Last week I was lucky enough to go to Switzerland to ride the Chasing Cancellara Zurich-Zermatt ultra fondo. At 275km long, with two mountain passes and a third mountain-sized ascent to the finish in the Alpine ski resort of Zermatt, it was the longest, and by far the hardest, challenge I’d faced on two wheels.
Naturally, such is the way when pushing oneself to new boundaries, things are learned. Some of those were simple mistakes that, while I’ve undoubtedly learned from, will probably be replaced with others in future. Forgetting to pack a towel for the finish line was a new one, alongside loading the route before starting the ride, or making a note of how much I’d eaten so I didn’t need to try and remember.
They’re not the lessons that resonate in my mind as I write this article though, nor are they the ones that will stick with me. There are more pertinent lessons that I think are worth sharing, and below, I’ve done jus that.
It’s all in your head
With 260km done, I was starting to crack. I had earlier forgotten to resume my Wahoo at the top of the route’s highest point, and the error had gone unnoticed when I eventually did so at the following checkpoint 20km later, so for this latter section of the ride, my computer told me I had 35km to go, despite having received confirmation from a marshall that there was 15km to go. Confusion started to creep in. Had they cut the route short? Had I somehow gone the wrong way and made it back to the course without noticing?
The road had been rising for around 15km already. These weren’t the tight, narrow mountain pass seemingly reserved for bikes and supercars that I had encountered earlier on the Grimselpass, but a main road peppered with construction lorries and Audi drivers who’d probably grown frustrated at having already passed 50 weary pedallers on their way to buzzing past me, each at what felt like a distance of six inches.
The headwind blew, and I was crawling. The climb was inconsistent, ramps of up to 12% were followed by short, shallower descents and I couldn’t get into a rhythm. At one point, I hopped onto the pavement to evade the stream of traffic coming by. “I’m a pedestrian now,” I muttered aloud.
The spots of rain soon turned into an opening of the heavens and the 80-metre distance between me and the entrance to the next tunnel was too far to bear. I pulled over to a stop and wearily peeled the Rapha Shakedry jacket from my pocket.
I was certain I had hit the wall. My nutrition plan…
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