La Limousine

James Beaumont rode the "La Limousine" cyclosportif in France. Held on the first Saturday of June, it's a hard ride but just one of a calendar of cyclosportif events that runs from March to October, in fact there's something every weekend. There's so much more than the Etape du Tour, Ardéchoise and Marmotte. That said, The Limousine is one of the premier events of the year: an excellent ride with a field of 1800 riders, a challenging course that makes it an ideal warm up for the Etape and it's slickly organised too.


All smiles before the start

La Limousine is a cyclosportif run every year in the Limousin region of France. Look at map of France and put your finger in the middle and you'll be near. Officially 158km, there are also another 10km of neutralised roads to do on the way out of the city of Limoges and you've got 2500m of vertical climbing. The whole course twists and turns, heading up and down. During the first 130km, I can't remember any section of flat road.

My ride didn't start as planned. I've ridden this event several times, have won a trophy for my age group (18-30 years) and know the route well. Every year, you get a "départ canon", a fast start. Like a MTB race, you start sprinting and it just goes on and on until the elastic snaps, you spend the first hour without eating or drinking, you don't have time to take your hands of the brakes and it's a good way to warm up in the early morning cold. This year, things were slower. Still, I was stuck in about 100th place during the first hour, I still couldn't move up as the riders were all over the (closed) road. But eventually I got to the front. Convinced the pace wasn't high, I upped the pace and rode off the front.

My attack was a stupid move but in France tactical idiocy gets rebranded as "panache" and the local TV channel was filming the event. I got a decent gap but my legs were hurting as I discovered the reason why no one had tried anything yet: the wind. I'd seen trees bending but inside the giant peleton, it wasn't noticeable. Of the front, it seemed like a gale. Still, the idea wasn't that stupid, I've ridden this event many times and the same thing happens each time, you get a selection of riders on the stretch from Sauviat to St. Moreil and then on the main climb of the event, the 7km (6%) ride from Peyrat Le Chateau to the Lac de Vassivière, the leaders stretch the field and if you're not in the front, it's game over if you're trophy hunting.

As my legs wilted, the cavalry came in the shape of three riders. They were clearly Elite riders, complete with team issue bikes, effortlessly pedalling despite the speed we were travelling at. We rode hard and I suffered, unable to do more than follow as we passed the Lac de Vassivière. But this was a cyclosportif and their aim wasn't to shell me out. They managed it anyway. As the fatigue got to me, my descending skills worsened and I overcooked it on a hairpin bend; the others took each bend on the bumpy gravel-strewn descents with an alarming carelessness. There whole route has a lot of twisting roads and many go through forests, the dwindling light can make it hard to spot anything on the road. I didn't crash but lost momentum on a tight blind bend and fought for two kilometres to get back on, making the junction at the foot of a steep hill and promptly went out the back as soon as I'd joined them. By this stage, I was a wreck and in time a couple of groups passed me, as I struggled in the gutter.

But cycling teaches you to push on, you always know that the bad moments don't last forever. Down the road, I started to get better and when a large group caught me, I managed to tag along. With the wind, the group was in echelon formation, spreading out at 45 degrees over the road until the width of the road ran out, then a straggling tail of riders lined up in the gutter. Not that this was some race along the Belgian coast, there were a lot of hills, no major climbs, just up and down. The endless changes of rythmn make the ride unlike anything else, whether you're on the flat or the high mountains, it's often possible to ride in the same gear for several minutes at a time. Here, you'd change up and down the gears, I was fanning my Ergopower levers like Clint Eastwood in a shootout.

My group rode well together, the return from Vassivière was full of small hills, up and down a lot but it was possible to hold the wheels. With 20km to go on the final long climb of the day, I left my companions behind, I just did a pull and got a gap kept working it on the final main climb of the day up to the Pole de Lanaud, where they genetically engineer the Limousin breed of cows, a booming business apparently. My legs were shot but I resisted and rode into the finish, picking off more dropped riders. Not that I was on course for a trophy but it was good to empty the tank on the way in.

The finish was great. A big crowd was there and they were lining the final climb and shouting encouragement. I crossed the finish line and pedalled back to my car. I was wrecked. Sitting in my car, I couldn't even get changed. Looking around the car park, I could see others in a similar state, it seemed like the wind had taken its toll.

Why do we do these rides? Why get up at 5.30 am? Why grind yourself into the ground just so you can finish 62nd? There's no glory, money or even points. For me, it's because each time I ride a cyclosportif, I learn a little bit more about myself. It's rare these days to be in a position where you can really push yourself. A lot of the hardship in a cyclosportif is mental, your legs hurt for sure but you can stop at the roadside any time and the pain will cease, it's about mind over body, you will yourself on. In an Elite race back home, it's not so hard to finish and if you're not on form, you can always pack. In a cyclosportif, there's no packing when your miles out in the countryside, you have to get home.

Over the long course, the giant bunch gets whittled down and you invariably find yourself in a group of guys with similar abilities. Soon there's a bond with your fellow riders, you pass a feeding station and grab bottles of water, sharing what you can't drink with the others; someone unships their chain and you push them uphill whilst they get going. Even though you're shafted, you share an energy bar and later the favour is returned. This alliance to get to the finish is great and is often mentioned in France as the defining characteristic of cyclosportif. But it's rare that it crops up in the UK, many compare their Etape du Tour's ride with the real stage or ride the Ardéchoise for its beautiful roads, all worthy of course. I also like the memories, the satisfaction. I can remember moments from these cyclosportifs but struggle to recall even the rare days when I've won a road race. It's for these reasons that I'll be back next year.