What a day. So many emotions.
I first climbed Mont Ventoux in 2018, and it changed my life. It
crushed me – physically, mentally, emotionally. I was forced to reassess
everything I thought I knew about myself. The arrogance I carried, believing I
was ready for this mountain, was stripped away. I thought I was an athlete
prepared for the challenge. I wasn’t. Ventoux brought me to my knees.
In the seven years since that humbling day, I’ve cycled the Tour
de France route (in 2019, just a year later)—the very reason I signed up in the
first place. That journey, too, became a mirror. So many hours alone on the
road gave me space for deep self-reflection. The rhythmic nature of cycling can
be meditative, and in that solitude, I got to know myself more intimately than
ever before.
After that 2019 tour, I made some big decisions. I changed my
business – something I’m not sure I would’ve done without those three intense
weeks in the cycling bubble. I also made personal changes, like choosing to
live an alcohol-free life. I credit Ventoux for being the catalyst. She cracked
me open and planted the seeds of a healthier, more intentional lifestyle. I’m
now fitter than I’ve ever been. I turn 60 next year, and as I reflect on my
50s, climbing Ventoux stands out as the defining moment.
And today, I climbed her again.
But this time, it wasn’t at the start of the day with fresh legs. No, today’s climb came after 175 km in the heat. When I reached the base, it was 4:30 in the afternoon, and the sun was relentless. My husband Drew was waiting for me, dressed in cycling gear, standing beside a rental bike. He didn’t have to ride. He could’ve hugged me, offered encouragement, and sent me on my way. But he knew what this mountain meant to me. He knew who I had become since that first climb in 2018.
So we climbed it together.
Yes, she’s still a beast. We stopped a few times in the shade to
cool down, eat, and catch our breath before tackling another 12% grade. It was
relentless. Ventoux is known for its toughness. I was exhausted, I was 180 km
into the ride, the heat oppressive – but surprisingly, it was easier than 2018.
This time, I could smile. I could joke with Drew. I could enjoy the views and
even welcome the wind.
When I reached the summit, I half-expected the clouds to part, a
sunbeam to shine down, and some majestic fanfare to play. But there was none of
that. Just a quiet sense of calm. A feeling of maturity. A deep respect for
this mountain. I whispered a thank you to her. And then, I said goodbye.
I believe this was my last climb of Ventoux. I don’t feel the need to return. There are more lessons in life to learn, but from her, I’ve found closure.
Mont Ventoux Summit, 2025
At the summit, we lingered and took in the spectacular views with
its lunar-like top. I said goodbye to Drew. I marveled at his strength and his
willingness to endure this climb with me. He descended the way we came, back to the home he rented with a pool and a vineyard view. I went down the other side, the cold
wind biting after the heat.
I didn’t want to leave him. I felt like I was done with this 2025 tour. I’ve gone through a rough patch – a nasty chest cold that derailed me for a few stages – but I’ve made peace with it. I came here to do what I needed to do. I climbed Ventoux. And now, I feel like I have nothing left to prove.
Heading down the other side
I almost turned back later that day. Leave the Tour and be with Drew. But I knew I’d regret that decision.
I started this, and I need to finish it.
There are five more stages to complete and eight more mountains to
climb before I’m done with this tour. There are still lessons waiting for me on
the road ahead. Maybe they’ll challenge me in new ways. Maybe they’ll simply
remind me of how far I’ve come.
Either way, I’m not done yet.
Today, I said goodbye to Ventoux. But I’m not saying goodbye to
the journey.
Not just yet.
x
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