Stage 3 – Valenciennes to Dunkerque: A Flat Day That Burned

Today was hot. Hotter than expected, and it hit everyone hard. Hydration became a full-time job. The day started early—breakfast at 5:45 a.m., followed by a three-hour bus transfer to the start line in Valenciennes, a historic city in northern France known for its art and architecture. I was already feeling the effects of poor sleep from the previous nights, and the fatigue was starting to creep in.

I wore my white cooling sleeves again—yes, the ones that make people ask, “Why are you wearing those in this heat?” But they’re brilliant. As I sweat, the fabric gets damp, and the wind cools me down. Plus, they block the sun and help me avoid the dreaded cyclist tan—at least on my arms.
 
The route today was 178.3 km of mostly flat terrain, winding through the Hauts-de-France region. I had hoped it would be a recovery day after yesterday’s effort, but it turned out to be anything but. Within the first 15 km, I missed a turn and went 7 km off course before realizing it. That mistake added 14 km to my ride. And to top it off, we had a few “bonus” kilometers at the end to reach the hotel. All in, I finished the day at 196 km.

We passed through several small towns, and every stoplight felt like stepping into an oven. The concrete buildings and roads radiated heat, making each pause feel like a punishment.

At the 50 km food stop, I arrived to find the group had already moved on.

Thankfully, my friend Jessica had waited, along with another rider who’d also gone off course. The three of us formed a mini peloton and pushed hard to catch up. We worked together, rotating pulls, and managed to make up serious time. When we reached the second food stop, the others were shocked—we had just arrived, and they had only gotten there moments before.

From there, I latched onto a larger group and hung on for the rest of the ride. The final stretch into Dunkerque, a coastal city with a rich maritime history, was grueling. The Mont Cassel, a Category 4 climb, was the only real elevation, but the heat made even the flats feel like climbs.

My body is holding up—for now. But I’m definitely feeling the cumulative toll. I’m hoping I’ll acclimate to the heat soon.

The hotel tonight? Not great. No air conditioning, and my room faced the sun. It was actually hotter inside than out. I took a cold shower, washed my kit, grabbed a quick dinner (burgers and fries), made a few calls home, and collapsed into bed.
 
Tomorrow brings a “two-hour” transfer (which really means three), and a hilly stage with some notorious climbs. But that’s tomorrow’s problem. For now, I just need sleep.

🚴‍♂️ Stage 2 – Tour de France 2025

Stage 2 is done—and what a ride

We covered 209 km of rolling terrain all the way to the finish in Boulogne-sur-Mer. With 2,550 meters of climbing, it was a proper test of the legs, lungs, and willpower.

The weather was nearly perfect: warm, but not oppressive, with a light breeze that kept us cool (most of the time). I was lucky to ride with a generous group who let me draft behind them—saving energy and making the climbs a bit more manageable.

The route wound through the Hauts-de-France region, known for its lush countryside and historic towns. 

But the real drama came in the final 20 kilometers, where we hit a series of sharp, punchy climbs. The Côte de Saint-Étienne-au-Mont and Côte d’Outreau near the finish were short but brutal. As we approached the Opal Coast, the temperature dropped noticeably, and I caught glimpses of the sea in the distance—a refreshing sight after a long, hot ride inland.

Jessica in front

Carmen & Jen

🦵 Body Check: Day 2

The legs are feeling surprisingly good. It’s only day two, but the intensity and duration combined make this the most demanding riding I’ve done in years. That said, my back, hands, and feet are starting to complain—gentle reminders of both age and the extreme physical nature of this sport. I expect this will be the norm from here on out… and it’ll probably get worse. But that’s all part of the deal.

We’re riding 3,500 km over three weeks, including the “bonus miles” to and from hotels. And honestly? Sleep is the hardest part.

Dinner is usually at 8 p.m., followed by a team briefing. I’m rarely in bed before 10, and with early bus transfers to the start towns, we’re lucky to get six hours of sleep. Fatigue messes with rest too, so it’s a compounding issue. But still—it’s worth it.

 

🌸 The Magic of the Tour

The riding here is out of this world. Quiet roads, rolling hills, and villages bursting with color, each one decorated with fresh potted flowers in anticipation of the Tour’s arrival. These towns apply to be part of the route—it’s a big deal. Being selected brings tourism, pride, and a moment in the global spotlight. For many mayors, it’s a career highlight.

💔 A Sobering Reminder

I also have an update on the rider who injured his hip yesterday. Sadly, it’s worse than expected. He’ll remain in hospital here in France for the next 10 weeks. I can’t imagine how hard that must be—no family nearby, unfamiliar language, and a long recovery ahead. It’s a stark reminder of the risks we take out here.

So maybe I ride just a little slower tomorrow. A little more cautiously. A little more gratefully.

   

Stage 1 – Tour de France 2025

Today was the first stage of this year’s Tour de France—and my fourth time riding a Stage 1. If I had to compare, I’d say this one topped them all. The weather was near perfect: soft cloud cover shielded us from the harsh sun, saving precious energy for the road ahead. The route was mostly flat, and even the climbs felt gentle compared to the usual Tour terrain.

Note the new, rose-coloured glasses!

I set out with a clear goal: keep my heart rate in Zone 2, under 133 bpm. But my body had other plans. No matter how much I backed off, my heart rate stayed stubbornly high. It wasn’t until the final 40 km that things finally settled, and I could ride at a comfortable pace. Maybe it was the excitement, or maybe just a rough night’s sleep—but it was a reminder that even the best-laid plans can get tested out here.

The Good:

Gorgeous weather
Manageable terrain
A strong, steady start to the Tour

The Bad:

Jessica Campbell and I missed a turn and ended up off course. It wasn’t a disaster—we found our way back—but not before descending a steep 3 km stretch of cobblestone. We and our bikes rattled all the way down, trying not to slip. My Garmin thought I’d crashed and automatically texted Drew (my husband). He called me in a panic, thinking something terrible had happened. I really need to disable that feature while I’m here in France!

The Ugly:

Sadly, two riders were involved in serious accidents today. One woman hit a curb and landed hard on her face. She was taken away by ambulance, checked out, and thankfully released. Her face looks rough, but she’s determined to continue. We’ll see how she feels tomorrow. The second rider, a man, suffered a broken hip and will remain in the hospital. Moments like these show just how unpredictable this journey can be.

Tomorrow is the longest—and hilliest—day of the Tour. It’s going to be a grind, but I’m ready to take it on.

  

  

Back in the Saddle: My Final Tour de France Journey Begins

 As I sit here in Paris, adjusting to the time zone and the rhythm of a new city, I can’t help but reflect on the journey that brought me back to this moment. Just hours ago, I was on a plane, heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and excitement, knowing that I’m about to embark on what will be my final full ride of the Tour de France route.

I’ve done this once before, in 2019. That experience changed me. The solitude of the mountains, the endless climbs, the quiet hours alone in the saddle—it was a crucible of self-discovery. When I finally completed the 3,500-kilometer journey and circled the Arc de Triomphe, I swore I’d never put myself through that kind of suffering again.

But the sense of accomplishment lingered. The promises I made to myself about how I’d live and work differently stayed with me. And every time I recounted the story, I’d tear up. That finish line haunted me—in the best way. So I signed up again.

Then came the pandemic. Two years of waiting. In 2022, I returned, only to be forced to abandon the ride after nine stages due to COVID. In 2023, I tried again—half the route this time—but with my daughter’s wedding approaching and my business in the middle of a warehouse move, I was overwhelmed. I caught a stomach bug that was going around camp. I could have rested and pushed on, but my heart and head weren’t in it. And for something like this, everything has to align—body, mind, spirit, soul. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but if one part is off, the odds of finishing drop dramatically.

I took a year off. I thought maybe I was done. But here I am again.

This past year of training has been unlike any other. I wanted a new experience, starting with how I prepared. A friend and fellow cyclist recommended Andrew Randell, a retired Canadian pro. Andrew was up for the challenge. He started by putting me through a series of tests—something I’ve always dreaded and avoided. His training philosophy was completely different from what I was used to. At first, it felt like I was riding in a straitjacket. The winter months were filled with structured indoor workouts that I repeated weekly. It was monotonous at first, but soon I could see the progress, week by week.

I trained less than ever before, but every session had a purpose. Andrew focused on building a strong base—low heart rate, low wattage, long endurance. It was hard, but in a different way. I had to let go of the mindset that every ride had to be a sufferfest. And it worked. My fitness reached new peaks I’d never seen before.

Now, with my taper complete, I feel rested and strong. I’m here in Paris, adjusting to the time zone, and in just a few days I’ll head north to Lille, where Stage 1 begins. I’m nervous—scared, even—because I know what’s coming. But I also feel incredibly lucky. Lucky to have this chance again. Lucky to be here, ready to ride.

Posts past this point go back to 2019 and a different Tour :)