Some mountains don't just test legs and lungs. They interrogate the soul. Mont Ventoux, that bleached and barren giant rising from Provence, has always been cycling's most unforgiving confessional, laying bare every rider's deepest reserves of courage and vulnerability. On Tuesday, it delivered another chapter of raw humanity that transcended mere sport.

When Norwegian rider Tobias Johannessen crumpled at the finish line, his body wracked with abdominal pain and desperate gasps for oxygen, we weren't just witnessing an athlete reaching his physical limits. We saw the visceral reality of what it costs to dance with this mountain. His trembling hands clutching his stomach, the medical team's urgent intervention, the way he later described simply needing to lie on his back to remember how to breathe these aren't dramatic flourishes. They're fragments of a truth we too often gloss over in our celebration of superhuman endurance.

All this unfolded meters from where Valentin Paret-Peintre became only the fifth Frenchman to conquer Ventoux, his face alight with disbelief as he outsprinted Ireland's Ben Healy in those final brutal meters where the gradient spikes to cruel double digits. The contrast couldn't have been starker the euphoria of a career defining victory literally stepping over the wreckage of another man's suffering. Yet this is cycling's uncomfortable duality laid bare in one panoramic frame.

Paret-Peintre's wonder at his own achievement was palpable. 'I honestly didn't believe it,' he admitted, having expected defending champion Tadej Pogačar to sweep the stage. His victory felt almost stolen, a precious gift snatched from the mountain's grasp. There's poetry in a French rider joining the pantheon of Ventoux conquerors on terrain steeped in national cycling lore. The way he thanked teammate Ilan Van Wilder for shepherding him up the slopes spoke to cycling's beautiful interdependence, where individual glory is always built on collective sacrifice.

Yet hovering over every Ventoux triumph remains the ghost of Tom Simpson, the British cyclist who died here in 1967, his system flooded with amphetamines and alcohol, collapsing just short of the summit after begging his team to put him back on his bike. His final words, 'Put me back on my bike,' still echo through cycling's conscience, a permanent warning against the sport's darkest temptations. When Johannessen gasped for oxygen in that same thin air today, the shadow of Simpson's tragedy didn't just linger it tapped every seasoned cycling fan on the shoulder.

Modern cycling has thankfully evolved from those reckless days, with strict medical protocols and a more measured approach to rider welfare. Johannessen's immediate access to oxygen and thorough hospital evaluation reflects genuine progress. Yet when he admitted to hyperventilation and abdominal pain during the stage, one wonders at what point athletes should be protected from themselves. His determination to continue racing speaks to the warrior mentality the sport cultivates, but also raises ethical questions we're still learning to navigate.

Meanwhile, Pogačar's relentless dominance continued unabated, the Slovenian sensation not just defending his yellow jersey but setting a new record for the Ventoux ascent. His time of 54 minutes 41 seconds shattered a mark that had stood for nearly two decades, a reminder that we may be witnessing one of cycling's all time greats in his prime. The ease with which he matched every attack from rival Jonas Vingegaard bordered on eerie, his post race comments about 'enjoying' the climb almost unsettling in their casualness. Most mortals don't 'enjoy' Ventoux they endure it.

Perhaps that's the ultimate lesson from this biblical stage. Cycling, at its core, isn't about equal opportunity. Ventoux doesn't care about fairness. Some riders will scale its slopes with supernatural grace, etching their names in history. Others will leave pieces of themselves on its switchbacks, their private suffering reduced to footnotes in someone else's triumph. All of it unfolds under the unblinking Mediterranean sun, witnessed by fans who alternately cheer and gasp in horror, united in their awe of what the human body can be pushed to endure.

Tomorrow, the Tour will move on to new challenges. Paret-Peintre will begin processing his career's crowning achievement. Johannessen will undergo more tests, weighing whether continuing is bravery or folly. Pogačar will methodically dismantle the next obstacle in his path. And Ventoux will remain, stony and indifferent, waiting to write its next chapter of agony and ecstasy whenever the peloton returns.

Because mountains don't change. Only the men who dare to climb them do.