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I reckon there must have been about 15 guys left in my group. Later, we discovered that the TV coverage dropped out at this point, causing confusion and desperation at the finish and leading to fingernail destruction on an epic scale among the crowds and support staff.

With no visual evidence, I could probably spin you a yarn at this point about how I moved up alongside the bunch pulling a one-handed wheelie and launched a devastating attack that left everybody miles behind. I stopped on the penultimate corner to drink a beer and let them all catch up as I felt so bad at ruining everybody’s day.

The truth was that there was almost as much confusion in the bunch as there was in front of the blank television screen. As the finish sucked us nearer, we passed Vasil Kiryienka and my BORA-hansgrohe teammate Lukas Pöstlberger, representing Austria. Was that it? No. I hadn’t seen Alaphilippe. And I’m sure that I’d seen at least one Colombian farther up the road, either Rigoberto Urán or Fernando Gaviria or even both of them. Oh! Who’s that Danish guy? Who is actually leading this race? And will we catch them?