Stage 4: 196 km of Heat, Doubt, and Determination

Stage 4 of the 2025 Tour de France traced a 174.2 km route from Amiens Metropole to Rouen, winding through the rolling countryside of Normandy. It was a classic hilly stage—not mountainous, but deceptively tough. 

The early kilometers offered gentle undulations, but the real challenge came in the final third, with a series of short, steep climbs that tested already-fatigued legs. The Céte de Belbeuf, Cote de Bonsecours, and the infamous Rampe Saint-Hilaire — with pitches over 15% — delivered a sting in the tail. It was a day designed to wear riders down, especially under the crushing heat. 

I rode a few "bonus" kilometers for a total of 196 km and my body was feeling the wear from Stage 3. I started the day on just 4.5 hours of sleep, fighting off a cold, and questioning whether I could — or should — push through.

The temperature soared above 40°C as we rolled out. The wind felt like a blow dryer on full blast. Le Loop offered a “lite” route that would shave off 30 km, and I’ll admit — I considered it. I also knew that if I didn’t listen to my body, I might not make it through the rest of the week.

My only clear goal: stay hydrated. I drank constantly, emptying both bottles well before each stop and downing a full extra bottle at every food station. Eating was harder, but I forced myself to fuel up, knowing the heat would drain everything from me.

For hours, I rode in survival mode — catching any wheel I could to conserve energy. I felt guilty not pulling more at the front, but I was depleted. I could only contribute in short bursts.

Then, something shifted.

Mid-afternoon, I felt incredible. My legs came alive, my energy surged — maybe it was the mountain of potato salad I inhaled at lunch. Suddenly, I was the one pulling the group, leading for miles. It wasn’t hours, but it was enough to feel like I was giving back after days of just hanging on.

At the final food stop around 6:30 p.m., nine hours into the ride, the heat was still stifling. Most of the group opted for the shortcut back to the hotel. I was still feeling strong, but torn. Do I risk getting sicker? It was another 40 km with serious climbing ahead.

I left the stop with one bottle of water and just enough fuel to get me back the short way. There was one big climb left, followed by 15 minutes of easy riding. But when I reached the top, something in me changed. I wasn’t ready to quit. I told Jessica I was going to finish the full stage. We said our goodbyes.

What I hadn’t realized was how woefully unprepared I was for what lay ahead.
I got lost — twice — adding another 10 km. Thankfully, I found Ceri and Andy, also lost and fading. We stuck together, pushing through the final stretch.

The last climb near the hotel was a brutal 22% wall. Almost everyone walked it. We finally rolled in near 10 p.m., completely depleted.

Dinner had been saved for us late arrivals, but I could barely eat. I was covered in salt, grime, sunblock, and heat rash. My shin burned. The doctor said it was tendon pain — ice, Advil, cold shower, bed.

Jessica and I lay in bed, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Sometimes, laughter is the only way to process the madness.

I ended the day with a smile. I didn’t take the shortcut. I finished it. And I learned — again — that strength isn’t always about power. Sometimes, it’s about listening, adjusting, and choosing to keep going anyway.