Imagine pushing the hardest weight imaginable on a leg press in the gym for two hours, endlessly going nuts on a stairmaster or having your legs held in a vice-like grip and squeezed to oblivion.
That's the best way to describe going up one of the Tour's killer mountains... and I just hate it. It's shocking.
 A knee problem has hampered progress in the mountains |
It doesn't matter who you are or where you are in the race, it hurts, really, really hurts, like nothing I've ever known.
Add the fact that the oxygen gets less and less on the way up, and it's out of control. You're already at the end of your tether and then can't even catch your breath.
Thursday for me was horrific. The first hors category climb was bad enough but I just about made it and then we hit the two-in-one special of the Col du Telegraphe and the Col du Galibier.
That latter duo was about 30km of uphill and, when that's all done, you have to storm down the hill for 40km with your knees and legs beginning to freeze as you just try and hold on at 80km/h.
You cannot imagine how fast the guys at the front - the Lance Armstrong's etc - are hurtling uphill. It's astonishing.
Further back I'm doing everything I can to finish within the time limit - every day you have to finish within a certain percentage of the stage winner's time or else you're eliminated from the race.
So as a sprinter I just hit survival instinct and stay in the grupetto or bus at the back of the race making sure to keep in the time.
On Thursday there were 50-odd riders with me and I was the man setting the pace. I made sure it wasn't too harsh for those struggling but enough to be safe.
 |  Once you're over the line, you're like thank Christ that's over |
But when everyone's physically and mentally knackered, they start getting ratty with you. And then the bickering begins. I had a few words with some people and more will follow. But it's nothing personal when you're in hell.
On the other side to that, there's a lot of other chat with people encouraging each other to get to the top. There's this ethos that we're all in it together.
I've been so tired at the summits, though, I've not done my customary wheelie over them yet but I promise to do one over the last climb on the Pyrenees... if my legs make it there.
Generally speaking, once you're over the line, you're like "thank Christ that's over". You can have a warm shower and a massage and your first cold drink after the finish tastes like the best thing that's ever touched your lips.
You sit in the team bus and, while you're not quite a zombie, the conversation is fairly limited. We chat about the shockers of the day and the intriguing things we've seen.
There's always a lot of talk about the fans, for me the Aussies. There's a lot of flag waving and shouts of "Robbie, Robbie". And when you're feeling like hell that's worth so much. In fact, the crowds have been more incredible than ever - it's virtually like being on home soil.
I've got a slightly dodgy knee at the moment that's getting better and, on top of that, my brain's gone to mush. I'm so darned tired I can't think straight. It's a real battle.
It's been helped by seeing my team-mate Cadel Evans storming up the climbs. At the end of a shocking day, it's nice to hear someone who's fared a lot better. That said, he's looked equally spent as well.
As for me, I'm just looking forward to a return to the flat and for the horror of the hills to end.
MMIX
E-mail this to a friend 
Printable version 
