Day Two

Day 2 Talloires to Val d'Isere
125km
After a short sleep and a quick breakfast we started the day with a group shot in front of the beautiful Lake at Talloires. I decided to ride with the girls today and stick to a slower pace to not over exert myself. We headed off to the Col de Forclaz which had a pretty scary and sharp profile. I climbed alone and put myself in a mental zone that focused me on achieving this. I expected the worse and soon we are at the top having gone in and out of slumped trances and being in a rhythm with my breathing and pedaling. I’m so pleased I reached the top that I buy a col badge and some cosy alpine slippers from the cafe to mark my conquest. We continue on into the low clouds that seem to be masking all our cols.
We had a gentle ride to the bottom of the Roselend, a magnificent mountain but testing on the legs. There is a lake sitting just before the summit, a welcome stopping place that disappoints as it is not the top of the col. We are riding well and feel we could climb the mountain without stopping for lunch before. It is better to keep the legs moving and the hardest part of the ride is pushing yourself to cycle through the pain; Keeping the muscles working and the blood pumping is better at keeping the pain at bay and stops the muscles seizing up once the body begins to relax. Beaufort, a small town is at the base of Roselend and she engulfs the sky overhead. We spot other red jersey’d flies in the cafes lining the route we are following. It is all too tempting to stop and we are quickly advised not to even think about starting the climb without any lunch. The climb is about 14 km to the lake and the little cafe there might not be open. The risk is too big to miss out on a meal, we are burning over 6000 calories a day and have to constantly eat and top up our fuel otherwise we would grind to a harrowing halt called a bonk. Its a challenge to eat carbohydrates and consume fats and sweets to help with energy burning and levels. Our blood sugar can drop if we aren’t taking on the right energy foods meaning we wouldn’t be functioning very well and risk problems.

After a chocolat chaud and saussison sandwich we start the climb in good spirits, singing eighties songs to while the climb away. We realize we are the last as we pass the slower, big guys who tend to have a very slow pace because of their size. These back runners are not in the mood for chirpy girls; understandably the climb is tough and all your focus goes into pedaling and pushing through the pain. We spin by at medium pace panting in between bursts of song and giggling. The idea is to spin in a lower gear to help push the lactic acid out of the muscles. On the steeper climbs you have to grind the gears and push harder but some gradients mean you use different muscles. This mountain has 3 stages, the evergreen lower part that opens up and becomes more vast and rocky as you enter the plateau with the lake to then start climbing hairpin turns on a sheer rock front into winding rocky roads where it is exposed and windy. At times it is easy to forget where your are and ignore your surroundings. Claire and Tess want to take it in and get photos of the views and poor Mareka feeling nauseous takes it slowly but I feel I must carry on and push on up the mountain alone.
I’ve find my legs quite quickly and ride with my breathe leading me. This is important as I have Asthma and no heart rate monitor. We don’t want to push our bodies into the red zone where we cannot recover from pushing too hard and we don’t want to hold back too much as this sends the body out of sync too. At the lake we greet the support crew with our day bags and put on warmer layers as the temperature changes. It is cold and blustery now, the old familiar white mist moves in and we have our head in the clouds once more. I cycle with Richard, a virgin rider to the top of the col and get to know him and find out about his family. I warn him about preparing yourself mentally for the slog to the end. He describes how exhausted he is and it is only day two. By the end of the day he explained, he has accomplished two days of the hardest thing he ever thinks he will do and now he is ready to go home. With the prospect of six more days and a tired mind and aching body I try to give him encouragement which is exhausting for me too. Suddenly we spot a proud marmot on the road, quietly having a moment. I see it as a good luck symbol and we push on. We were so happy to reach to top!


In the cold we descend 26 km to Bourg St Maurice for a baguette and coke with salt in it to help rebalance the salts and sugars we have lost. We leave in a peloton and push on to the last long drag and climb of the day, I loose myself and have no energy so pull over before I fall over on the main road. The traffic is busy and the energy of the other riders whirl around me. My head is woozy and as I stopped I couldn’t get my cleat out of the pedal, almost falling over. I know this is a sign of bonking. I fill up on sweets ad food that I really don’t want and get handed a lollipop by Adrian; His trick is to suck on it and slowly have the sugars pick you up as you ride. Jake and Adrian want to cycle with me to make sure I make it back safely. We carry on slowly and then the skies open and the rain comes down. Stopping for rain jackets, I use my Asthma inhaler. I feel a little energized from it and a bit more a wake. We pedal slowly up the long, steady mountain road that leads to Val d’Isere. It takes a long time and I can now manage conversation. The light changes as the rain clears and we are left with a magnificent and fresh evening. As we ascend the chill in the air gets stronger. I realize I have a puncture and Jake jumps in to change the inner tube over. Thankfully I have comrades to take care of me.
My chips are down and I need all the help I can get. Finally we reach some tunnels which scare the shit out of us. We were warned to take care through them and our support vans are going to lead us through but we are very far behind the others now and the vans are ahead. The cars and trucks howl past, the wind reverberation shakes us and in our tired states scare us. Woody, our support driver from Panavision leads us through in his van safely. After a long, long day I reach Val d’Isere and it is a ghost town, surrounded by fresh, alpine meadows, closed chalets and blanketed in off-peak bleakness. The mountains surround the famous ski town as a soft music whistles through the town and empty ski shops and complexes that lines the road. We make it to the hotel as the light disappears behind the mountains. Washing, dinner and bed. A very welcome break.

Day One - With Meaning

Day 1 Evian to Talloires
183km
‘I’m here to die a little and live a lot’ said by Luke Scott in his introduction speech on the eve of our ride. 75 strong, we will eat, sleep and cycle together for the next 9 days. After a brief night trying to rest but only wrestling with anxiety, it begins.
We cycled 183 km today, day one. It was tough. I started strong and it felt good being out on the French Roads heading to the mountains. We started out by Lake Geneva and ended in Talloires by another Lake, Lake Annecy; Beautiful. Managed to find a good rhythm and my legs this morning and cycled up front with Paul from Austin, Texas, an old friend from past rides and then found Alan, a rider from London. We realised that there is something about this experience you can’t quite get your head around. We spend 10 days together a year, some people are new and some returning yet you have this strange bond develop from the first night. Alan said ‘it goes beyond friends, its like family.’ Part of the reason we are so close without really knowing one another is the group dynamic and the reasons we are here.
We spent about 10 hours on the bikes today and climbed two cols (col is a path crossing mountain chains from lowest to highest point) passing through the clouds. I'm not sure if the clouds are low or if we are high. The weather was on our side - overcast and a gentle breeze - a blessing as I can't deal with the heat and it can get hot! I found it liberating and a pleasure at times to cycle in this alpine environment. I also spent a great deal of time struggling. I ended up on my own where you have to listen to your body and breathing and not push yourself beyond your limits. I question myself and want to give up at difficult ascents towards the top of the cols. I realised that I could only focus on the ground directly in front of me. I had tunnel vision and concentrated on overcoming the logical and self-doubt messages my brain was sending me. You spend a lot of time engaged in a mental battle to keep going. Its not easy when you are hot, tired and in pain, struggling to push on. The end is never near enough and there is only whats inside you motivating you. Of course you remember the money and support your sponsors have given you and at the most difficult times your thoughts jump between desires such as cups of tea, a comforting hug or lie down and to those you have seen or been told about suffering with this awful disease.






The riders here are all people that have come together to create this force. We are a Tour de Force. We have to believe it to help us up all those mountains. The pain and tiredness can be overwhelming and you try your best to cycle through it or some stop and get back some sensation of normality before continuing. I've learnt its best to cycle through it, just keep going and eventually your mind wonders and you feel something else but the biggest challenge is coping with the fatigue, sore muscles and lagging feelings when it takes hours to reach the top of the col. Sometimes you can see where you are heading for miles and it gets very frustrating to not feel any closer. Time marches on and the climbing is never-ending. Colombiere is like this but today we had low clouds that engulfed the top of the col so we cycled in a grim cloudy mist that felt cold and went on and on and on. I thought it would go on forever and I was definitely ready to give up, despairing on my own as I didn't quite believe I had reached the top.
Your body and mind throbs from exhaustion and your senses only come back to you after a recovery concoction of coca cola and salt and a sit down and do nothing in the warm for a while.

I had a broad spectrum of emotions today and spent a lot of time trying to avoid running low on energy however I reached periods of being so tired that I was a bit delirious and ended up in a trance nearly falling into the mountain as I was startled when a line of cars streamed pass me. I battle with bad thoughts and wipe away tears, I get hugs and replenish my energy with food and drink. I then am terrified on the descents, its technical and my bike is bloody fast. People hit speeds of 20-50mph descending on wheels thinner than half an inch in width. Skillfully and gracefully they float down the mountain, I do the same at slower speeds that contain my panic as I get to know my new bike and my hands ache and loose sensation because I have to break so hard.

Today I achieved something amazing and I’ve heard about tomorrow which I’m terrified of just how tough it will be. I want this to be over and I want some home comforts and r and r. I made some fantastic connections and spoke very openly and deeply about cancer and life with my fireflies comrades today. We know why we’re here and we need your help. We are totally exposed out here. Nothing to hide behind. We get to know each other without the pretense of our structured and formal lives at home. Its something else when you get to know and see people as they really are because you are exposed to such a tough challenge that what you go through emotionally and physically and the way you respond shines through, you can't mask it because it just happens. We let down our defenses and ride together with our reasons in this life changing experience. This is us, fit and healthy, dying a little and living a lot - lets do more to keep it that way.

Send-Off at Golden Sq

Friday 11th June
What an evening. This dark, gloomy un-summery day with cloudy skies suddenly opens up at about 5 o'clock and the sun dances through glazing the fireflies and their guests in Soho's Golden Sq. The tone of the evening is set, not only is it a gorgeous Friday night but there is a wave of energy that has built, ready to propel us through the Alps. This event happens every year on the Friday before departure to wish the riders well on their adventure. Traditionally riders meet at the Catherine Lewis Centre at Hammersmith Hospital to see where the funds raised will be going, reacquainting us with the reason why we're here and doing this. A photo at the Hospital with the staff and patients marks the beginning of what unfolds and grows within these new groups of people each year to become the ride. Brought together by the hospital visit and convoy across London, the comradery grows. We receive our jerseys and display them proudly, they become our uniform and our armor.

We infiltrate Soho and march on our bicycles through Beak Street and onto Golden Sq to a warm welcome. The light is beautiful, I take photographs and run out of film!!! The music and voices travel across the soft, evening air and the buzz of the flies converges into the Soho backdrop. It's so wonderful to share this with our friends and colleagues and supporters, as we cheers to the donations and gather for Charlie's speech. He needs no microphone but this time he has one and he launches into a dynamic unfolding of the tongue, spewing out the who's and hows and what for's and whys. His passion is engaging and I watch the virgin riders soak in the environment and battle with the overwhelming feeling that they are really here and will really be cycling over all those mountains. We are on display and representing what has become the fireflies ride, we shout and cheer and drink. I catch up with old friends that I am so happy to see but am not left to concentrate on one conversation, it is so busy that everybody is crossing paths and chatting, getting involved and catching up. I've seen riders who helped me in my first year that I haven't seen since. Mat taught me to use my gears. Aaron's life changed so dramatically after his times on the ride. Zak was a fantastic rider. Kate I trained with. It's wonderful, I have a past with them, having shared the experience. We might be a very small part of each others pasts but we are all very prominent in one another's memories. You can't go through something like this and not make a real connection with everyone you are with.
This year is the tenth year of the ride and I've been involved for the past four years. Having first ridden during the last world cup, I have a sense of deja-vu but also a realisation that I'm back, after a break from cycling for two years and that I would rather be nowhere else. This feels like the first time again. I've chosen to get myself back here and begin to understand something about myself, that perhaps I've moved out of my grief. I started the ride five months, coincidentally to the day, after we lost my father to cancer of the oesophagus. During that time riding was like my therapy but in a very convoluted way. I associated the pain in the training with the suffering I had seen in him; for me that connection was my neutraliser. I think I've spent the last four years processing all of that and now I'm back, almost where I started. I cannot wait the return to the Alps - they are calling and I think it might be a spiritual awakening or maybe a retuning.
Cancer is evil and this grueling challenge is our way of fighting back. We all pay our own rider's fees (almost £1500) and commit to raising £2000 each for Leuka. I'd like you to donate and feel inspired.
Please read my daily updates as I would hope for you to gain an insight into what it is like for someone who rides for a cause. I like the train and cars and comfy seats but I've found a new way to help my life and do something I still can't quite get my head around. This one is for Dad.