GBDURO20-Post ride Thoughts
images by @breakawaydigital
As I’m writing this I’m currently sat in a cafe in Fort Augustus in the Scottish Highlands about 1600km through the GBDivide route that GBDURO follows. Its now almost two days since I scratched from the event and my brain has only really been working for half of that. So I thought that I would get some of my initial post event thoughts down on "paper" Whilst I haven't fully had time to digest everything yet my head is full of emotions so recording them now cant be a bad thing.
GBDURO was always a huge target for me, it's probably the closest thing as to what I would describe as my home race. Additionally, the fact that this year I had invested a huge amount of my time behind the scenes helping organising the event with The Racing Collective only further cemented it as my main goal for the season.
The weeks of preparation were certainly worth it and when I lined up on the start line I felt as prepared as I could ever be. Bike setup was perfect, nutrition spot on and I wouldn't have changed much about my equipment.
Although there were only 15 starters there were some big names on the list including fellow MASON teammates Josh Ibbet and Jason Black as well as ex-pro rider and mountain man Svein Tuft. I wasn't too concerned by this by now and knew that I just had to ride my own race and stick to plan. That being to ride hard and stop infrequently, that’s how it worked for the first few hundred Km. I reached Bristol about 24 hours into the race having been stationary for less than an hour. I loaded up of overnight oats at the Clifton Suspension Bridge and headed on my way into Wales.
The first part of the Welsh leg was as tough as I remember yet it was eased a little this year by seeing a few familiar faces on the route cheering me on from a sociable distance. I was aware that I had a lead due to being the only rider to go through the first night, but I wasn’t checking the tracker more than once a day so had no idea how long it was so pushed on regardless. There were some predictably tricky sections in Wales namely the Windy Gap as well as some steep road climbs such as Bwlch y Groes. Yet, it was the some of the more unassuming parts which got me such as the endless miles of forestry tracks through mid Wales or the gravel climb just after Bala. Whilst there were some lows, mainly spirits were high and I was feeling strong, and well rested on the 2 hours of sleep that I treated myself to on night two.
After what seemed like much longer than 36 hours I was out of Wales and heading towards Manchester. My intention was to ride until around 2am get a couple more hours sleep and then get to Manchester before rush hour in the morning. I wasn't feeling overly sleepy but my legs were certainly feeling it as I was struggling to generate enough heat to stay warm on the flatlands of Cheshire so When I spotted a decent bivvy spot half an hour early it was a no brainer.
Two and a half hours of sleep I felt like a new man and was smashing the miles out to Manchester where at least 5 dotwatchers greeted me on the way in. It was quite surreal riding through a large city like that but without stopping. Last year I had been building cravings and shopping lists in my mind that I would be able to fulfil when I arrived yet there was none of that this year, maybe due to the fact that I knew that I wasn't able to resupply I knew I had to be happy with my meal plans so never gave myself that option. It was strangely liberating for sure.
I checked the tracker and saw that I had a four to five hour lead to Josh who was about the same distance to Jason. This was pretty tight for my liking especially as Josh would have slept about 6 hours more than me at this point so I pushed on hard through the Pennines, maybe it was due to the tailwind or just the mood I was in but there were not quite as bad as I remember which I think lulled me into a false sense on security when it came to the Yorkshire Dales.
Nearing the end of day four now I was pleased that I was holding my lead and the strong cross-tailwind I saw as an asset. Crossing the Dales was tough but only really got serious climbing up out of the Ribble valley over the top where the wind which has now so severe that it was hard to stay on the bike without being blown off or even hold gates open. Still no biggie. The problem came when it started raining, this was just when I was starting to drop down a 20km steady road descent. Soon after I was soaked through and due to the wind,
speed and being so exhausted that I couldn’t even get my HR above 100 meant that i was getting very cold very quickly, to add to things the sun was setting and the rain, lightning and wind wasn’t easing up as I had hoped it would when i dropped down.
When I started shivering uncontrollably on the bike it became clear that I had to find some shelter and get warm and dry then take things from there. A bridge proved to be the only option for me due to almost everything else being excluded in the rules but as we were able to go under the bridge whilst riding then surely it must be OK to stop there.
The level of cold that i was was indescribable, I was shaking uncontrollably and the it was aching right down to the core,.I knew that this wasn’t safe at all so, priorities quickly changed from trying to win the race to staying safe so I whipped of all of my wet kit, put on my dry fleece and got in my sleeping bag. I knew that getting some hot food in would be key so the jetboil was fired up and meals re-hydrated these were stuffed inside my sleeping bag with me for me to cuddle all night as I fell asleep soon after without getting the chance to eat them.
The night was long and cold and I drifted in and out of things before properly waking up at 5am, a full seven hours after I had bedded down. Checking the tracker I saw that my lead on Josh was almost gone just like that.
Dragging myself out of the relative warmth of the sleeping bag and putting the wet kit on again was mentally excruciating but I had convinced myself that I managed to get out there and cycling again then all would be well, I had slept for 7 hours after all so I should have been fresh right? It really didnt take long for me to realise that this wasn’t the case, my legs were not working and after about an hour of riding i found myself in another shivery heap being sick at the side of the road.
The time once again came to bivvy down, try to recover and reassess. I slept in someones drive for the whole morning and let Josh ride right past me, this didn’t even bother me at this point as I was feeling so down. After a good sleep I lay in my bivvy for two hours fighting the internal conflict: on one hand I had been working so hard towards this event for what felt like a whole year and wanted to finish so badly, not winning was now inconsequential to me but proving the naysayers wrong was important. Yet I had to balance this with the fact that I was clearly hypothermic last night and that I was "lucky" that if things were to have gone downhill further then I could have bailed into a pub/house/bnb/hospital fairly easily whereas ahead there was no easy escape and that Mountain Rescue would be needed to get me out of a potentially life threatening situation.
The biggest demon that was plaguing me however was the unknowing whether I was just convincing myself that it was unsafe so that I could take the easy way out. My sleep and warmth deprives brain was going through this over and over again yet seemingly making no progress.
A decision was finally made that I would make a move so warm dry kit off and cold wet clothes back on. Time to get the wheels rolling again. The hope was that life would spring back into my legs once they were turning. Almost predictably however this was not the case and after 10 mins of riding at 10kph on the flat with an HR below 100 but perceived effort maxed out i was on the floor again.
It was now clear that my body was just not able to recover from the deep set cold when it was already wrecked from the days preceding it. This is when the decision was made to scratch and I emailed myself to make it final. Luckily, there were a couple of dotwatchers nearby who kindly offered to put me up for the night and expedite my recovery, i’m sure that I wouldn't be quite so comfortable now if it were not for them.
So as I am sat here at the side of the road waiting to cheer Josh as he comes past I think about what I have learned from the event and what I cant take forward with me. Whilst it is still early days and i’m sure that many things will become clearer there are a few points that have already been revealed.
Firstly, self-sufficiency is possible, yes I did pull out when if I had been able to get into a hotel/pub then I may not have but I confident that people will finish and maybe I could have packed smarter with more warm kit or a tent. Nevertheless, I was never hungry or craving food that I didn’t have acess to, with the exception to the last night I wasn’t even tempted to seek refuge in a building or find a bed for the night and the fully loaded bike was really no issue, sure you climbed slower but it still handled perfectly.
Secondly, If you want to win races like these you really do need to push yourself physically and mentally and that does involve taking risks. One could argue that I went out too hard and that If I had been less exhausted then the cold wouldn’t have got to me so much. You would probably be right but I don’t think that I would have had a chance of winning should I have ridden like that. It wasn’t quite an all or nothing mentality I would have loves to have finished even if I had been off the pace for the win but at the time and even now attempting that seemed impossible and irresponsible.
And finally, I was overwhelmed by the moral support that I was given along the way dozens of people came out to cheer me on and all remained socially distant and responsible thank you to everyone it was a real emotional boost anytime I saw anyone.
When thinking about the event and whether I think that it was all worth it and if I had any regret the honest answer is that whilst I do have a deep feeling of disappointment and unfufillment currently, I still got to race my bike over 1000km across my home turf and push my body to its absolute limit. Hopefully this may be one event that I can look back on without a pair of rose tinted glasses so that when I think about events in the future I can fully appreciate one more of the many possible outcomes that can realised during an ultra event.
Onward and upwards, there will always be more races!!
Further 2019
In the weeks and months leading up to Further we had been drip fed information from the illustrious race director, Camille. A cyclocross racer in his youth turned photographer and now the creator of the most revealing projects that I have had the pleasure of playing a part in, that being Further 2019. I say revealing as the first piece of information that we receive is that there is going to be a rally in the Ariege celebrating all that is good about our niche sport of adventure cycling and alongside this there will be an unsupported bike race which will explore the region as well as heading high into the Pyrenean mountains and over into Andorra and Spain. This was when I revealed the first thing to myself, whilst the promise of spending my days lounging around by the river and talking about tyre tread patterns sounds like a dream, I knew that I would never be quite content if I was back at the rally relaxing whilst there were other people out there pushing themselves to each and every kind of limit. So I signed up to race, knowing very few details other than it was being designed to break people.
Slowly, we, the riders, received more information about the race. First, the format, the race was to be made out of a combination of mandatory sectors, which have to be completed in order and free routing between these. Next, the start list, with the event being invitational there were familiar names on the list but it also bore a few surprises, I was certainly eager to find out how some of the road racers would shape up against ultra racing elite. As a relative newcomer to the sport I felt honoured to be part of such a line-up.
About a month before the start Camille sent up the gpx files for each of the sectors and the task of route planning started. This was something that I was fairly nervous about having never raced a free routing event before but I soon got into things using a combination of online mapping software,satellite photos and streetview to give me a fairly decent understanding of my route and the terrain I was about to cross. The total distance: 480km, seems fairly straightforward, total elevation: 14,500m, ah, that may prove to be an issue.
With this in the back of my mind, my attention then turned to optimising my setup to be as lightweight as possible but also have everything that I would need.
The bike of choice was my MASON Bokeh built up with 1x di2, I opted for a 40t chainring paired with an 11-42 cassette to allow me to winch myself up even the steepest of hills, I was rolling on a pair of HUNT 30 Carbon Dynamo Disc wheels which powered my lighting setup without fail. Tyre choice was a tricky one and in the end I went for as wide as I could squeeze in my frame with a 45mm up front and a 42mm at the back. Sleeping kit was minimal, just a bivvy and a down jacket as well some leg warmers and a thin fleece that could be used if necessary. I packed an extensive tool kit including 3 spare tubes, none of it was used in the end but I'm glad that I had it as the fear of being forced to scratch from a race due to mechanical issues is a big one for me.
Eventually, late August came, and it was time to pack everything up and head down to France. It was at this stage that the nervous excitement set in finding this chaotic equilibrium between cool contemplation of the race ahead and total panic that I have forgotten something, got the route planning wrong, chosen the wrong tyres etc etc. However when I arrived at Zero Neuf Escapes, base camp for the event, all fears were put aside. I was greeted with open arms to the sight of people pouring over maps and enjoying ice cold beer by the pool. The afternoon was spent assembling the bike and chatting with my fellow competitors, it was a relief to know that I wasn't the only one who felt grossly underprepared. After a bbq for dinner and maybe a couple more beers than necessary I was off to bed.
Perhaps helped by the alcohol I woke well rested in the morning and then proceeded to spend the next few hours faffing and drinking a seemingly endless supply of workshop coffee. A quick pre-race bike check from MASON mechanic Matt and I was ready to go.
The race was a Le Mans style start which meant that we all started by running across a field to frantically mount our bikes and head off onto Sector 1. This was a small loop which just passed back through the start in order to split the field up. I went off at a firm but comfortable pace riding within myself however I did find myself at the front of the race after things settled out. The first couple of hours passed very quickly and without any sort of drama and some sneaky route planning meant that I had a decent lead going into Sector 3, the climb up to Mt. Fourcat. What started as a road climb soon turned into gravel and it pitched up; It was at this point that things started to take a turn for the worse. I began to suffer in the heat and was forced to dismount and start to push my bike, my stomach was churning and started to feel dizzy so I stopped to sit down. It was at this point that I was sick for the first time leaving those precious fluids that I had worked so hard to conserve and had no hope of replenishing for a few hours on the side of the mountain.
Not long after getting moving I was passed by Tim O’Rourke who seemed to be flying, soon after ex-elite road racer Lisen Hockings caught up with me and we pushed our bikes together for 10 mins or so through an unrideable section but I struggled to keep the pace so let her drift ahead. Eventually it opened up and the summit could finally be seen. We had been informed that half way up the path would split into two, one path would carry straight on and the other went round to the right the long way round but crucially via a water source, this was my target now, the incentive of rehydration driving me on. Progress up the mountain was slow having to stop every couple of minutes to put down the bike and rest my shoulders. After half an hour of this stop start I was forced to stop and be sick again; I try to get going but I’m feeling dangerously low on energy so decide to have a bit of a sit down and a chill in the shade of a nearby cairn. The friendly face of Josh Ibbet pops up out of the dead ground, unfortunately it clear to see that he is in just as bad a state as I am if not worse. We sit together for 20 mins or so mumbling at each other about how bad we feel as Hamish Paine and Emma Pooley pass us both looking super fresh.
I slowly pick myself up and recommence the climb, I turn right at the fork and find the water source and down two bottles of Dioralyte straight away before refilling completely. Needless to say I felt a million times better the decision is made to go cross country and head straight up across the scrubland. Five minutes later as i’m stood there waist deep in a bush I start to think this may not have been the wisest decision but I press on and after what seems like an eternity the summit of Mt. Fourcat appears out of nowhere, I see Camille, shake his hand and then simply lie down on the grass and close my eyes. I feel horrible, like I’m drunk almost slurring my words as I describe my day to the assembled crowd but at least I know that there is no more up for a couple of hours.
The sun is starting to set and Im aware that the temperature is now dropping, after suffering from what I now assume was mild heat stroke in the day I knew that would have been a classic move from me to now go hypothermic at night so I say my farewells and leave the small comfort that was summit. As night falls and the temperature drops I begin to feel progressively better and before long I’m powering my way along, and over. I get to the start of Sector five at around midnight and see two bikes parked against a wall and get a mental boost. I move ahead a hundred meters or so and check the tracker for the first time to see that there was only one rider ahead of me, Olympic medalist Emma Pooley. I press on as feel strong and the miles tick by I check the tracker once more and see that Emma had gone to sleep and I had passed her half way up the Col Du Port. I reach a village at the base of the long climb up the Andorra at around 0530 and spot that there is a bakery that opens in two hours so I take the opportunity to get my head down and have some recovery on a picnic table.
I’m woken by my alarm at 0715 with just enough time to pack my kit up and find the bakery doors as they are opening, not long after I leave with a belly full of Croissant and a bike laden with chocolate bars, crisps and coke. From here It's all uphill until the highest point of the race, the Port du Rat an old smuggling route peaking at over 2700m. The road section was fairly straightforward, about 12km at 8% with the odd ramp up however this then transitioned to a gravel climb which ended abruptly with around 600m of vertical ascent left. It was at this point that Emma passed which really highlighted how much faster she was than me when the road pitched upwards.
The remainder of the climb followed a smugglers path which didn't allow for pushing of t
the bike let alone riding. Two hours of bike carrying later I reach the highpoint of the race only to be greeted by a descent that I had no chance of riding. I have always found that pushing/carrying your bike downhill is rarely an enjoyable and rewarding experience as you have had to work so hard to gain the altitude and you never get the reward of the descent. Nonetheless, I press on reach a ski resort and more importantly a road which descended all the way into La Messana the regional town in Andorra. A long road climb into spain awaited me so took the opportunity to grab a mid afternoon meal (or two!).
The next few hours were mainly on the road and I mostly zone out as I go up out of andorra and through the Sapnish valleys. My next mental hurdle was the pass back into France which was ended in an 800m hike-a-bike over 3 km. It's a long slog up the valley so I stop halfway to have a well rounded dinner of three salted caramel gels as it was all that I could stomach at the time. Checking the tracker I notice that Emma has stopped in a refuge at the base of the climb, spurred on by this fact and thinking that she wasn't planning on crossing at night I press on and before long I reach the foot of the climb. It's around 11pm and I start the climb, progress is extremely slow due to the severity of the terrain and lack of light but I keep moving, my thought process is that I need at least three hours lead at the start of the day if I have any chance of winning. After feeling fine all day my stomach is starting to feel the effects of the days excursions and around 2am my “dinner” makes a reappearance on the grass. I'm not sleepy but all energy is gone from my body the decision is made that it's time to get my head down so I whip out my bivvy and have two hours of blissful uninterrupted sleep no more than a foot from my stomach contents.
My alarm wakes me and a pack away my kit and as I look back down the mountain, my heart drops as I see a white light storming its way up the hill maybe only an hour behind me. It dawns on me that she must have woken early to start the climb. I double time it up the last 300m of the climb barely stopping to put my bike down. To my relief the summit revealed a gravel track which wound its way down into France. By now its light but i'm determined to keep my lead for as long as possible so I press on only stopping to shed layers as the sun slowly warmed me up . I reach a small town and spot a supermarket where I perform the classic smash and grab without really thinking what I'm buying and come out with chocolate milk, haribo and smoked trout, an odd selection for sure.
This Is when Emma comes storming past without hesitation, My heart drops as in my sleep deprived mind it feels like the event is over for me and there was no way of catching her now. Looking back at things now it would have helped to have a positive approach on things as the margins were tight however at that time I lost the mental battle and settled for second. From here the last 8 hours of riding seemed more like a procession to the finish rather than a race for me the miles just ticked by and I arrived at the finish early evening around two an a half hours behind Emma.
Perhaps the biggest lesson that I took away from the race is that there are times when my mind does lose out. It admitted defeat early when I probably could have carried on. I took the easy option and was satisfied with it until weeks later where I really thought deeply about my learnings.
Overall I was happy with a second place but It has left me with some unfinished business with the event and ill be back next year for sure.
