The final push

In which we all win the Tour de France

Hello friends,

Forgive me for not posting today’s update at the usual time. We’re now in Saint-Gervais, for the second rest day, and most of my time has been taken up with endless admin and logistics, sorting things out for the final push (we still have six hefty stages to go), getting up-to-date with laundry (hurrah for bathtubs and power showers), charging all my devices, cleaning my bike (only joking), and scrutinising the remaining 800km of riding and 13,000m+ of climbing. I’ve caught up on some of my sleep, I’ve rehydrated copiously, and the only thing I hadn’t managed to do was write this week’s newsletter.

Then, just as my eyelids started drooping, I remembered that I had had the foresight to prepare one earlier. And so here it is - another opinion piece on last year’s Tour de France Femmes, as we gear up for the 2023 edition.

(Next Monday will be the day after we arrive in Paris, and I definitely don’t have another draft up my sleeve, so let’s see what I manage to come up with then. An exhausted stream-of-consciousness could be quite fun.)

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On the last day of 2022’s Tour de France Femmes, I found myself riding up the leafy slopes of the Planche des Belles Filles behind a black minivan, emblazoned with Canyon’s logos. The boot was open, and three cameras were trained on me, wielded by the exhausted (but still enthused) film crew who had been following me and Denise around northern France for the past week.

Here we are at the finish line

I was used to this by now, so I chatted to them as I rode, and every now and then Sam (the director) would ask me a question.

Which historic Tour de France racer would I love to be riding up this hill with?

Well, apart from Denise (who had pulled ahead when I stopped for a pee), I’d have to say Philippa Yorke. Although, my real dream is to one day ride up the Col de la Bonette with her, having watched her drop Pedro Delgado and ride most of the climb solo in 1993, back when she was racing as Robert Millar.

And how did it feel, to be here today, riding up the final climb of the women’s Tour de France, a few hours ahead of the riders?

I thought about it for a second before I answered, trying to capture the tangle of emotions I felt, that seemed to stretch their roots right back into my childhood.