Prologue - The Journey to The Journey
At the time of writing it is almost six months to the day since completing my Tour de France Randonneur. I’m not starting from a blank slate as some time ago I made a start by writing nearly 3,000 words, albeit with only a vague sense of purpose and no subsequent momentum. For some time it has been niggling away at me to express this journey in words and, as that feeling has persisted, it must be for a reason beyond the apparent pressure to justify the achievement, or for the sole benefit of others. This was such a poignant process for me, that dedicating time for proper reflection will help me to appreciate what it was that made the outcome so successful and will hopefully guide me to what I want to do next. This is also somewhat still to be defined, and in no small part due to not having fully processed not just the Tour itself, but all that went beforehand.
I wouldn’t say that full post-event blues set in, but the post-Tour period has reinforced to me why the ‘it’s about the journey, not the destination’ cliche is so often rolled out. I would go further and say it’s just as much about the journey to the journey. If something is going to be looming large in your mind for months on end, never far from influencing your actions, then you may as well look upon it positively and revel in the process.
Maybe this is what I have missed most since finishing. There is an inherent (self-imposed) pressure involved in preparing for something that you are so dedicated to. Allowing some time to release this pressure is a natural and healthy thing to do. I am also conscious that not everything has to be bigger and ‘better’ each time. Especially as bigger doesn’t always mean better. I wanted to give myself time after finishing for reflection so the next ‘thing’ can come about when the inspiration arrives. I am also keen to promote sustainability in this sport. Not just in our actions but how we can continue doing what we enjoy for an indefinite period of time without always wanting to one-up ourselves (or worse, others).
I don’t believe I was naive enough to think that this would be a truly life changing experience, in the sense that there would be a distinct ‘before’ and ‘after’. Nevertheless, when you spend more than 12 days in your own little world with your mind concentrated on one simple task, it’s easy to get a bit carried away and believe that others give more than the passing shit that they actually do. This is not to say that every single message received along the way and afterward was not hugely appreciated, it truly was. It’s just that what I was doing was not also the most important thing in their lives at that moment. I can’t ignore, and won’t pretend that something like this is essentially a selfish endeavour. It’s just a bicycle ride after all for my own sole benefit. That doesn’t mean it isn’t without merit or that we shouldn’t do such things. Rather, that if it is going to have greater resonance, what is most important is recognising how this manifests internally rather than requiring external validation.
That it was such an unqualified success probably added to the sensation of there being a void afterwards. I didn’t have a raging desire to go back and better my time, or put things right (although I do think that sub 12 days is very possible…). I realised over time that if this event was going to have any lasting legacy, beyond a time on the palmares, it was how I could apply the positive outcomes to my actions both personally and professionally. That said, I am keen to play a role in promoting the Tour de France Randonneur as an event.
I was the 1,538th person to have completed the Tour de France Randonneur since its inception in 1958. Only 6 others completed their own Tour in 2025. Contrast this to 74 in the year I entered this world, 1988. The whole ultra-distance scene is very different to how it was in the 1980’s and there are so many events, races and resources out there for those seeking an appropriate challenge. Those participating in brevets and audax style events are not typically the type to make a big deal about their exploits. However, in the age of social media the attention is drawn to the events that shout loudest and invest more in their media coverage. Embarking upon a near 4,800km lap of France isn’t for everyone and shouldn’t be taken lightly. This kind of distance in itself doesn’t put off relative novices from wanting to participate in the likes of The Transcontinental Race though. One of the beauties of the Tour de France Randonneur is the possibility to take it on in a manner which suits the individual. 30 days are allowed in order to be recognised as a finisher. If reading my words inspires others to embark upon their own Tour, whether trying to better my time or treat the experience on their own terms, I will be happy. The organiser, Phillipe Humoz from US Métro Cyclo, does a brilliant job and was hugely welcoming and supportive of my ride. It isn’t just the history and legacy of this event that I believe deserves more recognition, it is what it can offer in the present day to those seeking something special.
A thousand words is worth a good picture
I seemed to be searching for a while for further justification to write this, overthinking how it should be presented or what format it should take. I have now concluded that ‘because I want to’ is more than enough of a reason. If you are reading this then that is at least a sign that you are also interested in what I have to say. And this account will indeed be about what I have to say. Either through written or spoken word (the latter explained later). I don’t have many photos that will add much value to this piece as those I took on the road were mainly of my bicycle resting against town sides as evidence of passage, or the odd snap of a croissant. If a picture is supposed to be worth a thousand words, these are very repetitive and likely misspelled words in my case. A written account should stand on its own merits and good pictures are all good. It’s just that mine aren’t that good.
What I do like though is a good map. Places can come to life when shown in context and, in cycling especially, an elevation profile can tell a story in itself. I will add these to each day, along with some of the key statistics. After having done some analysis of said stats, there are some interesting takeaways so perhaps a post at the end with some fancy graphs and charts will be in order.
Le plus difficile, c’est de s’y mettre
Only this morning I was reading an account written by Pierre Kraemer of his Tour de France Randonneur in 1981. He begins by berating himself for waiting until 26 December to begin writing his article, having initially promised to take up his pen immediately after completing his Tour on 24 July. He writes:
“Le plus difficile, c’est de s’y mettre”
(The most difficult thing is to get started)
So this is me getting started by putting finger to keyboard. I have a tendency to want to recall each and every detail of the 4,780km journey, and all that led to even taking those first pedal strokes on 15 June 2025, but contemplating this as a whole just leads to intimidation and procrastination. I will therefore take things day by day, just as I did on the road, and hope this leads to some impetus. That some time has passed since completion should mean that my mind is drawn mostly to the more pertinent moments. If they rest in the memory until now then they must have held some significance. Maybe this will lead to some form of brevity, and I can write the full book later. However, given how long this introduction is going on, some patience may also be required and I don’t feel obliged to pander for those with attention spans no longer than a TikTok video. If you’ve made it this far then I’m sure that isn’t you. Anyway, patience and perseverance are crucial traits in ultra-distance (that also translate well to everyday life), so wading through these convoluted words may bring you closer to my experience from the road.
Ok, time to m’y mettre.
The Genesis
Coincidentally, I recently parted ways with my trusty Genesis Croix de Fer which, during 10 years, had seen more than 60,000km of action. That Genesis also played a part in the genesis of my Tour de France Randonneur since it was in 2015 that I dipped a toe, and then fully dived into the world of Audax. I don’t have the space here to describe all that past in the ten intervening years, although in short there were plenty of races alongside the Audaxing and independent touring. Basically using the bicycle as a means to see places, meet people and explore what I was capable of physically.
For me, the first chapters of books on notable journeys (I’m not so keen on the over-use of the term ‘adventure’), about the preparation and build-up, are perhaps the most fascinating. In the ‘it’s about the journey to the journey’ spirit, getting to the start in a condition and state of preparedness capable of taking on something audacious is a story in itself. It’s something I see far too often overlooked. We are too easily dazzled by the event itself, seeing the achievements of others celebrated but without appreciating the work that went behind it. Being prepared shouldn’t take away from a sense of ‘adventure’, it should add to it by making oneself more capable to overcome the challenges and enjoy the experience along the way.
Celebrating ‘chaos’ or apparently taking pride in being underprepared for an event isn’t my thing and not something I think is healthy to promote. Maybe there is an element of sandbagging going on with some who claim to be winging it, with a ready-made excuse to reel out when things don’t go to plan (not that there was a plan anyway). These events begin well before the start line though and the time and effort required to properly prepare should be considered before even committing to participate. If all is set up well, the pedalling and the execution is the easy bit. A successful outcome is still far from certain when there are so many external uncontrollable factors, but I always want to be in full control of all of the elements I can influence. Despite this, I still had no idea how each day would play out. That sounds like an ‘adventure’ to me.
Croire en ses rêves et se donner les moyens
I couldn’t tell you exactly what led me to discovering the Tour de France Randonneur. Although I am sure it had crossed my radar previously, the serious consideration started in Autumn 2023. I was in the midst of relieving myself of the majority of my physical belongings, handing in my notice for my corporate job and paving the way for a move to a new country. All while starting Acier, my own coaching business.
From this distant perspective, living in Sheffield at the time, the Tour de France Randonneur seemed all rather fanciful. The task of riding more distance than I had ever done before was one thing. It was however the logistics of doing so which was difficult to comprehend. Even deciphering the requirement to acquire a ‘timbre humide’ in one's ‘carnet de route’ at each control point had me scratching my head. Translating the words is one thing (what on earth is a wet stamp…), understanding their cultural and practical context is another.
Despite all that, I was captured. I learned that the ‘record’ time for completion of the route was 13 days, 2 hours, 15 minutes and set by Kristof Allegeart who, as two time winner of The Transcontinental Race, is no panekuchen. The Instagram stories that I posted on 14 November 2023 say it all, concluding with:
Ok, this has got to happen. I’ve been looking for a massive challenge for a while (the sort of thing to write a book about) & this appeals in so many ways - 13 days is a massive target but I’d love to give it a crack.
Why was I so enraptured by this idea? The Tour de France Randonneur is not a race and does not even rank those who complete it by finishing time. The record time by Kristof was however recognised and there is the famous saying about Randonneurs/Audaxers as being people who are ‘pretending not to race’. Although racing has brought me a huge amount, that itch of a larger challenge to which I could apply a singular focus has always been there. It particularly struck me when reading Jenny Graham’s excellent book ‘Coffee First, Then the World’ about her Round the World record ride around the same time. A position in a race is just a comparison against the other people who chose to turn up on that single occasion (this also presumes that you are all playing by the same rules). A record stretches that comparison to anyone who has taken on that challenge. Ever. The motivation must also be intrinsic as you can’t rely on the adrenaline of an event or the presence of others to keep you on your toes.
There was so much about this idea that appealed to me. This had the potential to be ‘my’ record. The scale of the challenge was audacious, but conceivable. The route itself was reminiscent of early editions of the Tour de France, including the link with the Touriste Routiers who were independent riders taking part in the race unsupported at their own expense as their annual vacation. There was a rich history of Randonneurs completing their own Tours dating back to 1958, with accounts from the 1970s in particular telling of rivalries between riders attempting to establish the fastest time. And the completeness of the parcours, being a true Tour of France, a country I was so fond of that I was in the process of emigrating to.
I floated the idea of September 2024 for a while, but it soon became evident that this timing was going to be far from optimal for an undertaking of this scale. Settling into my new home in France and establishing Acier had to be my priorities. The Tour de France Randonneur was never far from my mind though. I credit much of the concretisation of my plans to reading the book ‘Tour de France Esprit Randonneur’ by Olivier Januario. In 2021 he completed his lap of the country in 30 days, recounting his tale in an engaging manner within the pages. I enjoyed relating to his experience of places I was familiar with, such as the Pyrenees, as well as gaining a greater appreciation of the logistical task - including decoding this mysterious wet stamp. A phrase he used to title one of the chapters particularly struck me:
“Croire en ses rêves et se donner les moyens”
(Believe in your dreams and give yourself the means)
It even has a poetic ring in English. The Tour de France Randonneur in less than 13 days was just a dream at this time. But I believed in it. 15 June 2025 was eventually set as the date for the grand départ. All I needed to do was equip myself with the means.
*I wrote more about the Tour de France Randonneur itself, its significance to me, and the project itself in this article for Restrap.
*Additionally, I explain the rules and the principles I intended to abide by in this article. The self-supported approach to me is part of the challenge and the reward whilst also following the true spirit of the Randonneur.
(Re)strap In
There was no doubt an egotistical aspect in wanting to share this project and raise awareness amongst others. Professionally, as a full-time coach, it does no harm to show others that I am somewhat capable in this scene and that goes hand-in-hand with raising my personal profile. There is probably still a lingering element of this through the action of typing these words. I also, however, wanted to feed off the energy of others and the excited reaction of those who knew about my intentions only made me more determined that this would be a worthwhile enterprise to follow, as well as an interesting story to share.
I have never been sponsored and before this had received no material support beyond the odd discount code. I pitched the idea of the ‘Touriste Routier’ project to Restrap initially, whose reaction was positive. I trust in the brand’s products, and their Yorkshire roots and values really appeal to me. I received some free items, including that tardis-like custom frame bag, but what was most welcomed was their interest in what I was doing, their belief it was something worth supporting and the confidence this instilled in me. I also received products from GOREWEAR and Redshift, which I really appreciated, but it was the intangible support that Restrap offered that I am most thankful for, as well as wanting to share my story via their channels. ‘Ey up Alex Dyson and Tom Hill especially. I must also give a shout out to my local bike shop, Bachelas Bike Shop, who also took great interest in my undertaking and ensured that my bicycle was in impeccable shape when departing from Manosque. They gave me one of the shop’s jerseys which, although I didn’t wear during the Tour, I now don with pride whenever possible.
I can’t deny that lifting some of the financial burden and having access to some quality equipment was part of the motivation for asking for support. However, perhaps unknowingly at the time, it was validation that I was truly after.
It is here that I must clarify what I mean by ‘pitching’ the project. This wasn’t just me asking these people and brands whether, on the off chance, they fancied giving me some free stuff. I spent a lot of time preparing a presentation, which I then paid for professional help with fine-tuning (Joseph Curle did indeed do a fine job at this), and gave much thought as to what I could offer in return for support. Those that did work out sprung from existing relationships and/or personal introductions.
The element of forming new relationships and connecting with others ended up being a hugely important aspect of this whole experience, only going to emphasise the ‘it’s who you know’ truism. Without a huge social media following or ready-made brand to offer, I was aware that it would have to be up to me to prove the value in supporting my project and the many other emails/messages that went unanswered (or politely declined on all too rare occasions) didn’t really come as a surprise. Incidentally, this theme continued after finishing when I was introduced directly to a publication/website that you may have heard of to do with packing bikes. I thought they may be interested in my story as they had recently just published an article about an influencer doing a similar thing but to this day my inbox hasn’t been troubled by a reply. It’s not for me to say which stories are more worthy than others, and that is their editorial decision to make. Nonetheless, a ‘thanks but no thanks’ wouldn’t have gone amiss, especially as this was a personal introduction rather than a speculative approach.
Whilst on this topic, I must thank Christian Chenez and Guillaume Messien from Haute Provence Info for the articles both before and after my Tour in what is now my favourite local publication. Also to the Maire of Manosque, Camille Galtier, whose personal letter in advance of my departure was an extremely warmly received gesture and made me feel as if this venture could have some resonance beyond my closer circles.
Cued Up
Much of the attention around preparation for such an endeavour is drawn towards the physical training, which is crucial but not the full picture. Part of the attraction of this project was everything else alongside, and getting this right goes a long way to explaining the successful outcome. I talk about the route in the second of the Restrap articles, and how I went to great lengths to optimise linking the 61 control points in a manner that suited me best. This process led to such a familiarisation of the route that I had a good idea of what was coming up without having to refer to my (virtual) cue cards. Those cue cards were designed through CueMeUp, an app that one of the athletes I am coaching, Dave Cavaletto, had devised. Using CueMeUp not only made the process of adding POIs (mostly boulangeries) to my route seamless, but also provided an at-a-glance reference when on the move to inform myself of what was up next so that I could make efficient and informed decisions.
I also received expert assistance from all six corners of l’Hexagon to help with reviewing my route and informing me of local considerations (mostly boulangeries) or suggestions for better traversing potentially fiddly urban areas. A big thanks goes to Florent de Boisvilliers, Leyla Serbouti, Wendy Ellis, Nico Malet, Julien Gravaud, Lucas Becker and Michal Serafin.
I will also skirt over the equipment considerations for now and return to the subject later, although there is a The Bike of The Touriste Routier article that Will Ward kindly put together for the DotWatcher website. Having a reliable, comfortable, practical and familiar setup is indeed important. However, obsessing over minor details is often a great way of missing the bigger picture. In particular, weight doesn’t matter anywhere near as much as many people think it does. If I had the time, means and motivation to, there are some upgrades that I could have made. Whether these would have made a material difference is debatable, particularly if this involved trade offs in the reliability, comfort, practicality or familiarity that this setup offered me.
Training
If we gloss over the 15+ years of consistent endurance sport training and 10 years of riding ultra-distance events/races, then the truly dedicated build-up for my Tour de France Randonneur began in November 2024. I am the type of person who enjoys training for training’s sake, but this time the underlying purpose behind each session and sentiment that this was all leading to something quite big gave additional motivation. This manifested itself through my keenness to recount all through my Strava activity descriptions, which remain a training log in themselves.
The process can be resumed as taking a reverse periodisation approach, with emphasis placed on the higher-intensity workouts early on, before moving towards prioritising the quantity and quality of my longer outings. Some of these, especially earlier on, took the form of multi-day trips not necessarily replicating the demands of riding all day but rather familiarising myself with travelling on my intended setup in various conditions to dial in my setup, equipment and routines.
As 15 June approached, the way I approached the longer, and multi-day, rides took on more of a ‘simulation’ aspect. Somewhat befitting of the event itself, I accepted a place on The Unknown Race with around two weeks prior notice. This was a valuable experience in making decisions on the go and embracing uncertainty. When you don’t even know which direction you will be heading in beyond the next couple of hours you can’t really fret too much about where you will be sleeping that night. It was also useful in terms of testing (wet weather) kit and identifying what I still needed to improve upon to find a routine that would be sustainable for the best part of two weeks.
A near-1,000km double traverse of the Alps in early May was a big confidence booster, particularly as a trial for how I intended to treat the first two days of the Tour. I practiced both my sleeping in a public toilet skills and efficient hotel stays during this one.
*On reflection, this all too brief summary gives very little justice to the consideration, commitment and application I put into the training process. It came down to preparing myself for the very specific challenges of riding as many hours for 13-ish days (no, the letters F, T and P are not particularly relevant here). I wrote more about this in this Restrap article and may revisit this topic in more detail in the future as I believe that many elements are misunderstood or misinterpreted.
Voice Notes
For almost ever I have not been the greatest fan of my own voice. Presenting the Dot Comms podcast has abated how much I cringe when being forced to listen back to myself, but I still very rarely leave voice notes and would rather send a text or call back later than leave a voicemail.
Still, I’m a big fan of the spoken word format and thought that an audio log would provide an efficient way of recording my experiences and communicating with my commentary team. That team being Will Ward, Bella Molloy, Michel Serafin and Kishan Gondaliya who I don’t think quite appreciate what an important role they played in this whole experience for me. I will talk about this more. A few weeks before starting, I had twisted DotWatcher’s arm to host my Follow My Challenge map on their website and had put out an appeal for some help in providing commentary. These fine folk put their metaphorical hands up and the ‘Touriste Routier Commentary’ WhatsApp group was created.
When I take part in a race, or in truth almost every time I ride a bicycle, my phone stays in my pocket on airplane mode and only gets used when its purpose helps enable continued forward movement. Social media isn’t generally conducive to this. However, this time I wanted to share a bit more. The DotWatcher commentary provided one outlet but the team still needed to know what was going on from me to do any commentating. Primarily taking the form of voice notes was an efficient way of doing this as I can speak faster than I can type and could do so whilst multitasking.
I did have the idea of doing something with the voice notes I subsequently recorded during my Tour. There is at least one for each day and I will include each of these likely raw and unedited at appropriate points along the way. I haven’t listened to them all back yet though, so they will act as aide-memoires for me too. I am still open to the idea of releasing these separately as part of a podcast series or edited to produce an audio account, perhaps accompanied with additional commentary/discussion. If you, or someone you know, could be interested in helping out with this just drop me a message.
Warming Up
My final preparation ride at the end of May was also an ideal opportunity to get some practice doing the voice note-ing. My chosen route for this was the Super Randonnée de Haute Provence. Just contemplating its 600km/12,000m parcours is enough to bring one out in a sweat alone, let alone embarking upon it during the first heatwave of the year.
[30/05/2025, 17:03:33] Samuel: Hey Team, quick heads up before I start sending over some ‘content’ tomorrow during my ride. It’s going to be a hot one - due to be 30C plus during the day. Heat adaptation at least…
I’m treating it as I plan to for the first leg of the real thing, so I’ll see how I’m going in to the night and likely get a couple of hours sleep in somewhere like a public toilet (I have a couple earmarked 😉). A couple of logistical challenges to deal with too - there is a bit of a resupply gap in the afternoon and Ventoux, which is 420-450km, is apparently closed from 7am Sunday for a cyclosportive so I’ll have to get it done by then. Which should be do-able. I’ll just have to adapt otherwise.
I’ll try and get used to leaving voice notes too, as they will likely be more practical when I’m doing something else at the same time (probably eating). If you rely though, probably best via text if possible so it’s quicker for me to read. Looking forward to this!
Here is my first update after 220km:
And an hour or so later:
To cut a hot story short I did my best Icarus impression and got burned. Well, figuratively as one of the few sensible things I did on that day was to put on suncream. Essentially, I focused too much on being efficient and didn’t adapt to the conditions. I hate not completing something I set out to do, but on this occasion I was cooked and reached a point where the desire in me to continue had completely drained. At least I had the opportunity to practice communication with the commentary team which in some way worked as I stood slumped over my handlebars recounting on a voice note my sorry state.
My comments from the Strava activity description sum up my immediate reflections:
I never like not completing what I set out to do. However I have to be pragmatic. I didn’t adapt to the circumstances here. The conditions weren’t impossible, I just didn’t deal with them in the right way. I feel like I’ve missed out on the overnight practice and the confidence that going through with this would have given me. But I also consider that setbacks are only failures if you don’t learn from them. I learned a lot from this and there are still many positives. I’m happy with my physical condition (in all but 30C+ 😅) and almost all of my setup. There are just a couple of tiny tweaks to be made there. If I use this to empower me and my mindset in two weeks time then I can follow in the footsteps of Skepta and his famous quote: “I just turned an L in to a lesson, that’s another win”.
On reflection, I am glad that this happened. This was nothing more than a training ride and training rides are intended to prepare for the real thing. It was up to me from there to turn this ‘L’ into a lesson during the final two weeks before the grand départ…
[01/06/2025, 16:54:29] M Serafin: Voice notes were good. Just think that you are actually recording this to yourself as a journal or for an imaginary person that cannot even access the online tracking and socials. Overall, yesterday's decision was good given the circumstances. Today is about focusing on the ride and establishing a hot weather protocole that now you know what it should contain to avoid those spikes that will hang yourself and the ride over a cliff.
[01/06/2025, 18:49:39] Samuel: Thanks Michal. Good points. As with all ‘extreme’ weather conditions we’ve got to take precautions. I’ve just got to keep in mind that sometimes I’ll have to spend some time to save some time. 5 mins every now and then stopping to cool down and take an ice cream is better than having to stop 5 hours early through overheating. I don’t have to constantly be on the very edge for this as 13 days is a very long time.