The Road to Providing the Best Social Fitness Experience Ever

For those of you skimming this post at home, there are three things I want you to know about Strava’s release, due out early next week:

1. Strava’s free plan now has unlimited uploads
2. Strava is introducing innovative training tools
   
3. Strava Running is here — in beta

Bringing you the best social fitness experience on the planet
Strava is on a mission to bring the world’s best social fitness experience to the global community of athletes. We want you to feel rewarded, entertained and empowered to achieve your goals every time you use Strava. We will never stop innovating, experimenting, and creating new ways to motivate you to live an active, healthy lifestyle with a renewed sense of adventure. That’s why we are introducing some big changes to the Strava experience next week. Here we go…

GONE! No more monthly upload limit on Strava’s free plan
We have been hard at work developing new features that allow our free and paid plans to be differentiated by cutting-edge features instead of quantity of uploads. We believe that nothing should hinder you from reaching your goals and adding more competition to your training. Soon all Strava users will be able to upload activities to their heart’s content as there will no longer be a monthly upload limit on Strava’s free plan.

The Strava experience now offers new insights
What can you get for $6 these days? For one thing, a scoop of gelato and an espresso at Morano Gelato in Hanover, NH — the favorite new spot for our Strava East team. But, I digress…After our release next week, when you subscribe to Strava for $6/mo (or $59/yr when you subscribe for 12-months) you’ll get new insights, analysis and motivation to help you reach your goals and spark your competitive spirit. Enjoy features like advanced leaderboard filters by age, gender and weight groups, heart rate and power analysis, and deeper physiological reporting on your performance. With Strava’s new training tools, you are investing in your own performance and you’ll get even more benefit out of all the time you put in on the road and trail. You’re worth it. (And you can still buy the gelato+espresso.)

Announcing Strava Running Beta
Initially, Strava focused solely on the needs of cyclists. It has been our intention all along to bring Strava’s social fitness approach to other sports. We believe that sport-specific functionality is the key to achieving Strava’s vision to be the trusted source of inspiration for all athletes. That’s why we are very excited to deliver running specific features to you next week. Upload a run and see what we mean. Please send your feedback and ideas so we can continue to make both cycling and running a world class experience. Not a runner? Invite your friends who run to Strava and you’ll be able to follow them and see their runs in your activity feed.

Stay Tuned
Our product road map is full of killer new features and functionality. So, the value you get from Strava, on both web and mobile apps, on free or paid plans, will just keep going up. We’ll provide a full review of next week’s release via our blog when it goes live. Stay connected with us and join us for the ride, er… run. (@Strava, Facebook, and watch for our email newsletter).

Rapha Rising Awards Its Top Climbers

In honor of this July’s Tour de France, Strava and Rapha Performance Roadwear came together to challenge riders from July 2-24 to climb the same amount of elevation as the pros do throughout the six mountain stages in the Pyrenees and Alps. To be clear, that’s 21,125 meters in 22 days.

Nearly 600 cyclists joined the Rapha Rising Challenge on Strava with riders from 27 countries, including Iceland, Egypt and China. After 22 days, the combined group of cyclists competing on Strava climbed a total of 1,603,104 meters, or almost exactly 1,000 miles. That’s equivalent to climbing Mt. Ventoux 839 times!

“I continue to be happily surprised by how quickly Strava activates and builds community around competitions. There wasn’t any other tracking or group service that came close to Strava for creating and organizing the Rising competition,” said Slate Olson, General Manager, Rapha North America.

And the drum roll please…
The Top 5 Rapha Rising climbers on Strava climbed a combined total of 183,080 meters. That’s over 38 Mont Blanc’s stacked up on top of each other! The Strava leaders are:

1st: Brian Toone: 42,848 m
2nd: Jonathan Marquez: 41,762 m
3rd: Joshua Landis: 35,836 m
4th: Christopher White: 31,813 m
5th: Sam P.: 31,271 m

Check out the Rapha’s blog post to learn more about the great prizes and Rapha gear that the all around top climbers earned! Congrats to all the participants on completing this extraordinary challenge. It’s amazing to see everyone who got out there and accomplished such a difficult goal! See the complete list of Strava participants and results.

Vive La Marmotte

It’s 5:30am and I’ve awoken before my alarm. As I slip into consciousness, I quickly dismiss the soothing sound of the river outside my balcony. My nerves have already kicked in. It’s race day and staging begins at 7am. It will be approximately 9 am once our group of 7,000 race entrants has rolled out.

The Marmotte is a cyclosportif that attracts cyclists from all over the world. We’ve all come to test our endurance on a route that exceeds any of your typical TDF stages. It begins in the tiny hamlet of Bourg D’Oisans and travels over four famous Cols: Le Glandon, Le Telegraph, Le Galibier and finally the famous 21 turns to Alpe D’Huez. Anyone can register for this event and there are no limitations – you simply have to provide a medical certificate from your doctor and you’re good to go. In someway, that’s what makes the Marmotte even worse though, wondering if you’ve earned the right to try!

7:00 am: After being forced to ride to the start, thanks to a gendarme closing the route to cars, I’ve been placed in the 7:30 wave. I get ushered away from the center of town and follow a sea of riders until we are all corralled into the narrow streets leading to the start in the town square. With the restricted visibility it’s impossible to get a true sense of this gigantic cycling population, but there seems to be a variety of participants (some on touring and mountain bikes). As I size up the group, the expressions on their faces make it clear that they’re here to race.

For most, it’s a matter of earning gold, silver or bronze; these are medals based on your age and time to completion. Each age group has different time windows so once you cross the finish line, you are automatically categorized as a gold, silver or bronze finisher. It’s a clever technique that keeps all of the racers focused on their results, though it’s true that most first-timers (like myself) are just hopeful to finish.

7:50am: I look up at the church steeple at the first sign movement. Slowly, we begin walking forward with our bikes until the paces quickens and some balance precariously on their pedals. The applause of the spectators gets a little louder and the excitement in the MC’s voice is enough to stop me from shivering in the cold temperature. Finally, we’re off and it’s a hurried pace to get out of the shadows and reach the sun. The warmth relaxes me and I grin as we pass through our first traffic circle. I envision those cool aerial shots during footage of the TDF that show the peloton splitting down the middle as they enter the roundabout. I decide to seize the unique moment and go to the left around the circle.

8:30am: Approaching our first climb of the day, I’ve been happily leapfrogging from one pack to another (so many options!). I’m solely focused on the 1st big summit approach of the day (Le Glandon) and although I want to lower my HR, the pure excitement of the race has my heart pumping about 15 beats faster than usual and it feels okay. “Oh well”, I think to myself and decide to roll with it.

Approx. 10am: After passing quite a few private aid stations operated by a variety of international tour companies, the official aid station becomes visible at the summit. Once again, I’m corralled over the timing mat and there are still too many people and too many beeps to tell which one is mine. As I approach, I realize it will be impossible to maneuver through this crowd with my bike in tow, and the alternative looks ugly as well with bikes stacked on top of one another, pedals caught in spokes, and vulnerable derailleurs under foot. Fortunately, I see a safe spot behind a barrier and a dumpster and steer my bike in there by the rear wheel.

I take a good 10 to 15 minute break at the top knowing the upcoming descent has been neutralized this year due to a death that occurred last year. I’m reminded of the danger as I zip up my jacket and I hear “Attention la descente!” off in the distance. Despite these safety precautions, I still witness three accidents on the way down; two include ambulances and backboards. I try not to turn my head and keep my hands firmly on the brakes.

After a long descent, my hands are cramped up and my teeth are audibly chattering. I finally spot the magic green timing carpet. There’s a wooded dead-end street off to the right and I give the riders behind me plenty of notice before I brake. While the clock is still stopped, I take one last opportunity to pee & refuel.

Approx. 11am: Heading through a refreshingly flat section of busy roads through St. Jean-de-Maurienne. After first, I imagine that most riders will begin to sit up a little and relax after such a long descent but this isn’t the case. Even those riders who did seem to be riding together surprise me with their extreme focus. A big part of this concentration can obviously be attributed to the exorbitant number of riders and the constant need to react to each other’s movements. Think of the largest group ride that you’ve ever been on and multiply it by a 100. With some many riders on the road, the friendly banter diminishes and you become solely concentrated on yourself and the wheels beside you. Additionally, not once did I experience any of the male riders oogling over the few female participants (not even the Italians and that’s saying a lot!). Normally, this occurs fairly often in Europe as there are few women that compete in the sport. This is one more example of the great respect that people have for this race. And I’m reminded of the famous saying, “We are all comrades in our suffering”.

12:45pm: Le Col du Telégraphe. By this time, there are people walking their bikes on the steep switchbacks and it’s beginning to warm up, so they are occupying all the shady sections. Approaching the summit, a crowd of spectators forms. I come around the last corner and I see my friend, Chris standing above the crowd. Like a goat, she is carefully perched on a fence post and easily identifiable in her STRAVA t-shirt. Chris has driven for 2 ½ hours (backwards on the course) to provide me some support. She refills my bottles and hands me a CO2 cartridge that I forgot that morning and I’m off and running in under 5 minutes. Now, that’s a dear friend!

2:00pm: Feeling invigorated by the beautiful descent down the Telégraphe, I follow two speedy guys through the town of Valloire, overtaking the road and feeling bigger than the camping cars that are getting squeezed out. Thanks to Chris, I can bypass another crowded water station and I begin to focus on what will be the toughest part of the day.
I know that once I reach the summit of the Galibier, I will finally be able to envision the finish. It’s so hard to wrap your head around so much elevation gain in one day. I keep wondering how it might be possible to squeeze 16,500 ft of climbing into one day of riding in New England. Like a magician who pulls a rabbit out of his small hat, I’m hoping that the Alps will surprise me with how seamlessly the elevation accumulates in a short distance. Being from New England, I’m somewhat accustomed to steep but short climbs of 8 to 10% gradients and in turn, I don’t feel too terrified by the steep sections that await. However, it’s the bottom section on the Galibier with it’s “false-like” flats that are breaking my moral. Visually, I feel like I should been moving a lot faster, but I find myself in my easiest gear and tell myself that the perspective is simply deceiving.

Approx. 3:30: Watching the switchbacks and gaging one’s distance to the summit is relatively easy due to the constant flow of cyclists. I can see that I’m approaching the final stretch and my emotions begin to get the best of me. I feel as though I might cry but I know that I should retain every last bit of strength until the end. Rolling up my arm warmers, I prepare for a quick water stop at the summit. We are at 8,000+ feet and one strong gust of wind will easily chill you to the bone.

Approx. 5:00pm: I’ve reached the bottom of Alpe D’Huez and already I see an ambulance in the distance. I thoroughly took advantage of the descent from the Galibier to make up any extra time and am now reminded of what everyone said earlier in the week, “You can easily lose an hour during the finish on Alpe D’Huez.” “Start easy” I tell myself and I keep my eyes forward as I pass the medics. During the climb, I find myself looking for familiar faces that I had seen earlier in the race, maybe for comfort. No luck, but wait, what’s this?… Suddenly someone is tapping me on the shoulder. It’s Frank, a Dutch rider whom I met earlier in the week. The Dutch attend this event in droves. And as the Dutch are some of the tallest people in the world, I found myself happily tucking in behind them at any given opportunity! Frank seems out of breath. He’s worked hard to ride up beside me and he quickly pats me on the back and says in his dutch accent “Good job!….I have to take a break now”. I continue on, knowing that I will take my break when I reach the finish line. I have indeed lost at least a half hour on this beast of a climb and I also know that if I stop, I’ll be unlikely to regain my momentum. My stomach is squirming with all kinds of nastiness…I think of goose liver paté and how the geese are force fed. My body is now revolting and if I ingest anything more, water or solid food, I know I’ll vomit. And there in the distance, I see the final steep stretch that will safely lead me home. My stomach suddenly feels fine during that last easy kilometer stretch along the plateau of the ski area. I even stand up and begin sprinting. I lean into the last two corners in the barricades, cross the finish line and wonder to myself,  “where did that come from!?” Euphoria, I guess, pure euphoria. After 8 hours 52 min. 36 sec.