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.

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.

As I begin to pedal again, chasing the peloton, I slowly begin to feel the injuries, which I know will only feel worse once the race is over. Adrenaline masks pain. For now, the finish line is the objective. Over the radio, which is plugged into my ear, the director encourages my teammates who are up front. I know I need to try to get back to them, to help them in the pursuit of victory. I want to be up there, in front. The scrapes from the pavement burn with each pedal stroke as the grit from the wet road slowly works its way into the wounds.

Dozens of riders will cross the finish line covered in blood. After scrubbing the wounds with brushes and antiseptics the team doctors will patch us up. Some riders will go to hospital for X-rays.  Others, knowing they may have broken bones, will continue regardless. Knowing a bone is broken will not change their decision to start again. Few want to quit the Tour de France, or any major event, unless forced. The race is too grand and our desire too intense.

As Lance Armstrong came crashing down at the foot of the first major Alpine ascent in this year’s Tour de France his race changed, as did his public personae in France. He fell at speed, his body sliding across the tarmac before coming to a stop on a curb. Ragged, he pursued the peloton and remained in the race, after crashing a second time. Days later, having forgotten about the injuries he had sustained, his critics said he no longer had his pre-comeback winning legs as he was unable to follow the best in the mountains.

It is impossible to know from media reports how much a rider might suffer through the night, or even going down a flight of stairs. We fall, we climb on, we continue without complaint — yet that doesn’t mean every movement isn’t painful. We focus on the future with hope. That hope helps us overcome. Armstrong, like the dozens of others who didn’t meet expectations due to injury rode on committed to his team, the public and the race. To him, like the rest of us, the gravity of the injury was secondary to the importance of the race.

The day after the Tour finished in Paris, I glanced at a hotel-lobby television, which was tuned to a 24-hour French news channel. The news team was in the midst of summarizing and analyzing the race. They lauded Armstrong’s performance, saying he had finally gained the respect of the French for being approachable and for persisting despite his injuries and after losing hope of an overall victory. Prior to this year’s Tour he was thought of as someone who cared little about the sport and thought only about winning. If his comeback has revealed something about his personality it is that he is not only a fierce competitor but also that he simply loves being on his bike and racing.

The grimaces of the riders on the mountainside, struggling to finish, color the race as much as the images of the leaders crossing the line with apparent ease. Each rider’s unique story gives the race its flavor even if the public is unaware as it is relayed through the emotions of the race. On some level, everyone can comprehend and even identify with that emotion, as we all endure it in our daily lives. We fall, we get up, and we persist.

As Laurent Fignon wrote in his book, “A true cyclist sometimes has to bite the dust before he can reach the stars. Win. Survive. Hang in there. It’s a race against oblivion, a race against time, a race against yourself: a career, a life. Can a man’s character be represented in the way he rides a bike?”

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.

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.