In the winter of last year, I decided it was finally time to take the plunge into the ultra-cycling world. As doing long-distance rides has become a passion of mine, I felt like it was now time to take the ‘next step’ and signed up for RatN. Even though doing an ultra for the first time is already challenging enough, I was also immediately 100% determined it had to be done on my heavyweight cargobike. For the full ‘Why?’ I’d like to refer you to my Instagram page, as I’ve already written about this to some extent. For the short explanation I just need to quote a small section of the RatN race-manual:
“You will be riding your bike around The Netherlands for almost 2000km, and we want you to be the happiest version of yourself, not the fastest version of yourself at all costs. Keep it safe, keep it fair, keep it fun and stay healthy.”
Thanks for reading fietsmetme’s Substack! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
There, all I need. Thanks Michael! I’m a bike messenger, not a racer, and I decided to appear at the start as myself. In a self-supported ultrarace, where the biggest obstacle you’ll likely have to overcome is ‘yourself’, what else could I do? Bring Angela?
https://www.strava.com/activities/11278417210
I spent the night prior to the start in the Van der Valk-hotel in Veenendaal. A last-minute decision I had to make because I hadn’t realised the sleeping-arrangements offered by the organisation were a dormitory-situation. Something I could (=should) have checked in advance, but didn’t. Weirdly enough these last-minute changes didn’t give me a lot of stress, since it felt like the decision was being made for me. I had to book the hotel, because my bike doesn’t fit in a car without having to be completely disassembled. A second reason was that it being King’s Day the next day meant there would be no bikes allowed on trains on the morning of the 27th(, and cycling to the start from home seemed like a pretty stupid idea). I also remember being stressed out about not knowing if I would have a comfortable bed and that I maybe woulnd’t have enough time left to myself before the start. By booking the hotel this was all taken care of.
After the bike-check I now had plenty of time to sort out the last things I wanted to sort out, take the train to Veenendaal whenever I felt ready, check into my hotel without any rush, and get a nice calm and comfortable sleep before the big day. In for a perfect start, you’d think.
But let’s not forget I indeed brought Wendy, and I wouldn’t be Wendy if I didn’t miscalculate the amount of time that would pass between me waking up and arriving at the start. My plan was to be at the start around 07:30. I left the hotel at 07:23. What more can I say? It was a 12km sprint in zone 4, with a gravel section because I forgot to change my Garmin-profile to road-cycling. I arrived at the start around 07:55, shamefully having missed the traditional group picture with all female participants. Luckily there were still plenty of people (with and without consent) taking pictures of me and my bike, so “At least there’s evidence to support I’m actually here”, I heard myself think. Slightly annoyed with myself I tried to find my friends, so I could exchange smiles with familiar faces and ‘shake off’ the stress.
At 08:10 Michael waved his flag and it was time to finally start what I expected to be my biggest adventure yet. (Also my best prepared adventure yet, but we’ll get to that later.) Off we went, immediately having to climb the Amerongse Berg. Rider after rider passed me by, some telling me they were hoping they would see me and my bike. I ended up having a lot of fun conversations in my first few kilometres of the race, but was also aware I would not see any of these people again during the race since my pace was a lot slower than theirs. I decided not to put too much effort in remembering people’s names or cap-numbers (sorry, not sorry).
Sticking to my own pace was the first challenge of this day, and the second was getting through the King’s Day festivities in the towns we were crossing. As I was (n.b.) walking by a parade, a woman yelled at me and some other riders that what we were doing was “Really not-done!”, to which I replied we were both having an event, and that all would be well if we just made some space for each other. I hope the confusion on her face made room for understanding afterwards, since no one really even seemed to be bothering anyone at that point.
Other than that I remember seeing a fountain on a roundabout in Nijkerk that I weirdly really liked, and I wrote down a few cap numbers of people I thought I might bump into again and wanted to dot-watch. I smoothly flew through the next kilometres as the route touched Flevoland for its first time.
After 80kms (11:40) I made a quick stop to put on a rain-jacket, as it seemed like I was going to cycle straight through a big shower. The rain never came, but since this was also where this days headwind started, it was actually nice to be wearing an extra jacket that kept me warm. Or, so I thought. What I somehow managed to forget, is that there were also hills in the part of the country that I’d be cycling through next. In my preparations, climbing-wise, I only had had some worries about the Amerongse Berg straight after the start, and Limburg near the ending of the route. Really quite a remarkable brainfart, as I have cycled through this area plenty of times.
The first ‘climb’ started around 7kms after I had put on my rain-jacket. So there I was, unexpectedly having a hard time, sweating like an idiot, while stubbornly refusing to take off my jacket as I was afraid stopping again would take me out of my rhythm. The ‘climbing’ would last for another 80kms after that, which I did NOT check during the ride. My goal was to keep pedalling to make it to my planned supermarket-stop in Doesburg on time. With supermarkets closing early this day, this was absolutely my main concern.
Cursing myself internally, Penny and I slowly rattled our way up the hills. I was in a really, really bad mood and had already lost most of my confidence for being able to complete the race at all. Until suddenly, on one of the last climbs I heard a kind voice coming from a rider behind me, wo said while passing me by: “Wendy, you’re doing amazing. I don’t know how you do it. […] You’re not just a messenger, you’re an express messenger.” What could be more uplifting than that? Thank you Martin (cap 183), you absolutely made my day!!
I managed to make it to the supermarket on time (17:15; at 175kms), and after feeling convinced I found everything I needed, I – luckily - remembered I was Wendy, and thought to check the grocery-list I made beforehand. Now, most of the people in this store were clearly drunk from the town’s festivities, so what they found in the middle of their supermarket was absolutely a possible source of entertainment to them: a somewhat confused and overheated cyclist, with several bags dangling from her limbs, clumsily flipping through a notebook. I’m glad I managed to dismiss some poor conversations-starters and didn’t let my social anxiety get the better of me, because reading the list made me realise I forgot about half the stuff I needed. Fully re-stocked I made my way to Enschede, cycling through one short shower around kilometre nr. 190, arriving at my hostel around 22:20 after having cycled 260kms. A nice little place at only 0,2km from the route, that had apparently turned into a RatN-hotspot. There were at least 4 other bikes already parked in the kitchen when I arrived.
After a quick shower I pulled out my massage-gun, ate my pot-noodles and a pot of Skyr, updated my socials and set my alarm-clock for 04:15. (It was already 01:00 at this point, a behavioural trend that caused me problems the entire race.)
Amount of sleep prior: 6h20m
Kilometres this ride: 260
Kilometres done: 260
Kilometres to go: 1712
Inactive time during ride: 1h50m
Hours cycled (cumulative): 12,5
Day 2 – Wendy en de Roze Handicap (Wendy and the Pink Handicap)
https://www.strava.com/activities/11287061017
From cycling holidays in the past I had learned that the third day was usually the hardest: I'd be a little tired on the second, completely exhausted on the third, and magically rejuvenated on the fourth. Since the way I approached my planning for RatN seemed kind of similar to a cycling holiday (only a bit more extreme), I thought the same rule(s) might apply. So the second and third day would 'make or break' my race, I told myself.
With that pressure in the back of my head, I decided to sleep for only 3 hours on the first night. The second day was going to be my longest day distance-wise, and I just had to make it. Otherwise I'd mentally never get through the thirdday,Ithought. So after re-gathering all my stuff, I left at 05:25 while the sky portrayed some nice shades of purple from the sun rising. (Or the earth turning, huh?)
I was in good spirits, not too bothered by the lack of sleep, and since the wind was coming from the South and I was mostly moving North this day, I expected a day of smooth sailing. Unfortunately, with strong winds, there’s also this funky little thing called ‘side-wind’. When the winds started to pick up, I rapidly discovered the biggest con of having a giant loaded crate on your bike: if the wind has it, the wind has it. Soon I realised that a lot of my energy would have to go towards focussing on holding my handlebar tightly, making sure me and my bike didn’t get swooped off the road by the wind. As the route would mostly be going West for the first 50kms before taking a turn North, I coached myself by saying: “It’s just 50kms Wendy, you’ve cycled 50kms many times before, you can do it again. It’ll get better. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming.” During these 50kms I also realised I’d be encountering the climb of the Holterberg straight after, which was another scare to be honest.
Feeling my motivation slip away, I did my best to keep cycling and save my worrying about the Holterberg for when I actually got there. Something I managed to do quite well, and I eventually made it up the climb without any problems. In the meantime I had been feeling some pain in my hip, but since it was something I had felt before without it ever becoming problematic, I wasn’t worried about it. I was mostly happy about making it up the climb, and found some time to enjoy the beauty of the area I was cycling through. “It is going to be a good day!”, I manifested.
After about 100kms and 5,5 hours of being on the road, the pain in my hip started to get worse. I kept cycling for a bit to make sure it actually was getting worse (haha, why??), knowing my efficiency degrades exponentially the longer I stand still. I reluctantly stepped off of my bike after around 110kms, to discover I could barely stand on my left leg. A few minutes before, I had suddenly remembered a friend once being surprised by the degree my clip-ins were placed towards the tip of my shoe, so I decided to move them backwards as it was the only quick-fix I could think of. Luckily, this worked. I jumped back on my bike as quickly as I could, to soon re-find my rhythm. I had to keep going after all, it was still going to be a long day.
A few hours later the fatigue started to kick in, all the while discovering the expected tailwind turned out to mostly be side wind. With today’s planned distance in mind, I decided there was, however, also no time to take a nap. I told myself, being a bit harder on myself thanI usually am: “You knew this day was going to be hard, now stop acting surprised that it actually is.” That thought got me through most of the boring parts between Hardenberg and Emmen. In Emmen my mood was shortly lifted by spotting a mistake in the route before actually making it: I already knew crossing the road there was pointless since there was no cycling path on the other side of it. Feeling very smart, I continued mostly praying for a gas station along the road. I wanted to buy some Red Bull to avoid a mental crash before reaching Groningen. Found one in Ter Apel, and only a few pedalstrokes later, I spotted my mom waving from the side of the road. I completely forgot all my problems, convinced her (and myself apparently) I was feeling good, and that I ‘only’ had 120kms to go for the day.
The section after this mostly had tailwind, and from then until Bourtange everything was absolutely amazing again. The pain was gone, my legs were still working, and it looked like I was going to make it to my sleeping-address on time. At some point, of course, the tailwind stopped. I had to turn West again. The wind only seemed to have gotten stronger, so what followed were about 50kms of – for me – absolute hell. My supermarket-break in Stadskanaal was exactly in the middle of this section, and provided me with a much needed break from clamping my handlebar. Walking out of the supermarket, I bumped into Diana (cap 90), who looked just about as puzzled by what to do with this wind as I did. After 5 minutes of being back on the bike, it started to rain. It didn’t seem to be anything serious, so I just put on a rain jacket and moved on. Another 5 minutes later the rain got so bad I made another stop to put my full rain-armour on. For the past 2-3 hours I had also had to pee about every 30 minutes, so I suddenly was stopping A LOT. I think I stopped about 7 times within 60kms, making it so it took me more than 4(!!) hours to cycle these 60kms. During two of these stops my bike also fell because of the wind and it being parked on soft surfaces. With it being fully loaded also making it extra hard to get it up again, I was really starting to run out of patience with myself and the day.
Around Gasteren Diana passed me by again. When I told her I had only 55kms left to go to my sleeping-address, it suddenly didn’t sound like much, and I was fully convinced all would be well again. I would soon be in Groningen, a city I’ve lived in for 4 years, so I’d know the roads. Remembering this thought: “You knew this day was going to be hard, now stop acting surprised that it actually is”, I kept going. The next part was going to be easy and I would be in bed soon enough. Things, indeed, went smoothly for about 15kms, until my hip started to hurt again. I had to slow down my pace significantly, while trying find positions on my saddle to make it hurt less. I texted my host from ‘Vrienden op de Fiets’ I was running an hour late (which I still was at that point, surprisingly), and told myself it would only be two more hours of cycling. I could do that, I really could.
What was supposed to be the easiest part of the route, then turned out to be extremely hard. Even though with tailwind, the last 30kms took me more than 2 hours. Mostly because I was just too tired to be efficient. I dropped one of my waterbottles, poorly parked my bike, leading to it falling over again (almost into a canal). And after that I had lots of trouble with cycling in the dark parts coming after the city, making me anxious and slowing me down even more. I arrived in Ten Post around 23:30. Luckily, my host (Erik) was extremely kind about my being delayed, and just let me do my thing before I went to bed. I honestly don’t know what I would have done if this hadn’t been the case. The patience he had with me was a true lifesaver.
After a slow shower (I couldn’t think straight and constantly lost all my stuff), I roamed Google for answers about my hip and came up with a plan to adjust my left shoe in the morning. But first I was going to let myself get the maximum amount of sleep I could, in the hope this would also magically restore my hip. I could barely walk up the stairs, let alone cycle for another 1407kms.
Amount of sleep prior: 3h15m
Kilometres this ride: 305
Kilometres done: 565
Kilometres to go: 1407
Inactive time during ride: 2h30m
Hours cycled (cumulative): 28
https://www.strava.com/activities/11293500243
After having trouble falling asleep from yesterday’s stress, I woke up from a 6 hour coma. I dozed off again for a few minutes and then postponed getting out of bed for a while out of fear for having to scratch because of my hip. Once I got up, I found the pain had become substantially less, so I started to move to continue with my race. Because the problem seemed to be caused by my left leg being slightly shorter than the right one (about 1cm), I put Compeed band-aids under front part of the inner-sole of my left shoe. I had known this fun-fact about my legs for quite some time, it just never came up as a problem before.
Because the shorter leg has to work harder than the longer one, I could strain it and that could possibly cause bursitis. Well, since I’d rather not suddenly have an office job, I decided to only cycle to Harlingen today to protect myself. This would also mean my carefully thought out day-to-day planning was about to become useless, but with the hope I could maybe catch up with that later, I left Ten Post for a slow 157km ride (instead of the Planned 292 km one to Lelystad).
The first 30 kilometres were mostly tailwind. When after these 30kms of bliss I saw the first dyke with a sheep on it, I knew I had encountered what was going to be my view for the rest of the day. Sheep, grass, sky. Grass, sky, sheep. Literally almost all I saw for the next 120kms consisted of about 5 colours; Green, blue, white, gray, and, well, brown. Wondering where most of the brown came from? Ask the sheep.
I tried to have non-verbal interactions with the sheep to keep myself entertained, and as we were all constantly chewing food, I couldn’t help but notice some similarities between us. Unfortunately, I kept having to redirect my focus to something that, in contrast, set me apart from the sheep: I had the ability to move through the fences, and had to do so in order to keep moving forward. Fence after fence I improved my tactics of getting through them. At the first few I got off my bike to open them, but rolling my bike through the fences on a slow pace, lead to my bike wanting to do a front flip. As soon as my front wheel would hit a bump on the uneven surface, the weight of the crate and its contents caused my bike to launch its rear-end into the air. The following attempts I tried to lift up my bike by lifting the crate when walking through the gates - both when having stepped off and still half on my bike - but soon I realised that would become a Russian Roulette for back-spasms.
The final tactic was this (If the fence opened away from me) :
Aggressively bump into the fence with my crate so it opens as far as possible;
Put my left foot on the ground while getting out of my saddle;
Hold the gate with the hand the side the gate is on while moving my right foot + pedal to their highest possible position;
Make sure I’m stable and my bike can roll forward in a straight line;
Get back in my saddle while pushing myself forward with my right foot as hard as I can;
Guide the fence with the hand I was holding it with for as long as I can, so it doesn’t hit my bike while I move through it.
If the fence opened towards me, I would open the fence with the available hand, and start with step 3 mixed with 5, and then 2, and then 3, 4, 5 and 6 again.
In short: A mind numbing-day, but I picked up a useful skill. There was mostly side wind, but this time it wasn’t too strong, which meant I could use my aero bars and give my hands some well-deserved and already much-needed rest. Once at the supermarket, I did a full round of shopping so I’d have enough supplies for 1,5 day, and bought something sturdier to replace the Compeed-structure in the bottom of my shoe. I arrived at my booked hostel around 20:45.
I did some laundry while showering and got crafty with some sticky felt (the stuff originally intended to make sure your chairs and/or table don’t scratch your floor), to fit into my shoe. The time passed by much quicker than I thought and while I was updating my socials as a ‘final task’, I realised it was almost midnight. As I set an alarm for 04:30, I hoped I would somehow feel well-rested upon waking up.
Amount of sleep prior: 6h20m
Kilometres this ride: 157
Kilometres done: 722
Kilometres to go: 1250
Inactive time during ride: 1h35m
Hours cycled (cumulative): 36,5
Day 4 & 5 – Wendy weet niet meer welke dag het is. (Wendy doesn’t remember what day it is.)
https://www.strava.com/activities/11309522907
Surprise, surprise. I did not feel well-rested after 4,5 hours of sleep, and since I did want to try to cover some extra distance today I gave myself another 1,5 hours to close my eyes. I didn’t want to mentally crash the same way I did on day 2. I woke up for a second time at 06:15, and cycled away from my hostel at 07:45. I honestly have no clue what I did during those 90 minutes, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t anything important. This is something I’ll really have to get under control in the future: I unnecessarily keep losing a lot of time I could better spend moving forward or sleeping. And I lose it by just ‘hanging around’. It seems harmless if it’s just one extra hour in the morning, but if I do it every day – which I did – it ends up costing me 7, and then I haven’t even yet mentioned the time I spent on Instagram before going to sleep.
Alright. Back to cycling.
The prospect of this day was having headwind for the unforeseeable future, so I decided to take it slow, also taking my hip into account. I would try to cover as much distance as I possibly could, but I wasn’t going to rush or stress myself into doing so, as I was still afraid of having to scratch (and having to work that office job). This day’s first 50kms took me 3,5 hours. Statistics that usually should have been alarming, but given the circ*mstances just had to be accepted. In Lemmer someone specifically cheered me on, which was something I didn’t expect as I didn’t think anyone would be paying attention to me given my position in the race. Fun nonetheless, and I enjoyed as a compliment.
The first fellow participant I encountered ánd talked to this day was Jonah (cap 142), who told me he cycled the wrong way for 70 kms, and had therefore already cycled an extra and unnecessary 140kms on that day. I found some comfort in thinking my day couldn’t possibly get that bad (sorry Jonah), and stacked this thought in the back of my head as a card I could play against myself, if my thoughts would turn sour at some point during the day. I continued slowly and steadily, and enjoyed how easy it was to visualise how ‘Urk’ used to be an island when approaching it from the North. A few kilometres after Urk, my hip started to sting immensely again. I immediately jumped off my bike, cut out an extra piece of sticky felt to fit in my shoe, prayed (to whom?) this didn’t mean I had to scratch after all, and promised myself to keep cycling slowly.
Even though I was barely moving forward, mentally I was doing really well. I felt stable, happy and calm. A mood that felt like it was not easily going to be shifted by anything, so I started to inspect what it would look like wind-wise if I turned this into an all-nighter. I learned that cycling towards Den Helder through the night would practically be without wind, but if done the next morning, it would be with a strong headwind. I planned an extra supermarket stop in Almere, would check how I felt once upon arriving there and then make a further game-plan.
If you paid attention, you might have noticed that I started this day with 1,5 days’ worth of food. As Almere is only 155kms from Harlingen on the route, I still had plenty. I somehow managed to forget this, until I was at the supermarket. I stood next the supermarket for a while, having parked my bike in the bike-racks, re-organising the mess in my crate and counting bags of candy. Got some confused looks from quite a number of people, which lead to me being able to take a moment to really enjoy the weirdness of what I was doing. Proud of myself for being in this race and having made it this far, I did some very well-structured grocery shopping to get me through the night and the morning. I shared a croissant with some curious sparrows, and continued with the same pace and the same peace of mind, into what would be my first ever time of cycling through the night. Knowing I don’t usually do well with sleep deprivation, this was absolutely a risk, but I somehow felt confident enough to take it, so I took it.
The road from Almere to Schardam went fairly easy, where the amount of mandatory detours because of road-construction didn’t manage to throw me off in the slightest. Even when in Volendam I didn’t think to follow a detour because the sign said: “The ‘Parallel road’ was still reachable”, and it lead to me having to unpack my bike, carry it down some stairs and repack it after, I was still calm and collected. I did only realise then and there that ‘Parallel road’ was the street’s name, and not a road I could easily reach once the main one was closed off. Shortly after this I reached a bridge too narrow for me to cross without having to completely take my bike apart. I sat down, finished my daily Duolingo lesson to keep the streak going, looked up a detour and calmly continued cycling.
I briefly met with cap nr. 60, who was also planning to cycle through the night, but it was a short meeting given the difference of pace. (Everybody always going faster than me.) Everything was fine until around Hoorn, where I noticed that the thunderstorms I had seen in the distance were starting to move in on me. Cycling out in the open atop a dyke didn’t seem like the wisest plan during such weather, so I kept checking and refreshing the weather apps to make sure I wasn’t taking any unnecessary risks. It looked like there was going to be one intense shower moving exactly over me, so I decided to try and find a place to hide in Schellinkhout. A place that unfortunately wasn’t cool enough to have proper bus stops, so I ended up having to hide under someone’s porch. I tried to get a powernap in while sitting there, but struggled to do so out of fear of being found out. I did actually feel refreshed from the few minutes I dozed off, so after the rain passed, I continued my journey feeling somewhat less tired.
A few kilometres earlier the weather-apps had assured me the thunderstorm wouldn’t come anywhere near me, but when approaching Enkhuizen I seriously started to doubt them again. I checked again, again and again, just to be sure, and it still looked like I was going to be fine. Cycling out of Enkhuizen I suddenly saw thunderstorms on two sides of me, so I checked AGAIN when I was somewhere near the lighthouse. Now it looked like the thunderstorm West of me was going to pass right by me, and that if I just waited for 15-30 minutes, I could easily avoid going through it. I found a nice place to sit next to the lighthouse of Enkhuizen, and decided to watch and enjoy the flashes of lightning before continuing my journey further North. As the minutes passed, the storm still seemed to be moving in on me, and after refreshing Buienradar.nl one more time, it now said the storm was moving directly over me. I hid under a bush next to the lighthouse, managed to find a comfortable sleeping spot while crawling into the foetal position, and slept for a few minutes during the hour I ended up having to spend there. All the while cap nr. 60 was still on the move, leaving me to wonder if I was just unlucky or if we both had a very different upbringing regarding how to best deal with thunderstorms.
The sun started rising soon after I started riding again, and I found myself shocked by how far away Den Helder still was. After 24 hours of cycling, I still hadn’t reached it. This realisation was a bit of a disappointment, and as I was also starting to feel drowsy again, I thought it’d be best if I took a short nap on a bench to help lift my spirits. Unfortunately I was surprised by some rain that didn’t show on the radar as soon as I closed my eyes, so back on the bike I went. I actively had to fight letting the sleepiness put me in a bad mood, and pushed myself to keep going since the places fit to sleep on/in were now all too wet to give it a try. I also had to accept cycling through the night didn’t help me to catch up with my planned schedule, and struggled to not be too disappointed by this. Completing the race in 7 days wasn’t realistic anymore, it was going to be at least 8 from now on.
A gas station right before Den Helder enabled me to re-stock on my Red Bull, and while having re-found some of my motivation, I finally reached the turning point that my mind had made Den Helder out to be. Even though the halfway point of the route was officially in Enkhuizen, from Den Helder on, it finally felt like I was finally starting to make my way back to Amerongen. And with a strong tailwind supporting me along the coast, I was starting to fly South. As I enjoyed the scenery and the easiness of the cycling in this part, a part of my heart was with my friends, who had to do this part with full-on headwind. There were some hills because of the dunes, and I was fully aware I was only having this much fun because I didn’t have to put in any extra effort for the parts that were going up. I met some participants I hadn’t spoken to before, and re-met some people I hadn’t seen since the start. The weather was insanely nice, the cycling went smoothly, and I was able to postpone my next nap until km 376. After closing my eyes for a few minutes lying in the shade of some trees, I decided to keep cycling until Hoek van Holland. Cycling for approximately another 100kms with a tailwind somehow sounded like an easy task I could still complete, and I booked a hotel there to ‘lock’ myself into having to do this. I’m proud of how this very sleep-deprived version of Wendy managed to apply this amount of self-knowledge, since I would have absolutely tried to weasel my way out of this about 3 hours later, if I hadn’t booked that room.
Cycling past Zandvoort somehow made me think I was almost there already, only to discover in Den Haag that Hoek van Holland was still more than 20kms away. To keep myself awake and ‘energized’ I had cycled through the dunes North of Den Haag as fast as I could, going faster than some people on actual racing bikes. So when I had almost completely emptied the tank and found out I still had 24kms to go, well, you can – perhaps – imagine my disappointment. Luckily dotwatcher Arjen showed up during part of this debacle, and cycled next to me for a part of it. Still feeling very, very grateful for this!! Shortly before arriving in Hoek van Holland I bumped into Werner (cap 20) again, and it was nice having someone to talk to (or having someone talk to me, haha) for the last part of what was absolutely my longest ride so far.
I arrived at my hotel around 19:15, and amazed by the unexpected luxury of my room and the amount of attention I was suddenly receiving on social media, I ended up going to sleep no earlier than 00:30. Big fat mistake. I could (= should) have been asleep by 20:00. I also didn’t set an alarm clock because I wanted to get as much sleep as I needed. Which was not per se a mistake, but definitely something that got me into trouble the next day.
Amount of sleep prior: 5h30m + 3 naps during the night
Kilometres this ride: 484
Kilometres done: 1206
Kilometres to go: 766
Inactive time during ride: 10h
Hours cycled (cumulative): 62
https://www.strava.com/activities/11317458047
I woke up around 08:00, after 7,5 hours of good sleep. Since breakfast was included in the price of the room, I decided not to skip it and made sure I chugged two glasses of fresh orange juice, to help cure the vitamin deficiencies that the insides of my mouth had started to alarm. Afterwards I went on a little shopping spree in the stores surrounding the hotel. Restocked on my groceries, acquired some vitamin C tablets, and desperately looked for some socks since the ones I had, hadn’t sufficiently dried up yet after I washed them. Part of my left foot had gone numb from the extra stuff I put in my shoe, and I didn’t want to risk doing any damage by cycling around with wet feet (I remembered Lennart Nap’s trench foot horror stories from the year before), without being able to feel if I was doing so.
Not realising how much time this was all taking up, I continued packing loudly singing and dancing in my room, and started cycling at 11:00. Sia’s song ‘Chandelier’ was playing on repeat since this morning, and continued to lighten my mood as I was cycling. I was euphorically happy until about halfway through Rotterdam, celebrating crossing the Erasmusbrug like a huge victory, only to realise I had cycled just 31kms so far and it was already 13:00. “What on earth are you celebrating?”, I asked myself. I was nowhere near the finish yet, and with this pace I was never even going to make it there in time at all. While mentally starting to slip into a darker place, my left foot actively started to protest the way I was treating it, so I slowed down even more. I put on my flip-flops to hopefully get the blood flowing again, still having to put the inner-sole of my cycling shoe in my left slipper, to even out my leg’s length-differences. I told myself this was a precaution to still be able to wear my shoes in Limburg, so I wouldn’t feel too guilty about having stopped again. Two boys passing me by on a scooter laughed at me, imitating the way I was cycling because of my flipflops. When this almost made me cry, I realised the sleep-deprivation was also starting to affect the way I was feeling.
Shortly after this I had to stop make another stop, because my left foot still wasn’t getting enough blood. I took both layers of the sticky felt from under the inner-sole, and put just the inner-sole back in my flip-flops. This would soon lead to me starting to feel pain in my hip again, since the length-difference was being compensated less than it was before. At 0km p/h once again, I desperately pulled out the inner-sole of my right cycling-shoe (which I hadn’t tried before because I though it would be too uncomfortable), put one layer of sticky felt back under the inner-sole of my left cycling shoe, and – surprise – put my shoes back on instead of the flipflops. Looking back I can see why I didn’t try this straight away, but I really wish that I had. This was immensely better than all the options I tried before.
Mentally, things also continued to get worse, I was hating everything an mostly condemning myself for the poor choices I made the night and the morning before. Having barely made it into Zeeland, I realised this version of Wendy wasn’t going to get me anywhere, so while I was miserably eating a bag of crisps on a bench, I started looking for hotels. Found one about 50kms from where I was, thinking I could still do that. As the headwind was getting stronger, I hated myself even more. If I had started cycling just one or two hours earlier that day, all of this could have been avoided. The following 50kms ended up taking way longer than anticipated, and while I was about in the worst mood I could possibly be in, dotwatcher Sjoerd showed up. I remember thinking something like: “Oh no, not this again.”, and then immediately judged myself for thinking that towards someone who just made an amazingly kind effort by coming outside, just to see me cycle by. I managed to flip the switch, and forced myself to socialize a little, which was actually nice because it turned out Sjoerd used to live in the area of Utrecht I like to work in the most. We shared a liking for the area and it took my mind of the heaviness of the situation I was in for a bit. He told me he had heard from other riders I had a strong head, and that he believed I could still make it. (I don’t know who told him this, but thank you!!!) The conversation, however, also made me realise there really was no way to fix my mental state, and that going to sleep was absolutely the best thing for me to do. After the most chaotic supermarket run of my life, Sjoerd was still kindly waiting outside, and cycled the last few hundred metres to the hotel next to me, which was also directly along the route.
As I did my best to learn from my mistakes, I tried to take a short shower, eat fast, and go to sleep as soon as I could. I arrived at the hotel around 20:45 and, according to my watch, I wasn’t asleep until almost 01:00. I honestly do not know what I did in that time besides eat and shower, and I am once again pretty sure it wasn’t anything important. I didn’t even update and post the daily ‘overview-sheets’ I had created to make it easier for my non-cycling friends to understand what I was doing. I went to sleep without setting an alarm clock, as I wasn’t even sure I still wanted to try and finish the race.
Amount of sleep prior: 7h20m
Kilometres this ride: 128
Kilometres done: 1333
Kilometres to go: 638
Inactive time during ride: 2h25m
Hours cycled (cumulative): 69,5
Day 7 – TODAY IS NOT THE DAY I QUIT!!!
https://www.strava.com/activities/11324460151
When I woke up, I was still feeling miserable. I was still seriously considering scratching, but decided I wasn’t allowed to do that before even having tried to get on my bike that day. Reluctantly I put on almost all of the clothes I was carrying, to best prepare myself for the weather I was about to face. It was raining, the temperature had dropped to 10 degrees, and the wind came blowing with 6bft from the direction I had to cycle in. As I had to cycle along the coast and cross one of the constructions built to separate the Dutch inner waters from the sea, I was going to be completely exposed to all the violence the weather had to offer that day.
After some last-minute thorough self-reflection, I also realised things started to go bad for me on day 6 after I switched songs. I put Sia’s ‘Chanderlier’ back on repeat for superstition, and on I went. The first 33kms of the day were absolutely crazy and/or insane. But somehow the wind trying to blow me off of my bike, motivated me to keep going. I yelled at the wind: “NOT TODAY!” And with an average speed of about 7kms p/h I kept moving forward along the sea. I saw 2 or 3 cyclists crazy enough to be outside during this hell-storm too, but they were all cycling in the opposite direction. (Smart!) Halfway across the Oosterscheldekering, I suddenly saw someone who seemed to have their attention focused on me. It took me a few moments to recognise it was Sjoerd again, the dotwatcher I met the night before. Coincidentally I had also just started filming myself from the phone attached to my aero bars, as I wanted something visual to remember what the hell I was going through that day. The visible mood-change in my face when I recognise him is tremendous, and I love having been able to capture such a moment.
He told me he went for a run because he wanted to experience what the riders had to deal with that day, and called it ‘gekkenwerk’. I absolutely agreed with him, while he continued by saying he was glad to see I was still in the race, and once again reminded me of my strength. Funny detail is that I didn’t need to get off my bike to have this conversation, since the wind slowed me down by so much it was very easy to exchange a few sentences as I was passing him by. I pedalled on, seeing the amount of distance I had to go until my next turn slowly count itself down on the screen of my Garmin. I didn’t check the total distance of the ‘crazy part’ in advance, just because I didn’t want to know and risk possibly demotivating myself if things weren’t going well. I was just going to celebrate all the covered distance as a win, and take the knowledge I would end up having tailwind eventually. Or as Dory would say: “Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming.”
Eventually the headwind turned into side wind, making it extremely difficult to handle my bike again. Which I somehow magically managed to do until a small restaurant’s building on the side of the dyke broke the wind in such a way I could in no way predict or adjust (to) where my bike was going. I jumped off and started to walk, only to find the wind being too strong to keep my bike steady enough to get back on after having passed by the restaurant. I kept walking for the remaining 1km of this dyke, before I could descend from the dyke into Westkapelle. I remembered Westkapelle’s location on the map, and now knew I had made it through the most difficult part of the day. Relieved I started to enjoy the tailwind I would now be having for the rest of the day, while also knowing I would soon have to come up with a plan on how I was still going to make it to the finish in time. To keep it manageable, my first goal was to at least make it out of Zeeland. As the first 33kms already took me more than 2,5 hours, I was set on keeping cycling for as much as I could. I felt a bit rude not taking the time to talk to the dotwachters cheering me on along the road, but I hoped they understood the difficult position I was in. It was 93kms from Westkapelle to the the edge of Brabant, and I even skipped my planned stop at ‘Wendy’s’ in Goes to make sure I had done everything I could to win back some time.
Unfortunately, covering this distance still ended up taking about 5 hours. I had to conclude I was tired, and the first part of the day had done its number on me. I had hopes for making it to Tilburg this day, and even though it still might have been doable, I was afraid of over-exhausting myself again. I settled for Roosendaal, so I could go to bed soon, get up early and cycle to the finish in one stretch. Ambitious? Yes. Risky? Definitely also yes. But I knew that if I wanted to finish this in time, this was my best option for getting myself through it mentally. I checked into my hotel in Roosendaal at 20:45, and was asleep by 22:00. Still not perfect, but much better than the days before. My alarm was set for 03:30. From then on, it was going to be all or nothing.
Amount of sleep prior: 8h15m
Kilometres this ride: 152
Kilometres done: 1485
Kilometres to go: 486
Inactive time during ride: 1h5m
Hours cycled (cumulative): 69,5
Day 8 & 9 – Wendy op Karakter (Wendy by Character)
https://www.strava.com/activities/11339269960
I woke up at 03:30, not even giving attention to checking if I felt like I had had enough sleep. I had to get on my bike as fast as I could, and started re-packing the few things I had bothered to unpack the night before. I was outside and unlocking my bike by the time it was 04:00 (wow!), only to realise I couldn’t find my Garmin. I was pretty sure I didn’t leave anything in my room, but as I couldn’t find it, I re-locked my bike and ran back upstairs before taking the step of turning all of my luggage inside out. This already took more time than you’d expect, since there was no one at the hotel’s reception yet, and the only reason I was able to get back into the hotel was because there was another guest wandering around in the lobby. Back in the room, I realised my Garmin indeed wasn’t there, and it had to be buried somewhere in one of my bags. Practically crying it didn’t even take me one minute to find it. I did my best to ignore being shocked by how stressed I was, because acknowledging that wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I had to start cycling, and listen to Sia singing about swinging from Chandeliers. NOW.
It was a cold and foggy morning, and after 2,5 hours of cycling I was already feeling extremely sleepy. I took a short nap on a bench, and hoped this wasn’t signalling what the rest of my day was going to feel like. A big part of me wanted to scratch and look for a train home in Tilburg, but I managed to tell myself I really couldn't take this whole race-attempt seriously if I didn’t at least try to make it to the area of Maastricht. If things really seemed hopeless or undoable once I was in Maastricht, I was allowed to go home. Also guessing that once I made it there, I would find myself being too close to the finish to still be wanting to quit.
As I also had only seen one other rider in the past two days, to whom I didn’t really talk – as I was fully committed to making it out of Zeeland at that time – I was starting to feel very lonely in what I was doing. Luckily for me, soon after passing Tilburg (72kms), I spotted a yellow jersey on the side of the road. One that I immediately recognised as a piece of clothing belonging to a ‘Domrenner’. It was Jannes waiting to accompany me for a small portion of my ride. We talked about how he’d unfortunately missed Gregor (cap nr. 116), and some possible ultra-plans for the future as we cycled through what he called the ‘party-zone’. Shortly after we parted ways again, I realised I probably hadn’t seen Jannes since my Domrenner-introduction camp a few years back. Which makes it an even more kind gesture for him to come cheer me on. Thank you Jannes!!
A few kilometres later, right before Bergeijk (90kms), another dotwatcher showed up and cycled next to me for a short while, to see how I was doing and to ask what my plans in regard of making it to the finish were. I told him I most likely had to cycle through the night, but would try to get a place to sleep if I saw any room for it. Knowing full well that, with my past experience of getting timely in and out of my sleeping arrangements, I would probably fail as soon as I booked anything. He complimented me on my bike, and wished me luck. Both these encounters recharged me a little.
Following this, I remember being annoyed for some time by not being able to find a proper place for a toilet break. After I finally found one, I found Joep waiting next to my parked bike when I emerged from behind the trees again. Great timing! Oops. He cycled with me for a while, and amongst other things, we talked about how my tactics had slowed me down as much as they did. Because, as I had also already started to realise myself, all the little things added up, had cost me a lot of valuable time. Joep also forced me to calculate how much time I would actually still have to spend cycling, which is something I didn’t want to know because I was afraid it would scare me. Admittedly, it actually really was the best thing for me to do at that time. It came down to at least 24 more hours. A number that shocked me for a while, but I also knew it was something I would be able to do, as long as I could find a way to want to do it. Joep left me soon after we entered Limburg, and I mentally had to start preparing myself for the climbing that was soon about to start. I stopped a few times to cry, as I continued to feel lost in what I was doing, without having anyone to talk to again. I re-found some strength in knowing that I was about to arrive at the hardest part, and after that I really would have done the hardest part. This motivated me to get keep doing my best to get there as fast as – now Wendily – possible.
After what felt like the first real climb, but was actually just a bridge, I found someone waiting for me. Karthik (cap 155), who had to scratch because of knee-problems, lived nearby and still jumped on his bike to come cheer me on. Very kind and very much appreciated!!
I then had a laugh with myself while cycling through a town called Raar (‘raar’ means weird in Dutch), and after that I started to struggle mentally again. I was still feeling lonely despite having met quite a lot of people during this day. As it started to rain, I stopped under a viaduct to get my rain-clothes out. I thought I saw a girl cycling on the wrong side of the road pretty fast, but didn’t think anything of it. Until I suddenly heard a familiar voice yell: “Hey, Wendy!!” I looked up and recognised Gijs. Not a girl at all, but a colleague who was on a holiday in the neighbourhood, and came to look me up as I was passing by. I cried for the first few minutes, and was absolutely unable to speak, as this was one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me. Gijs wanted to cycle up the Cauberg with me, before returning to his family in the vacation home they were renting in the neigbourhoud. The Cauberg turned out to mostly be a walking-endeavour for me, but it was nevertheless nice not having to walk it alone. Gijs’ wife and kids were waiting a little further ahead, waiting to cheer me on and see me off again. I told them I’d likely have to cycle through the night, but believed I was absolutely still able to make it in time. For the first time in a while, I started to actually believe it again myself now, too.
After crawling up the Keutenberg, which’s road had actually turned into a small river because of how much it was now raining, I descended into Gulpen and found some cover to dry my hands and phone, and tried to look for a place to find some extra groceries. I still had enough food, but I wanted to get some extra candy-type food, just to be sure. Unfortunately I didn’t ‘flag’ May 4th as a possible obstacle in my game-plan, since I planned to arrive at the finish the day before. All supermarkets closed early this day, because at 20:00 we have a nation-wide 2 minutes of silence to commemorate war-casualties. This ‘surprise’ worried me a little, but I convinced myself I would find a way to keep going, as I simply had no other choice if it came to it. Absolutely an argument without any substance, but it worked at the time, so I took it.
During this pause, I unfortunately also managed to get water into the charging-hole of my phone. Once this happens, any Samsung phone doesn’t charge anymore via its cable, until the water is removed (or has evaporated, or mysteriously disappeared). This had happened to me before, so knowing what I was in for, I switched my SIM-card to my picture phone (yes, I have two phones – long story), took a new cable I knew would be dry from my bag, and connected that one to the charger and my picture phone, while turning it into a hotspot for the time being. The phone that wouldn’t charge anymore was charged to 83% when it happened, so I knew I would still be able to receive and send texts through WhatsApp for a while.
I continued my way slowly getting past the climbs, having to walk big parts of them, while also being accepting of the situation. Before I reached the final real climb, I suddenly saw a HUGE fruit vending-machine on the lawn of a farm. I decided to buy a bag of apples, which of course weighed a few kilograms. At this point I could luckily only laugh at the idea of carrying some extra weight up with me, and I also didn’t want to risk regretting not having bought anything later. I put a few of the apples in my crate, and a few in my backpack, to divide the weight a little. I then climbed the climb, walked some of it, before finally reaching the ‘Drielandenpunt’. A place I usually find to be one of the most ridiculous tourist-attractions in existence, but now was very happy to have arrived at. I chased a few other people away while having myself a photoshoot, and after taking about 40 ugly pictures and one half-decent one, I spread the last one around amongst my friends and went on my way again.
What followed was mostly descending, with only one steep climb in-between. I bumped into dotwatcher Michaela somewhere between Heerlen and Landgraaf, and was – especially given the time of day (23:15) – completely surprised by the enthusiasm she greeted me with. This lifted me up, and the first part of my return through Limburg in the dark went by quite easily. Thanks Michaela!! Found a Godsend (a.k.a. Quiosk vending machine) at a gas station along the road, bought some extra Red Bulls and Snickers, and was fully confident I was now going to make it through the night.
In the meantime, I had seen on Dotwatcher that there were a few un-moving dots in the area of Roermond, so my next goal became ‘catch’ them in Roermond and pass them by as they were sleeping. The thought of my ride being a little sneak-attack in the night, kept me going for a while. I managed to have some fun with myself being on this quest. Around 03:20 I stopped for my second powernap in a bus stop, and then checked on the map where I was exactly. I was just outside of Roermond, and decided that I was too close to the goal, and got back on my bike. Two hours later, I completely crashed. I texted my friends I went way too far, and that I had absolutely no idea how I was going to make it to Amerongen. I was near Venlo, and I very, very seriously considered taking a train once I got there.
I went to go find a bench and try to get some actual sleep. Which of course, didn’t really work. This bench was also a great reminder of why I usually only buy black sports-clothes: my new pink rain-jacket now had one green sleeve from the parts of nature that had reclaimed this bench. I think I laid there for about 20 to 30 minutes, and (pretending I was) feeling somewhat refreshed I was back on the bike soon thereafter. Around 06:30 I was sending texts to my friends again. With still 130kms to go, I was sure I was never going to be able to cycle that much distance still. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, and I was worried about my flight to Scotland the very next day. All I could think about how I was feeling in that exact moment, and how that ‘shape’ of me would never know how to get home if she even made it to the finish line at all. Which actually was absolutely a realistic thought, but at that time you’re unable to see what things might be like if they improve again. (Which they most of the time somehow do.) The most interesting thing about this though – to me – is that I didn’t really stop cycling while I was issuing these complaints about what I was doing. I don’t know why I did that. To subconsciously prevent myself from getting cold? Or because deep down I knew that stopping now also wouldn’t really lead to anything? There also was no ‘point’ in the texts I was sending my friends; they weren’t able (and allowed!) to actively help me. I knew that and also didn’t really want for that to change. but sent the messages anyway.
There was one thing I did know at that point, or started to become aware of, and that was this: The choice I was about to make, was going to mean something to me for the rest of my life. That was a very intense thing to be aware of. It still is, haha. I just got tears in my eyes from writing this down. While thinking this, I told my friends (or maybe myself?) I would do my best to eat, and keep moving forward. I cried vocally when eating an apple, and pedalled on, round after round, as Venlo officially became a passed station. (Hehe.)
By this time, the dots/participants that were now behind me, had also started to move again. I felt some fear for what it would do to me mentally if any of them caught up with me again, but also really hoped one of them would pass me by so I’d finally see another participant again. I hadn’t seen any of them for almost 2 full days. Cap 245 was the first one to catch up with me. We had a short chat, and as we both didn’t seem to be in the best of shapes, it was easy and comfortable to keep the conversation short. Continuing at our own paces, we wished each other luck with what had now become the final 100kms, and said we would see each other at the finish. I think seeing someone must have really helped me, because the next 60kms flew by like they were nothing. I was in Nijmegen before I knew it.
Once in Nijmegen, I made a short stop to chug some – more – of the Red Bull I had acquired at a gas station just before the city. At this particular gas station, the owner had followed me outside to, what seemed like ‘finally’, ask someone what all these people with numbered caps were doing. He had already figured out we were all on our way to Amerongen, as everybody had given him that same answer. But he still had no clue what for, and why we all seemed to be doing it by ourselves. I tried to explain it as well as I could, but I was tired, and the man mostly confused by why on earth you would do such a thing. This conversation was nevertheless a nice reminder I had finally almost completed this insane ride, and had sent me away in a good mood again. Also a reason that made it so easy to reach Nijmegen, I think.
The last 40kms were once again long, and specifically the Waalbandijk seemed to be endless. Got cheered on by RatN legend Bas Vlaskamp during on this second-to-last dyke, who actually might have hacked turning your racing bike into a cargobike, by the sheer use of some tape. Might use this tactic if I’m desperate during work sometime, who knows.
Pedalstroke after pedalstroke I made my way to the finish. There’s honestly way to properly describe having to cover this last distance. There was no euphoria, nor a willingness to give up, it was just non-inspirational cycling to get to a place I had to be at. People clapped for me when I arrived at the finish, and that was it. Done. I did it.
Maybe it was because I was tired, or because none of my friends were there (which I knew they wouldn’t be, so no biggie), but arriving at the finish didn’t make me feel any of the things I was expecting to feel. I had just completed cycling through a ridiculously hard night, to make it to a café on time. And that was suddenly all that was left of it. No (metaphorical) chandeliers to be swinging from.
-
After some thinking I’m going to say this:
(And I know this is a weird plot-twist to throw at the and of this story, but I think there was a lesson in this finish (for me).)
Life and it’s stories can become ‘magical’, but only when you have people around to share them with. It was meeting the other participants and the dotwatchers that formed the highlights of this journey, not the struggling by myself. Not that there’s no meaning to be found in the latter, but it loses its meaning quickly if it isn’t shared. Like my arrival at the finish did for me. I do have plenty of friends, but I tend not to ask them for anything because I don’t want to bother them, as I know they’re also busy living their own lives. It would, however, have meant the world to me if they had been at the finish, and they would have been there if I had just asked.
We don’t always have to figure everything out by ourselves, just when we’re cycling an ultra-race.
Amount of sleep prior: 5h5m + powernaps on the road
Kilometres this ride: 486
Kilometres done: 1971
Kilometres to go: 0
Inactive time during ride: 6h25m
Hours cycled (cumulative): 97,5
Other evaluations
The first question that came to mind after writing this: Would I have benefited from unlocking the ‘day 8 & 9 attitude’ earlier on in the race? Absolutely, yes. But it depends on from what perspective you look at it. If I were a racer, it would have been the perfect attitude to have at all times. But I’m not, and I don’t want to be. I want to have fun, and that doesn’t entail fully exploiting myself and my limits, for me. It’s nice to know that when push comes to shove, I can get the job done. But I’d rather not be that miserable by (direct) choice. I do, however, know that the choices I made during the other days of my race, are what lead to me being in the position I was in, and to me having to do what I had to do to make it to the finish in time. So in that regard, I would have benefitted from being a bit more strict and pushy with myself. It’s the same ‘issues’ I have in real life, that caused me problems in the race. Of course, they’re called behavioural patterns for a reason. 😉
It's once again – and what isn’t – about finding balance, I think. Continue to try to teach myself to stick to a schedule, but also make sure I let myself be chaotic and dance around in the meantime.
As this was also my first ultra, I had no idea where to start planning-wise. I tried to structure it as much in advance as I could because I thought I would benefit from having a schedule to stick to. Time has taught me I tend to lose my sense of discipline quickly without having any real guidelines. So the strict planning was a good idea, but failed easily when something unforeseeable happened. Which, ironically, also was something to be expected. I’ve not yet decided on what a better approach could be for me, but I’m looking forward to figuring it out!!
The data collected from this first attempt are also nice to now have. If I did the math correctly, it took me 8 days, 6 hours and 43 minutes to get from start to finish line. Expressed in hours, this rounds up to 199. In 199 hours, I was cycling for only 97,5 of them. It would be nice to try again in two years and to see where (and if) I can win back some of that time.
-
Ah, and in case anyone is wondering if I’ll be trying it on a different bike?
No.
Thanks for reading fietsmetme’s Substack! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
