Dans la tête de Wiggins pendant un CLM...
Publié : 03 janv. 2013 17:02
Extrait de sa biographie, récemment parue (extrait paru dans le Guardian mais depuis supprimé du web).
Intéressant de voir la gestion de l'effort au capteur de puissance, et la motivation pour s'entraîner, puisée dans l'ambition de gagner le Tour.
Et des chiffres qui dans l'absolu laissent rêveur...
-----
In the third exclusive extract from his autobiography, Bradley Wiggins re-lives the Bonneval to Chartres time trial – stage 19 – which all but secured him the 2012 Tour de France
Saturday 21 July, 16:36 European Summer Time, Avenue Jean Mermoz, Chartres. Stage 19, 2012 Tour de France
It was nine months since the 2012 route had been confirmed with the long time trial on the last Saturday; in all that time I would never have imagined, or perhaps only in my wildest dreams, that I would go into that stage with a two-minute lead on my rivals. I had my mind set on that day from long before the Tour started, but the ideal scenario had always looked quite different. It had seemed that if I could be within 30 or 40 seconds of someone like Cadel Evans going into that last time trial I would be capable of taking the yellow jersey off him and winning the Tour.
Looking at the way the 2012 Tour was structured, we had always worked on the assumption that if I could avoid dropping too much time on the climbs I might be able to take the jersey on that day. I've never considered myself that good in the mountains at the Tour but I knew I could limit my losses on the best climbers at the summit finishes. The strategy we had worked on in the previous couple of years was simple: empty myself to the summit on every mountain stage of the Tour, but never with a view of winning up there or leading the race, just concentrate on losing as little time as possible.
It was during the stage before, the stage into Brive, that I started thinking about that time trial. We had got the last two Pyrenean stages out of the way without any great damage, so then my thoughts immediately turned to Bonneval. About then, I began thinking, "What if you can win the stage to seal the Tour?" Leading the race clearly took the pressure off. I wasn't trying to take the yellow jersey off Cadel, I was defending it, but it wasn't a done deal, because any serious mechanical problem, or something else like a crash could have meant the race was over.
At the start of a time trial in a professional race a lot of the riders roll out of the gate in a very relaxed way, as if they're going out on the Sunday club run. But I always do the same thing: I bounce back on the bike when the starter does the final countdown – "Five, four …" – and then I push back on to the guy holding the back of the bike as if my back wheel is locked into a start gate on the track. Then I hit that first couple of hundred metres as if it was a pursuit: flat out. I always do it. At that point it's so difficult to keep calm.
So now, I've come down the ramp in Bonneval, made my massive start effort, and then it's time to get a grip. I really back off the pressure, and that's where I start to use my power output on the little screen on the handlebars as a guide to keep myself under control.
At Bonneval, the stage started uphill, so naturally you're pushing a lot more power. For the first 600 or 700 metres I'm just trying not to go too much over 600 watts, get over the top, then I really settle down and that's where Sean [Yates, Team Sky's sporting director] starts talking to me: "Right, come on, Brad, this is it, this is your area, this is your domain, this is what you do best. Let's settle in." The power I've chosen is over 450 watts so on the flat sections I'm looking at holding 450–460 watts, and whenever the road ramps up slightly I'm taking it up to about 470, 480, 490, but again trying not to go over 500 watts, and likewise then, when it was slightly downhill, I'm coming back down to 430.
I can sustain 450 watts for an hour, so obviously the first 20 minutes is not difficult. In a time trial, the first 20 minutes you're just out there, cruising along; you're trying not to go too hard, to hold back the emotion, not to get too much adrenaline from all the crowds along the way and all the British flags, to resist that urge to go that little bit harder, because that's where the danger is.
I know that I'm in the best shape of my life, so it's about keeping in that controlled state. That's what time-trialling is all about.
The first reference point in my head is 17 or 18 minutes into the stage, because that's when I take a gel. I use these little markers for myself as well as the time checks out on the course.
By then I've had the first time check which is at 14km; I'm 12secs up on Chris Froome. At that point I'm thinking, "Right, you've got 45 minutes to go, Brad, you're 12 seconds up, your lead is intact, you're going to win the Tour, let's keep concentrating, you've got 45 minutes left of everything you've worked for this year; this is it."
Sean is talking to me in the earphone all the time, but I'm not always listening. He's saying, "This is great, Brad, you're flowing, you're eating up the kilometres, you're 12 seconds up on Froome, the rest are nowhere." But he's actually giving me very important information, for example, "You're coming into a little village now, Brad, there's a slow, sweeping right, it's full." When he says "It's full", that means I can stay in the skis – stretched out on the time trial handlebars – "No worries, you're coming up now, round this corner there's a sharp left. Back off slightly, take care, you don't need to risk it at this point, hard right, then you're away, then you can get back down to it."
He's seen the course at least three or four times. He's ridden the course with me in March, he's driven the course the day before, he's driven it in the morning behind one of the other riders, so he's got everything written out in the car next to him. He's constantly giving me that info like a co-driver in a rally.
One thing I like about him is that he's very controlled. You see some directeurs sportifs hanging out of windows, it's just ridiculous. Sean is a bit like a boxer's trainer in the corner, with that calm voice: "Come on, Brad, this is fantastic what you're doing now, just keep on what you're doing now." He is constantly bringing me back under control, because as a bike rider your urge is always to go harder in time trials. Sean is the guide, the cool head.
The further we go into the race, the more I'm beginning to realise: "This is it, I've won the Tour, I've done it." With each kilometre going by, I'm a little more inspired by that thought and that makes me push even more; there is a sort of aggression, a hunger within me, an urge to keep gaining as much time as possible. I want to win this race. There is no sense of, "Oh, you've done it now, you can back off slightly." No: I want more, more, more.
So then we come off the big, wide main roads on to smaller roads in the last 10km and it's starting to get painful. The physical effort is beginning to take its toll: the first 20 minutes are almost easy, the next 20 minutes you're having to concentrate more, but the last 20 minutes is where the pain starts kicking in. You're thinking, "I'm actually struggling to hold this now." But in spite of the pain, I'm still able to lift it up.
And at about 5km to go we turn left on to this little road and then the gradient starts ramping up. I'm still pushing and it's really hurting and with every kilometre that's going past, once we're within 5km to go, I'm beginning to think of a lot of other things, and that is inspiring me to push on even harder.
The thoughts come, but not to the detriment of the effort. I'm going just as hard, and what's going through my head is inspiring me more and more.
I'd be going out in December, I'd be in the gym at 6am doing my core work, then getting out on the bike early doors; four hours, five hours; I'd be riding all round Pendle, out on Waddington Fell in a hailstorm, thinking, "Oh shit, I'm two hours from home now, this is ridiculous, I'm two hours out, how am I going to get home?" I'd get back and my fingers wouldn't bend from the cold, so Cath would have to take the gloves off my hands, but I'd think, "This is what is going to win the Tour." It had said four hours on the programme; it was three degrees outside and it was hailing up there in the hills, but I just had to go and do that four hours because that might make the difference; Cadel Evans might not go out, might not do anything that day.
I'm back in Tenerife on a day when we've done four and a half, five, six hours; we've done five or six efforts throughout the day and a couple of the guys are stuck to the floor. Tim [Kerrison, Sky's head of performance science] is saying, "OK, guys, there's an option of a last effort here, I know a few of you are a bit nailed now so you can just roll up if you want, but if you feel you can do this last one, go for it." I'm going over those summits in Tenerife, with Shane [Sutton, Sky's head coach] telling me, "Come on, Brad, this is where the Tour's won, you know." That was where I'd hit it: it's like not everyone is going to do that last effort. That was the one which would push me over the edge, but that's what I've always done with the training. It was all for the Tour de France …
And here I am with six minutes left of it. This is what it was for …
I'm on the phone to Cath when I was in Tenerife training at Easter; the kids were off school, and she was saying "God, they're being a nightmare, running riot, I wish you were here." It was Ben's birthday. "Why are you not here?" he and Bella ask; I tell them and they sort of understand why. I say to Cath on the phone, "Come on, it will be all right, love, this will all be worth it, you know, we're not going to do this for ever …"
This is what it's been all about; Cath and the kids, all the sacrifices they've made to get me here.
We're getting into those last kilometres and I'm thinking of those things, thinking of my childhood, when I started dreaming about the Tour, how I started cycling when I was 12. I'm about to win the Tour de France, and I'm taking my mind back to riding my bike as a kid going to my grandparents', thinking of everything I've gone through to be at this point now.
I've led the Tour for two weeks. There have been only two leaders of this year's Tour de France. Bernard Hinault managed two weeks in the jersey once, in 1981; Lance Armstrong never managed it; Eddy Merckx led for longer, but he was the greatest ever.
The closer I'm getting to the line, Sean starts saying to me, "Come on, Brad, just empty it, 1k to go, 600 metres to go and the Tour's over."
So I am emptying it to the line as if it is a training effort in Tenerife and I have to get out every last little bit. And that's where the punch in the air happens as I cross the line. It comes from all that emotion I was going through in that last couple of kilometres, for all that hour, for all that morning, for all the days before that time trial. That's the defining image of the Tour for me: crossing the line and the punch. It is an incredible, incredible feeling.
©Bradley Wiggins 2012 - Extracted from Bradley Wiggins: My Time, published by Yellow Jersey Press on 8 November. To order your copy for £14 (rrp £20) with free UK p&p visit guardianbookshop.co.uk or call 0330 333 6846. Bradley Wiggins – A Year in Yellow is on Sky Atlantic HD on Wednesday 21 November at 10pm
Intéressant de voir la gestion de l'effort au capteur de puissance, et la motivation pour s'entraîner, puisée dans l'ambition de gagner le Tour.
Et des chiffres qui dans l'absolu laissent rêveur...
-----
In the third exclusive extract from his autobiography, Bradley Wiggins re-lives the Bonneval to Chartres time trial – stage 19 – which all but secured him the 2012 Tour de France
Saturday 21 July, 16:36 European Summer Time, Avenue Jean Mermoz, Chartres. Stage 19, 2012 Tour de France
It was nine months since the 2012 route had been confirmed with the long time trial on the last Saturday; in all that time I would never have imagined, or perhaps only in my wildest dreams, that I would go into that stage with a two-minute lead on my rivals. I had my mind set on that day from long before the Tour started, but the ideal scenario had always looked quite different. It had seemed that if I could be within 30 or 40 seconds of someone like Cadel Evans going into that last time trial I would be capable of taking the yellow jersey off him and winning the Tour.
Looking at the way the 2012 Tour was structured, we had always worked on the assumption that if I could avoid dropping too much time on the climbs I might be able to take the jersey on that day. I've never considered myself that good in the mountains at the Tour but I knew I could limit my losses on the best climbers at the summit finishes. The strategy we had worked on in the previous couple of years was simple: empty myself to the summit on every mountain stage of the Tour, but never with a view of winning up there or leading the race, just concentrate on losing as little time as possible.
It was during the stage before, the stage into Brive, that I started thinking about that time trial. We had got the last two Pyrenean stages out of the way without any great damage, so then my thoughts immediately turned to Bonneval. About then, I began thinking, "What if you can win the stage to seal the Tour?" Leading the race clearly took the pressure off. I wasn't trying to take the yellow jersey off Cadel, I was defending it, but it wasn't a done deal, because any serious mechanical problem, or something else like a crash could have meant the race was over.
At the start of a time trial in a professional race a lot of the riders roll out of the gate in a very relaxed way, as if they're going out on the Sunday club run. But I always do the same thing: I bounce back on the bike when the starter does the final countdown – "Five, four …" – and then I push back on to the guy holding the back of the bike as if my back wheel is locked into a start gate on the track. Then I hit that first couple of hundred metres as if it was a pursuit: flat out. I always do it. At that point it's so difficult to keep calm.
So now, I've come down the ramp in Bonneval, made my massive start effort, and then it's time to get a grip. I really back off the pressure, and that's where I start to use my power output on the little screen on the handlebars as a guide to keep myself under control.
At Bonneval, the stage started uphill, so naturally you're pushing a lot more power. For the first 600 or 700 metres I'm just trying not to go too much over 600 watts, get over the top, then I really settle down and that's where Sean [Yates, Team Sky's sporting director] starts talking to me: "Right, come on, Brad, this is it, this is your area, this is your domain, this is what you do best. Let's settle in." The power I've chosen is over 450 watts so on the flat sections I'm looking at holding 450–460 watts, and whenever the road ramps up slightly I'm taking it up to about 470, 480, 490, but again trying not to go over 500 watts, and likewise then, when it was slightly downhill, I'm coming back down to 430.
I can sustain 450 watts for an hour, so obviously the first 20 minutes is not difficult. In a time trial, the first 20 minutes you're just out there, cruising along; you're trying not to go too hard, to hold back the emotion, not to get too much adrenaline from all the crowds along the way and all the British flags, to resist that urge to go that little bit harder, because that's where the danger is.
I know that I'm in the best shape of my life, so it's about keeping in that controlled state. That's what time-trialling is all about.
The first reference point in my head is 17 or 18 minutes into the stage, because that's when I take a gel. I use these little markers for myself as well as the time checks out on the course.
By then I've had the first time check which is at 14km; I'm 12secs up on Chris Froome. At that point I'm thinking, "Right, you've got 45 minutes to go, Brad, you're 12 seconds up, your lead is intact, you're going to win the Tour, let's keep concentrating, you've got 45 minutes left of everything you've worked for this year; this is it."
Sean is talking to me in the earphone all the time, but I'm not always listening. He's saying, "This is great, Brad, you're flowing, you're eating up the kilometres, you're 12 seconds up on Froome, the rest are nowhere." But he's actually giving me very important information, for example, "You're coming into a little village now, Brad, there's a slow, sweeping right, it's full." When he says "It's full", that means I can stay in the skis – stretched out on the time trial handlebars – "No worries, you're coming up now, round this corner there's a sharp left. Back off slightly, take care, you don't need to risk it at this point, hard right, then you're away, then you can get back down to it."
He's seen the course at least three or four times. He's ridden the course with me in March, he's driven the course the day before, he's driven it in the morning behind one of the other riders, so he's got everything written out in the car next to him. He's constantly giving me that info like a co-driver in a rally.
One thing I like about him is that he's very controlled. You see some directeurs sportifs hanging out of windows, it's just ridiculous. Sean is a bit like a boxer's trainer in the corner, with that calm voice: "Come on, Brad, this is fantastic what you're doing now, just keep on what you're doing now." He is constantly bringing me back under control, because as a bike rider your urge is always to go harder in time trials. Sean is the guide, the cool head.
The further we go into the race, the more I'm beginning to realise: "This is it, I've won the Tour, I've done it." With each kilometre going by, I'm a little more inspired by that thought and that makes me push even more; there is a sort of aggression, a hunger within me, an urge to keep gaining as much time as possible. I want to win this race. There is no sense of, "Oh, you've done it now, you can back off slightly." No: I want more, more, more.
So then we come off the big, wide main roads on to smaller roads in the last 10km and it's starting to get painful. The physical effort is beginning to take its toll: the first 20 minutes are almost easy, the next 20 minutes you're having to concentrate more, but the last 20 minutes is where the pain starts kicking in. You're thinking, "I'm actually struggling to hold this now." But in spite of the pain, I'm still able to lift it up.
And at about 5km to go we turn left on to this little road and then the gradient starts ramping up. I'm still pushing and it's really hurting and with every kilometre that's going past, once we're within 5km to go, I'm beginning to think of a lot of other things, and that is inspiring me to push on even harder.
The thoughts come, but not to the detriment of the effort. I'm going just as hard, and what's going through my head is inspiring me more and more.
I'd be going out in December, I'd be in the gym at 6am doing my core work, then getting out on the bike early doors; four hours, five hours; I'd be riding all round Pendle, out on Waddington Fell in a hailstorm, thinking, "Oh shit, I'm two hours from home now, this is ridiculous, I'm two hours out, how am I going to get home?" I'd get back and my fingers wouldn't bend from the cold, so Cath would have to take the gloves off my hands, but I'd think, "This is what is going to win the Tour." It had said four hours on the programme; it was three degrees outside and it was hailing up there in the hills, but I just had to go and do that four hours because that might make the difference; Cadel Evans might not go out, might not do anything that day.
I'm back in Tenerife on a day when we've done four and a half, five, six hours; we've done five or six efforts throughout the day and a couple of the guys are stuck to the floor. Tim [Kerrison, Sky's head of performance science] is saying, "OK, guys, there's an option of a last effort here, I know a few of you are a bit nailed now so you can just roll up if you want, but if you feel you can do this last one, go for it." I'm going over those summits in Tenerife, with Shane [Sutton, Sky's head coach] telling me, "Come on, Brad, this is where the Tour's won, you know." That was where I'd hit it: it's like not everyone is going to do that last effort. That was the one which would push me over the edge, but that's what I've always done with the training. It was all for the Tour de France …
And here I am with six minutes left of it. This is what it was for …
I'm on the phone to Cath when I was in Tenerife training at Easter; the kids were off school, and she was saying "God, they're being a nightmare, running riot, I wish you were here." It was Ben's birthday. "Why are you not here?" he and Bella ask; I tell them and they sort of understand why. I say to Cath on the phone, "Come on, it will be all right, love, this will all be worth it, you know, we're not going to do this for ever …"
This is what it's been all about; Cath and the kids, all the sacrifices they've made to get me here.
We're getting into those last kilometres and I'm thinking of those things, thinking of my childhood, when I started dreaming about the Tour, how I started cycling when I was 12. I'm about to win the Tour de France, and I'm taking my mind back to riding my bike as a kid going to my grandparents', thinking of everything I've gone through to be at this point now.
I've led the Tour for two weeks. There have been only two leaders of this year's Tour de France. Bernard Hinault managed two weeks in the jersey once, in 1981; Lance Armstrong never managed it; Eddy Merckx led for longer, but he was the greatest ever.
The closer I'm getting to the line, Sean starts saying to me, "Come on, Brad, just empty it, 1k to go, 600 metres to go and the Tour's over."
So I am emptying it to the line as if it is a training effort in Tenerife and I have to get out every last little bit. And that's where the punch in the air happens as I cross the line. It comes from all that emotion I was going through in that last couple of kilometres, for all that hour, for all that morning, for all the days before that time trial. That's the defining image of the Tour for me: crossing the line and the punch. It is an incredible, incredible feeling.
©Bradley Wiggins 2012 - Extracted from Bradley Wiggins: My Time, published by Yellow Jersey Press on 8 November. To order your copy for £14 (rrp £20) with free UK p&p visit guardianbookshop.co.uk or call 0330 333 6846. Bradley Wiggins – A Year in Yellow is on Sky Atlantic HD on Wednesday 21 November at 10pm
pour rouler à 53km/h à 450W.
