An altitude camp, 20-minute power PB, and abandoning Burgos - Inside the preparation for my first Grand Tour

In the early evening of the 22nd of August, I will hopefully be riding down the start ramp in Monaco for the opening stage of the 81st Vuelta a España. What lies in front of me are 21 days of racing, and a parcours that will take the peloton through four countries; notably one of those being my European home in Andorra.

But what culminates in my first Grand Tour is weeks of preparation before the depart, most of which goes unnoticed by the wider cycling community and is often done solo.

In today's column, I will take you behind the scenes of the last six weeks of my life as a pro cyclist, including the solo rides, training camps with my teammates, the highs, and of course, the lows. I hope you enjoy reading.

Luke Tuckwell

Luke Tuckwell is a professional cyclist from Australia riding for Red Bull-Bora-Hansgrohe. He will give Cyclingnews subscribers a peek inside the peloton at the upcoming Vuelta a España, but first, he tells us about his preparation for the race and his first Grand Tour.

This build-up started immediately after the Tour Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes, where discussions with my team led us to make the decision that La Vuelta would be the focal point for the rest of 2026. This would include a three-week altitude training block within a six-week period of no racing. But before I went off to altitude, I enjoyed the longest period at home that I have had all year. During these three weeks, my parents, aunty and uncle, and my girlfriend came to Andorra, and while it was incredibly special to spend that time with them off the bike, I struggled significantly on the bike.

I think the period of racing between the middle of March at Milano-Torino all the way up to the TARA in mid June finally caught up with me. I was low on energy, unable to complete any serious efforts and in consultation with my coach decided to pull back and rest in order to completely recover before the altitude camp in Livigno.

Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. This period allowed me to spend precious time with my family as well as fully comprehend what I had achieved in the previous races. Next, after two weeks of relatively limited riding, I was on my way to my first altitude camp of the year.

Highs and lows at altitude

Altitude camp is a funny thing. On one hand, at altitude your body adapts to the conditions and produces more red blood cells, which in turn should make you faster on the bike afterwards. On the other, you can feel pretty terrible on the bike while up high and struggle even coming close to the power you can produce at sea level in training.

This is why the adaptation phase in the first days at altitude is so important, so I was trundling around the mountains in Livigno, solo, trying to keep my watts at a minimum.

Thankfully, I think I nailed these few days, because I was able to get in some seriously good sessions during the first 10 days. This was great for the mental headspace after the rough few weeks of training I'd had in Andorra, but in the final few days of camp I struggled again.

I received news from back in Australia that my grandfather was extremely unwell. After hearing this, I mentally struggled to push myself to the limit, and completing efforts became virtually impossible.

I know these all sound like minor setbacks. A few bad days on the bike don’t ruin all the hard work done this year already, but as I was sitting in an isolated hotel at 2,200 metres above sea level, I started to second-guess everything.

Knowing how much of a challenge La Vuelta will be for me, I was stressed about missing key sessions, thinking this was going to set my fitness back and make the race even harder than it was already going to be.

Ever since the passing of my sister, I have found these hard mental days happen more regularly than before, and I find it hard to bring myself ‘out of the hole’ quickly.

The team’s support with this is amazing, and they completely understand how I am feeling and how it affects me. It is also something that I would like to use as a strength in the future; riding for my sister to make her proud, but I’ve only been able to channel this feeling once on that fateful day in France.

These emotions don’t last forever, though, and soon camp was done; I was back home and already thinking about my next race, the Vuelta a Burgos.

A new 20-minute PB and a DNS the next day

I’ve found a lot of joy racing in Spain this year. It began with the Ruta del Sol in Andalucía during February, Catalunya in March, followed by Itzulia Basque Country the following week. Now I was back in the Iberian Peninsula for La Vuelta a Burgos, unsure where my legs were and what they were capable of achieving.

Altitude had gone relatively well; I felt fit and healthy, and the team had put no pressure on me for a result. All they - and I - wanted was a good test before La Vuelta to see where my form was and to get back into the racing rhythm.

I could give you a day-by-day description of how the race went, what happened, who won, and so on, but when I started this column I wanted to convey my personal experiences within my life as a professional, not simply a race recap.

So, the first two days I was feeling much better than expected. The terrain wasn’t perfect for my characteristics, but I did what I could for the team, and I had a smile on my face.

Stage 3 was my first real test. A 20-minute climb up to the finish in Balneario de Corconte meant it was showtime. What I wasn’t expecting was how insanely high the climbing level was. I guess looking back it now makes sense: everyone was on altitude camps preparing for La Vuelta, so of course everyone was producing high watts.

I equalled my best-ever 20-minute power on this climb, doing 6.6w/kg, and Felix Gall (Decathlon CMA CGM) still put nearly thirty seconds into me. Just wow. But I was happy; you can’t really do much more than a PB in a race. The team was happy with me and my physical level, and collectively we had a good day with Giulio Pellizzari finishing in third.

The following day was a sprint, but I was really looking forward to the final day and the final climb up the Lagunas de Neila. My body would have other plans for me though. I woke up at midnight with a killer sore throat, and at six in the morning my head was pounding too.

After I woke up, I immediately consulted the team doctor, and after discussing with the directeur sportif and coach, we decided it was best not to start.

That final day test that I was looking forward to would instead be spent driving six hours in the car back to Andorra, but this is part of professional cycling. Riders fall ill all the time, and I am grateful to the team for taking the cautious decision to stop and rest, ultimately thinking of La Vuelta and making sure I will be at 100% fitness on August 22nd.

Looking ahead

So I sit here writing the second half of this piece after Burgos; I’m still a bit sick, but I’m recovering well. The sickness didn’t get worse, which is great, and I hope to get 7-10 days of solid training in before I travel to Monaco.

I'm also getting slightly nervous about what lies ahead. The most days of racing I have done previously is eight, and now I have to make the small jump up to 21. As my teammate Davide Donati said to me on the bus before stage two in Burgos, “Only twenty days to go!”

I politely told him I don’t want to think about that, as I think this ‘lap of Spain’ will be one of the hardest things I have ever done. But I’m also excited. It’s a new challenge, completely unknown territory, and I guess your first Grand Tour is always going to be hard.

I have some exciting things planned during the race, so stay tuned. And for those who will be at the race watching, come and say hi; I’d love to hear from you.

See you soon,

Luke