‘I rode the top of a Tour de France stage and invented my very own race up a climb’

EXCLUSIVE I cycled the final 80km of Stage 7 of the Tour de France – and dragged my group into a race they really were not expecting

Saint-Symphorien is eerily silent; a few food stalls are beginning to set up shop as early-arriving residents line the roadside, staking out their spots.

At first glance, the tiny commune is much like countless other villages scattered across the Gironde department, a region famed for its vineyards and world-renowned wines.

But on this stiflingly hot morning, Daily Star Sport has found itself here for a different reason: to tackle the final 80 kilometres of Stage 7 of the Tour de France before the professionals thunder through later that afternoon.

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Thankfully – almost mercifully – it was a day built for the sprinters. The route, winding through vineyards before heading into Bordeaux, was almost pan flat.

There was one climb, if you could even call it that: the Category 4 Côte de Béguey. In the Tour de France, climbs are ranked by difficulty, from Cat 4 – the easiest – through to the fearsome Hors Catégorie (beyond classification).

Alpe d’Huez it was not. But riding over the summit first on closed roads, with fans already lining the route and cheering from the roadside, was still the chance to fulfil a dream.

And so that was all that was on my mind as I rolled out of the small town with around 30 others, all dressed in the same kit, as part of Continental’s Inside Program.

It was still early morning, and rural France was waking as we soft-pedalled through the small villages strung together by countless fields. A hardened few were already roadside – greeting us with a faint: “Allez!”

Some riders had their phones out, while others simply soaked it all in. It was a strange feeling; any other day of the year it was just a road, but today, it felt like cycling’s hall of fame.

We rolled through the intermediate sprint, with some riders kicking for the line. Not me – I had other goals in mind.

Instead, I knew the next marker would be the KOM (King of the Mountain) point. I’m not ashamed to admit I’d spent the previous evening on Google Street View, checking out the run-in to the foot of the (tiny) climb.

As soon as I recognised the left-hand turn, I tucked in behind the lead car, ready to launch on the steepest section – the opening few hundred metres; after that it levels off into a false flat.

I got the gap I wanted and emptied the tank to the summit, urged on by slightly confused spectators who couldn’t work out why one bloke seemed to think the polka-dot jersey was actually up for grabs.

I had to stop myself from celebrating, quickly snapping back into reality and away from the fantasy race I had created in my head.

We regrouped over the top, riders reaching the lead car in ones and twos. With the mountain(s) conquered – if you could call them that – only Bordeaux remained.

There were still a few chances to stretch our legs, and I found myself sprinting after wheels as small groups split off the front.

But the closer to the finish we got, the more you felt like you were actually racing the Tour – the crowds thickened, barriers appeared, and sponsor banners lined the roadside.

I sat up in the final kilometre, choosing to film the run to the finish rather than contest another sprint – a decision largely taken as I wasn’t confident I would win.

A few hours later, Tim Merlier would blast down that same finishing straight at rather a different pace. By then I was back behind the barriers, quite content to leave the racing to the actual professionals.