CP 3 to CP4: Facing More Challenges That Come with Endurance Cycling

It would have been easy to stay and chat and get really comfortable at CP 3, but I knew that I needed to descend before sunset as the road was dangerous and the clock was ticking. Directly after coming down the Tatras Mountains, riders had to choose how to cross Slovakia to approach Romania via Hungary. I was originally going to go to Poprad and then take some minor roads that led me south of Presov to Kosice. However, on my train ride to Paris, Urs had asked me if I was following the Facebook group discussion about this road. It seemed there was road construction and that it was complicated to pass a final bridge that led directly to Kosice. I had changed my route at the last minute to take the main road to Presov, then directly south to Kosice. I quickly signed on to the GPS trackers to see how others were getting to Kosice. James and Bjorn had taken the route I was planning on taking which reassured me. Other riders were taking my original route, but since I had changed my GPS track, I decided to follow the main road. 

There was a steep climb on the outskirts of Presov, but then a rewarding descent. After the descent, when night had come, I decided to pull over for a second dinner. I tried to find a restaurant rather than a kebab joint, and the locals pointed me to a restaurant up top a building. It was impossible to get my bike up the stairs to the restaurant, so I left it in the stairwell. I went upstairs and found a nice calm pizza/pasta restaurant with some really comfortable seating. It would be a perfect place to eat and then sleep for an hour or two. I ate peacefully after seeing that Toastee was at CP3 and seemed to be inactive. I thought I would have quite a lead on her if she chose to rest there. Descending in the dark would have been ridiculous. After I finished a huge meal, I asked the waiter if I could sleep until closing, around midnight. He didn’t mind, so I quickly lay down and fell asleep.  

Slovakian food always looked so delicious, but it didn't have much flavor.  I hope to prove myself wrong some day!

I woke up, about an hour or so later to the blaring sound of music and young drunk guys, who were signing and creating a lot of noise. What on earth was going on? I couldn’t imagine how this peaceful restaurant with no more than a handful of clients had all of a sudden turned into a bar or nightclub for drunken Slovakian men! I immediately panicked about my biking, imagining they had probably tampered with it in the stairwell on their way upstairs. I quickly packed up, glaring at these drunken men, as I left, as if I had all the right to use a restaurant as a hotel, and they shouldn’t be partying in a bar (Yes, I’m aware, no logic in that argument!) Luckily, they hadn’t touched my bike. However, before taking off to ride, I checked the GPS tracking sight and saw that Toastee had indeed descended CP 3. Anyone who took on that road at night was up for some serious cycling, determined to catch up with me! There was no more time to sleep or rest. I had to keep on pedaling to hold my lead. 

I pedaled as long as I could that night, another 2 or 3 hours on hilly roads that I wasn’t expecting and approached Kosice where I found a McDonalds that was still open around 3am. I pulled over, not to eat, but to snack on the pizza I had wrapped up from the other restaurant. I was close to the Hungary border and happy with my progress. I decided to continue pedaling until I found a good place to hide and sleep for a couple of hours. This proved to be harder than I thought. It was in the wee hours of the morning, and despite being a weekend, I wanted to make sure I was well hidden as I would probably sleep until 7 or 8am when other people would wake. The best place I could find was in the parking lot of an apartment complex. There were quite a few empty places and a dumpster with recycled cardboard, that looked inviting to use as a floor mattress. No sooner did I lay a piece of cardboard down on the pavement, under the carport, when it started to downpour. I had sought shelter just in time, happy to stay dry. I tried to sleep as long as I could, which was probably only a few hours. When you are racing your body says one thing and your head another!

The rain had subsided into a drizzle, and I was determined to cross into Hungary and make my way to Romania. I was prepared for Hungary to be complicated. There were many “no cycling signs” on the roads and it had been hard to research an effective route through this country, which is why I tried to limit the kilometers I pedaled there. I found a service station where I could pull over and get breakfast. Coffee tasted disgusting since I left Austria and I had settled for Flavored Redbull instead. Not much better but at least it was cold! The variety of food at the services stations was becoming less and less appetizing and I was relying more and more on candy bars and prepackaged nasty sweets filled with artificial preservatives and flavoring. Had I been on a bike tour, I would have gone to much more of an effort to eat well, but I didn’t have time to seek out decent food, I had to make do with the options on the side of the road. I remember clearly hopping online for a few moments and writing Jonas, who responded immediately to my message. “You are taking a break too?” I asked him, since he was responding immediately to my text messages. “No!!!” He answered, “I’m pedaling!” I had asked a rhetorical question knowing that Jonas could cycle comfortably and “safely” in his aerobars while texting at the same time. I never attempted that myself, and probably wasted a lot of time messaging others, but it gave me a bit of a mental break from the race. 

I started riding again but struggled that morning. Temperatures had gotten even hotter in Eastern Europe. In fact, there was even an official name, “Lucifer” for the heat wave that was passing through Eastern Europe. Temperatures were already close to 40C and it wasn’t even noon! In the last two days, I had developed saddle sores, something I had also never experienced before the TCR. I had done a lot of reading for how to avoid getting them, including using an array of ointments and creams. I had started using a Chamois cream ever since departing CP 3 but it wasn’t helping. With the heat and the extra sweat, my bum was really irritated. I was reminded of this discomfort every time I started pedaling after stopping, and had to adjust myself well on the saddle for a good couple of minutes before finding a bearable position in which I could ride.

Always such great spirits when I saw Paolo, hence giving him the title of "My Favorite Italian"

In addition to my sore bum, I was exhausted and out of energy that morning. After only a few hours of pedaling I decided that it was best I pull over for a sleep. I choose a nice cafe along the side of the road and ordered a coca cola and a sandwich. After eating it, I rested my head on the table and passed out immediately. When I woke up, thanks to the puddle of drool under my chin, I saw one of the Italians I had cycled with on the bike path back at CP2. I was excited to see a familiar face and asked him how he was doing. His riding partner had scratched and he was continuing solo. He seemed to be in good spirits and better shape than me. We had a nice conversation, he even paid for me before I had a chance to, and then set off again before me. My bum pain was worse and worse every time I got back into the saddle. I had changed bike shorts to my “not so comfy pair” at checkpoint 3 and ever since then I was really suffering. I needed some relief, and quickly thought about how I could increase the amount of padding I had on my saddle or bum. I found a supermarket and went in to search for thin sponges and womens sanitary pads. I was hoping one of the two would provide extra cushion, either by cutting out a donut like shape from the sponge to put around the raw sores, or by covering the wounds with a sanitary pad, one on each cheek. I normally don’t disclose information about these sorts of things, but I think it helps you understand the reality and brutality of such an event. I used my mini swiss pocket knife to make the donuts and tried those for about a half hour. They didn’t seem to help. I tossed the sponges and gave the sanitary pads a try. I put one on each cheek of my bum and slowly raised my bike shorts to try to keep them in place as best as possible. The pads provided more relief, doubling up and using two on each side I had a bit of extra cushion. 

However, between the heat, irritated bum, and complicated road signs in Hungary my morale descended. Soon I found myself on a completely grass path down by the river doing circles to avoid dead ends. I got frustrated at myself and my lack of good navigating! How had I not caught these routing errors while going over my route prior to leaving? I was making stupid mistakes and wasting precious time in the saddle. Something had to change. I needed to sleep so I could make better decisions and lift my spirits. I decided, for the first time during the race, that it was time to check in to a hotel. Unfortunately however, when you want a hotel, they don’t just magically appear, especially when you are off the beaten tourist path in Northeast Hungary, in the middle of the afternoon. I tried 3 hotels and they were all full. I pleaded with each of the receptionists and insisted that they give me any vacant bed, as I only wanted to sleep for a few hours. It was no use! Just when I decided to keep on pedaling and go on to the next town, I saw signs for a pension on the outskirts of town. I rang the doorbell and a nice lady opened, who spoke no English. We communicated with gestures and writing down numbers and symbols. 

She had a room, although she couldn’t understand why I wanted to check-in for only 4 hours. I think people usually probably do this as a couple if you know what I mean, but she let me anyways. I quickly went upstairs, stripped down, hopped in a hot, then cold shower to refresh myself and clean-up. I took advantage to wash my bike shorts, air out my jersey, and clean my open wounds on my bottom. I was in bad shape. My saddle sores were completely raw, about 2 cm in diameter on each cheek, although I couldn’t bring myself to looking in a mirror. They were perfectly placed right where my bum bones contacted the saddle. To make the situation even worse, I was receiving all sorts of messages from my friends asking me why I was stopping so frequently. One of my friends who I adore, a tough love kind of girl and incredibly sporty herself, who had become a TCR dot-watching junkie, insisted that I keep pedaling. She told me Toastee had just passed and was taking the lead. Sure enough, when I checked the GPS tracker, I was now in 2nd place for the women and my overall position was slipping quickly. Previously this had given me enough motivation to keep on pedaling, but now, at this very moment, my body was in full-on rebellion and there was no way I was going to pedal another 100 meters. I desperately needed some quality rest. My plan was to sleep for 3 or 4 hours in a cool environment and then head out in the evening around 7pm. I would pedal as far and as long as I could through the night into Romania to make up for the time I was losing to sleep now. I couldn’t battle the heat any more; my lack of sleep had finally caught up with me!

When my alarm went off at 7pm, I was so sluggish, I had a real slow go packing and organizing my belongings. I went downstairs to checkout and asked the lady where I could find a decent restaurant. She told me there was one right down the road. However, when I pedaled by, it was closed and I decided to keep on riding. I stopped at a petrol station and loaded up on candy bars and red bull and continued to pedal. I was determined to make up the time I had lost in the hotel. My sores were calmer although still raw. I hit the Romanian border a few hours later. The border patrol officer was really nice, so nice, I asked if I could use their toilet. When I saw it involved parking my bike and going through several of their offices, I decided to pedal over to the other side of the border control, and hide myself behind one of the cement posts. It was not a subtle place to go pee by any means, but I had lost all my vanity and didn’t care! Who was ever going to see me or my bum again! Although I can guarantee you they probably had never seem one with sanitary pads on each side! It always seems to happen, that at the beginning of a bike tour or race, I’m much more prudent and discreet when it comes to doing my business. But towards the middle or end of a biking event, I could care less where or what I use as a toilet. It comes with the territory of biking! Going to the bathroom was a tricky routine of pulling down my bike shorts and keep my sanitary pads in place so as not to disturb my sores, and then get them back up again! 

Back on my bike and my first time in Romania, my strategy to sleep through the hotter hours and get some quality rest was proving to be a good idea! I was making good progress despite finding a restaurant where I could eat a proper meal. I kept on pedaling into Romania until I ran out of water. I was in the middle of nowhere and there was nothing around except for the sound of dogs howling, making me even more eager to continue pedaling. I finally came to a small town where it looked as though there was some sort of big party at a community center. I pulled over, and without taking off my reflective vest and turning off my blinking lights, I headed straight inside for the loud music in hopes to find a bar where I could fill up my water bottles. As it turned out, it seemed the big party was actually a wedding. I could see the bride and groom, family and friends, rocking out on the dance floor. But what really caught my attention were the tables where some guests were sitting with huge bottles of water and soda that were at the disposal of the guests. I gestured using my empty water bottle, if it was OK to fill up and they nodded. Just as I was finished filling up my eye caught hold of a massive fruit sculpture on a table close by that was also filled with extra desserts on little plates. I would have loved to have sat down and devour everything in sight but used my rational judgement to decide that would be outside assistance, and instead I helped myself to a banana. I did this at the same time the father of the bride saw me, which wasn’t hard, considering my helmet light was flashing and my fluorescent neon vest glowing. I quickly headed for the door, not wanting to cause anymore problems. He was really, really upset and came running after me shouting something in Romanian I couldn’t understand while pointing his finger at me. I could tell other guests were trying to calm him down and let me hop back on my bike and escape without a problem, which is exactly what I did.

At the time I thought I had hit the Jackpot with all sorts of goodies to help me pedal through the night.

Ironically 20 minutes down the road there was a petrol station still open and I pulled over to stock up on food. It was here in Romania where I first came across the brand “7 Days” that so many veteran TCR racers had warned me about! I bought a few along with some red bull, coke, and chips and devoured as much as I could sitting on a rocking bench they had in front of the entrance. I wasn’t tired at all and decided to keep on pedaling. I checked my progress on the GPS tracker and to see the progress of the other riders. In Romania, there were so many different choices of roads, the progress of the racers was hard to decipher as no two racers seemed to be on the same route. Not to mention the race organization had written all the race participants deciding to ban a certain road that James and Bjorn had both taken. James had had a close incident with a truck and due to all the heavy traffic decided to warn the organization that the road should be prohibited. This last minute change of road usage, didn’t change my routing, but it did affect the route of a lot of other riders. I was approaching CP 4 from the west, whereas most other racers were coming in due north. I had a good look at the route I was going to take to get to the Transfăgărășan road, and started to wonder why I had routed myself so far west. I decided to take an alternative route that other riders were taking including Jonas. I pedaled as far as I could to reach this road. At about 5am, having pedaled continuously since 7pm, I found another TCR rider, who I had seen on the GPS tracker map. He had just awakened for the morning and was starting his ride. We rode together for about half an hour, when I finally decided to pull off the road and sleep for a couple of hours. I found a little church tucked in beside the main road with a fence to protect me. Romania was known for having an extreme amount of wild dogs and I had already heard and seen enough of them in the middle of the night to scare me. I slept for about an hour on the church lawn. I wanted to get pedaling again before the weekly morning traffic picked-up.

I remember this sign humored me....Stray dogs were everywhere in Romania, somehow I think D.O.G is an acronym for something else here....

The road was actually quite pleasant. It wasn’t too hilly and the traffic was light. It was spotted with little towns and I was able to pullover at a service station to get some food. I also found a pharmacy and decided to hit it up for some more cream to help calm my bum. I had enough lubricants but needed something that could numb the surface, the same gel that was used on babies when they were teething. Before the race, I had contacted Janie Hayes who had won the Trans AM race for the women this year and asked her for advice on saddle sores, just to be prepared. She had told me that the least expensive and easier to find anesthetic gel was one that is used on baby’s gums when they teeth. Using hand gestures and the sound of a baby crying I was successful in letting the pharmacist know exactly what I needed. Unfortunately she only sold the numbing gel in small containers and only had 2, so I bought both. Outside the pharmacy I stuck my fingers down the back of my bike shorts, and applied the gel to directly on the raw wounds on my bum. It stung immediately, but after about 45 seconds, the pain had disappeared. I readjusted the sanitary pads that I was still using to give extra padding and started pedaling again.  

All the different creams I was using, plus Sudocream...It was quite an array!

The numbing cream did the trick and I was pain free during a couple of hours slowly making my way up a steep climb. Yes, it was a hard climb, but traffic was minimal so I couldn’t complain, except that I realized why no one was on this road once I reached the summit. There was road construction that started on the descent and lasted the entire 20 kilometers downhill. I had to descend cautiously to avoid any big rocks and loose gravel, not to mention dodge big construction trucks and workers. What looked like a good alternative on google maps, had turned out to be a bad idea. Once down, the road got better, but there was a brutal head wind and with the heat of the midday, my progress was slow. I stopped for an ice cream and a quick nap to regain some energy. I could see that Toastee and the other riders, who had taken a more northern route, were catching up. It was going to be a tight race to CP4. I kept pedaling as hard as I could but the headwind was strong and my progress was minimal. I came to Sebes, a good sized town and looked for a place to eat. The golden arches caught my attention and I couldn’t resist.

I don't get what people love so much about McDonalds.  The food has no flavor at all.  I did like their clean toilets and free wifi though...

It was the first time I had eaten anything more than an ice cream cone at McDonalds in more than 25 years! Cyclists wave about McDonalds because it is calorie laden, a known quantity, cheap, and the restaurants usually are clean, have a toilet and offer wifi. I was not proud of the fact I was eating here, although it did save time and I knew what it is that I was ordering, regardless of the fact it was tasteless. After my meal, I hopped on my bike again, hoping to pedal as close as I could to the turn off to CP4. The wind had died down and so had the traffic and the heat. I continued to pedal until about midnight when the thought of a hotel enticed me. It wasn’t so much for sleeping in a bed, but cleaning up my sores and remaining infection free! The hotel I chose had a really small room, but they let me bring my bike in with me. 

I could see that Toastee was also sleeping and seemed to be struggling a bit coming down to CP4 as she had turned around and back-tracked several times. I was certain we were going to meet on the climb to CP4, and was motivated to get an early morning start. I set out around 5am the next morning and no sooner than I started pedaling, that it started to downpour. I quickly took refuge at a petrol station and took advantage to have “breakfast”. They sold mini Seven Day croissants in multi-packs with peanut butter filling and offered instant coffee. The breakfast of champions for the climb that I was about to do!

The best 7 Days croissant flavor by far with peanut butter filling, irresistible, especially if it's your only choice!

Before departing I put on all my rain gear, including rain shorts over my bike shorts and shoe covers as well. I had a rain jacket, but I thought if I used it I would have nothing left for the decent and if the rain continue at the higher elevations I would be out of luck. As I turned off to the 4th checkpoint, I thought this one was going to be hell of a climb; difficult and unforgettable! With a steady downpour, Toastee right on my tail, and an epic climb ahead of me, the women’s race in the TCR was getting good! I stopped quickly at the bottom of the climb to get my last does of sugar and caffeine, buying a few candy bars and coke. Despite the rain, I was warm, climbing at a steady pace. The first part of the climb went through a forest and there wasn’t much of a view. Then the real climb started and the traffic got heavier as more tourists arrived. The road was lined with all sorts of tourists stands. I would never have stopped there, but I saw that one of the stands sold rain ponchos. Still fearing that I might be cold on the descent, I bought a brightly colored poncho, nothing more than a luxurious trash bag with a hood and arm holes, that I tied down over me so that it wouldn’t get in my spokes. I must admit, it did match my bike kit at the time, but didn’t look very classy and never showed up in any of the official race photos!

Ponchos like this one are not elegant, but they keep you really dry! Photo courtesy of James Robertson

An impressive and beautiful climb!  I would go back any day to do it again! Photo courtesy of James Robertson

Pretty soon the race organization car caught up with me and took some memorable pictures. When the rain let up and I was plenty warm, I took off the poncho hoping to dry out before the descent. The climb up the Transfăgărășan road was tough, but not harder than any of the other checkpoints. The road had the most impressive zigzags allowing you to take in breathtaking views of the surrounding mountains and waterfalls. Along the road was a crippled dog that threatened me with his barking. I was so tired, I couldn’t out pedal the dog wobbling on 3 legs, but luckily he wasn’t too aggressive. It was hard to see where the road ended and I gauged my arrival at the summit by the amount of cars on the road and the tourist stands. I had the race organization car in front of me, and another photographer following me as well, who I would later learn was part of the Apidura staff, the company that sponsored the fourth checkpoint. Despite the heavy traffic I made it to the top of the climb and started descending carefully. The roads were busy and wet and passed through several tunnels. I was keeping a close eye out for the 4th checkpoint as I didn’t want to whizz past it on the downhill. As I approached I could hear people clapping and I knew I had made it. The volunteers, sponsors, and race organizers were also trying to keep warm and dry.

Definitely happy with the rain shorts Chris White recommended on his ridefar blog and the waterproof booties from Jonas. Photo courtesy of James Robertson

In my zone, climbing slowly.....Photo courtesy of James Robertson

Pretty thoughtful drivers on this road in Romania.  Otherwise this country has some of the world's worst drivers! Photo courtesy of James Robertson

I coincided with one other rider there, my favorite Italian, Paolo, who I had seen riding as a pair at CP2 and since then in Hungary. He had descended and passed the checkpoint and had to ride back, climbing up the hill for a good 15 kilometers. I met the Apidura representative, Chris Peacock, who had been super helpful in advising me on the right gear to purchase prior to the race. After warming up with a couple of coffees and chatting with the people who had gathered around, I started the descent with Paolo. I kept up with him for about 20 minutes and then he got ahead of me as everyone did. I could see Toastee was starting the climb to CP 4 and it would be a matter of a few hours before she arrived at the top. The weather had changed and I didn’t need any of my rain gear. 

The descent was long and gave me some time to rest. My bum, that had started out horrendous after CP3 was considerably better now that I could numb the pain and treat it with other creams to try to help the wounds heal. I was prepared mentally although not in the best of physical conditions for the final stretch to Meteora!