Kings, Queens, Gods and Devils — Tour de France Femmes and Women’s Ekiden

Elisa Chabbey in the polka-dot jersey of the Queen of the Mountains in 2025. (Image credit: Getty Images)

I’ve recently been trying to get properly into the Tour de France Femmes. I’m still learning the riders, teams and tactics, but one thing immediately felt familiar: the polka-dot jersey.

In the men’s Tour de France, it is worn by the leader of the mountains classification, the rider commonly known as the King of the Mountains. In the women’s race, the same competition carries over. The same jersey. The same points collected on classified climbs. The same recognition that being the best climber deserves its own title.

Only now, of course, it is the Queen of the Mountains.

It seems like a small detail, but it got me thinking about Ekiden. More specifically, it made me think about the fifth leg of the Hakone Ekiden and the final leg of the Fujisan Women’s Ekiden.

Both feature huge climbs. Both can decide the race. But the language surrounding them is very different.

At Hakone, the runner becomes a god. At Fujisan, the hill becomes a devil.

The God of the Mountain

Hakone’s fifth leg climbs from Odawara towards Lake Ashi, gaining more than 800 metres in elevation.

It is one of the defining sections of the race, and the runners who have conquered it in race-changing fashion have been given the moniker Yama no Kami—the “God of the Mountain.” Masato Imai. Ryuji Kashiwabara. Daichi Kamino and in 2025, Asahi Kuroda.

Their performances did more than help their universities take the coveted Hakone title. They became part of Hakone mythology.

The title gave audiences a way to understand what they were watching. These were not simply strong climbers recording fast split times. They were the latest runners attempting to inherit a role that already carried history and expectation.

Who would become the next Mountain God? What would a new runner have to do to exceed those who came before?

That is how sporting stories grow. One performance is linked to another. A nickname is repeated. Comparisons are made. Over time, a stretch of road becomes something more than a stretch of road.

The Devil’s Slope

The Fujisan Women’s Ekiden has its own decisive climb. Its final leg rises towards the finish, gaining 169 metres over roughly the last 4.6 kilometres. The climb is known as the ma no saka—the “devil’s slope.”

It is a good name. It sounds difficult. It gives the course personality. It tells viewers that the race can still change in its final kilometres. But the contrast with Hakone is striking.

Hakone celebrates the runner who conquers the mountain.

Fujisan gives the memorable identity to the climb itself.

The phrase Yama no Megami—“Goddess of the Mountain”—has occasionally appeared in coverage of the women’s race. But it has never really stuck.

There is no widely recognised succession of Fujisan Mountain Goddesses. No established line connecting one exceptional final-leg runner with the next. No familiar question about who might inherit the title this year.

That is not because the performances are less impressive. It is because sporting mythology does not appear automatically. It has to be repeated, reinforced and remembered.

What the Tour de France Femmes Gets Right

This is what I find interesting about the Tour de France Femmes. The women’s race did not invent an entirely separate language for its climbers. It took one of cycling’s most recognisable traditions and carried it across.

The mountains classification still matters. The polka-dot jersey still matters. The title changes from King to Queen, but the achievement retains its place within the sport’s history. That gives new viewers an immediate point of reference. It also tells the athletes that their success belongs within the same wider mythology.

Women’s Ekiden does not need to copy Hakone, and Fujisan should not be treated simply as a smaller women’s version of the men’s race.

It has its own identity: a national field, a dramatic setting beneath Mount Fuji and a final race for many fourth-year runners before they leave university competition behind.

But there may be something to learn from the way cycling handles its mountain heroes.

Fujisan already has the physical stage. It has the climb, the difficulty and the potential for dramatic finishes.

What it does not yet have is the storytelling tradition that turns the woman who masters that climb into a lasting character in the race’s history.

Perhaps the answer is not to force the title “Goddess of the Mountain.” Nicknames only work when they feel natural. But the performances need to be connected. Commentators need to compare them. Broadcasters need to revisit them. One outstanding final leg should become the standard against which the next is measured. Otherwise, every runner starts again from zero.

Building a Mountain Mythology for Women’s Ekiden

The more I learn about the Tour de France Femmes, the more I realise that audiences do not only follow sport because of what happens on the day. They follow because today’s performance means something in relation to yesterday’s.

The polka-dot jersey carries that history from one race to the next. Hakone’s Mountain Gods do the same.

Fujisan has its devil. Perhaps now it needs to spend more time celebrating the women who conquer it.