Testosterone is a powerful hormone. I once listened to a This American Life podcast where a man had a condition that caused him to no longer produce testosterone. Since this hormone is the root of not just sexual desire but all desire, he reached a point where he knew he had this condition but had little desire to change. He had no need for fancy food, conversation, or elaborate entertainment, and life was surprisingly pleasant. On the morning of stage 15, I woke up feeling as though I could relate. We have now entered what I like to call the “apathy zone” of Grand Tour racing.
Maybe I have forgotten how hard previous Tours were, but I feel like this has been the hardest Grand Tour I’ve done to date, and the numbers seem to be backing that up. The pace of this race has been unrelenting. In stage 14, won in very impressive fashion by Thymen Arensman, weighing 62kg, I did 270 watts for 5.5 hours (just shy of 6000Kcal). I finished 24 minutes behind Thymen. Now, I did not race this stage efficiently, as I was probably the guy who attacked the most in its opening 80 km, but the numbers were big. The gamble I took in trying to get into the break on the flat was one I wanted to take, but it didn’t pay off, and I would come to regret it as I watched Arensman power his way to victory on an epic day.
Stage 15 saw us once again average over 50km/h for the opening hours of the race, and at several times, the peloton was in pieces. My director, Sam Bewley, told me that for the opening 10 minutes of the race, he checked our average speed, and it was just shy of 60km/h. Legally, with all of the roundabouts, and given the speed limits in the town of Muret, I don’t think you could actually do that in a car.
The toll of these big days is now weighing on me, and I don’t need a blood test to know that, at this point, my testosterone level is probably much closer to that of my future 80-year-old self than to that of 17-year-old Mike Woods. I’m now in a place where this race hurts, and I still have six days of suffering left, but I almost don’t care. The apathy zone is actually pleasant, and without my normal insatiable level of desire—an ambition that is what has ultimately gotten me to where I am—life is a lot less stressful. Instead of living for the future, I find myself much more comfortable in the present, and that’s nice.
This being said, I’m happy to now be in our final rest day of the Tour. A Tour de France rest day is rarely anything but restful, though. Yes, you get respite from having to battle with 170 other riders, but the day often passes much faster than any other stage of the Tour. With what feels like all eyes on the race and a population with an ever-increasing appetite for content, you get the sense that even on a rest day, sponsors, fans, and the media are thinking, “Why aren’t the monkeys dancing today?” When you wake up in the morning, you look at your phone and quickly realize your schedule is filled with interviews, media obligations, and meet-ups with sponsors and guests.
Over the past decade, the rest day has changed. In a pre-COVID era of cycling, partners and families were welcomed into the team environment with open arms. Interviews were scheduled at designated times, and aside from choosing the right café during an easy ride, there was little pressure on the day.
However, COVID changed everything. This might sound radical to a rider in today’s race, but the first Tour I did, Elly, my wife, stayed with me in my room the night before the rest day and during the rest day itself. That was a breath of fresh air. To have someone come in from outside the race bubble and chat with me about something other than tyre pressure and drink mix was a relief. I married my wife for a reason: I enjoy spending time with her, and being apart from her for over three weeks is a long stretch. Having her come and stay with me during the rest day really broke up the race.
COVID though created a legacy of hermetically sealed teams, from which we are only now slowly emerging. Since the pandemic, teams have become more like silos. Those entering the team bubble probably feel akin to a scientist entering a lab in a Michael Crichton novel. There’s a sense of guilt just for even kissing your significant other on the sideline, let alone meeting up with her for an extended period during the rest day.
Also, with the ever-increasing demand for content—interviews, social media updates, and catching up on messages—much of your waking hours on this day are occupied. And, although it may feel like it when you are here, the world doesn’t stop for the Tour. You can’t ignore bills or emails from your bank just because you’re racing. I think many people would be surprised by this, but a lot of riders’ rest days are spent doing mundane chores they’ve ignored over the past weeks. This rest day, I know I will hardly have time to shave. However, one thing that remains sacred on this day is the coffee shop stop.
The coffee shop stop is still a holy tradition among teams during the day. It’s the one moment in the Tour when your cortisol levels aren’t spiked. Today, we managed to find a nice little Roastery five minutes from our hotel in Montpellier. It was lovely, and like Andy Dufresne sitting on the roof in The Shawshank Redemption, with the sun on our backs, a brew in our hands, we all chatted and, for a moment, forgot that we were in the world’s biggest bike race.
