The Étape du Tour is a bike riding event that takes place on a single stage of the Tour de France. The event is a 125 kilometre route with a climb of around 4,500 metres (one of those “if you have to ask, you can’t afford it” sort of distances.) A timed race, it uses the same race-day logistics as the Tour, and attracts around 15,000 riders globally every year.
Twenty years ago, a friend of mine decided to go.
A cyclist most of his life, he wasn’t naive. He’d had his share of injuries, as well as first hand knowledge of the strain of long races, and the mindset required.
Here was the problem: How do you train from Toronto for a race in the Alps?
Considering the Canadian Rockies were four provinces west, my guy got creative. With a selection of locations in and around Southern Ontario, he cobbled together various peaks to simulate race climbs the best he could.
If memory serves, the trip was a success. Turns out riding low gear uphill in France is the same as in Collingwood. Only steeper, longer, with less oxygen. The ascent took care of itself.
The descent was another story.
In a sea of other riders, everything seemed normal. Everyone was in tuck position, taking risky turns in unison. All familiar.
But everything’s relative. Like on a highway, his true speed was an afterthought; he was just floating with a hundred other riders down a mountain. It was only when he sat up in the saddle did his reality literally hit him in the face: 80 kilometre winds.
Panic—he’d never been that fast on any bike.
He was so concerned about swimming, he never thought the fall might kill him.
The unique conditions of that race could only be managed in the doing. While all of his preparation was needed, in the end it was an intellectual exercise.
And that’s why, how-to-books are bad. (You know what I mean.)