a better experience. The morning after, our equipment reeks of cigarettes. It is disgusting. Those of us of a certain age will remember Roy Castle, an incredible allround entertainer who died from lung cancer most likely as a result of the effects of passive smoking. He was on the record breakers... what a great programme that was!

Can it really be July already?

I was browsing through the sports section this morning and came across an article about Serena Williams commenting on how she has regained her form and enthusiasm. Apparently she has lost weight (not difficult) and done a lot of fitness work. Well bully for her. I have no problem with the girl...she would definitely beat me on the old tennis court... but why should we feel any sense of wonderment and awe that she can find time to keep herself in trim. After all, these girls earn ten grand if they go out in the first round. Surely she can keep her hands out of the biscuit tin for a few more years, and give that grunting blonde automaton a good trouncing. While we're on the subject of girls who may have eaten too many meat pies in their day..... did you catch the resurgent Spicey Girls? Munting or what.

Predictably there was some good stuff about cycling in the paper too. The amazing Obree got a mention, so did Wiggins, but best of all there was a long piece about Greg LeMond. He has been involved in the Floyd Landis doping hearing in the States, testifying against him. Sensationally it transpires that LeMond had admitted to Landis during a private phone call that he had been abused by a family friend when he was a teenager. Landis evidently leaked the tale to his manager who then tried to blackmail Lemond in an attempt to stop him appearing in court. LeMond has kept this story bottled up for all these years but the grubby blackmail episode has prompted him to spill the beans, get counselled or whatever it is the Americans do nowadays and basically offload the feelings of guilt etc. Very strange.
Didn't LeMond win the Tour by 8 seconds from Fignon in 1989? I'd rather hear the story of how that happened.. I mean ..8 seconds. I bet the French were pissed about that.

2 weeks today it'll be the eve of the thing, so I'll be having a nosh-up and drunken singsong in some crowded French bar near Foix. I expect top Northern semipros Jacko and Atkinson will be unable to hold their drink. Still, there's no point in taking the Etape too seriously is there?
Jacko has been windsurfing today at Rhosneigr. I would have loved to have joined him, but I had to look after son No.1 today. We've had more rain.

My daughter and her skating buddies have been up at 5am for the last few days preparing for today's competition in Bracknell. I've said it before , but the dedication and commitment of these youngsters is amazing. Mind you, the parents are equally amazing, because they do all the ferrying about, and hence I've hardly seen the wife for a couple of days. Apparently she's ill.

Last night we were out at a local shindig. The second-best-band-on-the Island, The Accelerators, were playing at a party and they were pretty damn good. Peter Downing will be amazed to learn that they played his favourite song by The Only Ones. It is terrific what a Vodafone advert can do for a band's career.

I've got my cycling back on song today. Clearly with two weeks to go, I need to go easy, but you can't underestimate the positive psychological benefit of getting out on the saddle and doing a few miles. I'm consumed by the desire to keep fit and healthy for these last few days. There's plenty of research that suggests heavy training lowers ones immunity for a few hours after each session. I'm a pill junkie at the moment, and am adding echinacea into the equation. Why not? I've got nothing to lose and even the world's most anti-homeopathic sceptical doctor can try quack medicine once in his life. Furthermore, my missus has got a stinking cold so I am exiled to the spare bedroom. It would be a total disaster to pick up a heavy cold at this stage, especially as I've been as fit as a fit thing since March with barely a snuffle. The other factor is good sleep and early nights, and that's exactly what I haven't had this weekend.

The aga is up to temperature , but there's an oily smell in the house so I'm worried about the flu. If anyone else out there has got problems with the diesel bug, get in touch. I know how to clean the burner mechanism!

I hope my daughter has had a good day in Bracknell. It's nearly 10 pm and she's not back yet. Serena Williams take note.