On September 10 and 12th two ProTour races will be held in Quebec City and Montreal. (www.protourquebecmontreal.com) The circuits, which wind through the city centres are hilly and hard. In 1974 the World Championships were held in Montreal on roughly the same 12 km circuit which we will race on in a few weeks. The major difficulty on the course is the climb up Mont Royal– a tough ascent which shadows the city centre. We will climb it 16 times.

In 1974 Eddy Merckx dominated and won the race. The World title was the final race he needed to achieve the triple crown of cycling: victories in the Giro d’Italia, Tour de France and World Championships. In 1976 the same course was used for the Olympic Road Race and then through the late 80’s and early 90’s Montreal held a yearly pro men’s World Cup. Through the 90’s, and until last year, the city hosted the Women’s World Cup on the Mont Royal circuit.

As I was looking through the piles of photos my father has from a lifetime in cycling I found a few he and a friend, Gil Smith, took at the Worlds in Montreal. Some of the pictures are from the track events and some are from the road race.

In the moment everything seems lost. I skidded along the ground, sliding on the tarmac as if I were seated on a sled but with only a thin layer of Lycra between skin and rock. The initial impact was brusque and jarring — similar to what a driver feels when rear-ended by another car. Then came the impacts every professional rider expects: Riders crashed into me from behind, colliding with my torso as if a thug was kicking it with fury. The riders whom I had crashed into, who were on the tarmac before me, would have felt the same impact.

For months, we had all trained meticulously, sacrificed, dieted and focused to be ready. A slick road, a nervous rider, a careless maneuver can end a dozen riders’ goals. Seeing riders fall in front of me, I feared it could be over. The fear is momentary.

On the ground, I feel the burn of torn skin. But before I look at the damage my body has sustained, I am looking for my bike. I get up, realize it is broken, look for the mechanic who is running towards me with my spare bike, adjust my torn jersey and prepare to climb back on. A dozen riders around me do the same.

The team cars have stopped in the middle of the road, unable to pass due to the crash, as the directors and mechanics look through the bodies and bikes to find their riders. A few lay on the ground holding their arms or shoulders while bleeding profusely. Their faces grimace with pain. From past experience I know that I will see most of them back in the peloton in half an hour. Riders will continue with broken, pummeled, bleeding bodies. Their will is too formidable to give. The sacrifice to prepare for the race has been too concentrated to resign to the pain of injury. Continue Reading »

Several people have asked me about cycling in Girona, Spain. Below is a travel article I wrote for  Canadian Cycling Magazine. I have also included some photos which my wife, Dede Barry, and friend, Jordi Cantal, took.

Prior to the Tour de France the team rode the cobbled roads we would race over on the stage to Arenberg. Knowing the cobbles and the lead-up to the sectors makes a significant difference to our performance as we pick landmarks as reference points, note the dodgy bits of road and preview the aspects of the course that could change the outcome of the race. For some riders in the team the training session was also a learning experience as they had never ridden the rougher cobbles and asked for pointers from Juan-Antonio Flecha and the veterans. The inexperienced tend to tense up while the others let their bikes float beneath their bodies absorbing some of the shock while also limiting blisters and muscle pain. When the bike floats the chance of punctures is also decreased. A tense rider is more likely to crash as his reactions are brusque and he fails to see the flow of the race.

The Tour stage turned into a chaotic mess as soon as we were within 20 km of the cobbles as the peloton grew nervous, riders began crashing in their push toward the front of the group while others crashed because they jammed on their brakes. In the end, the stage made for some great bike racing and the best were at the front in the finale.

The video is of our training session three days prior to the start of the Tour. It gives a bit of a perspective of the roads and countryside. While training, whenever we hit the cobbled sections the team would split up as some riders– notably Wiggins and Flecha– attacked the stones with vigour while others rode over them apprehensively. The camera was placed on the hood of the teamcar.

For some reading material here are two recent interviews. Toronto Life, read interview here. FT, read interview here.

A quick photo taken on an iPhone after the stage 3 finish in Arenberg–a hard day on the dusty cobbles.

In addition to my site, I have begun writing a column for The Times UK. It will continue through the end of the race, and I encourage you to take a look.

The team of eight riders singled into a line in front of me as we entered the cobbles. As the surface changed from smooth tarmac to uneven stone with patches of grass growing in the gaps, our bikes shuddered and our bodies shook.

In that moment we lifted our speed like a driver might suddenly accelerate on a sinuous mountain road as he feels the thrill and anticipation of a challenge. In racing and training, we are constantly pushing ourselves both mentally and physically to not only improve and win, but also because we are thrilled by the challenge and love to ride.

Prior to the Tour de France, the nine riders who would be competing in the race pre-rode the cobbled sectors we will race over on the third stage. Rural cobblestone roads punish a cyclist leaving him with blistered hands and sore muscles. Despite the discomfort, the team was inspired as we bounced over the stones. Like the mountains we will climb, the ancient roads are monuments in the sport of cycling. The great champions who have ridden, suffered and won on the roads have created the history, which inspires nearly every cyclist whether professional or a tourist.

Cycling’s rich history

Cycling is not only about the victory but also about the journey. The more challenging the journey is, the more fulfilling the achievement. With an understanding of the sport’s rich history that sense of achievement becomes more profound. After riding, the second sector of cobblestones, Bradley Wiggins, our team leader, looked over to me as we rode along and said: “I forgot how much I love riding the cobbles. It is a fantastic feeling.”

Bradley hadn’t ridden the cobblestones since the spring of 2009 when he rode the one-day Classic Paris Roubaix. We chatted for a few minutes about what the cobbles mean to cycling and how few Tour de France contenders now ride the early season Classics for fear of crashing. Decades ago, the sport’s icons rode all the major Classics and won. It was evident he wanted to be among them.

Brad has an encyclopedic memory for cycling history. Like me, he has absorbed everything relating to cycling he could since he was a young boy. Not only is he a Tour de France star but he is also a fervent fan. Amongst a generation of young riders who disregard the history of the sport his passion is unique. He understands that we are all a part of something greater.

Flecha leads the way

Over the cobbles Juan Antonio Flecha led the team, with Bradley tucked tight in his draft. Flecha is a Classics star. Yet his story is exceptional as he is one of the few Spaniards to ever shine on the cobblestones. His childhood dream was to race among the protagonists in the Classics and despite coming from a nation, which produces climbers who perform in the heat, he persisted with his goal and is now one of the top Classics riders. Despite spending his adolescence south of Barcelona, he floats on the Belgian and French cobblestones and attacks when a cold wind blows off the North Sea. Like Brad he knows that in every major pro race, he is part of something richer and greater than just a sporting event.

Our team is full of individuals who have that same passion. Dave Brailsford, our manager, raced in France as an amateur as did our coach Rod Ellingworth. Each of our directeur sportifs has raced professionally. The team has combined that passion for the sport with Formula One technology and resources to build an environment, which is not only nurturing and understanding, but and also well organized and structured.

As we begin the Tour de France there is an electric ambiance within the team. We are prepared, committed to our goals and relaxed but we are also excited as we appreciate and understand what the Tour means. Cycling is our profession but we are also living a dream.

The month prior to the Tour de France, Team Sky organized a small training camp in the Alps and Pyrenees for us to ride in the high mountains while also previewing some of the key Tour de France mountain stages. For us, Brad Wiggins, Steve Cummings and me, the camp also provided us with a good training block as we had been recovering from the Giro d’Italia and required a few good days of training to kick-start our fitness again. In the five day camp we rode roughly two or three key climbs every day. The set-up was ideal as we had a small group of riders, a support vehicle to follow us, and a camper to meet us on the mountain peaks. In the camper we could layer clothing for the descent and grab a quick coffee or tea to keep warm.

Our team coach planned the routes and organized the day while Sean Yates, our team director drove behind us. Pre-riding the climbs and breaking them down into sections is key, but it is just as important to know the run-in to the ascent and the technical aspects of the descent. Positioning before the climb is crucial while knowing the descent is also vital as time can be won or lost depending on how confident and comfortable a rider is in the corners.

Sean was known as one of the fastest descenders of his generation. When he was asked by a journalist why he became so good at descending he responded that he couldn’t climb so he learned to catch groups on the descents. He told us a story where he bridged a five-minute gap to the front group on a long Alpine descent. The Colombians he had dropped on the way down caught him ten kilometers up the next climb. To many of the guys on the team Sean is not only our directeur sportif but also a childhood idol. Since he retired he hasn’t gained an ounce and he still rides daily and looks the same on his bike as he did when he was winning in the Motorola colors in the early 90’s. His work ethic, and quality as a domestique, was remarkable. He is a hard man who simply loves to be on his bike.

The following video is of one of the numerous climbs we did during the camp. The climb is the Port de Balès, a beautiful ascent in the Pyrenees. The road leading into the climb cuts through gorges and winds its way through pastures before opening up to some of the most beautiful countryside I have ridden through. The descent is fairly technical and, as the stage will finish at the bottom, will influence the outcome of the race.

I was pedalling at a consistently higher tempo on the stationary trainer but my heart rate was not increasing at the same rate as three weeks before. Tired from one of the toughest races I have ridden, my heart no longer responded quickly to stimulus. Three weeks of weather extremes, challenging and varied courses, intense racing and nonstop travel were draining. Electronic music, blasting through my headphones and blocking out the noise of the whirling trainer, got my mind racing but failed to stimulate my legs. They ached as the pressure increased. My warm-up complete, I stepped off the trainer knowing the final time trial of the Giro d’Italia wouldn’t be an easy one.

Grand Tours are unique in every sense. No other sporting event is as taxing physically and mentally. During the three weeks we rarely relax as the pace of our lives is relentless. We seem to be in constant movement as we are never in one place long enough to fully unpack a suitcase or feel remotely settled.

The team lives in a bubble blown around the race environment. Stage numbers replace days of the week. Results pages replace newspapers. The race moves around the countryside as one. We escape the bubble momentarily when we walk outside the hotels in the evenings, step in a store, or turn on the television at night to catch a few minutes of the news. But, our thoughts never really leave the race. There’s always an imminent goal.

Then the tour ends and our bodies shut down. Accustomed to the rhythm and tempo of the race we learn to persist, and cope, mentally and physically within the race structure. Once that pressure is released an tiredness takes over. The week after the finish, I feel an overwhelming lethargy. Each step I take through town, or up a flight of stairs, seems laborious in comparison to the thousands of kilometres ridden in Italy.

To recover and rebound to a higher level, I let my body rest and eat well. I ride intermittently during the week following the race, to keep from completely shutting down. The rides are at a tourist’s speed and just as short. Afternoons become nap time.

A coach once suggested that I base my training on the mathematical sequence by the Italian mathematician Fibonacci (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fibonacci). If applied to training two days of hard training would require one day of recovery. Following the sequence, 21 days of stimulus requires thirteen days of recovery. From experience, I know it requires at least ten days for the body to regain its normal rhythm and for the desire to ride to return.

A Grand Tour etches the body. Friends who I haven’t seen in a month comment on my weight loss and the dark brown tan line. Like a tattooed punk, a fit professional cyclist looks out of place in a crowd of townspeople.

Racing reaches levels unobtainable in training. If a cyclist recovers carefully from a grand tour, he will be rewarded his finest form. The extremes of the race mentally and physically, make cyclists comfortable with the abnormal.

The rest worked. Nearly two weeks after the race, I can feel the power I’ve gained in my pedal stroke. The return of the sensation of flight is the moment to resume training with consistency and intensity.

The effects of a Grand Tour are sweeping. Efforts can be sustained for longer periods, climbs seem shorter and shallower and the bike moves in harmony with the body. With so many hours spent in the saddle in a period of a few weeks, it is on the bike that a fit cyclist feels most comfortable. In any other realm, we again feel displaced.

And, it is during the rebound in fitness that I will specify my training again to ensure it is pointed towards the next objectives. For a week, I will train in the Alps and then Pyrenees with two teammates to ride the key Tour de France stages. It will be a week, where we will rediscover the routine and almost singular focus of the cyclist’s life.