There are questions that every road cyclist asks themselves at some point. How fast would I be on the climb up to Alpe d’Huez? How long could I stay on the wheel of Tadej Pogačar Stay? And above all: could I actually finish a stage of the Tour de France?
This question has been on my mind for years. Not whether I could hold my own in the peloton. Nor whether I’d be battling the pros for placings. That’s out of the question, of course. But could I survive a Tour stage? Would I make it to the finish within the time limit, or would the reality of the world’s biggest cycle race catch up with me after just a few kilometres?
Tour de France – Impossible to keep up?
With an FTP of just under 4.5 watts per kilogram, I’m one of the more ambitious amateur cyclists. I’m light, cycle many kilometres a year and, both at work and in my private life, probably spend more time on road bikes than is good for most people (and sometimes even for myself).
That’s exactly why this question fascinates me so much. If even a well-trained amateur would stand hardly a chance, just how big is the gap to the world’s best really? If even riders from the professional peloton claim that the gap between them and Tadej Pogačar is as big as that between an amateur and themselves, it must be enormous.
Anyone who 2026 Tour de France Anyone who watches it on television occasionally gets the impression that the world’s best professionals belong to a different species. The wattage figures seem inhuman, the average speeds are absurd. At the same time, however, performance data also shows that there are significant differences within the peloton. It is not for nothing that there are specific rider profiles; not everyone achieves the same performance figures on climbs and in the final sprint.
Why figures alone do not tell the whole story
Even so, it’s worth taking a look at the figures. A good climber in the Tour de France often averages around six watts per kilogram – or even more – on long climbs. At first glance, that doesn’t sound all that far off my 4.5 watts per kilogram.
The misconception lies in the fact that differences in performance in cycling do not have a linear effect. A rider who is ten or fifteen per cent stronger does not simply reach the top a little earlier. Over half an hour or more, this difference adds up to minutes. A rider who is 25 per cent stronger literally disappears from view on the climb.
To put it another way: if I were to start a long climb in the Tour de France alongside Pogačar or Vingegaard, it would probably look surprisingly unspectacular for a few seconds. Then the gap would just keep getting bigger. And at some point, that small gap would have turned into a deficit that, in professional cycling, is already a world apart.
The good news: I probably wouldn’t fall off my bike on the very first climb. The bad news: I certainly wouldn’t be able to ride it alongside these pros. And when I look at the wattage figures for the gruppetto riders, it really hits me. Even the sprinters are climbing the long ascents at between 4 and 5.5 watts per kilo – that’s just mad. Riding a mountain stage? Impossible!
Perhaps a leisurely stretch
The longer I think about it, the more I come to the conclusion that the answer depends very much on the stage in question. Not every stage of the Tour de France is ridden at full throttle right from the start. Anyone who follows the coverage closely will be familiar with them: those flat stages where a breakaway group forms early on and the peloton allows them a controlled lead for hours. The pace remains high, but not every kilometre is ridden at the limit. Take this example: during the first stage of this year’s Giro d’Italia, a post by a rider who averaged just 168 watts went viral.
That would be my chance! The slipstream in the peloton is immense. Anyone who’s well-positioned and doesn’t waste any energy unnecessarily can reach speeds that would be completely unrealistic on their own. In terms of pure endurance and performance, I should probably be able to keep up for much longer on a quiet, flat stage.
The real problem only begins when a seemingly quiet stage suddenly turns into a cycle race. A roundabout, a crosswind, a sprint for bonus seconds or the build-up to a bunch sprint can completely change the dynamics within a matter of seconds. Then riders accelerate, positions are defended and the pace increases abruptly. It is precisely at these moments that the differences between amateur cyclists and professionals are likely to become apparent.
After all, the difficulty doesn’t lie in spending two hours drafting at 45 km/h. The difficulty lies in suddenly having to accelerate well above one’s own threshold several times after having already cycled for two hours, whilst still maintaining a good position in the peloton.
So perhaps I could stay in the peloton for a surprisingly long time on a typical ‘easy stage’. The crucial question is simply what happens when the race really gets going. And that’s exactly where the Tour de France would probably show why it is the Tour de France.
Certainly not the whole Tour de France
To be honest, I now believe that, under the perfect circumstances, I might just be able to get through a single Tour stage. Having carried out this thought experiment, however, I’m also certain that I’ve long underestimated the real challenge of the Tour de France. The riders’ most impressive achievement isn’t simply putting in one exceptionally strong performance. It lies in repeating these performances day after day, for three weeks.
And that’s exactly why the Tour de France continues to fascinate us year after year. It doesn’t necessarily show us amateur cyclists just how far we are from the professionals. Rather, it shows just how incredibly high the bar is for what’s actually possible on a road bike. So rather than feeling down about this thought experiment, I’m using these achievements as motivation. I’ll definitely be getting back on my bike soon!
Leon Weidner
Editor