Earlier this week, World Doping Agency WADA recommended night-time testing during the Tour de France 2011. The International Cycling Union UCI is now considering this proposal. A number of cyclists have already reacted in a displeased manner and the question remains if the WADA argument "Seriously consider removing the informal knowledge and comfort that all riders have in knowing that they will not be tested in the middle of the night." is a just one. Ladies-Pro Marijn de Vries wrote a striking column on that subject earlier today. Free translation by DZI/CyclingFever below.

AUFMACHEN!

Slowly I awake from a deep sleep. Something woke me. Noise.

I pull my earplugs from my ears and immediately my head fills with loud banging and shouting. “Open the door! Ouvre la porte! Aufmachen! Jetzt!”, I hear male voices shout, while there's loud banging on my hotel door.

I turn on the bed-light and look at my watch: 3.10 hrs. In the bed beside me also some movement by my room-mate. He looks at me in that 'I'm not awake yet' fashion and utters "What, what...?" But what he wants to say is overpowered by the banging and shouting outside: "Open the door, now!"

Tiredly I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Stumble to the door. I'm beat. My body hurts. I feel knackered. And I curse.

Today was day sixteen in the 2011 Tour de France. The day after the second rest-day. Such a rest-day sounds nice, and that day in itself is fine. But the day after. That's the day you're completely cooked. You have to force your body to get moving again while it has just tasted the one thing you need: rest.

Day sixteen was hell. Only thirty kilometers from the finish in Gap I got the feeling that my tired limbs started to feel alive again. Sort of.

Tomorrow, day seventeen, a tough mountain stage ahead, from Gap to Pinerolo. I will only live to see another day after a good night's sleep. Every minute counts. And it isn't easy to fall asleep with a body that doesn't know where to put its arms and legs. This night it worked though: I was fast asleep and no dreams were haunting me.

"Doping control!" the two men yell as soon as I open the hotel room door. One of them pushes the button beside the door. I twitch from the bright light that suddenly fills the room. My room-mate puts his hands in front of his eyes. "For whom?", he manages to utter. "Not for you!" one of the two men replies. My room-mate sighs and his head drops back onto the pillow while pulling the cover across his head. "Hurry up!" I hear him mumble.

I can't urinate.

Look at me now, the middle of the night, in the third week of the Tour de France. In the hotel room lavatory. A doping official carefully watching if I pee in his cup. My whole body screams for the bed I just crawled out of. All the hairs on my body sting. I'm completely knackered. And in six hours time I have to be at the start of the next stage.

Finally the pee comes. The doping official has a satisfied look on his face. Closes the cup I give him and seals it. "Good luck tomorrow", he says with a wink of an eye, while he and his partner leave the room together. Yeah yeah, I think, while I turn off the bed-light and shove the earplugs back into my ears. Good Luck. Sure man.

Comment Marijn de Vries: I can't help it, but if I try to envisage what the newest WADA plans concerning nighttime doping checks would practically turn in to, this image is what I think of. Pounding on doors and shouting voices to wake riders up. Get up! Open the door! What does that remind me of?

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Links: Marijn De Vries, Étape 16 : Tour de France 2011, Étape 17 : Tour de France 2011