For decades, the Tour de France has captured the world’s imagination as both the ultimate test of endurance and a celebration of human potential. But if you look closely at the numbers—especially the soaring speeds and jaw-dropping climbing times—they tell a story that’s hard to ignore. Historically, every time there’s been a sudden leap in performance, it’s almost always coincided with the rise of powerful performance-enhancing drugs. Nowhere was this more evident than in the 1990s and 2000s, when a boom in doping technology sent speeds skyrocketing—only to be followed by scandal, confession, and sweeping reform.

Back in the 1980s and early ’90s, the Tour’s average speeds ticked upward slowly but steadily—from the mid-35 km/h range to just under 39 km/h. But everything changed in the mid-’90s. That’s when EPO and blood doping began to quietly transform the peloton. Suddenly, riders were consistently breaking the 40 km/h barrier. By 2005, the Tour hit a then-unthinkable average of 41.65 km/h—the fastest edition in history at the time, and smack in the middle of what we now call the doping era. Afterward, the confessions came, the tests caught up, and Lance Armstrong’s record seven titles were erased from the books.

The backlash led to real change. Anti-doping efforts became more sophisticated, and the introduction of the biological passport helped bring speeds back down. By the mid-2010s, Tour averages had dropped to just below 40 km/h. It felt like the sport had turned a corner—proof that the EPO-fueled gains weren’t sustainable without chemical help.

But then, something strange happened.

In 2022, the Tour shattered its own speed record with an average of 42.1 km/h. That wasn’t a fluke. In 2023, it clocked in at 41.43 km/h, and in 2024, it climbed again to 41.82 km/h. These weren’t one-off performances—they were part of a sustained surge that no one fully understands.

Take a closer look at individual stages and time trials, and the story gets even more startling. For years, only one stage in Tour history had ever broken the 50 km/h mark—Stage 4 in 1999, during the height of the EPO years. Yet in 2025, Stage 9 came in at 50.013 km/h over 174 km, making it the second-fastest stage ever. Other recent Tours have featured multiple stages pushing past 48 or 49 km/h, speeds that once seemed impossible without help from a syringe.

Time trials and mountain climbs tell the same tale. Rohan Dennis’s 2015 time trial in Utrecht still holds the solo speed record at over 55 km/h. In the mountains, where legends are made and doubts often linger, we’re once again seeing performances that echo the EPO heyday. Pantani’s 1997 climb of Alpe d’Huez at 23.1 km/h was once thought untouchable—a high point of a chemically-fueled era. Yet today’s climbers are matching or beating that pace, seemingly with ease.

This year’s Tour (2025) pushed the boundaries even further. Not one, but all four top riders beat Iban Mayo’s long-standing record on Mont Ventoux, which he set in 2004 during a dedicated time trial. That record was broken today—during a grueling 171.6 km stage, no less. To put that in perspective: the old record came in a short, focused effort; today’s came after hours of racing. And here’s where it gets really curious. Of the 55 fastest times ever recorded on Ventoux, every single one occurred between 1994 and 2013—the heart of cycling’s doping era. During the “clean” years that followed Armstrong’s fall from grace in 2013, the climb was raced in both 2016 and 2021. Not once did those performances crack the top 55. Then suddenly—today—they’re all shattered.

This resurgence in speed isn’t just happening in the mountains. Even flat and transitional stages are being raced at a blistering pace. Sure, technology has improved—better bikes, smarter nutrition, and data-driven pacing strategies all play a role. But these innovations have been around for a while. The real question is: why now?

History has taught us that the biggest jumps in cycling performance usually follow the arrival of new, hard-to-detect PEDs. When authorities catch up, performance dips. But now, the speeds are climbing again—higher than ever—and we’re being told this is the cleanest era in cycling history. Flat stages once considered humanly impossible are now routine. Time trials and climbing efforts rival the blood-doping peak of the late ’90s.

The numbers don’t lie. They tell a story the cycling world has heard before—only this time, it’s wearing a cleaner face. If today’s Tour is genuinely clean, then cycling has discovered a magic formula the rest of endurance sport has yet to unlock. But if not, then we may be watching history repeat itself in real time.

Until someone can explain how a “clean” peloton is smashing records that once required pharmacological assistance, the doubts will remain. And they should. Because what we’re seeing today doesn’t just push the limits of performance—it challenges the very idea of what’s possible without help.