Type three fun

I’m back, I’ve had the time of my life, and I’m so glad I went.

I was standing there, beside the road just before the 5km banner, as Kasia Niewiadoma shot past en route to victory, in what was immediately agreed to be one of cycling’s greatest performances. People will write about this in years to come, she will be on the cover of books, cyclists will hold her in mind as they forge their own battles with the Bald Mountain. And I was there, momentarily within inches of her, shrieking so loudly that my throat is still sore, four days later.

But more about that later. As soon as I’ve sent this email, I need to get my head down, because I’ve been commissioned to write a longform essay for The Road Book, about the history and mythology of this famed ascent. That will be published towards the end of this year (not sure exactly when – October/November?), and although I’m slightly daunted by the amount I have to fit in, I’m so excited that I get to be the one who writes it. But the deadline is soon, so that’s this week taken care of. (It’s ideal really: I secretly love an essay crisis, and I’m so physically wrecked after last week that it’ll be no bad thing to be deskbound for a bit.)

I ended up spending the week in Sault, at the base of Ventoux, because a place came up at the last minute on a trip Rapha were organising, which included an entry to l’Étape du Tour Femmes. I hadn’t had any particular ambition to ride an Étape, having already ridden plenty of Tour de France stage routes with Le Loop (and on my ride with Ayesha last summer), but I’m always happy to be recruited for a long bike ride. And I very rarely ride a large event with closed roads, so I thought it might be fun.

Reader, it was not.