“Left leg, right leg, left leg, right leg…“

“This is fine. I’m fine. You’re fine. This is fine.“

“This isn’t anything you haven’t done before. You can do this.“

“I want to stop. Maybe just a short rest. No. You can’t stop. So long as you’re passing people you have to keep going.”

“When you get to Chalet Reynard, you can stop. Get some water and Coke. It’s only 6 km to the top from there.”

“Keep drinking. Eat. You need the calories.”

“It’s hot. So hot. It’s the same for everyone. You’re still sweating. You’re fine.”

“Keep pedaling. You’re passing people. You can do this.”

This was my internal monologue for the final 21 kilometers of L’Etape du Tour de France Femmes avec Zwift on August 6. This last 21 km was up the legendary Mount Ventoux. A long and I can honestly say, brutal climb.

For the entire climb I passed people. Not because I had set a blistering pace, but because this is a mountain that tells you very quickly if you’ve done the training, got the pacing right, and have been eating and drinking enough.

I nailed all of these key factors during the 90 kms leading up to the Giant of Provence.

“Your job is to drink both these bottles. One job. Drink.”

“There’s a big guy with shaved legs. Get on his wheel. Stay on his wheel.”

“Geez, there are some fast groups going by. Maybe I should try to ride with one? No, remember you’ve got the mountain still.”

“Keep pedaling. Just keep pedaling.”

“Sigh, eat more gummies. I know you’re sick of them. Eat them anyway.”

The day started with forcing myself to eat three croissants with peanut butter. Normally I have zero issues eating croissants, but on the morning of August 6, I was feeling a bit nervous.

I think everyone in the breakfast room was a bit on edge. Minimal conversation. Blips of nervous laughter. Zero eye contact.

Marc and I rode over to the start corals. This is hard to explain. Imagine 12 start corals with 1,000 people in each one. So many people everywhere. I was in coral 7 and Marc was in coral 8.

As is typical with massive events like this, there is a lot of waiting around in the coral. Once I found my coral, all I could do was sit.

Strangely my mind completely cleared. I was fine. Really fine. No longer nervous. All I had to do now was ride my bike. Something I feel like I was born to do.

“Look for gaps. Don’t get sucked in by the pace.”

“Oh, there’s a fast group. Get on it. Good. Find the draft.”

“You’re doing great.”

“Drink. Eat. I know you don’t feel like it. Do it.”

“Here we are, the Col du Propiac. No problem. Get to the hotel and then it’s five corners to the top.”

The Col du Propiac was the first major climb on the route. Fortunately I had ridden it the week prior with Rob Sule, the co-owner of the Maison Sule where we were staying in Malaucene. Thanks to Rob, I had ridden the entire course from Vaison La Romaine to Malaucene.

This was a massive help on the day. I knew what to expect and how to pace myself on the Col du Propiac and Col du Suzette. And critically, I knew that after the Suzette there was another big climb that wasn’t featured on the route map – the Col de la Chaîne.

For all three climbs, I stuck to my pace. And like Mount Ventoux, I passed people up all three climbs. This is new for me. Climbing is not my forte – but listening to my body and riding within myself is something I’m very good at.

In fact, on the day of the ride, I felt super confident and strong on the rides.

I didn’t feel like this the first time I rode them. I was in a major battle with my brain. I was surprised by how hard the climbs felt and was so afraid of not making it to the top.

And after a week or so of riding in France, I was ready. Doing a ride like this is about more than physical strength. It’s about confidence. I needed to know that I could do it.

The Saturday before the big day, I rode the last 45 km or so of the course, riding the Col de la Madeleine into Bedoin and then climbing Mount Ventoux. I was so nervous about this ride. So afraid that I wouldn’t be able to do it.

The last few kms of this climb are like nothing else – long steep ramps that never seem to end.

“Marc – I did it! I’m at the top.”

“Wow. Amazing. Good job. I knew you could do it. Never any doubt.”

While I wrote that on the day of the ride I was confident and strong, I didn’t feel like this the day before. I was so nervous. So scared. So terrified of not being able to do it.

“What if my legs give out?“

“What if I can’t do it? Can I handle the heat?“

“What if I get a flat tire?“

“What if, what if, what if...”

At Masion Sule, we met a lovely family – Katrin, Christian, and Moritz. Moritz is a 17-year old cyclist brimming with confidence. He had no doubt in his mind that he could ride up the Ventoux. In fact over three days, he rode up it 5 times!

I tried really hard to channel Moritz’s confidence. I thought about him a lot during the final climb and how sure he was of his abilities. Thanks Moritz – you showed me what confidence looks like and you helped me get up that mountain.

“You’re almost there. Keep pedaling.”

“Don’t look up. Eyes on the Garmin. Just get through the red.”

“Drink.”

“There are people everywhere. You’re passing them. Keep going.”

“You are so close. You are doing it!“

“Wait, is that Marc? Marc is on the mountain?“

As I made the final turn to the last steep ramp, I heard “Vicki – you’re doing it! I’m so proud of you. Way to go!!“. I knew Marc had finished the ride but I had no idea he was waiting for me at the summit.

He waited two hours for me in the hot sun. Hearing his voice gave me that last boost of energy I needed to get up and over the finish line.

“I did it!“

“I really did it.”

I was overwhelmed with fatigue, emotion, and complete joy. This ride that I had been thinking about since November 2025 was done. I had done it. I did the training. I got on my bike and I rode it.

I am so proud of me. 10 years ago I would never have believed I could do this.

What a way to celebrate the gift of having a second chance at life.

This ride was hard. Really hard. But I had so many reasons to never give up. To find that extra bit.

I owe massive thanks to ulcerative colitis and my ileostomy.

You gave me what I needed to get to the top of the mountain.

This was truly the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s changed me.