On my Way to CP3: Enduring Unbearable Pain

My ride from checkpoint 2 to 3 is a big blur, filled with a lot of pain and agony that I thought would hinder my continuation of the race. I had made a smart choice to sleep an extra hour at CP 2. When I woke up, I could see the majority of riders had already set out to tackle this monstrous climb, The Grappa. I quickly packed up my things and set off before the sunrise. I was amazed to see the checkpoint manned by volunteers bright-eyed and cheery waiting for the arrival of other riders as I departed.

I couldn’t have been more than 20km from the checkpoint going up the parcour, when I saw a cyclist on the side of the road. He was straddling his bike, as if he had decided to pull over and sleep, mid pedal, somehow wrapped inside his bivy sack, embracing his bike. It was a funny sight to see, especially when I realized it was Michael Wacker. His decision to start the climb the following night hadn’t gotten him far,....perhaps he should have listened to my advice and slept at the campsite after taking a nice hot shower. I wanted to stop to take a picture, but the Grappa was so steep I knew I would have a hard time getting back on my bike again if I stopped. Thankfully the photographers saw him to record this priceless moment.

I ascended alone The Grappa alone in the early hours of the morning. The only other riders I encountered were the Italian pair who had gone to the summit and were coming down in the same direction, choosing to cross the northern plains of Italy. The photographers were close behind them in their white minivan. I waved hello and continued on my way. Monte Grappa is an incredible climb, a “massif” that rises out of nowhere! Along the winding 19 kilometers, you can see the valley below as flat as a pancake. The road climb relentlessly with no end in sight, which makes it tough to keep your motivation. There are some incredibly steep gradients which forced me to zigzag back and forth on the narrow road that had to be shared with cars. However I couldn’t complain. I considered myself lucky having hit The Grappa in the morning avoiding midday temperatures around 40C.

The Grappa towers over the flat Northern Italian plains below.  It is a 19 kilometer never-ending climb.

Jonas had given me strict instruction to ask for a free grappa liqueur at the restaurant at the summit from Margarida, one of the servers. He had done the parcour on a recon trip and insisted I pay her a visit. However, I arrived before the restaurant had even opened and there was no one on top. I took a few photos, and another rider arrived, Matt. He was a British cyclist who I’d seen the night before at CP 2, walking around in his underwear entertaining me with his stories of crossing the Alps on the steepest of mountain passes during a thunderstorm. Matt was also taking the same route as me, going down the grappa the back road. I tried to keep up with him on the descent but it was impossible as he rode considerably faster than me. To say it was a delightful descent would be a complete lie as the road was mixed with a lot of ups and false flats. I had lost my patience and was hungry for breakfast, not having any food reserves on me and long since burned off the huge dinner I had eaten last night on the climb. When I finally reached the bottom, Matt and I both had the same idea. We stopped at the first supermarket we found and loaded up on food. I’m a big fan of supermarkets when bike touring because there is more variety than a restaurant. Of course the package sizes are not ideal, but I did manage to eat an entire melon, yogurt and half a pack of biscuits before setting off on my way to find the Austrian border in Northern Italy. I never saw Matt again, although I was motivated to catch up with him and roughly followed the same route he did.

Matt rode up The Grappa shortly after I did.  Surprisingly, we look incredibly fresh after the horrendous climb!

No sooner did I set off, than I noticed a slight pain in my right knee. I thought it would go away as I started to pedal, but the opposite occurred. The more I pedaled the more painful it became! I’ve been a lucky cyclist when it comes to injuries and new had any major injuries in my career of bike riding. Which is why I immediately panicked! How could this be happening to me right now in the middle of the TCR? The pain became intense quickly and by the time I decided to stop at a pharmacy for a painkiller. I got off my bike in such a rush and leaned it up against the automatic door of the pharmacy that when it opened, the door ran right over the right hood of my handlebar. I could have had a serious mechanical issue had the door done damage. Thankfully it didn’t, as I had a one track mind to get some medical relief. I asked for the strongest pain killer they could give me without a prescription telling them I had a throbbing pain in my knee. She gave me a box of painkillers and told me I could take one dose every 4 to 6 hours with food as it might give me an upset stomach. I popped one in immediately and ate a snickers bar at the same time. I started to pedal again, but didn’t make it too far, still bothered by the pain and now overheated and hungry for a real meal. I found a restaurant, ordered some food, and decided that I needed to rest some more. Perhaps when I woke up, my knee pain would disappear.  

The best part of riding in Italy is that no matter where you stop for food, it is always DELICIOUS!

I would love to know how many other riders chose the approach I did for resting. I have a hard time imagining a lot of the men participants curling up in a ball and falling asleep on a restaurant bench. But this sleeping strategy was key for getting enough rest during the race and it only took me a matter of seconds to fall asleep. Rather than resting my head on my water bottle on the table, I chose the most comfy bench seat and used my water bottle as a cushion, curled into fetal position and passed out. I managed to sleep for an hour or two without the man in the restaurant or other clients bothering me. When I woke up I ordered an espresso and a pastry to down another dose of medicine and started riding again. 

As soon as I started pedaling the pain came back. I was incredibly frustrated. I wanted to make it as close as I could to the Austrian border that night, but with all the pain in my knee, I knew that was going to be impossible. I could see the other riders were gaining on me, especially Toastee who had climbed The Grappa in the heat of the day! She was tough! When the medicine kicked in, I had about 3 hours of “pain-free” cycling that I had to take advantage of. Unfortunately, at the same time, the route at this point was complicated. The roads in the area had been prohibited and we were forced to ride the cycle path. I had called hotels and tourist offices in advance trying to plot out the right way to hook up with the bike path, that wasn’t on google maps. My preparations had failed me as I didn’t see the entrance to the bike path, and was left at a nasty intersection of main highways. I decided the bike path must be on the opposite side of the river and crossed over. Thankfully I saw another cyclist coming off of the path and turned on to it. I was following my GPS route, parallel, on the other side of the river, as it seemed like a good alternative, despite being unpaved. Later I would find out that Jonas had a difficult time with this part of his route, couldn’t find the right bike path or a bridge to take him over the river and ended up walking through the river to get back to the other side in the middle of the night. Poor guy!

To make my afternoon all the more entertaining and to confirm my bias judgement about Italian men, an Italian cyclist, out for a relaxing ride, caught up with me on the bike path. He was definitely feeling the heat or trying to attract the attention of others, riding without a shirt. I can understand a lot of Italian, but talk Spanish to communicate in Italy. He happened to be going in the same direction as I was, and wasn’t shy to ask me out to dinner. I couldn’t seem to get it through to him that I was in a race and in a hurry to be on my way. I was having a hard time pedaling faster than him given the terrain, my knee, and my fatigue, so there was no easy escape! Thankfully he turned off and I continued to ride peacefully. When I started to feel my knee again, I managed to find a restaurant where I could stop for a couple of cokes and pop another pain killer. After that, I kept on riding as long as I could. I came across a few other TCR participants and we were all struggling to try to follow the bike path and stay off the main drag. At one point we had no alternative but to cross over the busy highway to ride on the bike path. I stopped to let the organization know what I had done, but felt better that there were two other riders who had done exactly the same thing!

Flattered or disgusted? In the state I was in, he still wanted to take me to dinner!

I rode up until it was well past dark, trying to push through the pain and stop at a decent size town where I could get a warm meal. I lucked out and found a restaurant with a kitchen still open around 10pm with nice comfy bench seats. I hopped on the internet to check my progress and that of the other riders while I ate my dinner. At this point in the race, all the dots were dispersed across Northern Italy and Southern Austria. Some riders chose to avoid the mountains in Southern Austria and instead rode the flatter plains of Italy. I could see Toastee was behind me on the same route, Jonas was way ahead of me on the a similar route, and many dots were inactive, meaning they had decided to call it a night and sleep. I decided to sleep for an hour and keep riding as the nighttime ambiance was a lot easier for me to cope with compared to the heat and traffic throughout the day. I asked the waitress if I could lie down on the bench until closing and thankfully she took pity on me. I got a good hour of rest in before I headed off again.

Probably the nicest bike path I rode into Austria.

I was surprised that the upcoming kilometers were a nice gradual descent and I was able to cover a lot of kilometers, making it past the Austrian border before I decided to call it a day. I couldn’t find a great place to sleep, but finally settled for the a grassy patch next to a bus stop. Blowing up my air mattress, I learned it had a hole! I had patches on me but not the time or energy to spend to look for the puncture. My sleeping gear was now reduced to a bivy sac and a thin liner with no insulation from the cold ground. Thankfully, however, it didn’t matter and I fell quickly asleep and slept a good 3 to 4 hours. When I woke up, I felt like I’d been run over by a train. I still had a lot of knee pain and my body was tired, despite the fact I had woke up without an alarm. I took a selfie that morning, it was a scary portrayal of the reality of my condition: eyes swollen, looking exhausted. I somehow managed to get myself back on my bike and pedal until the first petrol station where I could buy some breakfast and take another pain killer.

Definitely hurting here after a few hours sleep, I don't know how I got back on my bike to continue riding.

This would be the day I had the most pain and thought I might have to quit the race. The pain killers were wearing off faster and faster and I couldn’t pedal more than 2 hours before I had to stop. I got some ice at a cafe, had a coffee and tried to sleep a bit. As soon as I stopped pedaling the pain went away, but once back on my bike it continued. I remember going through a small little city center cursing and swearing at the top of my lungs in complete pain. People turned around to look at me. I didn’t care, I didn’t know how else to cope with the pain! Despite crossing the border into Austria and being in the mountains, the heat was still unbearable and my progress was ridiculously slow. I knew my friends were concerned about me, I could tell by some of their comments in the Whatsapp group. I tried to cover up the fact I was injured and told them I needed to escape from the unbearable heat and would start a nocturnal riding schedule so they wouldn’t worry about me. I couldn’t tell them about my pain. I longed for their sympathy, but I didn’t want to let them down. I was completely frustrated at myself. How could this be? How could I develop a tendonitis now during the race after all the training I had done? It wasn’t fair! I considered my options, I knew them quite well: continue pedaling and grin and bear the pain, or quit.

I started icing my knee every time I stopped to eat or drink.

I pulled over at a petrol station, took shelter from the heat inside, and laid down once again at one of their tables. I reached out to a really good friend in Barcelona, knowing there was nothing anyone could do for me, I just needed to hear a familiar voice. I told him I had developed the classic cyclist tendinitis and that the pain was unbearable. He took pity on me and told me it was OK to stop, that only time would make it better. I knew this was the solution myself, but I was in denial about accepting quitting. I am NOT a quitter! I had never quit a race and after all my preparation I wasn’t about to! When I hung up, needed to start pedaling again. The heat seemed to have dissipated thanks to a lurking thunderstorm. I made it about 30 min. Before there was a complete downpour. I took shelter turning at the first road I saw, a driveway to a few private residences. There was a covered car park for 2 cars detached from the house. I quickly took out my bivy sac and climbed inside trying to keep dry and warm while I waited out the storm. Endurance cyclists have to be efficient with their time. If you are going to stop riding, it can only be for two reasons, to sleep or eat! 

The people living inside the house must have seen me take shelter because they came out to see if I was OK. I told them I was waiting for the storm to pass. They didn’t seem to mind. When the rain turned to a steady mist, I hopped back on my bike and pedaled. I was determined to find another pharmacy where I could ask for a stronger pain killer or another medicine for my knee. Right before closing for the night, I found a pharmacy. They gave me an anti-inflammatory as well as a muscle cream to rub on my knee. With two different medicines, I was hopeful things would get better.

At some point during that night while riding, I remember reading about the possible injuries that could come about with endurance cycling. I decided that I should try adjusting my bike seat to see if that helped at all. Magically it did, it was almost like an instant fix. I don’t remember too much more that night except that the pain had reduced and I took advantage to pedal as long as I could. I took a nap somewhere around midnight on a park bench in the middle of a climb. I remember receiving a message from Felix, who was following me closely. “Sleeping?, he asked, sending me a picture of the park bench from google map. Crazy! I thought to myself. How many details my GPS tracker provided, yet it didn’t pick up on any of the emotional turmoil I was experiencing, my fatigue, nor some of the awful road conditions. After a quick nap, I pedaled quite far that night, pain free after I adjusted my saddle. I knew I had to make up the distance I had lost earlier in the day. Somewhere around 5am I pulled over behind a public clinic and laid my bivy sac out on the concrete patio. No longer did a rock hard or cold surface bother me. I slept soundly until morning, when a person walking their dog discovered me. I quickly got dressed and started to pedal, motivated that I was approaching the Slovakian border. 

I realized I was pretty much pain free, except for a mild ache in my ankle. I decided to adjust the clips on my shoes and this just about eliminated all the pain I had previously. In the matter of 36 hours, I had overcome the worst pain I had experienced in my life from bike riding and I was energized and optimistic to be back in the racing spirit! I also realized at this point in the race there was gear I wasn’t using, extra items that were weighing me down. Jonas had told me to throw out anything I didn’t use to save weight. Being the frugal person that I am, and not wanting to part sentimentally with my gear, I found an Austrian post office wear I could send these items home. Of course I was spoiled by the Swiss postal services with all sorts of packaging material at your disposal to help you mail a parcel. The Austrian post office had nothing except for a mere scale to weigh packages and the lady working there was not in the mood to help me find a box. I quickly scrambled for a solution and ran across the street to find a bar, to use their daily newspaper to wrap-up my extra items. When the attendant at the post office saw me again, she realized I was pretty hopeless and came to my rescue with a small box and some tape. I stuffed my extra jersey, my only pair of underwear, the punctured air mattress, leg warmers, and extra USB charger in the box and sent it to Switzerland. This freed up some space and weight in my saddle bag.

I was feeling pretty good again, lighter, pain free, and determined to keep the lead until Checkpoint 3! I entered Slovakia, through Bratislava. It was my first time visiting this country, but not my first time in Eastern Europe. I maneuvered my way around the city and then headed Northeast to the Tatras mountains. I wanted to ride as close as possible to CP 3, so that I wouldn’t have to make on the climb in the heat of the day. I stopped along the way at some point for an ice cream. If there is one thing I remember about Slovakia, it is their food. Everything looked enticing and the portions were enormous, but the food had no flavor, with the exception of their ice cream and some small powdered donuts I found in the service stations. I couldn’t complain however, as it was dirt cheap! Before starting my night ride, I enjoyed a delicious 3 scoop ice cream sundae. In fact it was so good and cheap, that I went back for a second 3 scoop sundae! This sugar rush gave me the energy I needed to pedal as far as I could before the hunger became impossible to ignore and pulled over for a late dinner. I hit up a local Italian joint with a ton of people sitting on the terrace. I went inside in hopes of comfy seats where I could nap after eating. I ordered a heaping portion of pasta, a pizza, and a salad. I wrapped up the pizza to bring with me, but before I headed off again to ride into the wee hours of the night I took a nap in the restaurant. 

I had developed a very successful riding routine considering the hot temperatures during the day and the empty roads at night. I would stop for lunch around 2pm, eat and nap for an hour to an hour and a half. Then I would ride until about 9 or 10pm and stop again to eat and nap for an hour, before riding into the wee hours of the night, when I would finally stop around 3 or 4am and sleep until about 6 or 7 in the morning. I was getting about 5 hours of sleep divided all throughout the day and my body was OK (or so I thought) with this routine! Not to mention, no one seemed to mind that I sprawled out on their restaurant furniture to sleep for an hour or two. 

That night, making my way to the Tatras mountains, I came across another cyclist, Lee Pearce, a veteran TCR racer. I was impressed by his race strategies. He was organized and coordinated enough to eat a proper meal in his saddle, enjoying a burrito as he rode next to me. I was impressed he had managed to find a Mexican joint in Slovakia, and also a bit jealous he was organized and fast enough to take advantage of sleeping at hotels. He had reserved a room a few kilometers up the road and was determined to arrive before they closed. He turned off the road convinced it was the way to his hotel, I kept going straight, making my way up to the Tatras mountains. I saw him at the end of the race and he admitted he got lost that night and arrived incredibly late for his reservation.

Not a bad place to sleep for a night.  I got lucky finding the plywood and cardboard to insulate myself on the ground.

I pulled off the road about 100km shy of CP 3. I was exhausted and took shelter behind a set of apartments where I found a large piece of plywood and cardboard I used to protect my bivy sac from the bare ground. I slept for a few hours before I was up again, excited to arrive to CP 3. The main road I had to follow was a nightmare that morning, and there was so much traffic I was getting annoyed. I made several wrong turns before I finally pulled over and studied an alternative route up to CP 3, leaving the main drag behind sooner than I had intended. I couldn’t bare the traffic and I saw a few other racers, including Jonas had taking this option, so I decided to give it a try! It was a steep route but the advantage was that I had some downhill before doing the final ascent up to the checkpoint. Shortly into the route, another woman cyclist came pedaling towards me. She seemed delighted to see me and it took me awhile to realize who she was, although she immediately seemed to know me. Svenja Schrade was a volunteer at Checkpoint 3, who had taken a break to go for a ride and thought she could find me along the road after following my dot for awhile. She was determined to compete in the TCR in the near future and was using this year’s experience as a volunteer to learn about the race. Like many other dedicated volunteers, she had rode from Germany to Slovakia as a test to see if she was ready for such a feat. She was awfully nice to come and find me. I think I was pedaling much too slow for her on the uphill, but she stayed along my side for a little while to chat before continuing her ride. 

The Tatras mountains and surrounding forests reminded me a lot of Oregon, USA

  

Svenja rode next to me for awhile and snapped this shot.

Just after she left, I found myself cursing Mike. He’d managed to choose yet again, another checkpoint with nothing around! There were literally no opportunities to resupply and I was out of food, and soon to be out of water without even reaching the last brutal part of the ascent. I came across what looked to be some sort of mountain retreat, at the start of the 3rd parcour, but I couldn’t find a proper entrance to the building. It wasn’t until I went through the back door and wandered around the hallway that I realized I was in a senior citizen home! I didn’t want to startle a grandma or grandpa and I thought that if I filled up water there or asked for food, it would have been considered “outside assistance” and illegal. So I toughened up and decided I could ration the last small portion of water in my bottle until I got to the top. What I didn’t realize was that the gradient up ahead was so steep I couldn’t manage to balance myself on my bike and ride with one hand while I grabbed my water bottle to drink. I would have to stop in order to drink because I was pedaling too slowly. I thought the The Grappa was a hard climb, but the road up to CP 3 was twice as difficult! It was so narrow, in fact, it seemed more like a pedestrian trail than an actual road with areas of rough pavement at times and gravel batches. I made a mental note to descend cautiously and with daylight! 

Trying to smile for the camera crew climbing up to CP3

Halfway up the climb the camera crew caught up with me, startling me by hiding in the bushes to catch some natural shots of me suffering. Although they were only a few meters in front of me with the back on the van open, I had no extra energy to chat with them. It was hot, I was hungry and thirsty, and the climb was beyond difficult. I did, however, feel fortunate to have eliminated all my knee and ankle pain, in order to give the climb all that I could. I had seen pictures of other riders at the top and saw that there was a pristine mountain lake awaiting me, a feasible “bath” to help me cool down and clean-up! I was eager to arrive!

Final Sprint....over my dead body, I just tried to keep the pedals turning!

The face says it all....

Juliana hadn’t been at the 2nd checkpoint but she was waiting for the riders at CP3 with a big smile on her face. Little did I know the race organization wanted to interview me, still in the number one spot for the female riders. I, however, was fixated on the lake next to the hotel at the top of the climb. I put on my rain shorts, took off my jersey and let out a quick shriek as I took a dip in the ice cold water. I was filled with an overwhelming sense of relief! It was incredibly cold water but felt so refreshing! This would be the second “shower” I would take during the race and felt incredible! I hadn’t followed my normal napping pattern that day, as I could see Toastee was only a few hours behind me. However, I decided to rest for a bit at the checkpoint and did a live interview with the race organization before indulging in a delicious meal, chatting with Juliana, and then descending. With 3 out of the 4 checkpoints completed I was more than halfway through the race and determined to keep on fighting to stay in the lead!

Dinner before my departure, I couldn't have eaten the double or triple, but the clock was ticking....