Known as the ‘Giant of Provence’, Mont Ventoux erupts from the surrounding countryside. Le Géant must arouse a mixture of daunting emotions in those who intend to assault it by bicycle.

Ever keen to witness people overcoming seemingly impossible obstacles, I stayed up late last night to watch the ascent of Mont Ventoux in the penultimate stage of the Tour de France.

Occasionally during the past three weeks I’ve watched a few minutes of Le Tour, mainly for views of the French countryside, villages and towns.

But unlike tour tragics such as my partner, and some of our friends, I can generally take it or leave it.

For the duration of the race I’ve had little idea, on any given day, of who was wearing the green, yellow or polka-dot jerseys. And the race strategy is completely lost on me.

Last night, however, I was glued to the television as I urged Frank Schleck to join his brother, Andy, at the front of the pack on the gruelling upward climb. Unfortunately he couldn’t hear me above the screaming of the road-side spectators.

Juan Manuel Garáte won that leg of the race and seems destined for a brilliant future. Tony Martin came second, Andy Schleck third and his brother, Frank, somewhere further back.

Late tonight our time, Alberto Contador will ride down the Champs Elysée in Paris as the overall winner of le maillot jaune. Despite knowing who the winner will be, I’m told there’ll still be plenty of excitement in the sprint to the finish.

But after all that exhausting pedalling last night (preceded by a hearty dinner with friends), tonight I think they’ll have to sprint without me.