To make matters worse, the whole event is run as a race, with timed sections every day that add up to your total combined time. You can find out where you rank at the end of each day, even deep diving into where you placed at the various checkpoints. Instantly the peloton is full of rivals – you have to keep ahead of the guys beneath you, and try and steal a few places each day too.

“A guy is taking off his jacket while pedalling – just like the pros do on TV – except he lets one of the sleeves get tangled in his front wheel, causing the bike to stop dead and throwing him over the handlebars.”

As early as the first few minutes heading out of Geneva there is a dramatic ending to one rider’s Haute Route experience. A guy is taking off his jacket while pedalling – just like the pros do on TV – except he lets one of the sleeves get tangled in his front wheel, causing the bike to stop dead and throwing him over the handlebars. He busts his collarbone and has to withdraw from the race – months of training and a significant entry fee, all vanished in one moment.

Another guy, the day before the race even begins, is desperately trying to find a replacement battery for his electronic gears – which on a Sunday in Geneva is an impossibility. He has travelled from Australia to take part and now his bike, worth multiple thousands of pounds, is unrideable.

There’s also a hefty feed available after the day’s stage – full of all the stodgy carbs, muscle-building protein and veggies your body is crying out for to refuel its depleted reserves. Along the route of each stage there are plenty of feed stations too. And should you have a mechanical problem, there are team cars with expert mechanics ready to help, or even lend you a replacement bike.

And speaking of bikes, to tackle a challenge like this you need an extraordinary machine. No regular mass-produced factory frame and wheelset are going to cut it in an event where virtually all the participants are riding something shiny and made of carbon fibre. I shudder to think how my own bike (a 20-year-old, 10-kilo hunk of steel) would have been received on the start line. Thankfully, I didn’t have to find out because the kind people at ColourBolt – a bespoke bike builder with an emphasis on beautiful design – leant me one of their creations. The bike tipped the scales at 7.8kg, with disc brakes for unbeatable control on the descents, and some incredible aerodynamic wheels. It’s fair to say it got a lot of envious looks as it carried me effortlessly up the slopes.

Having all these little things taken care of means there’s only one thing left to do – ride. And while that’s amazingly freeing, it also means you want to do the very best you can.

From the start of the first day I realise that it’s going to be as much about surviving as it is about putting in a good performance. Any hopes of placing in the top 100 evaporate after the first timed section – I had heard rumours about how serious some people take the Haute Route, but the sheer gap in quality is devastating. Some of the guys towards the front may as well be professionals. As soon as the timing begins they disappear, kicking up several gears and seeming to evaporate into the fine drizzling rain ahead. That’ll be the last we humble mortals (and journalists) will see of that lot until the following day.

“From the start of the first day I realise that it’s going to be as much about surviving as it is about putting in a good performance.”

As the kilometres begin to tick over I focus on eating as much as possible, keeping the body fuelled and the legs moving, rather than pushing too hard too soon. On the early climbs I feel like I’m overtaking a good number of people, it’s a big boost to my morale.

After a whizzy descent from Pas de Morgins – littered with hairpins, hitting top speeds of 64km/h (40mph) – it is a long, slow, mainly flat transition to the foot of the day’s final climb, the fearsome Crans Montana. This flat part is not timed, so I take it easy. There’s also a final feed stop before the climb gets going, so I cram my pockets with energy gels and get ready to steal some time from the guys around me. I don’t usually like gels, preferring ‘real’ food, but this situation demands something with more punch. I have one and pretty soon I am flying up the slopes, dropping people all over the show. It feels incredible to cross the line.

Day one, done! Stiff legs and a tired mind, but feeling good about what is to come (and quietly relieved to be only doing the two days!)

Then it’s the San Gottardo, which winds and snakes its way up to 2,109m above sea level, through 38 switchbacks, at an average gradient of 8 per cent. After a torrid day, I am amazed to find myself feeling stronger again on the day’s final climb. Perhaps it’s because I know I’m going home, but I start to attack the mountain with energy. I catch up to a guy who overtook me earlier and pass him. Then a few minutes later he passes me. We get locked into a game of leapfrog, that goes on for almost all of the 72 minutes it takes to reach the top. Digging deep with the finish in sight, I make one big final effort to distance my new ‘rival’. Sprinting away up the final cobbles, the feeling of euphoria as I cross the line is immense. Another massage, then I quickly disassemble the bike – ready to fly back to the UK.

“I catch up to a guy who overtook me earlier and pass him. Then a few minutes later he passes me. We get locked into a game of leapfrog…”

I have some time to wait at the airport in Milan. It’s fair to say it’s not the best-equipped airport in the world, with not much on offer to pass the time apart from a Burger King. I order a super-size meal and connect to the wifi, poring over the results from the day. I have beaten a journalist from The Telegraph, mini fist-pump. I find the number of the guy I was chasing up the Gottardo. He is sitting 118th, while I am 122nd. My sprint to the line obviously wasn’t enough to gap him.

I finish my burger and fries and realise it hasn’t touched the sides. I go buy a second super-size meal and demolish it too. So much for living the ‘pro’ life.

Tom Owen was a guest of the Haute Route and entries for the 2017 series, including the Haute Route Pyrenees, Alps, Dolomites and Colorado Rockies are now open.

Visit hauteroute.org

He completed the ride on a ColourBolt Maximum Black road bike, colourbolt.com

To read the rest of the December ‘Excess Issue’ head here 

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