Paris-Roubaix Challenge: 145 km of thrills on the roads of the North

At Mercier, we like to think that it’s not just performance that leaves a mark, but the stories we live along the way. The roads that shake you, the kilometres shared, the doubts, the smiles. The Paris-Roubaix Challenge is a bit of all that at once. A legendary event, made accessible to amateurs, where what people really come looking for is the experience, the dull rumble of the cobbles, the emotion of passing through the Trouée d’Arenberg, and the well-earned beer at the Velodrome.

It’s also three formats: 70, 145 and 170 kilometres. And one same desire: to reach out and touch a piece of legend.

Among the thousands of cyclists present this year, Jérôme Kus was one of those who had marked the date well in advance. A long-time cycling enthusiast, used to long distances and faithful to the spirit of effort, he rode the cobbles of the Hell of the North with that mix of clarity, humility and quiet joy you often find in true cycling lovers.

For Jérôme Kus, the Paris-Roubaix Challenge is no longer a discovery, but the desire is still there. Every year, for three years now, he marks the date with friends. The ritual is well established: dinner the night before, pre-race jokes, and tension slowly building. And then, very early in the morning, the first pedal strokes on the roads of the North.

"It’s not just a race. It’s also a weekend with friends, a special moment. We meet up, we laugh, and then we plunge together into the Hell of the North."

This year, it’s the 145-kilometre route: 19 cobbled sectors, including the mythical Trouée d’Arenberg right at the start. A serious challenge, but one that, over the years, is approached differently, maybe more calmly.
And it must be said that this year, the weather is on their side: a big, clear blue sky. Dry and bright. A dream for anyone who’s already faced waterlogged cobbles.

"The first time, I wasn’t feeling confident. I thought I’d destroy my hands, my tyres, or both. Now, I go with more perspective, more experience… and a gravel bike."

In the morning, he put on his Émile bib shorts and his Saint-Étienne jersey, to take on the kilometres calmly.
On the start line, nationalities mix around him. English, Spanish, Italian, French. But as Arenberg approaches, voices fall silent. The peloton slips into a heavy hush.

"It’s brutal. You ask yourself what you’re doing here. You wonder if you’ll make it through. And then you grit your teeth, and you don’t let go."

And this year, it doesn’t go smoothly. A puncture. No panic. Fix it, get going again. He’s seen worse.
In any case, his strategy is simple: between cobbles, manage; on the cobbles, give it everything. All-in where it hits hardest. And in those calmer moments, between two jolts, he enjoys sheltering in the wheels, chatting with other riders from all over the world who came to place their tyres on these legendary roads. But despite these encounters, once the cobbles return, it’s every rider for themselves.

Then comes the Mons-en-Pévèle sector. Technical, but mostly demanding because of its slight uphill.

"That sector suits me. It fits my strengths. It’s probably one of my favourites. It really has a special vibe."

As for the feed zones, everything is well organised. Nothing too much, but just what’s needed, at the right time. No northern specialities on the menu, but never mind. The beer and chips will come later.

Then comes the Velodrome. The sound changes. So does the light. Everything becomes rounder, softer. He enters, takes a lap, glances up at the stands. The emotion is discreet, but it’s definitely there.

"You think about the images you’ve seen all your life on TV. The ones of Boonen, Cancellara, or more recently Van der Poel. It’s really a place full of history. And you realise that, even for just a few seconds, you’re crossing the same line as all those great champions. It’s simply mythical."

So of course, at the finish, the fatigue is there. But it’s beautiful, and satisfying.

"I had an injury that kept me off the bike for a while. So coming back here, in this atmosphere, on this route… It was symbolic. A way of saying I was back."

After the finish, the traditional barbecue awaits: local sausages, crispy chips and a cold beer. Then it’s time to go and cheer on the pros, before enjoying a good meal at a nice local restaurant. The sun starts to set, the legs feel heavy, but the heart is a little lighter.
On Sunday, as if needing not to turn the page too quickly, they go out for another ride around the cobbled sectors. To stay in the mood. To extend the pleasure.
Like a sign that the story isn’t over, that he’ll be back. For the cobbles, for the atmosphere, and for the beer at the finish.
At midday, back to the barbecue. Same format as the day before, same simple joy before cheering on the pros, always with that same mix of admiration, passion, and still-warm memories in the legs.

After that, three words stay with him: “Mythical. Joy. Beers.”
And one lingering, happy smell still floating in his memory: “The chips, of course.”

And after all, maybe that’s what matters most.

Thank you to Jérôme for sharing his experience.

Text: Léo Béjoint | Photo credits: Sportograf.com | lechti.com