Richard Carapaz has found his place in the Tour de France

Throughout these two and a half weeks of the Tour de France, Richard Carapaz has been riding in search of a place in this Grande Boucle – a place that suits his desire to explore the mountains on his own.

For much of these past week and a half of the Tour de France, Richard Carapaz has seemed like a knight-errant who knew full well who he was, where he came from and what he was looking for, yet was grappling with the doubt that this race was no longer one in which someone like him could find fulfilment. Doubt is a constant companion for adventurous souls. And it matters little that adventurous souls are almost never swayed by such doubts. There is always a sort of blind optimism within them – in their own potential and in the world around them – which drives them to keep doing what they believe is best.

Richard Carapaz never doubted his legs or his ability to do whatever it took to go it alone, to shake off all those other riders who had the same goal in mind: a stage win, a gruelling day in the mountains to end with that exhilarating feeling that only victory can bring.

For dozens and dozens of kilometres during the 18th stage of the 2026 Tour de France – the 185.2-kilometre Voiron–Orcières–Merlett stage – Richard Carapaz feared that today would be yet another day to add to the list of regrets.

With 135 kilometres to go, after yet another failed breakaway attempt, he had shaken his head and let himself be dropped from the front of the peloton – the very positions needed to try and break away. He had hidden amongst the pack, ready to give up. It’s easier to give something up when you’re in company.

Five kilometres later, seeing Valentin Paret-Peintre fighting his way back up the peloton, he recognised in the Frenchman his own sense of bewilderment, but mixed with the restlessness of someone who’d had enough of riding in a group. And so Richard Carapaz put his despondency aside, saw in his rival the same indomitable spirit that drives him, and realised this was the opportunity he’d been looking for. Twenty kilometres later, the two had rejoined the day’s leading group.

The Ecuadorian’s race was tumultuous and chaotic, driven by an irrepressible desire to find solitude. Perhaps too much of a desire. He took risks on several occasions, coming close to failing to win the bet he had set himself. He always managed to rekindle the hope that he had made the right choice. Even when it seemed lost. Because Richard Carapaz was convinced he held the winning hand, despite the miscalculations – born of an excess of mountain faith – piling up and making the final result seem completely off the mark. The numbers fell back into place almost as if by magic. Sometimes two minuses make a plus.

It happened about three and a half kilometres from the finish line, when he stood up on the pedals, surged forward and realised that, at last, no one was left alongside him.

For three and a half kilometres, Richard Carapaz savoured the moment, cycling in the present without a care in the world – certainly gruelling, and undoubtedly as gruelling as any climb can be. He celebrated as he crossed the finish line. He celebrated after the finish. He was smiling as if he were a schoolboy celebrating his first victory, rather than an Olympic champion with a Giro d’Italia win under his belt and nine stage victories across the three Grand Tours. Cycling has a way of keeping you young, regardless of the kilometres covered, the effort expended, or the wrinkles it etches onto your face. Finding your place in the Tour, or in the world, can generate an enviable rush of endorphins.