Matt Sessler

La Marmotte

By InnerVoice

August 20^th, 2016

EScapism.

My father passed away in 2012 when I was 25. His condition deteriorated over a long period of time and it was soul destroying for my family to watch it all slowly unfold. It was particularly difficult for my mother. She is an incredibly strong, kind and loyal woman who endured a great deal of pain, but always tried to shield my sister and I. I’m really lucky to have grown up with such a supportive mother and sister. Four years down the track, I think I made myself the victim for a period of time after losing Dad. On reflection I’ve certainly learned that trauma and hardship can give you strength you didn’t otherwise know you had. It can be harnessed as a tool to motivate you to achieve positive things.

The year after Dad passed away I got into cycling. As a beginner, I really enjoyed it because it brought me closer to my friends, which I probably needed at that stage of my life. It also gave me a feeling of escapism — you get on the bike and you forget everything. That year I travelled to France and saw two stages of the Tour de France and seeing professional cyclists in the flesh made me awestruck. I couldn’t believe how supremely fit the guys were. The fact that in a Grand Tour like the Tour de France they can back up 21 times, clocking 150–200 kilometres a day, suffering in the hills and putting their lives at risk on diabolically dangerous descents, made me wonder what the attraction of cycling was? Why did these guys do it?

As fate would have it, shortly after I got home my mother’s partner had a Cervelo road bike that he offered to lend me for a month. I was already toying with the idea of buying one, so it worked. Since then, the love affair has only blossomed.

I decided to do the Marmotte to see if I was tough enough to get it done.

A close friend, Nathan, challenged me to do La Marmotte. He is a fit guy, a 2 hour 50 minute London Marathoner and has completed a number of cycling sportives in impressive times. He encouraged me to step out of my comfort zone. I’d thought about completing L’Etape for a period of time, but La Marmotte was a step up from that level. Basically, it’s 174.4 kilometres and 5,200 metres of climbing in half a day; climbing the col du Glandon, col du Telegraphe, col du Galibier and finishing on cyclings most sacred mountain — Alpe d’Huez. It is the equivalent of riding from sea level to Mount Everest’s north base camp in half a day. With the above in mind, I decided to do the Marmotte to see if I was tough enough to get it done.

Thoughts of quitting.

Thoughts of quitting did float in and out of my head at times but the disappointment of letting Nathan down would’ve been too much to deal with. I certainly got dejected with the training and run-down two weeks out. We competed in a lead up race in Surrey & Kent in the UK which was brutal. It was a 190 kilometre race and took us up 2,700m of climbing in a day. There was torrential rain the whole day and on some of the climbs (York Hill particularly, which is over 20% gradient in some sections) had a great deal of mud and debris on the hill. I managed to come off going up York hill and fell straight into the mud. After a few expletives and a few laughs from the friendly British gents we had grouped with, I got back on my muddy Bianchi and grinded out the rest of the ride. Completing the lead up event in Surrey was the turning point that made me think I was ready to have a crack at La Marmotte. Having the benefit of that afternoon in the back of my mind was probably what gave me the mental strength to grind it out up Alpe d’Huez.

Our whole preparation was less than ideal.

The week after the Surrey race, we had a fairly serious crash in a training ride around Regents Park. Nathan and I both came off at 40km/hr. His leg was badly cut up and I had a decent gash on my hip. The guy on the front who caused the accident was concussed and had a fairly mangled face as a result. Some bystanders called an ambulance for him, but luckily he settled down and we managed to get away with him being taken to a walk-in clinic instead. The week before the race, Nathan was on some heavy antibiotics for his now-infected leg and I was still rattled from the crash. It definitely plays on your mind when you crash. You have visions in your mind of how serious things could’ve been.

Our whole preparation was less than ideal. Our flight was delayed into Geneva, and after some complications with the hire car, we arrived at our accommodation on Alpe d’Huez at 11pm the night before the race. While re-assembling my bike at the hotel I discovered it had been damaged on the flight over. I had a bent chain hanger resulting in my back wheel not being able to roll. After some unsuccessful makeshift mechanic work, we decided to drive down Alpe d’Huez to Bourg d’Oisans in search of an after-hours mechanic. I was in a shit place and my erratic driving made Nath vomit out the window on the way down. We were unsuccessful in finding a mechanic and knew we’d have to wait until the morning. At 2am I put my head down to sleep, setting my alarm for 4am. After two hours of sleep I got up feeling catatonic. I was stressed as hell that it might be all over before I even got to the start line. Arriving in Bourg d’Oisans again at 5:30am I found the Mavic Van and a friendly French mechanic who had the right tools and knowledge to fix my bike. By 6am my bike was fixed and I could finally start thinking about the day ahead. After the drama, I still had to register and pick up my race number, which made me miss my start pen by half an hour, but I didn’t care. I was at the start line!

Our hire car strained going up the famous 21 switchbacks.

I can’t remember where I heard the quote, or who I was talking to in the lead up to the event, but someone told me to focus on enjoying the journey and not focusing on how daunting the end challenge was. To be honest, a few days out and all the way up to the race day, there was plenty of self-doubt. I was very concerned what people would think about me if I failed. Rolling into the Alps in our car and driving up Alpe d’Huez the night before was extremely intimidating. The mountains are vast, steep and daunting. Our hire car strained going up the famous 21 switchbacks. At that point I worried how I was going to do it on my bike.

When I found my mind self-doubting I tried to appreciate the places and scenery that the journey was taking me through. I’d resort to breaking down the task into smaller, more achievable milestones. In tough sections of some of the categorised climbs, where I was really hurting, I’d try to break down the climb into one kilometre at a time. Up all four of the mountains we climbed each kilometre closer to the summit is marked by a sign which indicates the distance to the top and, unfortunately, the next kilometre’s average gradient. For me, kilometre 16 of the climb up the Col du Galibier was the hardest; it involved between 9% and 10% gradient. To throw in a bit of an extra challenge, the wind swung around and the French gods decided to smash down a nice dose of torrential rain straight into us as we turned for the last kilometre to the top. When I got to the top, there was snow, and the next challenge was staying warm. I was drenched and now had to descend for an hour 45 kilometres down the mountain. My mind was pretty much in the bin by that point.

why the fuck am I doing this?

The biggest surprise for me was your body’s ability to push itself further than you expect — and for a long period of time. Coupled with that, I was surprised at how disciplined you need to be with fuelling your body throughout a race. I’d never been the type of person that had taken nutrition, training schedules and in-race feeding seriously. I’ve always been the type of person who takes my body for granted to an extent, thinking it’ll be alright. The problem is when you hit the wall. Everyone who has cycled has hit the wall before, and when you do it’s a very difficult place to come back from, particularly if you’ve got another 100 kilometres to grind out.

That’s just one reason I’ve got a great deal of respect for Nathan. The way he goes about his training in a structured and methodical way, he certainly took things to a new level for me. He has a no excuses mentality towards training and sets a ruthless pace which has rubbed off on me.

The reason why La Marmotte was so enjoyable (and at times not very enjoyable) was because of the moments that you kind’ve thought to yourself; why the fuck am I doing this? It’s funny, because it’s the same question I’d wondered about the Tour riders back in 2013. Moments like that characterise the ride. You look back on moments like that for years to come.