Written by Epic Cycles staff member and brand ambassador Molly Weaver.
It’s been a couple of weeks since I finished the Trans Pyrenees Race (TPR), and I’ve finally recovered enough to write something articulate about the experience. TPR takes in two crossings of the Pyrenees, from one coastline of Spain to the other, and then back again. Around half the route is made up of compulsory parcours which all riders must follow, with the other half being self-routed, linking up checkpoints spread throughout the mountains.
When I finished back in Girona after 6 days, 11 hours, and 36 minutes I had covered over 2000 kilometres and 40,000 m of elevation gain. Through sunshine, mountain storms, ferocious headwinds, sleepless nights, and snow. I was the 2nd woman to cross the finish line after Fiona Kolbinger, and 8th position overall.
A successful race in terms of the result for me; although I’d have loved to have won the women’s race, it’s no shame rolling in one position behind the best ultra racer of a generation, but as always that’s only a part of the story.
Here are some of my lessons learned from the little moments in the madness.
Sometimes the only way forward is back. Ultras are all about keeping moving; the aim of the game is ticking off kilometres as quickly as possible, so anything that halts this seems counter-intuitive. Going off route, off plan, or even doubling back on yourself, feels like the wrong choice. Turns out it’s not that simple in practice; unexpected obstacles are almost guaranteed to present themselves, and making the best decision for long term success is crucial, even if this means momentarily stalling.
I got caught in a storm going through the mountains on my last night of racing, and not only was I soaked through and beginning to get seriously cold even though the sun had only just gone down, descending had also become dangerous and painfully slow with visibility at only a metre or so in front of my wheel.
My position on GC was pretty much set in stone, with no prospect of me catching the rider ahead or the rider behind passing me, and yet it was still difficult to make the decision to go off-route to seek shelter for the night. Ultimately I did, and it was 100% the correct call for both safety and sanity.
The following, and final, day of riding was some of the most enjoyable I’ve ever done, and as an added bonus it was also in glorious sunshine. I finished happy and healthy(ish); it is still an ultra after all.
Save minutes now, lose hours later. The false economy of time saved in missed re-supply stops. Efficiency is a key element of racing an ultra, pausing as little as possible and eliminating wasted time when the wheels do stop turning. However there’s a fine line between making unnecessary stops, giving into anxiety about constantly keeping the metaphorical pantry stocked, and letting crucial resupply opportunities pass you by.
Despite doing in-depth research into my route for TPR, and having made detailed notes of shop locations alongside their opening times, I still rode straight past the final opportunity to get food for almost 24 hours at one point. I was in too much of a rush to double-check, resistant to stopping and ‘wasting time’ in the moment, and ultimately it cost me far more in the long run. Potentially hours instead of maybe 10 or 15 minutes. Grovelling for over a hundred mountainous kilometres in the early hours, running on empty, is not something I would recommend!
Sleep can either be your best friend or your downfall, manage your relationship wisely. The encouragement of sleep deprivation, and how unfortunately necessary it is to compete at the pointy end of ultra races, along with my personal need for a relatively high amount to function at all, makes this one of the trickiest things for me to manage during an event.
It’s taken me a long time to find a sleep ‘schedule’ I’m happy with, and for the first time I think I landed on an amount that balanced fatigue and freshness well. It’s important to largely ignore what other people are doing, and any noise around absolutes when it comes to how little, or indeed how much, you need. We’re all individuals, and making sure you do what’s right for you is the most important thing.
In this edition of TPR I averaged around 3.5 – 4 hours a night, but did this in a more uneven spread over the days. On the nights I slept outside I favoured a shorter nap, which then allowed me a few more hours in bed when in the luxury of a hotel.
Make the best decision you can with the information you have at the time, and then commit. This one’s fairly self explanatory. It’s so easy to make a call on something like a sleep location or time, especially when you’re tired, and then later learn you could have made a better one. But it’s done, and action was likely better than inaction at the time. Don’t waste mental energy second guessing it, move on and move forward.
As always, don’t go out too fast! Hold your nerve, believe in your plan, stay calm in the chaos. It’s no secret that I’m not a fan of the first few hours of an ultra, so it’s a good thing there’s at least a hundred more incredible hours to make up for it!
Despite a more firmly enforced rule to ride solo in Trans Pyrenees than a lot of other ultras (which I agree with completely, but we won’t go down that controversial rabbit hole), the grand depart this year was a mass ‘neutralised’ start with police escort, rather than a staggered start in small waves like previous editions. This led to a lot more opportunity for egos to start flying around, people to get carried away, and the psychological battle to not get sucked into it was on for a lot longer than I would personally have liked.
Despite being dropped way down the field for the first chunk of this one, if it’s not sustainable then you’ll pay for it later, and as always slow and steady won out. Ride within your own limits and relax, you’ll be seeing all those riders who are doing max hill climb efforts later when you overtake them!
Pack the extra layers, you’ll thank yourself later. Now this one comes with caveats, as it depends where the ultra is taking you and what kind of packer you are in the first place! But I learnt this one the hard way throughout the year, and finally nailed the perfect packing for me on TPR. Having headed into a Pyrenean mountain race in the Spring with an insufficient lightweight coat and no down jacket, and suffering the inevitable consequences when a storm rolled in overnight, I decided to pack with a little more caution this time. The forecast is not your friend when it comes to altitude, and a little pessimism is needed.
It didn’t take me long to be incredibly pleased with this choice, heading over the first mountain pass of the race in -2 degrees and heavy snowfall. Double Zoa from Albion, down jacket and a proper coat, hood up and happily cracking on. Lighter isn’t always better, and sometimes comfort is king!
When you’re suffering, so is everyone else. It’s what you do with it that matters. It’s so easy to fall into the trap of thinking everyone else is having the perfect ride, breezing through the mountains around you without a single thing going wrong for them, the weather perfectly clearing above their heads, and they’re not even tired, but this is never the case.
I caught myself leaning into negative thoughts about my own ride, and comparing it to how I imagined others’ were going, a few times during TPR. Getting frustrated with my slow progress while riding into a headwind and imagining how much time other riders were gaining on me, ignoring the fact they were battling the same elements. Allowing myself to stress about covering the kilometres more slowly on the Raid Pyrenean, as if everyone else wasn’t climbing the same mountains.
Comparison is the thief of joy, and in this case it’s also built on a lie. Control the controllable, and focus on your own experience.
Stay in the moment, thinking five days and fifty mountains ahead will only slow you down. In the early stages of an ultra it’s easy to start thinking ‘there’s no way I can do this for another x number of days’, or to start stressing about how you won’t make it to the top while climbing a long mountain pass. None of this is true, so shut it down. The present moment, and planning your stops on any given day, are all that really matters. The rest will come soon enough, especially if you don’t overthink it.
Get up, get out, get moving. It won’t be as bad as you think (probably). You’ve set your alarm, woken up at some ungodly hour in the morning after only a few hours sleep, and then you look out of the window and see the rain pouring and the wind howling.
It was the fourth night for me; I’d arrived at the hotel as the heavens began to open, and as I descended off the mountains that evening I could see the ominous clouds already beginning to gather on the road ahead. It was little surprise that I woke up at 3am to heavy downpours and wanted to roll back over and hunker down for a few more hours, or perhaps days. But I knew I didn’t really want that, the outdoors was just looking especially uninviting in comparison to a roof over my head and a warm bed.
Every minute I wasted I would kick myself for later, regretting my lack of commitment to doing things even when it’s hard, and materially nothing would change. I’d still need to go out into the bad weather and ride my bike all day, so best to not add insult to injury and feel bad about myself while doing it.
Ultimately it wasn’t as cold as it looked, the rain didn’t really bother me, and before I knew it the sun was rising and positive progress was being made. Happy head, fast legs.
Have fun, look around, and remember to enjoy it even when you’re not. We can all be guilty of getting caught up in the race, the end goal, and forget to take in the experience as it unfolds, but remember that this is supposed to be fun!
I was climbing the Tourmalet as the sun began to rise, following a short power nap in a lay-by on the Col d’Aubisque a few hours previously, and all I could think about was how much I was suffering. I hadn’t eaten in almost an entire day, even climbing at an ‘easy’ pace was taking everything I had, and I just wanted it to be over. My enjoyment level was close to non-existent, and then I looked up. What I was met with was one of the most spectacular views I had ever seen, a breathtaking expanse of mountains and valleys. What a gift to be there in that moment, and what a shame it would have been to have let such beauty pass me by.