Posts in: travel

Mental Toughness Racing Road Cycling Travel Ultra Cycling Uncategorized

UNFINISHED BUSINESS – BikingMan Corsica 2019.

Unfinished Business – a predominant reason to take on my 2nd Unsupported Ultra cycling race. Since BikingMan Oman in February, instead of being satisfied by actually completing 1,000km in one go and then closing that book, I had been haunted by the thoughts of ‘I can do better’.

So here we are, 8 weeks later, in Corsica, where the 2nd race of the BikingMan Sprint Ultra World Series is taking place. It’s a mission of BikingMan to take riders to unique, adventurous and epic locations across the world, the majority of the places where you probably wouldn’t for a split second think of taking your bike. And here they certainly don’t fail. What a fantastic opportunity to explore random places in the world, while being united with fascinating and inspiring people from all walks of life, all joining together to complete these extreme cycling challenges, each at their own pace and for their own personal reasons.

I always had Corsica and Sardinia on my bucket list of places to visit, but this was the chance to actually do a loop on two wheels around the island of Corsica, ‘I’m in’.

Corsica, also known as ‘The Mountain in the Sea’, nothing flat and nothing straight. Like seriously nothing. The highest peak on Corsica, Monte Cinto, rises 2,706m above sea level.

BIKINGMAN CORSICA – Course and Profile

Just under 700km, with just under 13,000m of climbing.

THE DAY BEFORE – and last minute changes

We arrive at the start /finish campsite the day before. I have mixed feelings and priorities between catching up with the wonderful BikingMan riders, organizers and volunteers – and the slightly stressful preparation of getting bike, bags, food, maps etc. organized, loaded and ready. Do not forget anything! I also made a last minute decision to remove my aero bars from my bike. Why? Because the majority of the other riders didn’t have them fitted, especially the top guys. I copy the top guys. Watch the best. Learn from the best. Could be risky removing the position of relaxation while riding, but I have to be ambitious and confident; if they can do it, so can I.

Bike and equipment of choice: My regular BMC SLR01 road race bike, loaded with bags to carry essential items, clothing and fuel for unsupported ultra.

MY STRATEGY

My strategy is yet again to test myself, push limits and learn about my mental and physical capabilities. It is entirely a personal challenge. But I want to push myself further than in Oman. The course profile on Corsica is more demanding. I am confident I will have to step up another level.

From my first ultra experience in Oman, I also want to try and minimize ‘waste time’ (which is probably anything that brings pleasure).

I am also pretty certain that for the first time I have to sleep. I mean 13,000m elevation, that’s a lot of physical exertion. But once again I don’t have a plan. I have never before put myself through a challenge of this size. I will go with the flow and listen to my body’s signals. Ultra is hard to plan, anything can happen. My strategy: keep calm and keep pedaling. And deal with practical or physical obstacles and barriers as they emerge. Remember to eat and drink. And don’t stop unless it’s really necessary.

START TO CP1 – 180km / 4,150m elevation

We set off from the campsite in the dark at 5am and head pretty much straight out to a climb. I hadn’t really studied the route map. Why? Because it is non stop ascending and descending for 700km. When it goes up, keep pedaling and when it goes down, keep pedaling. That’s all I needed to know for myself. The first climb is longer than I expected and I find myself digging deep to stay near the front, closing in on max heart rate. This is not how ultra is done. I surrender and let go. Relax Helle, there are still 690km to go. It is dusk with lightly drizzling rain when I reach the top of this first climb, alone at the time, somewhere in between all the other riders, and I look forward to flying down the first ascend. I take off downhill, ‘Bib bib’ (Off course!). Argghh, hammer the breaks and turn around. How could I miss ‘the right road’?? Okay, enough. Two mistakes in the first hour. Concentrate Helle! I got on the right descent and I quickly realized how cold it was. I was shivering heading down the other side. This was also my first introduction to the mountain / forest roads of Corsica; half broken, half patched up, narrow rollercoaster roads, left right left right left right. 100% concentration required.

I feel good. I push on through the day, maybe I push too much, I am willing to take the risk and test myself. I am here to test myself anyway, so let’s go. I am actually freezing most of the day, it’s around 7 degrees Celsius descending from the peaks, but of course the body heats up on the climbs. I didn’t care to change clothes. I remained too cold on the descents and too hot on the ascents. Overheating on some body parts actually felt quite good after being too cold. I reach CP1 as the female leader (and 29th overall) in 9 hrs 24mins after an interesting first day in the mountainous forests, dodging road traffic in forms of cows, pigs and a near head-on collision with a massive hairy donkey. But I must also say I was WOW’ed by the Corsican forest terrains and the snow topped mountains in the distance. Gorgeous landscape. I had stopped only a few times to refill my water bottles, learning that there are pretty much nowhere to refuel and restock, only the odd water fountain, but you gotta keep your eyes open.

At CP1 I set myself a target of 1 hour. I have 1 hour to take rest and get myself sorted to get back on the road ‘fresh’. In this time I manage to freshen and crème up, charge devices, eat a hot meal, drink a hot tea and get a massage. Rest not so much. I don’t really talk to any of the other riders either. I don’t really have (or make) time. I stay focused on my one hour target. After the massage, mainly on my lower back and neck, I slip into my ice cold wet jersey and carry on. I never really manage to get fully warm in that one hour.

Focused at CP1

CP1 to CP2 –140km / 2,380m elevation

To be quite honest, I don’t actually remember the details of this section. Perhaps I was getting tired. Perhaps I was cold. I don’t have any footage or pictures either from this section and that means only one thing; I didn’t have the capacity to take my phone out. One thing to note about this terrain, is that it requires 100% concentration. Eyes on the road. Eyes on the GPS. Always being alert. Non stop bike handling, changing and reacting, left, right, up, down, break, turn… repeat. Fiddling with a phone; reading messages, checking the tracker, posting videos while cycling? Forget it! It is simply too energy consuming, too risky. I stop once in a shop of rare occurrence to stock up on chocolate, biscuits, Haribos and coke.

I reach CP2 still as the female leader (and now 26th overall) at 11pm after being on the road for a total of 18 hours (having covered now total 320km and 6,530m elevation). I am very cold.

I know I need a good rest. But I don’t know how much. I notice there are a fair amount of male riders sleeping at CP2 and the men arriving, while I am eating my hot meal, are all going to sleep…. Hmmm….

I consider two possible scenarios 1) These guys are clever taking some rest, I should probably do the same 2) Do I really want to sleep? Or do I want to get a head start and head out into the night pushing myself to my limits?

I take a good long 2-2 ½ hours rest, incl. 20-30 mins rest lying down on a mattress, but I am too afraid to close my eyes. It’s unknown. I never practiced sleeping in the middle of a ride. I don’t know how I will feel if I close my eyes. I don’t even know if I will wake up again. I am too afraid to sleep. I check the tracker, it is a race after all. The positioning of the other riders will help me decide what I want to do. Eleonora, female rider in 2nd position is around 80-100km behind, I could easily take a good nap and cut down on the time spent riding in the dark and cold and still get a head start out of CP2. I count the male riders on the course in front of me. 14 male riders.

To stay or to go? Making decisions at CP2

CP2 to CP3 – 190km / 3,550m elevation

But I can’t help myself. I get ambitious and stubborn. I have to go. It’s past midnight. It’s cold. I wrap up in all clothes I have brought with me (which is not a lot by the way). At approximately 01:30 I head into the dark and cold night. It’s pitch black. After only minutes of riding, my legs are burning, Garmin says 12%, 13%, 14%. Ah that’s why. I am on a steep climb. Can’t see a damn thing. I head down a long descent, I go as fast as possible. I can’t see more than 3 meters ahead in the dark. I use my Garmin GPS route to foresee the sharpness of the bends and I literally break according to the route displayed on my Garmin, rather than looking at the shape of the road.

So this is pretty much how the entire night goes. I can’t see a damn thing. It’s around 5 degrees average all night, the coldest 5 degrees I have ever experienced (lowest temperature recorded on my device is 3C) . I am freezing all night. On all descends I pray for the next climb to appear, I’d rather do the work and stay warm-ish. Fingers and toes, forget it, freezing no matter what.

I roll through the night time darkness. There is nothing pleasant about it. No opportunity to stop ever presents itself. There is nowhere to get warm, nothing open, no bathrooms, I also only find one water fountain the entire night. Luckily I didn’t drink much in the cold. There really is no option other than to ride on. Even if I did want to stop and rest. I could not. If I stopped I would get more cold.

In the early dark morning hours, I reach the sea side. I hear the waves crushing into the shore. It sounds wonderful, I can’t see anything. I pass something that could potentially be exceptionally beautiful. I am riding on a narrow snaking cliff road, the rock formations around me look different, could be spectacular. I have a feeling this is a place not to miss. I totally missed it. I can’t even tell you where I was. I never even paid attention to any names along the way. I just followed the route on my GPS and the road in front of me.

So this is what I missed…

Dusk arrives and the picture perfect rocky shoreline finally appears before my tired eyes. Tired because I have been going now for 25-26 hours and tired because 100% concentration from my eyes had been required, especially through the night. Although daylight approaches and the sun emerges too, I am cold to the bone and it doesn’t change much in daylight. I can’t do anything but keep riding. The route takes me away from the shoreline and along some fields and these fields take me on to yet another climb. It’s around 8am and the cars passing by are not frequent, but pretty regular. I need the bathroom. Like I really need the bathroom. I also have a feeling my period has arrived in the early morning hours. It is not great timing. It is not pleasant. I really need to stop and get organized. I am riding along fields. No trees. No big rocks. No nothing. I keep pedaling. I need just one tree to appear, just something I can hide behind. Finally I find a small gravel pathway leading a few meters down below from the road. I hope I can hide enough. The dirt road basically become my bathroom. This is maybe the part we don’t talk so openly about. I’ll spare you for the details this time, but this is the reality of ultra cycling, we have to deal with whatever is available, or in some cases we have to deal with nothing being available. This is as far from glamorous as it can be. I feel better after ‘organizing myself’, relieved and I head up the climb.

I am moving upwards with about 8km/h, that’s too slow, I am basically not moving, I know what is happening, I have bonked. I have to stop in the middle of the climb, get off the bike and sit down. It’s not working, I am empty. I have almost 10,000m elevation in my legs, never been here before. I have now been riding for around 8 hours in the cold night since leaving CP2 and only filled my water bottles once. I have been rationing on water too. I take out electrolytes and salt and add it to my last drops of water. I empty my packet of Haribos and have another 5 degree Snickers, hard as a brick, it gives me zero satisfaction. Back on the bike. I can’t sit there on the middle of the climb and wait for what? Keep moving forward. I make it to the top and down the descent. I pedal straight into a Spar Supermarket at 9:30am, first shop I see open in maybe 12-14 hours. I have completely bonked. And I have totally underestimated how much energy it takes to stay warm. I have been cold pretty much non-stop for 28 hours. How many calories did I actually burn climbing and freezing all night? I raid the shop and sit on the tarmac in the sun to warm up. 2 cokes, the entire pack of chocolate biscuits and a block of chocolate. All in. I need to feed my muscles.

50km to CP3. I can do that. At some point I am riding along a tree lined uneven road surface, I feel the vibration through my stiff road bike frame, my whole body is aching. BikingMan always have something up their sleeve, they throw in little surprises, and at the moment in time, I am sure we are all cursing. They do this, so we have ‘something special to talk about when we reflect and share our stories from the course, our most memorable moments’. It’s working. This time they put CP3 on the top of a 5km climb, with a steep ramp leading to the actual check point facility. I bet the organizers are all laughing while us riders are swearing. I make it to CP3, after being on the road for just under 31 hours total, still leading the female race and arriving in 17th place overall. I have now covered total 510km and over 10,000m elevation. I am still watching my resting time. I am not too strict, but I am watching the clock.

CP3 to Finish –180km / 2,550m elevation

The home stretch, supposedly the ‘easiest’ section. I leave CP3 at 1pm in the afternoon. Nothing is easy by now. My target is to ride as little time as possible in the cold and dark. And certainly to avoid riding through the night, also to avoid the appearance of hallucinations. I am not sure I can ever recover properly from hitting the wall after the night. I have to just plot along to the finish line with whatever is left in the tank at whatever speed is possible. As long as I keep pedaling, I will eventually reach the finish line, right? Keep going until it’s done.

I have to pass 3 longer climbs on this final section. It’s a beautiful sunny day at least. We even reach 24 degrees Celsius. I have been cold to the bone and around the back of my neck for so many hours, that I keep pretty much all my clothes on; on some parts of my body, I never really get warm and on others I am overheating.  I ride high up on the cliff side overlooking the azure blue ocean, simply breath taking. I don’t have extra capacity to take my phone out. I always try my best to share my journey live on social media, but I simply didn’t have any more capacity at this time; anything but pedaling and staring at the road, takes too much energy.

Before the last of the three climbs, we are being diverted to loop around a cap. The road down to sea level is complete broken. I ride a stiff road bike frame with carbon deep rim wheels and 25mm tires pumped to 100psi. I hammer down the broken road, I just need to finish this section as fast as possible! I am close to crying. Every part of my body hurts as the vibrations hammer through my tired body, and I also realize I have a banging head ache. Final climb of the course. I climb up to the exact same point that took me down. Typical BikingMan; adding an extra challenge, adding to the list of memorable moments, for great story telling. Admittedly, it is pretty gorgeous. I feel a bit jealous of those not racing and actually enjoying these spectacular areas of Corsica. I just wanted to get home, to avoid too much darkness and to put an end to this ache.

The male rider behind me, Corsican resident Seb, catch up with me at the top of this climb and we kind off descend together and head together on to the last 40km section towards the finish line. We watch the sun set in the distance and it starts to get cold again.

Seb pushes on, I simply can’t squeeze enough out of my tank to stay by his side, even on the reasonably flat sections. I have nothing left, I have only just enough to survive the last 30km. Reaching Bastia, a main port of Corsica, 10km before the finish line, one speed bump after the other covers the road. At this point there isn’t one part of my body that doesn’t hurt. I know exactly the consequences of hitting a speed bump. I scream out loud to help myself get distracted and to exhale through the painful vibration through my cold, aching body; every muscle, every joint, every bone, every old injury, every brain cell. I howl crossing every speed bump, while crying in between. Tears flying. Pedaling and sobbing the last 10km to the finish line. I can’t take anymore. Two things are going through my mind 1) I have never been waiting this hard to cross a finish line, I am literally at the edge of my limits 2) If this wasn’t the end of the course, I would have refused to continue without rest and warming up. I couldn’t take the pain any longer.

EMOTIONLESS FINISH – 690km / 12,600m elevation

I reach the finish line at 11pm after 41 hours on the course. On the final day I was aiming to finish UNDER 40 hours, but I was so empty I was riding snail pace through the final section. As I roll on to the red carpet, I can hardly clip out. EVERYTHING HURTS. I am so relieved to be home, and to put an end to this pain. Cold blooded, literally speaking. I don’t care much about celebrating, eating or anything else. I am the first female rider back to camp and I lost only one place since CP3 and finish 18th overall (of around 70 riders). I couldn’t think of anything but getting in a hot shower and straight to bed and finally close my eyes after almost 2 days straight awake.

Relieved to finish – 1st female / 18th overall

PAIN BY CHOICE

There are many times along the way of my ultra races where I envy those riders enjoying the ride, enjoying the landscape, enjoying exploring new areas and countries, sampling local cuisine and meeting local people.

But I can’t. I haven’t learnt to enjoy that part of racing yet. I am racing myself, hard. I race myself to the ground, even when I have no immediate competition. I am my own biggest competition. I go hard against myself. I choose to push through the pain. I choose pain.

I am still new to ultra racing. I am not smart. I don’t think it’s smart to choose pain. I realize I have quite a large mental and physical capacity. I have only learnt this about myself this year through my two BikingMan Sprint Ultra Races. I can shut down emotions and eliminate fear. I can ride through pain. But I am not a smart ultra racer… yet.

WHAT’S NEXT?

I am not sure. I need to make some decisions. Is ultra racing something I want to do? I am not content with ‘just completing’. If I choose to do ultra racing more long term, then I want to put in the investments to become better. Set higher goals. Become more structured. Become more clever. To push my limits further. And very importantly, I have to learn to enjoy the journey as well. Let’s see what comes next….

Some interesting facts from my race

  • I didn’t train for Corsica; in fact the 3 weeks leading up to Corsica I had an extra big load in my daytime job and I nearly cancelled the travel due to exhaustion.
  • 4 weeks before Corsica I completed an Everesting in rain and cold. I didn’t want to jinx myself, but I was certain I was put through such misery in preparation for Corsica. It kept me strong.
  • I raced through Corsica with only just the most basic measures; time, distance, elevation, grade, temperature and time of the day. No power. No heart rate. No performance measures. I performed by feeling – and will power.
  • I carried 3 dry ham and cheese sandwiches and 3 rock hard Snickers all the way around the island. I just couldn’t face eating them, even through times of low energy and struggle.
  • I started getting lower back discomfort after only one hour. It continued for all 41 hours.
  • I had prepared some epic music playlists, however the course and profile required full concentration the entire way. I never listened to music.

BikingMan Sprint Ultra World Series

If you are interested in participating, either as a first time ultra rider or as an experienced ultra racer, BikingMan has another three epic ultra races on their 2019 calendar:

  • BikingMan Peru / Incadivide – 14 August 2019
  • BikingMan Portugal – 23 September 2019
  • BikingMan Taiwan – 4 November 2019

More info below:


Events Mental Toughness Racing Travel Ultra Cycling Uncategorized

I said I would never do it again – here’s why I am going back for more #ULTRA2

Before, during and after my first ever (unsupported) ultra cycling race, BikingMan Oman, 1000km with 7,200m elevation meters, I said it countless times; selling it to myself and also attempting to convince others (who just looked at me and laughed… “yeah yeah… you have no idea, just wait and see”), I WILL NEVER DO IT AGAIN!

Ultra cycling is one the most ridiculous thing I have ever done in my life.

I’ll tell you why:

  1. It’s long, it’s stupid long, there is just no need to cycle that long, what for?
  2. It’s lonely. Yes, the actual event is lonely, from start line to finish line, but that I don’t mind that so much, because something happens when the gun goes off and I know I have to deal with myself and my mission, totally alone. This is actually a unique opportunity to learn about one self. In my opinion, it is more so the demands of the training which is the harder part. Because how can you possibly ask someone or anyone not into ultra “hey, you fancy going on a 8hr slow ride?” Hell no they don’t! Training is ultimately long and lonely. And this is even coming from someone who is very comfortable in her own company and even so often prefer yet. Yet, I still think it is lonely at another level. Do I enjoy the long and lonely training – and the long and lonely drives to training? Not that much.
  3. It’s painful. Yes, it’s going to be painful. It will probably happen to most riders. We just deal with it. And then we heal. But during the times of dealing with the pain and no way to escape it, again I swear to myself; I will never do it again!
  4. Wet, cold, tired, even freezing. How about dealing with bad weather? There’s no escape. Fun? No!
  5. Mechanical issues. Well well, if you are not a bike mechanic, or like myself, don’t have any interest in repairing bikes, well then you might be screwed.
  6. Organizational stress. Organizing a million small things; some mandatory, some personally selected, some I don’t have a clue if I will need or not. To carry it, or not to carry it? What if? This might be useful, but what if I’m not going to need it? Borrowing from other riders. Asking for help. Getting help. Argh… It’s stressful. Stressful organizing. Stressful packing. I have said twice now (as I head off to my 2nd Ultra Race); I will not do it again!

Unfinished business

So this is the reason why I am going back. I can’t stop where I started. I am not satisfied. I need to know for myself if I can do better. If you remember from Oman, I rocked up with ‘all the gear and no idea’. I jumped on the bike and started pedaling into the unknown. I had ups and downs, I has mechanical issues and I had pain. I was on a mission to learn about myself, and I dealt with every situation as it appeared. In the latter part of the course (final 300km), I hit race mode, flicked my psycho switch and will-powered (because there was zero physical power left) through the ridiculous Omani hills, crossing the finish line Top 10 overall and 2nd Woman (53 mins after female winner Jasmijn Muller). I was overwhelmed and surprised, but admittedly pretty chuffed with that result for my first ever ultra. I remember my exact feeling at the finish; Good I did so well, I have now proved to myself that I can do ultra cycling well and there is no need to do it again!

Was I physically strong in Oman? I am not sure. Was I mentally strong? Yes. Was in control of myself and my situation? Absolutely yes. Was it beginners luck? No, I had plenty of problems along the way. Was I efficient? No (not enough). Did I waste more than 53 mins? I would say yes. Do I know where I wasted time? Absolutely yes = unfinished business.

I have to know.

I went to Oman as a beginner. I will now go to Corsica with experience. I am by no means an expert, it takes years and many races to build solid experience. But I have one ultra race under my belt and I know where I should be able to save time (as long as it is within my control). I want to know how I do with my time saving strategies, if I will be able to cover the entire course faster, if I can handle it mentally and physically (there is also risk of breaking down) and if I can be efficient, when there is also the option to take it easy.

BikingMan Corsica – 700km w/ 13,000m elevation.

This is not Oman. This is Corsica. It’s way more hilly, it’s colder, it’s wetter. There may even be encounters with angry stray dogs. I have never been to Corsica, but it also looks absolutely stunning, I hope I will be able to take in the breathtaking views and not miss too many beautiful places while I pass during night time. Once again I will be heading into unknown territory, geographically. But this time, I believe I know what to expect, from myself. I believe I know my ultra cycling strengths and weaknesses, to a certain extend. I have mentally prepared myself for above mentioned reasons for not doing it; loneliness, potential bad weather and PAIN.

ALL IN.

I aim to go all in. Push myself harder than Oman. Enjoy the dot watching.

Race starts 29th April 2019 at 5am GMT+1

Around Corsica:
700km w/ 13,000m elevation

Corsica, France

Mental Toughness Racing Road Cycling Travel Ultra Cycling

My First Ultra Cycling Race – BikingMan Oman 2019

I had no idea what to expect when I entered my first ever ultra cycling event in Oman, covering over 1,000km and 7,200m elevation. But I aimed to push myself to the limit. I share my journey capturing my highs and lows. The result is surprising….

“You have no idea what you are capable of unless you try”


Mental Toughness Travel Uncategorized

Mt Ventoux – 3 times to the summit, in one day

3 days before…

Back tracking three days, I climbed up this epic mountain for the first time ever via the Bedoin side, the most famous of the three; the side you see in Tour de France. It was cold and windy at the top and I could hardly see that epic tower although standing right below it, by the summit sign. I couldn’t get down fast enough either due to the cold wind ripping through my sweat soaked cycle kit.

2 days before…

The day after, two days ago, I took the scenic route via Gorges de la Nesque (20K at 2.3% avg) to Sault, which is another entry to the summit of Mt Ventoux. It was a very windy day; in fact, it was an extremely windy day. It was pretty much a battle all day, beautiful too, without a doubt, a beautiful battle. After climbing a total of ca. 40K I reached that epic bald part of Mt Ventoux (6K to the summit on the open bald top of Ventoux) and that’s where the wind or lets refer to it as ‘the storm’ took a decisive and firm hold of me and my bike with 60mm rims. The descenders passed me slowly and narrowly as I moved upwards, half of them walking down, almost leaning up against the mountain side with a firm grip on their bikes, while the others rolled slowly past, on the wrong side of the road, the one with the least chance of getting blown off the side, with one foot clipped in and one foot ready to catch them on the road. I continued upwards, with the firmest grip I ever had on my handlebar, biceps fully contracted, core as ready as if I was taking a punch to the stomach. On the steepest section towards the ‘windy pass’ at 1,830m (Col des Tempetes), I got blown off my bike. One, two, three… Push hard to get back on! I reached Col de Tempetes – and stopped. I have never experienced wind that strong in my life. The Summit was only 600m away (or 79m of elevation (of 1,909m total). I couldn’t actually see the tower for the dark cloud that I was already surrounded by, and moving with storm like speeds.  But I knew it was right there above me, because I was there yesterday. The wind on the ‘windy pass’ was so hard, I gulped big lumps of air when breathing in (and talking to my Instagram storyline, because it would be rude not to show those crazy wind conditions to those who would care). ‘’To continue or not continue’’, was the question on my mind as I was fighting to even stand straight and hold on to my bike. Make a decision quick. It wasn’t easy. 79 meters from the summit and then bailing? WTF. I was there yesterday, also covered in a grey cloud, there was nothing to see. Continue the last few meters, see nothing, and take a risk of getting blown off the bike? WTF. That doesn’t make sense either. Arghhhh….

I am super proud of myself for turning around. Not worth the risk I decided. There is also a day tomorrow. With a 60mm flat racing wheel set, I opted for the ‘one foot clipped in’ option and descended like most others in the wrong side of the road, believing the risk of hitting the front of a car was far less than getting blown off the mountain side.

The day before… Rest day?

Yesterday, it was another crazy windy day. I decided to ‘stay away from the mountain’ and instead venture out on a relatively flat and easy day. I chose to explore the vineyards to the west of Mt Ventoux. This day however turned out to become a 3 hours fight with the wind through the open grape fields. A mental and physical battle on the ‘easy day’. I did though enjoy the concorde like 15K ride home from Malaucine to Carpentras. Into the drops, catapulted forwards by the wind, highest watt output possible, time trial mode; -1% or so average too. I was home in no time, with 5 QOMs to my name. Sometimes I really do LOVE the wind. That part was fun!

Going Triple Whammy

Today, finally, it’s a beautiful day, with a blue sky and from what I judge on my hotel balcony, less windy. I feel like a long day on the bike, a nice one, not one going into battle. Ever since my amazing travel buddy Jannie casually mentioned, on our road trip from Cote d’Azur to Provence, that there is always the option to climb Ventoux from all three sides in one day, I initially brushed it off as being a little crazy, but it kinda stuck to my mind too. Anyway, I stuffed my jersey pockets accordingly, 3 gels (one for each potential climb), 2 natural energy bars (a few bites here and there for sustainable energy and avoiding getting hungry) and a wind jacket. I know I would be kicking myself if I had ‘a good day’, but with empty pockets. My friends had other plans for today, so I took off solo.

SUMMIT ONE (via Malaucine) – 21K @ 7.2% (max 12%) and 1,540m of elevation – 1hr 53mins

I had already climbed up Ventoux the days before via Bedoin and Sault, so of course I started here. I would go as far as saying this is my favourite side. The climb has some very steep and unforgiving sections, but what I love on this side is that you are also randomly met by sections of 4-5% which certainly feels like a nice break from 10 and 11%. While counting down the kilometres one by one via the road signs, the gradient varies all the time making the kilometres tick by even faster, in my opinion. Furthermore, as you pass the 10K and halfway mark, you get frequently surprised by the utterly breath taking French Alpine mountain range behind Ventoux. The temptation to stop is as great as when you pass the ice cream shop on a warm summer day; however I resisted. And I promise you, no need to stop along the way, just take in what you can while continuously pedalling towards the top, because by far the greatest view of the French Alps in the distance, is from the very top. As you turn around the bend with 2K to the summit, that EPIC tower appears before your eyes for the very first time, standing tall, close and visible (under a blue sky at least). Boom! Suddenly it’s there, so close. WOW! I am pretty certain that no matter what it took to get to that 19K mark, what went through your mind in the last 1hr 45mins and how loud your legs might have been screaming at you; it’s already forgotten. And even better, anything can be concurred in only 2K.

For me personally, I felt good. I stuck to my plan, climbed steadily with average watt output a little over target. Completely blown away by occasional peeps through the trees over the mountain range. Minimal wind and warm sunshine. It’s only midday as I reach the summit. Body, legs and mind feeling completely normal. Another day, another mountain – as some would say. No drama. No problems. But that was EPIC!

image3(1)

Let’s do it again!

SUMMIT TWO (via Bedoin) – 21K @ 7.6% (max 12%) and 1640m elevation – 1hr 50mins

The descent from the summit to Bedoin town is one of my favourites ever! There are almost no switch backs and there are both longer straight and steeper sections and perfectly proportioned bends to really get some none-nerve wracking and truly exhilarating speed going. You can take on almost the entire 21K downhill without breaking hard and without breaking much. It’s A-MAZING!

Quick coffee in Bedoin, where it’s almost too hot to sit in the sun – and up I go again. As I pass through the first 6K in the open landscape, the tower seems so far away. My Garmin is a bit frozen and doesn’t record either gradient, elevation or temperature. As I climb through the uncompromising 9-10K middle section I am quite happy to be unaware, visually, of the gradients on the climb. While physically, does it really matter? For every pedal stroke I will get closer to the summit, no matter how steep or how long it is. The last 6K of the climb from this side is that EPIC bald part. The gradient drops a bit, the view of Provence appears and the tower is now within reach. It is truly EPIC! I reach the summit for the 2nd time today feeling nothing, but happiness. Again I was pretty much on target with my watt output, only a little over target again. Time has no relevance today. Only power. I can do this again, of course I can. It’s only the middle of the afternoon. It is still warm and sunny, with only very little wind. Would I even consider ‘just’ climbing up twice on a day like this? Never. When it’s in my head, it will be completed.

Let’s do it again!

SUMMIT THREE (via Sault) – 26K @ 4.5% (max 11%) and 1,220m elevation – 1hr 45mins

There’s some work to be done on the descent to Sault. Quick coffee stop in the warm sun – and off I go again. The first few Ks run through the open lavender fields. Two days ago I was being bashed around by the wind here. Today is much calmer. Let’s put it this way, I can now feel my legs. They are not fatiqued, but I can feel them. I have long forgotten about my saddle sores; it’s like they never existed. My neck muscles are starting to feel a little tender. I strategically left the Sault side to last as it is the easiest. Not too much pressure on the legs; just keep pedalling. It is also the least exciting side. There is not much to see really. Most of the road is hidden away by trees and mountain side. Every now and again the view over the landscape towards the Nice area appears. It’s nothing to write home about. There is some false flat the last few Ks before reaching the bald part, it feels really good to collect some speed here. Hello! There it is again, the bald part and the tower. I am still feeling good. It is now around 5pm and I have surpassed the crazy busy window of cycling enthusiasts moving up and down the mountain side. I pretty much have that EPIC road to myself. I am still feeling good. I have no problems reaching the summit for the 3rd and final time this afternoon. I am a little under target with my power output on this final ascent, no surprise there really (and also, I am of course already planning a ‘recovery ride to the summit’ tomorrow).

My unofficial Mt Ventoux Triple Whammy… Done!

Just because it was a nice day for it 🙂

image2(2)

For once, there were no obstacles on my way. I never felt any mental or physical fatigue. I just wanted to ride my bike all day.  I thoroughly enjoyed every pedal stroke. I am even convinced I smiled all the way. I never had any doubt if I was capable or not; of course I am capable. It was a beautiful warm and sunny day; not too hot and not too windy. I just took one climb at the time. Standing at the summit for the final time, I smiled to myself; honestly I am still not tired, luckily, as I still have around 40K home….

And sure enough I did the next day summit Mt Ventoux (via Malaucine) for the 6th and final time, in 4 days total.

image1(4)

Stats for the 3x Ventoux:

173km (from Carpentras)

5,050 elevation meters

68km of climbing

8 hours 28 mins total

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mental Toughness Racing Travel Uncategorized

‘Something borrowed’ – Danish Nationals 2017, ITT

I wasn’t even meant to take part. I had registered before the deadline to leave the option of participation open. But I had failed to read the rule book of the Danish Cycling Federation and therefore I was oblivious to the paragraph of ‘binding registration’. I decided against participation even before leaving Dubai and after extensive research, when I discovered the practical, logistical and financial efforts and implications of bringing two bikes from the Middle East to a faraway place in Jutland, Denmark, on a solo journey. I accepted and decided against it. And also I have only really started training more specifically on the TT bike four months ago, along with participation in only three ITT events locally during this time. I took off happily from Dubai with my road bike only.

I learnt about the rules of the ‘binding registration’ as well as the extortionate cancellation fee only 48 hours before the start of the ITT event. To be fair, the rules and regulations are there for a reason and I do take full responsibility for not reading them before submitting my registration. Done is done and I accept the consequences. Luckily the consequences were no worse than I was pretty much forced to take part in the ITT Nationals 2017. It could have been a lot worse really.

I considered my options carefully:

1) Roll down the ramp on my road bike, and then exit the course, accepting a DNF.
2) Perform a personal test on my road bike on the ITT course, and finish most likely as the only rider on a road bike and with a potentially ‘embarrassing time’.
3) Perform some sort of max power test, and then exit the course before the finish line, accepting a DNF and avoiding an ‘embarrassing time’.
4) Get hold of a TT bike? (not an easy task this close to the event)

Not yet having made a final decision 24 hours before ‘my start time’, miraculously my friend Svend appeared with an offer to compete on his TT bike. “Take my bike! I am there anyway acting as support for one of the girls. I’ll bring everything for you”, Svend almost demanded, “I have seen all the training you have done. You’ve got this”. The stars somehow aligned.

At the race destination, I met with Svend 2 hours before my start time. Svend pulled out his tool box and adjusted his bike set up as close as possible to my own bike measurements. Not one measurement was correct. But all were within a few centimeters deviation and as I made an easy roll on the bike to collect my start number and back again with a plastic bag in one hand, I decided “yes, it’s going to be okay, it fits okay for 28km”.

I changed back to my road bike and warmed up on the turbo trainer (supplied by Svend). I didn’t ride the TT bike again before I jumped onto it on the start ramp.

Warming up

 

For those of you who do bike racing, you know it’s not an easy task to do alone: drive to destination, find your way, find parking in town via roads that are already closed off, and collect race number in one area and timing chip in another. Go to the loo (at least 3 times), change clothes, set up bike, find tools, buy water, get all stuff organised, eat and drink the right thing at the right time, don’t get too hot, don’t get too cold, warm up (not too early and not too late), stay warm and hydrated on the start line, but don’t carry too much stuff…. Clear the mind and get focused on the task ahead….; the list goes on, and it’s almost impossible to handle this solo and at the same time be fully focused, stress free and perfectly warm for the competition. I have been in this situation countless of times before when travelling alone for competitions. And every time when I have jumped on my bike stressed or cold, I have asked myself the same question: “Why? Why are you putting yourself through this?”.

And here I was again! On all borrowed equipment, set up right before the start of a small event called the Nationals, a competition between the best in the country.

With huge thanks to both Svend and my dear mother, who offered their support from their big hearts, I even managed to fit in a 30 mins warm up on the turbo trainer. Svend supplied the equipment, while my mother unofficially accepted the role as my race assistant. “Mum, I’m running out of water, can you please find some more. Mum, can you please find some tape or cable ties to fit my timing chip. Mum, can you please pull out my vaseline in the right pocket of my sports bag. Mum, can you please add electrolytes to my water bottle. Mum… Mum… Mum… Please… Please… Please…“. Bless my mum. It was her first time being support at a race and I was literally dishing out orders to a clueless helper, while turning my legs on the turbo trainer. It was either that – or start the ITT cold. I cannot thank my mother or Svend enough for their flexibility, patience and generosity.

On another positive note and under the circumstances I was probably the calmest I have been in a long time. No one had any expectations of me. But more importantly, I didn’t have any expectations of myself either. I was out swimming with the big fish, against all odds. The best I could do, was to give the best of myself, on someone else’s equipment. I came into the competition expecting to place last. I would be very happy if I achieved 2nd from the bottom. Let’s not forget I was lining up with the best in the country, incl. 7 World Tour riders.

Off we go

To be honest, I hadn’t even looked at the route in detail (just to make it clear, I would never consider not studying the route under more controlled and competitive circumstances). I heard it was flat with 22 turns. Okay, let’s go! As there was no power meter on the bike, I just received one last minute advice from my faraway coach: “Don’t go too hard in the beginning – and then use your heart rate as a monitor”. I rolled down the ramp and maneuvered out of town behind my personal marshal motor bike. “Don’t go too hard!”… But what does that actually mean? How do you control that ‘feeling’, when you are supposed to give your all, over ca. 45 mins; you have fresh legs and the adrenaline is pumping? I wasn’t sure to be honest. I wasn’t sure of the exact feeling. But I knew I didn’t want to give ‘too little’. I lack experience of my self-awareness.

Just to make you aware that 22 turns, is 22 turns more than what we have on our UAE tracks; NAS, Al Qudra and Al Wathba, where we have zero turns. At home we put the hammer down from start to finish, that’s it. Get measured on raw power. I am not entirely sure how to turn a TT bike efficiently and safely. Again, I lack experience. I decided to take the same line as the motor bike in front of me through every turn. And I decided it would not be worth taking any risks and potentially causing damage to myself or my borrowed equipment. After ca. 10K, I realized and I had to accept that after all I had started too hard. Everything hurt and I was forced to take it down a notch. At this time I was on a long straight, but I only discovered I was on a long straight when I was far enough into it, to realize it was a long straight (lack of preparation). It was quite hard to swallow that I didn’t have full power down the straight (it wouldn’t necessarily make much of a difference to the bottom of the results list, but it would make a difference to my personal performance, judgement of effort and certainly confidence). I was overtaken too. In the UAE I haven’t yet been overtaken (by women). I was totally prepared to get overtaken going into this competition however, but I didn’t know how it would feel, until it happened. I definitely spent some time (and maybe also energy), seconds or minutes, I can’t remember, to deal with it mentally and emotionally. Also around the 10km mark, both my feet started to cramp, like serious pain in both my feet. I had simply tightened my shoes too hard. I don’t know what I was thinking when I was standing in line to the ramp. I always tighten my shoes before I take on a sprint for the finish line. Subconsciously, I tightened my shoes before jumping on the bike. Tight shoes for the best performance. Big mistake. The pain was almost unbearable. I spent a considerable amount of time weighing the two options: 1) loosen both shoes (consequence: a significant drop in speed and momentum) or 2) suck it up and continue riding in pain. I chose the first option as I was coming out of a turn and reached down on both sides. The shoe strings didn’t at all loosen enough. And I still took the loss of speed and momentum. Ah dammit. I’ll have to suck it up then. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling at all. In the Summer heat of Dubai riding dehydrated in 40+ degrees celcius, my feet cramp on a weekly basis. I had to continuously wiggle my toes for the rest of the ITT.  Around 20K and 2/3 into the course, I decided to start picking back up again, hurt more and drive my heart rate higher. There was more technical navigation and another long straight along the way. I did the best I could until the finish line. As I came to a stop, I could hardly unclip from the pain in my feet and I had to take a few minutes on the side, before getting a normal feeling back in the feet and being able to walk again. Quite frankly, I had no idea how I performed. Without a power meter it’s also hard to tell. I wasn’t particularly bothered about the final result, in terms of ranking. If I could have had any form of ‘result’ I would have chosen to see my power profile.

As expected I finished last. Number 20 (of 23 starters and 20 finishers). But you know what? It was not a bad time at all! Under the circumstances, I am quite proud to say I am in the top 20 best time trialists in Denmark in 2017! And I am still in possession of US$ 300 (which would have been the penalty fee for cancelling) minus the penalty for the, also borrowed, non-club kit at US$ 45.

The icing on the cake, was after the event when I caught up with the rider (placing 2nd last) and her coach. Their positive attitude, laughter and healthy delight of beating my time and not placing last in the Nationals, really, it was priceless. Just for that enjoyment factor, I was happy to take the bottom spot in the ranks.

Always happy

After completing ITT Nationals under these circumstances, again I tell myself “No more of this Helle. Come prepared, with the appropriate support and equipment – or stay away”. On the other hand, with the time and effort I put into my cycling, I am equally intrigued to witness what I am actually capable off, under the right circumstances.

Will I return next year? Right now I am thinking: “Probably not for the Elite Nationals. Definitely for the Masters Nationals! (if I can bring my own bike along)”. But I have a habit of throwing myself in the deep end. So who knows.

The day after, Svend earned his title as National Champion Para ITT.

Svend - The Champion

Nothing won, nothing lost… But always an experience richer 🙂

Read More