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La Marmotte Cyclosportive 2007

Dominic Baker was one of the club members who rode the Marmotte cyclosportif in July 2007. Held in the high Alps in France, it's billed as the hardest one day ride you can do, thanks mostly to its fearsome route across several giant Alpine climbs. But the best thing is that it's an incredible challenge, fun to ride and incredibly satisfying to complete. "Without a doubt, the best day I have ever had on the bike" says Dominic.

The challenge:
Just under two years ago two friends of mine were discussing doing the Marmotte. They described it as "like the Etape but harder". "Sounds like fun", I said, "I'm up for that!" The look of disdain, disbelief, and frankly "err, I don’t think so!" from them had to be seen to be believed. Was it because I weighed 15st 9lb (99kg) and my image of my own fitness was higher than their more objective view?

I didn’t commit to do the Marmotte then and there, but I did decided something had to be done. My scheme was to start cycling to lose some weight first, and if that went well, then consider a ‘big’ event. Having started to get lighter and fitter, I asked the family for permission in January 2007 to have a go at the Marmotte. To their great credit they OK’d it, even though they knew it would mean being out of the house on long rides, putting pressure on Suzan to do more than her share of rugby tournaments and party taxi services.

My training plan was to slay the demon of the distance first and then work on the climbing. The rides gradually got longer with my first ever century (London to Brighton and back) in mid-February. I followed this with a few sportives, culminating in two in the middle of June. The Surrey hills formed the base training, and reps of Box Hill mimicked the rhythmic climbing that I thought the Alps would need. A day trip out to the Télégraphe and Galibier at the end of June gave a taste of what was to come, as well as a vital familiarisation of a part of the route.

Wednesday
Ian Russell and I drove down to Huez where we were staying with most of the other Wheelers at a hotel right on the edge of the ski resort. The first views of the road to Alpe d’Huez led to a series of expletives as we took in what we were doing there. We had both been there before for skiing, but when you know you are going to do it on a bike it takes on a whole new magnitude of steepness and length.

The weather was awful: like a cold February day in England with driving rain and falling temperatures. The mountains were cloaked in that swirling mist and dampness that invites you to do nothing more than stay indoors and have a ‘rest day’. Ian and I got our room ‘ski holiday style’ (i.e. sharing four to a room with sofa beds and camp-beds) and quickly did the only sensible thing of nailing the two decent beds before James P and Adam Currie arrived. We then joined James Beaumont, Lawrence Smith, James Platt and Adam Currie for the ‘sportif menu’ dinner, quickly slipping into the easy conversation and teasing (mostly of Adam) that were to set the tone for the time away.

Thursday
Having taken all the advice known to man on the training run up to the big day, I knew that ‘tapering’ was an important part of the run up. "Take it nice and easy on the few days before: just an easy spin is all you need". So on Thursday morning Adam, James P, Ian and I set off for an easy ride down and up Alpe d’Huez. In all about 30 miles and 4000 feet of climbing. In my mind this was not only a good refresher for the legs, but also set a baseline time for the ascent of the Alpe at an easy heart rate and a pointer to what I could do on the day after a hundred miles.

We lost Ian somewhere but stopped at the top for a coffee and toast before the descent through biting wind and snow flurries. Despite wearing full winter gear I was cold right through and was happy to get to the hotel to warm up. At this point good sense says take it easy for the rest of the day. The problem is that the competitive element dictates that if you are offered a nice easy ride with a bunch of mates you take it. Within an hour Lawrence and James B were talking of an easy spin up the Lautaret: it seemed pointless to try to refuse. I was still freezing even thought the temperature was in the seventies. Lawrence pointed out that I looked like a Michelin man still in my winter gear when everyone else was in summer kit!

After 90 minutes of steady climb I had a brief conflab with Adam and James P and a realisation that we still had two thirds of Alpe d’Huez to do again. We decided to turn back then and eventually logged 60 miles and 8500 feet of climbing. Like I said: a nice easy day!? Was it stupid? Would I suffer on Saturday?

Andy Bye arrived that evening to show us all what a quick ascent of the Alpe was really like, doing a mountain TT at dusk, before also suffering from the cold on the descent. Meanwhile at dinner the banter continued. Lawrence held court and opined over anything you cared to discuss. James P refused to do ‘man hug’ gestures with Adam. James and Ben handed out advice with the voice of experience, and discussed Lawrence’s souplesse and smooth riding style [Webmaster: I think I likened his pedalling style to Steve Irwin wrestling a croc]. Ian remained confident and determined that he had a plan to get his 17 stone (108kg in new money) over the course, and argued with Lawrence over the fastest ascent of Alpe d’Huez. (Ian was, of course, right in the strictly accurate, ‘Guinness Book of Records’, real-world sense; Lawrence, of course, maintained his answer was correct but that we weren’t clever enough to understand him.) Adam wanted to know what was the fastest descent. We patiently and slowly explained that it is ‘a measure of the time it takes to go down the mountain quicker than every one else’!

Friday
Determined not to get suckered into a long ride on the Friday, I suggested we drive the course. So Adam, James P, Ian and I got registered and stocked up on cakes, gels, water, bananas etc. and set off. On the up side this gave us some great views (and time to enjoy them) and some familiarity with the route. On the down side we couldn’t fail to notice that it took over five hours to drive; and that it was very hilly and very long. James began to feel unwell – was it a bit of travel sickness, the effects of copious amounts of gels, energy bars and muesli on four people (!!) or something worse?

We were joined at dinner by Andy Lack and Dan Royle who'd flown in to make up the full ‘Huez compliment’ of Wheelers. After last night’s high spirits this was a more subdued affair with a fair amount of nervousness about tomorrow. Unfortunately Ben, James B and Andy B were both feeling slightly off colour and James P was still suffering. All the others were, in as nice a way as possible, trying to give them a bit of a wide berth – just in case.

Race Day
Not much sleep that night as we all woke at 4.30am and got stuck into muesli straight away. James was, unfortunately, still feeling bad and had to stay in bed. There was a queue for the ‘facilities’ as we went through the various ablutions. Breakfast downstairs of coffee and croissants was followed with more nervous visits to the bathroom. Incredibly the weather had cleared and we looked out at a beautiful, cold and clear dawn!

We left at about 6.30am for the descent into Bourg d’Oisans and the start of our long day in the saddle. As advised I wore an old fleece under a rain cape and rigger gloves for the descent. The fleece and rigger gloves could be discarded at the start.

There was a familiar nervous quiet at start as we waited in the pen, with the occasional greeting to others we recognised. No real talking just a slightly introspective calm. I was suffering from stomach pains which in a best case were due to nerves, and a worst case would involve some unscheduled stopping!

As we rolled forward to the start, James Brown’s “Sex Machine” was incongruously getting everyone awake. There was a huge turnout of spectators for such a cold early morning. Crossing the start line with ‘good luck’ all round was anticlimactic but it felt great to get rolling after all the months of training. Adam, Ian and I set off determined to not go too fast as per instructions from the ‘gurus’. After no more than 500m a group came past at 28mph or so. There was no way we were going with that! But when I saw one at about 23mph I thought ‘That’ll do” and jumped on the back. When I looked around after a few kilometres I couldn’t see the other two and thought I would push on and maybe see them later in the day.

As we approached the initial rise of the Glandon, the talking stopped. At this point many people seemed to grind to a halt, almost in a surprised ‘What, you mean it’s not flat?’ way. There were also those who stood up on the pedals and set off like it was the last climb of a club run. I saw some of them again later!

The first part of the Glandon up to Allemont is 550m of climbing. I tried to hold myself at 75% MHR on this climb. The climb was pretty: winding through the trees with a river running down next to it. I find climbing through the trees easier than out in the open as you have more reference points of both distance and gradient. At least you know the reason it is hurting and going so slowly! We passed through Allemont with a quick and steep descent to the river. I hate losing valuable height unnecessarily, especially as I could see the climb on the other side of the river.

The climb steepened as we approached the huge dam. I felt good and was passing groups of people but still riding steadily and within myself, more or less on my target heart rate. I was getting passed occasionally by people looking amazingly sprightly, given that we had been climbing for 90 mins by now. I find it easy not to compete against someone who comes flying past: it is the ones who are just sneaking past that brings out my competitive nature. I knew I had to resist the urge or pay later, and on the occasions that I gave in to the temptation I quickly saw my heart rate reminding me to take it easy. After the dam there was another short descent followed by a demoralising slog on open moors which looked for all the world like Dartmoor. At points I felt bad here: that my pace was too slow and that the whole thing might not be so enjoyable after all! Then as I turned a corner I heard a shout from someone ‘Go on Kingston Wheeler’. This gave me a big lift – thanks! Before I realised it I was at the top of the Glandon! One down and three to go.

I filled my bottles and stuffed down a banana. The advice I had been given was to eat at the top of the climb and let it settle on the descent. The advice was also to take it easy on the first turns of the Glandon descent as it can be hairy (see Ben’s account from last year). So I finished eating before descending. The descent was well marshalled with warnings of speed around corners. The top part concentrates the mind as they say but soon straightens out and becomes easier. This was great fun! Passing people was exhilarating but I made sure I gave warnings of my approach. On the other hand it was sometimes a shock not to get a warning from people passing me.

We approached the ‘industrial area’ at the bottom of the Glandon at St Michel du Maurienne. It looks fairly flat on the profile but it cruelly turns out to be an uphill drag of about 2.5% uphill for 10 miles. And, of course, it feels like there is a headwind. And it’s a motorway. I needed to stop for a pee badly, but decided to stay in the group I was in and stop at the start of the Télégraphe so as not to carry all that weight all the way up the mountain. I took the opportunity to eat and conserve energy. We were doing a nice pace not pushing too hard, and not doing anything clever (actually being clever and not going on the front). There were lots of people who seemed to want to pull the train. It seemed churlish to spoil their fun!

I hit the bottom of Télégraphe and, not having mastered the necessary ‘on the bike action', found a ‘wee’ spot just outside the villages. I was still having stomach pains and hoped this would relieve it a bit. No such luck I’m afraid. As I finished I saw Andy Lack who asked how I was going. I felt ok and was about to say ‘fine’ but decided not to tempt fate and told him I wasn’t answering that. Andy was going strongly and his pace was a bit higher than mine so I let the elastic go a bit. My pulse was creeping towards 80% MHR so for a change I went up a couple of gears and did a bit of powering rather than spinning which seemed to give me a few heart beats back. As we approached the top I saw Andy coming slowly back to me, but never quite caught him. I had a quick water fill up at the top of Télégraphe and mainly used the short descent down to Valloire to refuel with bananas and Powerbars.

There was more trepidation amongst the riders around me as we began the Galibier with a sign saying 17km at 8.5%. Having ridden this a few weeks before and on the turbo trainer simulator I knew it fairly well: long, steep out of town, then gentle drag, steep in the middle, cliff face at the top. As the road flattened it felt good to pick up the speed a bit and I began recognising riders who had passed me on the Télégraphe. The downside was that a flat bit now meant a steeper bit later so that the average gradient would be maintained. The drag made me feel like I was getting bogged down here. The road is not steep at around 5% but is deceptive. A river runs by the side of the road that is about 50 feet below you and the rest of the landscape is so vast it is hard to get any reference that you are climbing at all. Unfortunately, I was not passing many people here, and struggling to keep my pulse below 80% MHR. This should have been the easy bit! Others were suffering and stopping at the side of the road and walking, and even climbing into a van. There is a sign painted on the road saying ‘Looser’, and I remember wondering whether it was a name, or a reminder to relax. I decided it was a misspelling with the extra ‘o’, and paranoically thought it referred to me! What was I doing here? It was only going to get harder and I was really not going well. My stomach hurt and the gels were only making things worse.

The road turns over the river at Plan Lachat and it looks like the road goes up the side of a cliff! This is where the steep bit starts. I felt this could be the end of me. You see the cars and bikes outlined against the granite, emphasising the steepness. You want me to go up there? But, amazingly you find yourself at the next hairpin looking down at where you have just come from miles below, and down there is a trail of ants crawling up the slope. I thought: well I am ahead of them – it can’t be so bad.

By now I had realised that the measure of this ride was the ascents, not the distance covered. In distance terms the halfway point is somewhere near the bottom of the Télégraphe. In metres ascended it is about a mile from the top. Incredibly I began to feel better as the road got steeper. At least I was making real height gains now! The road steps up through a series of steeper hairpins and I was able to stand up every now and then to stretch out. This felt good but seemed to cost me on the heart rate, so I would consciously ease back after each effort. After this steep bit we went past a small café where people were standing and cheering. (Why did those two men with big middle age spreads and T shirts rolled up to their ‘man boobs’, decide that a suntan of their vast pot-bellies was either necessary or even a good idea?)

I was now hanging on to every clue of progress and began to notice the different distance markers were not all giving the same advice. It was down-heartening to see ‘4km to go’… then 150m later see a sign saying ‘4km to go’. It may not seem much, but at 6mph it takes a minute! The last kilometres were hard and I was counting them down, but oh so slowly. 6,5,4,3. I knew the last kilometre was really hard, so I separated that in my head. If I could get to the tunnel entrance - at the 1km point - with anything left then it was just one last push and I would be over. And I remembered that the last 300m were in sight of the top an ‘a bit’ flatter! It was getting colder and windier now I must be nearer the top. As I looked up I could just see the col through which we would pass. The problem was the angle that I had to crane my neck upwards to see that. Not a good sign! As I approached the tunnel there were more groups of people cheering me on – that felt good: that people could stand on this bare, cold, windy mountain just to encourage the riders.

I finally turned off at the tunnel for the last kilometre. 10% it said on the sign, but since the final bit was flatter, this bit must be steeper! And it was: a real out of the saddle moment with the pulse climbing the whole time to over 85% MHR. I passed a London Dynamo who seemed to be suffering (as if I wasn’t) and gave a word of encouragement and asked him to describe to me in detail how his ride was going? ;-) Finally, I went over the top after 6h 11mins. My ‘Gold’ time was 9hrs15min so I had a tad over three hours to spare. With a smile I calculated for the first time how I might do. I knew it was about an hour’s descent and then back up the Alpe, which should take less than two hours, worst case. Gold was entirely possible! I decided not to stop as I had enough food. There was water at the bottom of the Alpe and it was downhill to there.

My knees and back began to hurt as the pressure of the last two hours came off. As on the Glandon, the first bit of the descent was tight, but it soon gave way to fast sweeping bends. I was happy and going well. I wriggled around a bit and my back freed up and the knee pain dissipated. Now I was flying and smooth, but feeling safe. As I went through the Col du Lautaret, the road became easier, wider and faster, and I was averaging 28mph. A group of 30 or so formed which helped with the traffic. It was a real thrill descending as speed with all these riders, but when I saw one of the riders ahead sit up to take off his gilet I gave him a particularly wide berth. The road began to roll a bit as I approached the dam, but only enough to allow myself to stretch out with short efforts. The tunnels were a bit of a ‘take your life in your hands’ moment but I reasoned that the cars coming in the opposite direction would see the riders in front of me in the group before they needed to see me. As we went over the dam we saw another group of about 30 ahead that we were closing in on. After the ride on Thursday I knew there was a small ascent followed by a winding descent into Clapier. On that day Adam and James P had a ‘moment’, almost coming together, so I wanted to stay out of trouble and pushed up to the front of the two bunches to give myself space on the descent.

There was an almost end of term feeling as we approached the Alpe. There were still people wanting to steam along the valley floor, but I wanted to conserve any strength I had left, so was happy to sit in a steady group. I pulled into the water stop making sure that I heeded Lawrence’s warning about avoiding going over the timing mat for the mini Marmotte. Having queued (pushed) a bit for some water I was told the water was at the stand pipe opposite. So I waddled over there and filled up two bottles. With a ‘good luck’ to a guy I had first seen on the Glandon and on and off since, I set off for the last leg. I had food and gels and water so all was going to be fine...

I checked my watch and was still on schedule, with two hours to climb the Alpe in order to qualify for Gold standard. Given the ride on Thursday I felt happy that it was all achievable. I set off happy that I had done this a number of times in real life (and a few times on the turbo). But not at the end of 100 miles and three other cols. Progress was not like you see on the Tour. It was a grind: long, slow and hard. No chatting; just concentration and pain.

The turns on the Alpe are numbered down from 21 to the top. At turn 19 I realised I could beat my training partner’s 2004 Marmotte time if I only averaged 10kph. Great, I thought, let’s see how it goes. After 1km I was down on this average. I convinced myself that maybe that was a steep bit and I would make it up. Another kilometre and I was a bit further down on that schedule. I decided to let it go: it was more important to secure the gold than to chase some other arbitrary mark and prejudice my chances of the main goal. This was becoming a war of attrition: would my legs pack up before I got to the top. Would I bonk, or cramp?

Even though the kilometres were counting down I was not feeling confident. Riders were stopping all around and had empty, zombie–like faces, reminding me of the skeletal looks in ‘Belleville Rendezvous’.

At times the Alpe feels endless: there is a point at Garde when you look up at a cliff ahead with a little church on it and realise the road goes up there! And you know that’s not the top…there is another 5km after that! As the grind continued, I found that I was getting encouragement from seeing that no one was finding it easy and most were going about the same speed. I got a great ‘Go Wheelers’ cheer from a van load of supporters in a Logica CMG van. Many riders were suffering: standing in the waterfall / drains by the side of the road, seeking shade by weaving over the road, and going the ‘long way’ around every hairpin. At turn seven there is a sign on the road saying ‘you can see the finish from here’. You can, and it doesn’t look very far... except it does look very UP!

The Kingston Wheeler jersey painted on the road is still there and gave me pick up. Now I was really suffering but felt relief from knowing if I just kept going at any speed I would finish. I was on a good schedule for the gold but I wasn’t counting my chickens. With 4km to go, my feet were in a lot of pain and I loosened my shoes a bit. Or I tried to, since every time I freewheeled to reach down I lost speed and had to pedal to stay upright. It was that slow!

I saw a spectator offer some water to a rider ahead of me, who drank straight from the bottle. By mind power alone I willed the spectator to offer me some. I wondered for a moment if this was sensible and how many others had drunk from this bottle? I stopped wondering and took the drink. By now I was searching for a position on the bike that would give me a bit of speed. If I sat back, I slowed up. If I sat forward, I slipped back. If I stood up, I could only go for a few strokes before my pulse in the 85% MHR range went shooting up to the 90% range. I found that I if I got forward on the front of the hoods and hunkering down a bit, I got a little speed. I remembered some ‘Breathe’ advice from the KW website and found that breathing very deeply helped. As I was doing this I got strange looks from some other riders (that I suppose I must have passed) as some asthmatic wheezer.

Suddenly my fingers began to tingle... MAJOR ALARM! Was I about to bonk??? Luckily, I slowed my breathing and the tingle stopped. I took another gel as I could see I may have had over 20 mins still to go. The last four turns were agony. And I remembered that the turns are numbered to the town: there are two more turns in the town! Even at turns four, three, and two I wasn’t sure if I would finish, or bonk, or cramp, or be forced to walk. But every pedal stroke got me nearer. Another cheer from Mark Gray’s wife Lillian as I entered the village; another quick swallow of water and I knew it was almost over. The extra two turns in the village were quicker than I had expected as the route turned earlier than I thought it would, leading to a quick descent to the roundabout and the finish, even raising a ‘sprint’ to pass two people on the final straight. My time was 8h47m29s, almost a half-hour inside the Gold standard for my age group.

With sincere thanks to all the other club members, the camaraderie, advice and good fun with the rest of the Kingston Wheelers made for an unforgettable holiday, superbly organised by James Beaumont. And for the record, ‘chapeau’ to Lawrence for the first Wheeler home and congratulations to Adam Currie, Andy Lack, Ian Russell, Dan Royle, Mark Gray, Brian Shepherd on completing and commiserations to James Platt, James Beaumont, Ben Cousins and Andy Bye who were laid low...

I was incredibly happy with my gold. It was hard and the culmination of a lot of pressure. It’s the pressure of forcing yourself to get out on the long rides in training, the pressure of the guilt or worry when you can’t do them because of work/time/illness/weather. The pressure of hoping that it will all come together on the day: fitness; health; weather; mechanicals. For me they did come together but the relief that I had done what I had set out to do was immense. All credit also is due to my wife and three sons who put up with me prioritising my riding above normal family duties. It was great of them to give me space for the challenge and I thank them for it. Without a doubt, the Marmotte the best day I have ever had on the bike!

We all stayed in one place but in the end, other Wheelers made their way to Alpe d'Huez too. Several other members from the club rode and everyone had a good time. Is it a hard ride? Yes, but Dan Royle managed to ride halfway up the Alpe, found a shady spot by the road and had a nap before waking and climbing back on his bike to ride up to the finish, if that's not relaxing, what is?

Ian Collins	7.40.13
Lawrence Smith	7.41.53
Mark Gray	8.40.14
Dominic Baker	8.47.29
Adam Currie	9.24.02
Ian Russell	10.29.55
Andy Lack	10.40.44
Brian Shepherd	10.58.19
Dan Royle	11.01.30
Tom Westran	11.42.18