Like Christmas, the Etape arrives so much quicker than you think it will. Back in the winter, slogging through the Hertfordshire rain, the challenge of the amateurs' stage of the Tour de France seems so far off that it's hard to keep the goal in focus. Things stay like that for quite a long time. Then they start to speed up - and now the big day on Sunday is hurtling towards me.
The ride will be spectacular - 160kms from Pau to the top of the Hautacam, one of the great Pyrneneean ascents, via another, the Col du Tourmalet. Back in 1993, on holiday nearby, I watched the Tour go over the Tourmalet. It was a Miguel Indurain year. I can still picture the moment the riders came into view, far away in the valley below. I never imagined then that one day I'd cycle up the same road myself.
The knowledge that there's no more training to be done is unnerving in itself. Suddenly you think, "Have I done enough? Answer: "Of course not." Those hours spent toiling up and down Swains Lane (north London's steepest hill)? Meaningless. The Chiltern Hundred? Might just as well not have happened. The Etape Caledonia? Ditto. The training weekend in Tuscany? Nice pastries, but what did the rides really add up to?
Truly the mind starts to play horrible tricks at times like this. Those miles are there. They're in my legs. They can't be taken away. But hey - the Etape is the Etape, and after failing to finish last year, I've got good reason to be nervous. I might reckon I'm fitter than in 07 - comparative times certainly suggest so - but then I'm going to need to be. That question won't go away: have I done enough?
I'm on a tight schedule, but in a way that's part of the challenge. In the office today, train to Paris this evening, sleeper train from Paris to Pau, arriving 7 o'clock Saturday morning. Try and chill out, and make sure to eat properly. I'll hook with some people. I've got a hotel room, and a hire car, which I have to drive to the finish at the top of the Hautacam so it's there when (if?) I finish the ride on Sunday. A shuttle bus back to Pau, and then - the most important thing - sleep.
I still reckon that what did for me last year was only getting two hours sleep the night before. This time I'm aiming for six. Reckon I can get by on that. Hopefuly I'll be tired enough after a night on the sleeper that the nerves won't keep me awake. But we'll see.
Then off at 7 on Sunday morning - me and 8,000 others. Forecast is sunshine and showers, and not too hot. That could be good news for us cold-blooded English. My friend Graham has lent me a top-notch waterproof, and I reckon I might need it. It'll be there in my back pocket, along with the rest of the guff.
Have I forgotten anything? One thing for sure - I've forgotten that I ever did any training ...
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