My First Cyclosportif

James Beaumont describes his first cyclosportif. For most, your first cyclosportif probably means your doing your longest ride ever and on unknown, often gruelling terrain. An experience to remember, you’ll suffer like never before only to return the following year.

Entering the Etape du Tour was easy back in the 1990’s. You just had to get hold of Vélo magazine and post off the entry form. The trick was to do this quickly so you’d get a low number and therefore a good starting position. No worries about booking through a travel company and paying through the nose.

My first Etape was to be the 183km ride between Le Puy en Velay and Superbesse, a ride across the Massif Central. Less glamorous than the Alpine or Pyrenean vintages but there were climbs and a ski-station finish.

I drove to the start town of Le Puy, famous amongst gourmets for its black lentils, arriving early in the morning. I picked up my freebies and race number from the start village and then drove the route to be ridden the following day. Driving was hard work, I was drinking lots and finding the sinuous roads hard work in the car, changing gear a lot. It took sometime to get to Besse, where I parked my car and took the organised bus back to the start town.

Le Puy being a small place, it was overwhelmed by the 6,000 cyclists and so I managed to stay with a family who were employees of the tourist office. They were very helpful and friendly and the evening passed quickly. I retired to my bedroom for the night and pinned on my race number. It was then that it hit me. I’d never ridden 110 miles, yet alone over hilly terrain. My bike didn’t have low gears for the long climbs and stupidly I’d only brought one water bottle. I was totally inexperienced and unprepared for the ride. But there was nothing to do but get a good night’s sleep. Luckily, my goodie back from the organisers included an extra water bottle.

The start line was busy and having to wait in the cold, as the sun rose, wasn’t easy. I was getting nervous, drinking my waterbottles dry and like everyone else, dashing to nearby bushes to lose those last precious few grams.

The ride started fast. I didn’t expect this, surely it wasn’t supposed to be a race? Groups cruised along at 45km/h and I jockeyed from one to the other, sometimes following the pace, sometimes offering myself a rest. Was it going to be like this all day? Who were these guys, often veteran riders, who were setting such a pace? Luckily after an hour, the pace calmed down and some early hills had broken up the large peletons into small groups of 10-20 riders.

A sign said the “ravitaillement”, or food stop, was coming up and I got ready to stop and swung to the right of the road, almost taking out the riders with me as they had no plans to stop here, they had enough water and their pockets were bulging with energy bars. But I had nothing in my pockets and need the water too, so I stopped, to be overwhelmed by the roadside helpers, no doubt keen that someone had bothered to stop. I looked at the food and realised why no one else had stopped: Pain d’Epices cake, dried apricots, green bananas and ham rolls! Hardly optimum nutrition but I filled up my pockets.

As the day went on, I was loving the roadside encouragement. People from all the towns along the way were there to cheer us on and no matter how humble our riding, everyone got a good cheer. Several celebrities were taking part and as we tackled the first main climb, I was in a group with Alain Prost, then still a Forumla One driver but looking like pro cyclist. The main climb was great, I decided to up the pace and passed a sign saying “You’re Halfway Now!” and I allowed myself to think I’d make it.

From here, I don’t have many memories, just flashes of the countryside. In a group of riders which seemed to contain riders of identical ability and motivation as me, we rode on through deep gorges, onto the penultimate climb. Since this was the Etape du Tour, I decided to immerse myself in the Tour spirit and halfway up the main climb, I yanked the chain onto the big ring and started sprinting up. Carried by the crowd who were cheering my exploits, I kept going with an energy that I’d never had before and reached the top within no time. Where I blew up and crawled, even on the descent, miserably clinging to a rider who’d also cracked. We limped to the final climb, a summit finish ahead and the climb was horrible. I’d raced before but had never suffered like this, the distance and effort had extracted every bit of energy. I wasn’t just spent, I was overdrawn and rode up the last climb in a haze. Finally the top came and we had to lap around a lake to the finish, where I managed a final sprint to the applause of the crowd as official Tour speaker Daniel Mangeas congratulated me over the PA.

I made it to my car and devoured the chocolate bar I’d left inside, despite the chocolate being liquidised by the dizzy heat. It didn’t matter, I’d finished, albeit two hours down on the winner, Frédéric Bessy.

Epilogue
I’ve probably ridden more than 25 cyclosportives now, from other Etapes in the Pyrenees to rides in the Alps like La Marmotte, which is, for me, the hardest cyclosportif around. Moments after finishing my first cyclosportif, the suffering became a vague memory and a feeling of pride and satisfaction washed over me, although this dimished a few days later when I saw the time the pros did.

The ride was like nothing I’d done before. The new scenery, the closed roads, the roadside cheers, it bordered on the surreal, as if a dream had come true. Sadly the Etape isn’t as fun as it used to be, with its complicated entry process, expenses, lack of accommodation and the scrums surrounding the ravitaillements. But there’s a whole calendar of events in France and beyond, with events every weekend from March until October. Bonne route!