www.paulnixon.org

Marmotte 2008

I thought it was about time I typed up a quick summary of my Marmotte experience.

We drove down to Alpe D'huez on Wednesday - down to Folkestone, on the eurotunnel to Calais then the long haul southwards. I had Paul with me for company and a full car with bikes and bags in the back. Dave and Steve were in the other car and we drove down in convoy. Driving on French roads is a relative joy as they seem to suffer nothing like the congestion and aggravation that we do in the UK.

We got to Alpe D'huez by about 21:00 and we got a first taste of what we would be up against. The climb up to the top seemed a) steep and b) long. We struggled up in the motor in 1st and 2nd gear traversing the famous 21 hairpins. We stopped on the way to take in the scenery. It's long been an ambition of mine to see the mountains in the summer and it was worth the wait.

I was planning to chill for a couple of days - the ride wasn't until Saturday, but I was persuaded by the organiser of the trip, Paul Martin, that it would be good psychologically to ride the Alpe in advance of the big event. We went to bed with full of anticipation of an early morning descent and ascent.

We woke up on Thursday to pouring rain. And it stayed like this pretty much all morning. We had lunch down in Bourg D'oisans and decided that, despite the mixed looking weather, that we'd have a go at the Alp in the afternoon. We got as far as pulling on shorts before the heavens opened again. Missing our last chance, knowing if I could cyle up a mountain or not would have to wait until the big day.

We kicked around on Friday, killing time. We did a quick early morning ride. It was freezing, but worth it for the scenery alone!

We registered, picked up our numbers and packed up too many energy bars and gels into bags that would go into the support vehicles which would be strategically placed around the course. Then an early night - we were going to be up early.

The alarm went off at 5am. We got up and dressed quickly and necked some yoghurt and muesli. A quick check and double check of equipment and we were outside the hotel for 6am. Fortunately it was nowhere near as cold as the previous day which was good news for the descent. We had 'scruffs' on for the descent and we looked like a small army of badly dressed Eastern Europeans. We got our first taste of a mountain descending which was a bit hairy but we all got down safely. We quickly stripped off the extra clothes and made our way to the start.

We waited patiently until 7am with the other 2000 riders set off in the first batch - a total of about 7,000 did the ride, set off in 3 groups. The first 6 miles were flat, taking us to the Col du Glandon. We rode out a nice brisk pace of about 25mph taking care to stay on the back of each others wheels so we didn't lose sight of each other right away. It was great to get the legs spinning and put my mind to rest that I could still ride a bike.

I'd sort of overlooked the first climb, which is odd as it is 16 miles long, with only a brief descent about half way up. It was not my favourite in the end as the gradient was pretty variable, changing often between 6 and 12%. Either way, we were able to make good steady progress to the top. We bumped into Matt Seatton on the way up - Dave knows him apparently - very impressive. For those not in the know he's probably the most famous writer - I've read a couple of his books - on cycling issues and is like royalty.

It felt great to have made it to the top of the first mountain in good shape and at a reasonable pace - we'd ridden for about 1hr50. A quick stop at the top to swap my water bottles and grab an energy bar and we were on our way.

I'd read a lot about the tricky descent off the Glandon; hairpins, deaths and mad Dutch riders. As it turned out it was one of the best bits of the ride. The scenery was amazing and the descent was really long and really good fun. I didn't feel under any stress and, despite descending certainly not being my forte, managed to keep up with everyone else.

The end of the descent brought us on to a main road which was the dullest bit of the ride. Nobody wanted to do any work on the front and moved between a couple of groups until we got to the bottom of the Telegraph.

I didn't realise that when you get to the bottom of these moutains you're facing over 3 hours of climbing, with only a brief respite between them.

The Telegraphe was a nice steady climb. Pretty constant at 8% and a lot of it shaded by trees. I was able to maintain a good steady pace for the 9 miles or so to the top. I was still feeling good by the top. Two climbs down and about half way there which was pretty motivating.

The Galibier is madness. Another 10 miles of climbing of increasing gradient. Above the snowline by the top but in the harsh glare of the sun. Our group broke up on the ascent, the slight differentials in pace turning into bigger and bigger gaps. Madness started to set in as we relentlessly ground up the steeper and steeper incline. With a kilometer or so to go I started to get a bit of cramp in my legs, making it painful to get up on the pedals. It was impossible to imagine that I could have been climbing for so long and occasional looks upwards showed reflections of sunlight of bikes seemingly hundreds more feet above me.

However I had made it. I paused at the top and ended up waiting for Dave to catch me up, scanning round the hordes for Steve. My thighs were cramping horribly but this slowly subsided. Dave arrived and pointed out that our support was a kilometre or so beyond the summit, and therefore Steve was somewhere off in the distance. So we trundled down, another swap of kit and water bottles and we were on our way.

The descent of the Galibier was ok, not quite as scenic as the Glandon, but we did have tunnels that offered some excitement. So of them pretty short, all of them feeling pretty chilly - all of them very dark! It was really exhilariting following a wheel at nearly 40mph whilst you can barely see.

I lost concentration a bit on the descent and ended up missing Dave as he tagged on to the back of a passing group of riders. I cycled alone for a bit before a group of Dutch riders can along and I tagged along with them.

It was a little lonely cycling along without my mates and I was starting to feel a bit fatigued as I clocked up the first 100 miles and about 13,000 feet of climb. So it was great to get a surprise friendly pat on the arse from Paul Martin, the group organiser. We had a quick chat and it gave me a good mental boost just at the right time.

I still had my eye on the gold time, which is 8hrs50 for my age category. Completing the course was one thing, to go away with gold would be considerable icing on the cake.

Heading towards Bourg D'oisans I could see the chalets and hotels of Alpe D'huez in the distance and looking rather high up!

Our last support car was stationed 3 hairpins into Alpe D'Huez. The start of the climb is pretty steep but I made decent progress despite my legs feeling very crampy. I saw the support and shouted ahead that all I wanted was a gel. I'm sure I looked like a madman by this stage! I was desperate not to stop as I knew my legs would seriously cramp up as soon as I stopped pedalling. Which they did. Ouch. Anyway, I stripped off my helmet and grabbed a gel and was on my way after a helpful push. Another bonus was that I had managed to catch Dave up and we started the ascent together.

By this time I was unable to get out of the saddle to break up the ascent which was a shame as it made the climb a little harder. The moment I tried to left on to the pedals it felt like both of my legs were giving birth - to cows. So it was a long slow seated grind, counting down the hairpins, 17, 16, 15.

I somehow managed to smile for the camera, but don't be fooled.

Hairpins 13 and 10 signalled a stiffening of the ascent but I went on. Unsure if cramp was going to stop me pedalling or not. 9, 8, 7. By the seventh hairpin, I'm two thirds of the way there and slowly confidence started to build that I was going to make it.

When I got to the final hairpin, number 1, I knew for the first time I was going to make it. I let out a cheer which elicited an askance look from two chaps that looked as though they were out on a Sunday club run. But I didn't care. I continued the climb into town and, for the last few hundred metres the road slopes downwards. A little madness came over me and I changed on to the big ring and through the gears and powered like a lunatic to the finish line.

I crossed the line exhilarated and exhausted. And in embarassing agony. My legs completed seized up just beyond the line and the only position that I could adopt that meant I didn't scream was leaning over my bars. Eventually a kindly French woman came and helped me get off the bike.

My computer showed a ride time of 8hr02 which I was thrilled with, but I was unsure how much time I'd spent at the stops. Either way I know I'd got the gold time. The months of training and sacrifice has been worth it.

Steve spotted me and we shook hands. Someone thrust a glass of orange squash into my hand. I wanted to call Rach but felt too emotional and it took me a while before I could face speaking to anyone. Slowly the rest of the guys all made it in great times, all gold.

In the end I got an official time of 8hr19, half an hour inside the target time.

Overall it was a tremendous experience. I'm definately up for it next year and will be going for a better time, at least sub 8 hours.