Tour de France Féminin

Giana Roberge Reports

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Stage 1

Well, I saw a whole different perspective of the 150 kilometers today than the stage winner, Edita Poukenskaite. I saw the race become all about water. We began the stage at high noon from Montloucon and headed toward Super-Besse at a pretty moderate pace in 45 degree (c) weather. For those of you Americanized - that is about 115 degrees (f). After making many trips back to the caravan for water to keep Linda hydrated, I realized that there is a whole different world back there. Horns are honking like crazy; and, as you have your hand up in the air with a bottle to indicate the desperate situation you are in, you hear the rev of motors as impatient director sportifs consider whether or not to run your behind over if you don't get out of their way. Their rider, is, of course, in more desperate straits than yourself. Then, of course, you must make your way up the side of an angry, hot peloton, all the while looking for your teammates, and trying to avoid the dangerous people, who will move into you, no matter how loudly you yell, "aqua" "l'eau" or "water." You now weigh about thirty pounds more than usual because you have at least six bottles, stuck in any available space, so the hills are rather challenging. It is always a chore handing across the bottles to your teammates; inevitably some other rider feels you have invaded her private space and begins to yell at you in some language you have never heard before. But you know it is not nice.

After the water is gone, you most likely have to go back to "the bar" for something for yourself because in your effort to be efficient you forgot to keep water for yourself. As you float by all the people you have just enraged, you look for the kind spectators who throw water on you in pity as you pass them by. They see you going backwards and assume you are about to self-destruct in the heat. You probably will soon, but hopefully you will be out of their sights when you do.

Other than being a water boy, myself, Heather Cole and Ina Teutenburg (German) were of no use to Linda. Today was a day for the climbers to shine - and so they did.

I have no final results other than to say I suffered mightily today. I take heart in knowing that no matter where a rider was in the group today, she was suffering. But I finished; and the Devil, ever present in the men's Tour, cheered me home. Eleven days and counting.

Stage 2

Today's terrain promised more heartache for the sprinters. I discussed the stage one of the two great German sprinters, Petra Rosner. She assured me that it would be another stage full of suffering. In my naivete, being new to tours such as this, I said, "but there are only two category 4 climbs." And she pulled out the bible and laid it flat on the table. "Look at the first 100 ks," she said pointing. Yes, I notice that there are indeed undulations in the profile. "See this here," she indicated to one of the various blips in the profile, "that does not look comfortable." No indeed. Petra then showed me the previous day's stage, and indeed yesterday looked flat in comparison. My heart dropped; I was hoping for an easier day to recuperate from yesterday. My expression must have given me away; Petra smiled and said, "Hang on to kilometer 100, then you will finish with the group."

Well, that was my plan, but it did not start off all that well. I roll up to the start, for the 12:30 departure. No one was there. "Elles departent," the crowd yells, as they point up the road. Damn! I already have to start the day chasing. At least there was 16k of a neutral start. After chasing back on, I settle into the middle of the pack prepared to loosen up my legs before the race actually starts. I wish someone would explain to me why we have a 16 kilometer roll out that the race bible does not count as racing, yet we are all still riding and sweating. And today's neutral was 16k of climbing. There must be a neutral jersey that the race director awards to the winner of the neutral that I don't know about, because inevitably there are some women who are so ready to race that they continually push the pace, forcing the rest of us all to suffer.

Finally the neutral comes to an end and the race begins. And I get dropped, and I chase back on. And I get dropped again, and I chase back on. And this is how my day went. I was either in my 53/12 chasing back on, or in my 39/25 trying to hang on. On the descents I took advantage of the comfort of speed and went back for water. Don't tell my Mom, but I hit 99 kilometers an hour on one of the descents today! We raced through some beautiful country side; and, the sides of the little goat paths that we were riding on were lined with spectators, which is probably one of the reasons I did manage to finish in the main group today. That, and knowing I only had to make it 100 kilometers and the suffering would ease a bit. The peloton was not happy with the chosen course in today's heat; many of the women threatened a sit-down protest. They knew, though, that there would never be unity, and some woman would attack the group and go onto win...

Finally I see the 50 k to go sign. Phew I made it! Now I just need to sit in the field and hang on to the end. Easier said then done. I looked down at my avocet and saw 51 kilometers and hour; and that was on the flat. I love this sport!

I slam a couple of cliff shots, drink a bottle of water, and look for a friendly jersey to ride next to. I cruise in to town near to Heather; we both laugh when we see the devil. The finish banner never looked so good! Petra, for all her caution about the day, proved what good form she has now, and went on to win the stage. There was a substantial group so I doubt that the overall General Classification changed.

Tomorrow will be a day to race to make the time cut. We climb the Col d'Aspin (a cat 1) in the morning. After lunch we will tackle the Col de Solour(another cat one). Ouch! The first col was in the men's Tour this year; I will be looking for the names in the road; it will keep my mind occupied until I see the devil again.

Stages 3a and 3b

I managed to find myself in a group with Elizabeth and Joan Wilson; as we climbed our heads got lower to the handlebars, our expressions more grim, and our breathing more shallow. I did happen to notice the very big kilometer to go signs which also included the percent grade of that upcoming kilometer. Unfortunately, as we neared the top, each kilometer announced a steeper grade. I began to get a little peeved; it is discouraging enough to know there are still four mean kilometers awaiting you, but to know that they are going to be nine percent nears cruelty. The descent was very wet; the group I am in was very careful. We had nothing to gain and everything to lose. Finally the 1 kilometer kite. I would rather think of it as the 1000 meter to go mark, as somehow that seems closer to the finish.

And then we arrive at the finish; people are cheering us as if we have won! We quickly change; the delightful town we are in is mobbed with people. The traffic is backed up for many kilometers and it takes us some time to drive to the lunch facility. We sit down to pasta, of course. Then off to lay down for a nap. I used to get nervous before I raced; I guess it is a testament to my comfort level to say I can sleep between stages. Heather wakes me; I can't believe I am pulling on a pair of shorts and am going to do this again. I need to go have my head examined!

The second stage of the day begins on the descent we finished on earlier. The road is wide open for two k, then becomes very narrow. I find Linda and move her up to the front. The Mimosa Sprint women, riding for Luperinni, are driving the pace, and I bring Linda as many times as I can. I look at my computer and realize the first climb of the afternoon is about to raise its ugly head. I yell to Linda that I will bring her up; as I do the motorbike comes up behind her to pass through. She moves right to let him through just as we turn onto the hill. The bike comes between us and then nearly crashes into the peloton. Linda comes to a full stop just as Mimosa attacks. I notice that she has not gone by, concerned I look back but can not see her. By the time she gets up to me, I am totally useless from having earlier spent myself getting her near to the front. She goes to the front of our group and begins to reel in the group up the road. Thankfully, many of the climbers were in her position and are now eager to combine efforts. We catch the front group on the descent.

The descent seems to last forever, and it is a nasty, dangerous one. There are many 180 degree turns with gravel in all of the corners. I would almost rather be going up than down this one. I learn later that Mandy Hampel (a young and talented german woman) crashed on the descent. It took the ambulance nearly 15 minutes to arrive at the scene. Mandy was wearing a helmet and this probably saved her life. As it is, her situation is very serious; we are all praying for her.

I know nothing of this, though, as we hit the last flat section before the Col de Solour. I find Linda and bring her to the front of the group. Keeping her protected by staying in the wind, I hope to keep her legs as fresh as possible for the climb. As I make my way up the side of the peloton, I hear an Australian telling her teammate about a 2 kilometer very steep climb, followed by a steep descent, then a sharp right hand turn. I yell this information to Linda. It proves vital to the final outcome of the stage. As we near the steep climb, Mimosa is driving the pace so hard that it takes everything I have to get Linda up to Luperinni. The group splits and 15 go up the road, Linda is one of them. My job is done; I just need to make it to the finish within the time cut.

Once again I am with Elizabeth and Joan. Other very good riders are with us as well; it is so evident that the winner of this Tour will be the most consistant rider, not necessarily the strongest. Longo, Wilson, and Brunnel are with us, to name a few. The roads here are scared with markings of previous races. Racer's names, race abreviations with arrows, and "allez" all testify to the many times this climb has challenged riders. Again many hundreds of people line the roadway, offering water and pushes, begging for bottles, and offering encouragement. It is alot like the First Union race in Philadelphia; tons of people. steep pitches, and loud cheering. We were just missing the smell of BBQ and beer.

The top is cold and wet. I pull on some dry clothes, grab my computer and CD player; we have a another four hour transfer before we see a shower or dinner. And as all of you read this, I can only say that my heart is full of happiness. This life is difficult at best, but I love it!

The time trial is tomorrow. Edita still has the jersey and I think Mimosa is worried. Today's mountain top finish was the place for Luperinni to claim the yellow jersey. She better have a good TT up her sleeve. I sure hope I do!

Stage 4

Today's stage was the time trial. I had been looking forward to this day from the time that I agreed to do the Tour. It was a twenty-seven kilometer course, which according to the profile was going to be relatively flat. And so it was, but only when compared to the col's of the past few days. In other words, had this course been in the States, the "rolling terrain" would have been referred to as climbs. I was in my small chainring more than my big. Of course, as the saying goes, "what goes up must come down." Sure enough there were many technical and steep descents. It was a tricky course; one of the toughest parts included a near gravel, narrow, climb. Even the finish was a surprise; at the 300 meter sign there was a sharp left hand turn into a twenty percent pitch up to the finish banner. At least there was a mob of spectators to cheer the riders home; we needed all the help we could get.

Stage 5

Today's 115 kilometer stage took us from Avignon to Valreas over the infamous Mont Ventoux. I had heard three things about this climb. The first: there were three ways up; we were, much to my dismay, going to race up the hardest route. The second tidbit of information: 10 of the 25 kilometers had a grade that varied from a 10 to 12 percent grade. The last clue as to what was in store: this, the highest peak in the Alps, was the sight of Tom Simpson's untimely death.

In my innocence, I believed that this climb would be longer than the previous climbs, but I was doubtful it could be much harder. I left my 25 rear cog on. This was a mistake; I could have used a 27.

The race started with many attacks. I was surprised at the aggression; they would only have 20 kilometers before they hit the climb, and with its length it was doubtful they would actually stay away. But, I guess it is always worth a try. The Dream Team was very interested in keeping the field togehter for Edita, to the extent of chasing even Ina down. I don't think she would have made up the two hours she was down in today's stage alone, however, the Dream Team rode like pros and tried to keep the pack sealed up tight. A small group did mange to get away; they were caught on the base of the climb. Once we left Avignon, Mont Ventoux raised its big, ugly, bald head out of the valley floor like some monster rising from the depths of the earth. I could see the tower at the top and looked at my computer. Maybe in 90 minutes time we would be there. I was not far off in my estimation; we climbed for 1 hour 27 minutes. A person can really lose their mind during this time. I found myself in the groupetto pretty quickly. Ina and Petra were driving the bus, yelling "piano" even as the fans were yelling "allez!" At first, the group was optimistic, the eighteen of us chatted about our lives, the race, and what our plans were for the fall. I saw the 16 kilometer to go marker; and, as we turned right on a switch back, the chatter ended abruptly. The formidable wall facing us stretched out as far as we could see. And when we looked over to the left we could see the next many ks, without a variation of grade. We had climbed out of the trees, and only white rock decorated the sides of the ugly, graceless mountain. When Mother Nature gave birth to this mountain she did so without any consideration for its beauty. The top was wide open and windy. We had stopped at this time taking water; it was chilly at the top. Just when I felt like I was in a sanatorium, Ina piped up, "Can anyone give me ten reasons why we are doing this?" We all relaxed a little. Being in the groupetto actually illustrates what bike racing should be all about. Everyone looks out for one another. When a bottle is taken it is passed around to be shared by all. (I have long ago given up the notion of not sharing a bottle. When your team car is 30 minutes up the road, you will drink anything, from anything, from anybody. Dehydration can be a desperate thing at 1829 meters.) When a woman is struggling, the word goes out, and a sharp "piano" is issued from the driver of the bus.

We did finally make it to the top. All of us together, a team of eighteen women from around the world, all working to make the time-cut. And as a team, all eighteen of us rolled through down the descent, and the thirty kilometers into Valreas. With so many women cooperating, the pace was brisk. We made the time cut with 30 minutes to spare. No one sprinted for the finish banner; which is a pet peeve of mine. It is in very poor etiquette to sprint for 100th place.

Rasa Polikeviciute won the stage by three minutes. However, Edita managed to maintain the Yellow Jersey with her second place stage finish. Linda had a good ride and was fifth.

I am at least an hour and a half down. But the way I see it, I have ridden much more than the top 45 women, and someday I will be stronger for it. Tomorrow looks to be relatively flat; with a category 4 climb thrown in so we don't forget how to use those little gears.

Stage 6

Today's stage should not have been terribly difficult by the previous day's standards; but this is the Tour and nothing is easy. As usual we started off with a neutral roll-out. This one was short at only 2 kilometers; however, we descended down a Col on an eight foot wide road. When we finally hit the flats I was already in my 53/14 and rolling it over pretty well. It still amazes me at how quickly a racer's body adapts to getting on a bike with no warm-up and racing. Mine argues with me only briefly, but then relents and settles into the work at hand.

There were many attacks, and I found myself in several hopeful looking breaks; however, none stayed away for very long. After the category 4 climb, a group got away. My timing was off; I watched the group go as I was filling my pockets with water back at the car. Ah, such is life. The break did not contain anyone too threatening to the General Classification, but the Dream Team still initiated the chase. Karen Kurreck and Pam Schuster, along with Anna Wilson were the notable riders.

The Dream Team had some bad luck themselves today. Nearly the whole team crashed on the descent; yet, the peloton etiquette kept anyone from attacking while Edita was brought back to the front by her teammates. The gap to the break began to open pretty quickly; and when they had two minutes I doubted that we would see those ten riders again until the finish. The break did stay away while the Dream Team tried to do damage control at the front. They were interested in keeping the gap from blowing wide open. The break finished about 3:30 up on the peloton with Anna Wilson taking the sprint.

Between the heat, the wicked cross winds, and the up and down terrain, I am surprised that the peloton came in as one big group without any crashes. We went through at least twenty different round-abouts, over several tracks, and spent most of the day on narrow, poorly paved roads. Not a lot of fun! After I rolled across the line, I went to find my team car. It was surrounded by many young boys, all fascinated by our bikes and equipment. My Saeco shorts, bike and helmet really attracted attention. They were all big Cipollini fans. However, something on my face must have given them a clue to the stresses of the race; one boy asked me "tu es abandone?" And although my french is elementary, I knew what he was saying. I replied, "non, un jour encore, je pense." He laughed, and wished me luck, but as the Tour continues his question will never be far from my mind.

Stage 7

The peloton is getting cranky and a revolt is in the air. The women have had enough of the long transfers, 20 kilometer neutrals, and poor food. The heat, mountains, and lack of sleep have become intollerable to the 90 remaining women.

Today's stage began with the threat of protest against the 20 k neutral in 110 degree heat on top of the 150 kilometers we were to race. Many of the women wanted to drive the neutral; however, a comprimise was reached. We rode the neutral very slowly and stopped for water before the race began. Still, the air was tense. Ina attempted to convince the peloton to ride the first 50 kilometers "piano" so that people would make the time-cut. However, Mimosa, intent on moving Luperinni into the Yellow Jersey began to attack immediately. There were many attacks for the first 90 kilometers. I went to the team car 7 times for water; I saw the front of the field for brief moments as I handed Linda her bottles. We hit the Category 4 climb of 248 meters at 110 kilometers. Somehow I managed to stay with the front group. As soon as I recovered enough to know that I was in that group to stay, I went back for fluid for Linda. I delivered the bottles to her just as we hit the category 3 climb to 329 meters. This time I did not stay with the front group but I did climb well. I came over the top in a small group; the front group of climbers was still insight.

We began to descend in attempt to catch the group up the road. Descending on these roads takes every ounce of nerve I have. I used to show jump. Descending at 90 kilometers an hour around corners that are completely blind and with women that you would swear are also blind, makes galloping toward a five foot jump seem like a piece of cake. Today's descent to the finish was particularly nerve racking. I floated to the back of the group I was in; these women were taking far too many risks for thirtieth place! There was one woman, racing for Longo's team, who was laying it all on the line. Just as I was thinking she was going way too fast she crashed into the side of the mountain. After that my little group was a bit more conservative; still, I was hoping my guardian angel was watching over me. Allesandra Capolloto's risks on the descent paid off; she went on to win the stage solo. This was after she flatted and chased back onto the front group. She went by me like I was on a single speed coaster bike and she was on a motorcycle. Finally the 10 k to go sign appeared. At this point 10 k seemed inconvienent; I was ready to see the finish banner. Every part, and I do mean every part, of my body hurt. The last 10 k had a few giant hills thrown in for good measure. But everything must come to an end; thankfully the stage finally did.

Tonight's accomodations leave a lot to be desired. We are at a "center." Common bathrooms, cafeteria food, and hot, cell-like rooms greeted us. At dinner, the managers agreed to speak with the promoter. The women do not want to race tomorrow's afternoon stage. As it stands now, we are scheduled to do the Valberg (after 90 k of racing) in the morning, and the Col de La Colmiane (another 50 k of racing) in the afternoon. Many of the women feel that they will be unable to finish the Tour unless the second stage of the day is removed. I have mixed feelings about this; we all knew the profiles (however inaccurate they may be) and the distances, as well as the quality of the field, when we agreed to do the Tour. It is all of these qualities that garner us the huge amount of respect we receive from the fans, the media, our friends and family. However, the heat, long transfers, lack of bathrooms at the start, and poor food has made us all feel disrespected as professional athletes. The women's Tour lacks flat days for the sprinters; the men's Tour in comparison has nearly a week of flat for the sprinters to play before they head to the mountains. We have several (4) days in a row of mountain stages; the men have two or three days in a row. We rarely hear the men's peloton complain about their Tour. However, this year when they felt they were disrespected they protested. The men would never race in the conditions that we are asked to. I do not see an easy solution; women's cycling still lacks the amount of financial support of its male counter-part. However, it is difficult races such as this that will bring women's racing to a higher level; and with that will come the sponsorship, and hopefully, more agreeable conditions.

Stage 8

Tonight after nearly six hours of racing and a four hour transfer I find that I am too exhausted to write much of a race report. In the morning we did a 98 kilometer stage that included the climb to the Valberg. I actually had a good climb and finished 25, only ten minutes down to the stage winner, Luperinni. After a quick lunch and a lot of complaining, the peloton began the first climb of the afternoon. It was a cat 3 that pretty much shredded the field. After a dangerous descent, full of tunnels, gravel, and falling rock, we began the 27 kilometer climb to Col de Colmaine. Barb Heeb took the afternoon stage, proving that she is still a GC possibility. Linda was fifth in the morning and maybe ninth in the afternoon. This is becoming a race of attrition. Today saw the abandonment of Karen Kurreck, Dede Demet, Anna Wilson, Ina Teutenburg, Rebecca Bailey, and a few others whose names I do not know. The field is now a meager 84 riders. We have lost nearly sixty women to crashes, sickness, or exhaustion. And we still have 4 days to go!

Stage 9

As Luperinni won her second stage of the '98 Tour, I managed to survive my ninth. After a four hour transfer last night, a very late dinner, and an early morning start, I looked pretty rough this morning. However, while eating breakfast I tried to console myself that everyone must be nearing on complete exhaustion. And they are. At the start line, women adjust their bandages, our jerseys, once clean, look grungy with the road dirt and sweat that no longer comes out in the sink, there are no smiles, and just about everyone has a coca-cola on their bike. To make matters worse, the 112 kilometer stage was to begin with a category 3 climb; after 5 kilometers of 8 percent, the last k was 13 percent. In an agreement that could only be called humanitarian, the Mimosa Sprint and Dream Teams decided to ride the climb "piano." Women still got dropped. It was their generosity that allowed me to finish today's stage with any dignity. Getting dropped 3 kilometers into a 112 k race would have made for a very long and discouraging day.

Once we got over the first climb, the racing began for real. There was a stiff head wind. This was, again, to my benifit. I found some of the bigger women in the peleton and sat in behind them as much as possible. The road was up and down. Up more than down, of course. I kept watching my computer; I knew if I could make it to the bottom of the next climb with the main group I would make the time cut. The next climb, a cat 3, started at 75 ks. I surprised myself when at the sprint for the top of the climb I was still with the climbers. One of these days I might just figure out why at times I can climb and at other times I come to a complete stand-still when the road goes up.

Once again we had another crazy descent. This one allowed for a rythme, and the group was flying down it. I relaxed and had fun with it; my downhill skiing allows me to pick really good lines. It is a good thing I can descend. If you climb like I do, you need to be able to catch those climbers on the descent. Linda, unfortunately, had a difficult time descending. As I went by her, I slowed to allow her to follow me down the climb. But other women took my wheel and I arrived at the bottom without her. She did catch on, and was there to reek havock on the Vaujany, as she attacked Edita many times. For this, she won "the most combative" award.

Before the climb there were many attacks on the leader's jersey. Edita's team was up for the challenge and kept the field together, sucking me along as they did. In this manner we arrived at the final cat 1 climb to Vaujany. I hesitate to say how hard this climb really is, only because my perspective has become so skewed. I am told that the first 5 k were 13 percent. Well, whatever they were; they were miserable. And I was miserable. I got dropped from the fairly small group almost immediately. It was such a difficult climb that I was not able to sit and spin in my twenty-five, which is the way I like to climb once the inevitable happens. I was out of the saddle for 6 kilometers; and finally arrived to the top with my head hung about as low as my morale.

My attitude turned around once I had some lunch and a shower. I was happy that I stayed with the main group as long as I did today; the groupetto lost nearly an hour to the group I finished in. I have already done enough extra time on the bike this Tour to make me strong; now I just need to finish. But, as I write this, racing along in the race caravan to the next hotel (hopefully, it will be a hotel), I realize we only have 4 stages to go. That, in itself, is enough to make me smile again. And yes, I still love this sport!

As a side bar, I would like to add that it is not only the riders that suffer through the long transfers and poor meals. The mechanics, soigneurs, and managers also are victims of these poor conditions; and, while the riders are able to catch naps in the cars during the transfers, the support staff never get the chance. When I get up at 7am to go to breakfast, I know that our mechanic has been up for at least two hours before me. Our soigneur stays up much later than the riders to wash bottles and finish rubs. And the managers drive continually throughout the day both in the race caravan and the transfers. Of course, it goes without saying, that as the riders' moods swing, the support staff just keep smiling. As riders, we at least get the satisfaction of racing. I am still unsure as to what the pay off is for the support staff but I am grateful for their help; without it I would no be able to compete in a race such as this.