Diary of a Frantic Race in Morocco

A story by Fabien, Abicyclette Voyages

At the end of October 2023, I was lucky enough to take part in the final round of the BikingMan, the Ultracycling World Championship. This final round of 2023 was held in Morocco, starting from Marrakech.

In a few figures, this event is: 1020 kilometers, 16,429 meters of positive altitude difference, 49 hours and 14 minutes of pedaling out of a total race time of 85 hours and 44 minutes. It also meant 14 hours sleep over 3 nights, 23,657 Kcal burned, and over 25 liters of water drunk in 4 days.

I didn’t know this country, having only seen it once in my life from the Rock of Gibraltar. I also had in mind some images and childhood memories of the January months in front of the Paris Dakar, where the drivers sped along the stony or sandy tracks. Another era…

The arrival in Marrakech, just a few days before the start, offered the striking contrast of a large metropolis both inhospitable because of its pollution, and very welcoming because of the kindness of our hosts. The first few laps on the pedals, to get into the swing of things and make sure the bike had withstood the flight, were a welcome break from the Marrakchi frenzy. My adventure companion, Nicolas, and I are riding on an exciting ochre-colored earth. We gaze with envy and trepidation at the mountains that ring the horizon of the Marrakesh plateau. The stony tracks send back the first red dust to color our gravels. Emotions overwhelm us. We’d been waiting and preparing for this moment, these sensations, the discovery of these paths and landscapes for several months, and we were delighted with what we discovered.

DAY 1 – A nocturnal epic in the heart of the High Atlas mountains

5 a.m., Monday, October 30, 2023, departure for the 94 participants in the race. Alongside favorites Laurianne Plaçais and Maxime Prieur, we set off at night on a course that had only been revealed to us at 3pm the day before. A course and data kept secret until the day before the start are part of the rules for this BikingMan final.

After 4 hours of moderate effort, we crossed the first major pass in the Moroccan High Atlas, at over 2250m. Conditions were good, legs too, and this was the biggest challenge of the day. At least, that’s what we thought when we got to the top. After a quick lunch – an excellent traditional chicken tagine – we headed south. Leaving the road to Ouarzazate, we tackle a major highway worthy of the American 66. In the middle of a stony desert, there’s no stopping the wind when it decides to blow. So, for almost 90 km, we face the wind, without respite, to reach the first checkpoint (CP1), the compulsory passage to get your brevet stamped. After 12 hours and 239 km of cycling, our strategy was to eat and sleep in order to set off again in the early hours of the morning, rather cool, and to make the most of the scenery in daylight. At this time of year, the sun rises around 7.30am and sets around 7.30pm.

DAY 2 – An epic day in the Moroccan desert

3.30am, the alarm rings on the last day of October. It only takes a few minutes to put on our cycling shorts, technical undershirt, jersey, windproof sleeveless jacket, sleeves, socks, and to lock the helmet onto our heads. And that’s all it took to close our bags: a handlebar bag and a frame bag, each with a capacity of around 4 liters, and a 15-litre saddle bag. In the middle of the night, we take the 2 gravel bikes out of the room. The hotel’s café-restaurant is still busy, mostly with cyclists. We meet those who seem exhausted, who have just arrived, and those who have recovered after a few hours’ sleep – or at least rest.

Nico has the dark circles of someone who hasn’t slept much, but he feels rested from this short night. So we’re joking around, as usual. We’re having fun with the experience we’re living, the adventure we’ve come to embark on. It’s a bit nervous, but it feels really good. With the Race Angels, the name given to the organization’s volunteers who are accompanying us on this race and at the checkpoints, we take stock of the race: there are still a few competitors still on course to reach CP1. While Maxime Prieur, 1st, and Laurianne Plaçais, 2nd, have already set off from CP2. They have crossed the 500th kilometer… To sum up, after 23 hours of riding, the gap between the first and last runners is over 300 km. It’s staggering.

4:15 a.m. We set off on this second day. 11 hours of total rest is a very comfortable luxury, probably too much for this type of event, but there are 3 ideas behind this strategic choice:

• Firstly, to ride in daylight as much as possible, so as to take full advantage of the grandiose landscapes we’ve been told about, and in particular the first major desert trails.
• Secondly, to be in good shape to enjoy the kilometers, the good sensations of seeing them go by quickly and having fun technically.
• And finally, in the discovery of this type of race, perhaps to catch up with all those who had chosen not to sleep and who no longer had the same pedal power.

With 800 to 1500 lumens of light on the bike, and 300 to 900 lumens on the helmet, visibility is good enough to ride at speed down winding descents and rocky trails. This is important for those first 3 hours in the dark. The advantage of darkness is that the feeling of speed is increased tenfold, as everything seems to happen more quickly. As the track becomes more rolling, you get a glimpse of an exceptional starry sky, far from the light pollution we’re used to around our big cities.

Day breaks. The sky is tinged with pink, orange, yellow and gold. A palette I’d never seen before. All around us, an undulating desert landscape of rock and pebbles. In the middle, beneath our wheels, a single, photogenic track cuts through this grandiose space. And here everything makes sense. Without having visualized it, I know at that moment that it’s for this track that I’ve come, that it’s to find myself here with my bike that I’ve set off on this adventure. Dopamine floods me, and I’m overcome by a deep sense of joy. Nico arrives and I try to share with him the pleasure I’m taking in this moment of fulfillment. I’m smiling ear to ear. He too is happy to discover these wide-open spaces, having already fallen in love with Morocco a few years earlier. But Nico’s already in management mode, his state of fitness is not the same, as the last few weeks have not allowed him to train as much as he would have liked. His face is already showing a few drawn lines, and his usual joie de vivre seems a long way off.

This incredible trail carries us for 70 km. It’s both long – we’re not used to covering such a distance without a crossroads, without a village, without a resort, without a shop, without even a single house… and short – we’d like it to last forever. So we capture the moments, the shapes that take shape on the horizon and the sky that plays its palette of colors from pink to azure. And then, suddenly, without having seen it coming, although dreaded, a wide, beautiful road cuts us off in our off-road momentum.

Playtime is over. We have to get back on the tarmac and get back on the road. Fortunately, we soon find a place to refuel. Coffee and breakfast, the 2nd of the day at 9am. We’ve already clocked up a hundred kilometers and still have the day ahead of us. We fill up the already full cans with mineral water, which I top up with electrolytes and sugars. Other competitors have stopped with us. We exchange news of the race, our impressions and our plans for the day. We review the rankings with them. As far as we’re concerned, after 340 km, we’re leading the duo ranking. About forty kilometers ahead of the 2nd couple. This new race situation gives us extra motivation to get ahead of our most direct rivals. We set off again, fully recharged. The route immediately offers us a small road pass to climb. At the top, we overlook a very impressive canyon. The rock is finely chiselled, describing jagged lines that run the length of the mountain. The earth here offers a poetic, raw and untamable geology.

We set off on a fast descent to Agdz. The many twists and turns of this slope provide us with some great riding. Encouraged by the adrenalin of our speed, we try to take every bend as smoothly as possible, overtaking the touristy 4x4s and local buses, which are less efficient on these steep roads than our beautiful bicycles. Agdz is quickly crossed. The town is a good refuelling point, but has little else of interest. On the way out, we pass a beautiful palm grove, which again invites me to take out the camera for a few shots. I take the opportunity to photograph Nico in this Moroccan oasis landscape. The Rapha Brevet bib shorts I’m wearing are equipped with a side pocket so that I can keep my phone close at hand and draw quickly when the landscape or situation seems particularly photogenic. These cargo bib shorts have been a revolution in recent years. Designed with bikepacking in mind, the shorts offer one or two thigh pockets that complement those of cycling jerseys, which are more sensitive to perspiration and a little less easy to access on the back.

It’s in this valley that the route chosen by the organization leads us off the road onto a sandy track. This time, as the sun approaches its zenith, a clear, intense light floods the landscape. The first heat is felt. No trees, no shade. This is desert. We cross a few wide, shallow, dry riverbeds that require a little technical skill. We pass numerous intersections with paths that sometimes lead clearly to villages, sometimes to destinations that are hard to see. The GPS directs us, and when in doubt, the tire tracks left on the path by the thirty or so competitors who have already passed, prevent us from stopping. The amount of sand in places makes progress difficult, and is reminiscent of the obstacles on our winter cyclo-cross courses. A few passages give rise to energetic pushes on the pedals to avoid having to dismount. All in all, excellent training for the coming cyclo-cross season! I’m enjoying this playful track, which once again seems endless. Riding in this unique landscape is a real joy. I appreciate the chance to ride here, I appreciate the value of these kilometers of track.

Back on the road, our water bottles are empty. To the left, our TwoNav Cross+ GPS shows the continuation of the route along a main road that seems to lead to the next town a few dozen kilometers away. To the right, a residential area leads us to believe that we might find some water there before continuing on the next leg of our journey. This little detour quickly pays off. A grocery store typical of Moroccan towns and villages, usually open non-stop, allows us to replenish our snacks and other sweets. Ultracycling burns 6,000 kcal a day. To compensate, you have to eat. You need to eat constantly, at least every 20 minutes, and consume several dozen grams of carbohydrates per hour. So don’t be picky. Eat what you can find.

As we fill our bottles, a group of children gather around us. Curious, happy and eager to exchange a few words of French or English with these 2 strange guys, appearing out of nowhere, in tight-fitting outfits, helmets on their heads… There are often one or two who ask for money, but by politely ignoring the question, we manage to have a friendly exchange, which is part of this encounter with a country.

As we set off again, Nicolas tells me that he wouldn’t mind going to a restaurant in an hour’s time to fill up on a nice hot and salty dish to revitalize himself completely. On a main road like the one we’re currently on, we figure there’s bound to be a service station with a restaurant. Google Maps confirms this, in about fifteen kilometers’ time. So Nicolas is reassured.

This road is psychologically difficult. Long, straight, monotonous, with a rather deserted approach and a rough surface that doesn’t give anything back. The wind had picked up, and was facing us on this straight, unsheltered road, with a false-flat profile that forced us to reduce speed to conserve our strength. Even though we would have liked to accelerate to get rid of one of the least interesting segments. For the first time, too, children on the side of the road, who had already seen some thirty competitors pass by, call out to us, usually to say hello, to encourage us. The kids hold out their hands so we can give each other a friendly tap. So we play along too, holding out our hand, sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left. The energy of their smiles, their shouts of encouragement, this friendly tap, recharges the mental batteries of our minds, tired by continuous effort and short nights.

We had to cover almost 50 kilometers to finally reach a town, protect ourselves from the wind and find a place to rest. As we entered the town, a gas station offered a restaurant where another competitor had already sat down, along with a group of German bikers. We decided to join them. Surprise, it was Stéphane, with whom we’d already had lunch the day before, over that fabulous chicken tajine with olives and lemon. A happy coincidence. We resume our exchanges, debating the hundreds of kilometers that separate us from our previous meal: those incredible kilometers of track, that interminable and exhausting last road… Lunch is an opportunity to see other competitors join us at the table. We make friends, we laugh, we try to encourage and reassure each other. This is undoubtedly the camaraderie of the BikingMan family, and of ultracycling in general.

Having eaten our fill, we get back on the road, and as soon as we leave town, a sandstorm whips up our faces and thighs. The gusts are violent, and we keep a firm grip on our handlebars to avoid falling or ending up on the side of the road. It’s like a great cloud of yellow, ochre and brown dust, quite deep, with uncertain contours but very localized. The road turns and the storm weakens. We take in its last breaths from behind, leading us to one of the last climbs of the day.

CP2 is at the summit of the Col de Tizi n’Tazazert. The road to the pass is a 25 km climb. The road is beautiful, with a recent surface. Morocco continues to develop its road network. Every year, new roads, new passes and old tracks are paved to promote and develop activities and exchanges between the country’s towns and regions. It was here, on this climb, that Nicolas put in his last bit of strength. At his own pace, with a few pauses, the summit was approaching, but he could feel that his legs and head, and eventually his whole body, were giving out. I could feel it too, so to keep him with me, I started to encourage him. I began to repeat the words of Marc Madiot, director of the Groupama FDJ team, on the Tour de France in 2019, addressing Thibaut Pinot, words that have become famous among cycling fans and which I knew would speak to Nico. “You’re great today, you’re great, you’re really great, come on my boy, yeah buddy, yeah, yeah, you’re going to do it, you’re going to do it“. It made us laugh, but it also made those last few hectometres seem less interminable.

I took advantage of Nico’s rest and rest for a few minutes at CP2 to book a hotel in the next town, Boumalne Dadès, at the very bottom of the pass, on the other side of the mountain, at the entrance to the Dadès gorges. 45 km of descent, a happy program! It was a reassuring way to end the day with Nicolas’ remaining strength. At the end of the day, real beds awaited us in a hotel/restaurant on the outskirts of town. Enough to ensure a good night’s rest.

After settling in and showering, we made our way to the restaurant. All you had to do was follow the music. Musical accompaniment from a folk group lent a festive atmosphere to the meal. The homemade couscous was hearty and perfect for us. While I ate copiously, Nico had trouble swallowing a few forks of semolina. His appetite was spoilt, his stomach closed by a body that had worked too hard. All he wanted was rest, total rest. He went to bed on a half-empty stomach. I wasn’t reassured by his condition to prepare for this 3rd day. I turned off the lights just before 11pm, when Nico was already asleep. The alarm was set for 3:30.

DAY 3 – Climbing the Moroccan peaks, between the unexpected and determination

The night was clear and cool. We left the sleepy town and headed into the Dades Gorge. The moon illuminated the lines of the landscape, our lights the lines of the road. It’s probably the most beautiful part of the route that we haven’t been able to see. In the dark, it’s impossible to enjoy the beauty of this tourist valley. That’s part of the game too. 5 o’clock rings in the villages. Mosques make the first call to prayer. Through the loudspeakers positioned at the top of the minaret, voices rip through the night. Some are chilling.

Since the start, we’ve been moving at a slow pace. Despite a relatively flat profile, we’re heading up the valley and Nico wants to conserve his last bit of strength. It’s going to be a long day, over 280km and 5,000m of ascent. Even Tour riders don’t get this kind of stage any more! As the road climbs higher, everyone tries to pick up the pace. Little by little, we pull away from each other. As day breaks and the light penetrates the depths of the gorge, I don’t know it yet, but several kilometers separate us.

I slowed my pace by half for a few kilometers, figuring he’d soon catch up. But after ten minutes or so: still nobody. I decide to stop on the side of the road to wait for him. I let 5 minutes go by: still nothing. I start to worry. Fortunately, despite this geographical situation (2 cliffs several hundred meters high tower over me), the telephone network is excellent, as it is everywhere in Morocco. Nico picks up very quickly. He’s a few hundred meters away, also stopped. He’s thrown up. Nothing gets through. He joins me a few minutes later. We decide to continue, reducing the pace even further. The aim now is to try to finish, to add a day if necessary, to find the right pace to move forward. The only condition is to be able to eat and keep going.

The road rises again. And after the 2nd hairpin, Nicolas puts his foot down. He has no strength, no legs. His head hurts and he can’t eat. What’s the way out? We discuss the options. We decide quickly. Nicolas doesn’t feel able to get back on the road and finish. As for me, I feel like I’ve literally been flying for the last 2 days. The slow pace has saved me both physically and mentally. And like a sprinter at the end of a stage, I’m now bubbling with the desire to make my effort. Nicolas wants to find a driver and get back to Marrakech. I want to finish. Finish alone but finish for 2. Finish out of the rankings but cross the finish line on my bike.

So it was at kilometer 560 that we decided to go our separate ways. Nicolas turned back and found refuge a little further down the valley in a B&B where he could rest, eat (at last), before getting into a cab. He’ll need a few days to fully recharge his batteries. Sad but determined, I got back in the saddle with the idea of reaching the finish in the original plan, before dark on day 4. I’m a little behind schedule, but I feel strong enough to cover the remaining 460 km within this timeframe.

I quickly refocus, as the next challenge is the highest pass on the route, at an altitude of 2900m. And this time it’s not a nice road that awaits me, but a mountain track. As I approach the foot of the pass, my excitement is already building. I go further and further into the valley, away from the last villages and settlements. Faced with the obstacle, you feel very small. The summit is more than 800m above me. I have 17 km of final ascent to complete the 100 km total ascent from the bottom of the valley. The trail is uneven, sometimes dense and rolling, sometimes a little loose, stony and hollowed out. Just as I’m basking in the glory of this effort in the midst of an awe-inspiring geological landscape, I come face to face with a truck, a lorry, coming down the track on the brakes. I realize that the exercise here is more perilous for them than for me. What a sport to be a driver in this environment!

Legs are good and the summit is fast approaching. 4 European bikers pass me cautiously a few kilometers before the pass. This trail, the Fassi ascent, is definitely part of the Moroccan adventure. At 2900m, we dominate much of the surrounding plateau. The view is beautiful, grandiose. I don’t think I’ve ever climbed higher on my calves. So, of course, I enjoy the view for a while.

The last major ascent takes us through the Berber village of Tasraft Naite Abdi. When I arrive at the village center, a crowd of inhabitants stands in front of me. They walk in the same direction as me, singing and banging away on some local instrument. They seem to be celebrating an event I can’t guess at. I try, slowly and respectfully, to make my way through the middle of the main street, the only way to reach the summit. One of the men in the procession spots me and splits the crowd in 2, opening up a boulevard for me to cross. Smiling, I give him my thanks and greetings, which he returns. Without stopping to sing and dance, the people look at me amused. They seem to be cheering me on as I make my way up the dirt street, which, with rock jutting out here and there, is very uneven. The street closes up behind me as I walk away from this group, who seem to be unperturbed in their festivities.

Higher up, a family finishes work in the field and climbs onto the tractor that will take everyone back to the village. The youngest, about 8 years old, wants to give me an apple, the fruit of the day’s harvest. I can’t refuse. “Choukrane. Thank you very much. I feel honored and grateful. The welcome here, by the Berbers in the middle of the mountains, far from the tourist hustle and bustle of Marrakech, is very comforting. This kind attention gives me renewed energy to make it to the summit. At 7pm, the sun is setting when I reach the top. The panorama from this pass is sumptuous. The sky offers a new palette of incredible colors. I still have one more pass to go to CP3, but 55 km of the remaining 75 km are downhill. This part seems to be won. I arrive at 10pm in front of the Race Angels’ table, all smiles, galvanized by the sensations of speed that are tenfold at night. They seem almost surprised by this smile, more used to seeing tired faces, weary bodies and minds lacking lucidity. In this hotel, which serves as a Checkpoint, the atmosphere is special. A group dressed in suits and evening gowns are partying to music that resonates throughout the establishment. Next door, a dozen sleep-deprived, dirty and hungry cyclists. We discuss race strategy and the day’s events over a meatball tagine and omelette. At midnight, I try to fall asleep as the evening continues in a noisy and festive atmosphere. I decide not to set an alarm clock and to call it a night. There are still 236 km to go, much flatter than the last 2 days. I’m confident of finishing on this 4th day. If I don’t encounter any major mechanical problems, I don’t see what could prevent me from crossing the finish line this Thursday, October 2, 2023.

DAY 4 – From extreme challenges to personal victory

6:30 am, natural alarm clock. That’s my time, every morning, all year round. Nearly 6 hours of sleep, the ultimate luxury! Time to get moving. I fold my things, take the bike out of my room and order breakfast. I come across a competitor who slept in at the start of the night, set off again at around 1am and arrived at CP3 to eat and take a break. As is often the case in Morocco, you mustn’t be too impatient at mealtimes. Breakfast often takes a long time to prepare. It’s a subject that comes up regularly between competitors in a hurry. But it’s better to put your energy elsewhere – you don’t get anything if you say you’re in a hurry. This notion has no bearing here. It’s probably for the best. It’s a great lesson in life.

I get into the saddle just before 8am. No doubt about it, all my comrades who spent the night at CP3 left several hours ago. That’s all it takes to motivate me. I like to race uphill. If I want to finish in the TOP25, I’ll have to climb back up all those fellow travelers I’ve come across over the days. I count at least 8 of them, as confirmed by the organization’s tracker, which allows us to see our position and ranking in real time. I know that in the end, I won’t be ranked, my partner having dropped out. But it’s interesting for me as an individual to position myself in this ranking to give me a reference for the years to come. Quite fresh with my 6 hours’ sleep, I found my legs and sensations good from the very first kilometers. I quickly caught up with competitors who’d set off 1 to 4 hours before me, and who had a harder time finishing this BikingMan. It’s often in this last stage that the joints are the most sensitive. It’s not uncommon to see cyclists suffering from knee or ankle tendonitis or bursitis. I let myself go in the last gravel passages, pushing hard on the pedals as if they were cobbled sectors that had to be swallowed at full speed. The sensations are just too good to resist, and add to my motivation.

Mélissa, my partner, arrived in Marrakech that morning. She wants to be there to welcome me on arrival. I receive the first photos with Nico and his partner Leslie, whom she has already met up with. Further motivation to ride fast if any were needed.

At lunchtime, I’ve decided to eat on the bike and not stop for lunch. On the outskirts of the small town of Tanant, a recently-built facade, so clean it stands out from the rest of the neighbouring buildings, catches my eye. A beautiful, bright window with a white frame. The door is open, revealing a pyramid of croissants and pains au chocolat, looking like pure French tradition, with a beautiful golden color, good volume and hold. Is it real? In the middle of a descent, I slam on the brakes, turn around and place my bike on top of this beautiful shop window. As I step inside, I’m jubilant: it wasn’t a mirage, not a hallucination. The pyramid of croissants is in front of me. They’re so beautiful, I can’t believe it. I take this impromptu snack with me, a croissant and a pain au chocolat, accompanied by a few homemade cookies just as good. It’s a nice change from the industrial cookies I’ve been eating for the past few days.

I climb back on my saddle and take advantage of the smooth road to enjoy my croissant. Without doubt one of the best I’ve had in recent years. I’d like to know more about the history of this address and its owners, which seems so unlikely in this place. I didn’t see such a business for the rest of the 1,000 km I travelled… A few dozen kilometers further on, as we pass through Demnate, the market and its traders are set up. An old man hangs a few bunches of bananas from his stand. He speaks neither French nor English, but is it really necessary for selling 2 bananas to an alien? At this point, I have 110 km to go. Apart from water, this will be my last purchase of the race. The remaining snacks from the first few days will provide me with the carbohydrates I need to reach the finish line.

I’ve already caught up with all the competitors who arrived after me and left before me from CP3. I’m in 27th position and the 2 closest competitors are about twenty kilometers ahead of me. That’s a lot, but depending on their condition and strategy, it’s still possible. That’s a difference of 4 km/h to catch them in the estimated 5 hours remaining. I’ll give it a go. I accelerate while staying in my endurance zone. I limit my breaks as much as possible. In any case, the sun has decided to hide and the weather has turned grey, which makes me a little less inclined to take out the camera. The scenery is also less grandiose in this final stretch. So I roll on, relaunching on each hill, after each bend, after each village. I’m enjoying myself on the descents, and despite the rather unfavorable wind, I’m trying to keep up my speed and pedaling efficiency. The head is focused, the race mode is activated, the aim now is to finish as quickly as possible. With around fifty kilometers to go, I catch up with and pass the 26th-placed rider, whose face is marked and a bit shut. I don’t take the time to chat, I just want to keep going as fast as possible to try and catch up with the 25th-placed rider, who seems to be keeping up a good pace. I accelerate again as I complete the circuit and attack the last 40 km, which takes up the approach to the first stage in the opposite direction. It’s a big road, very wide. While we took it easy between 5 and 7 a.m. on the first day, I’m here at 5.30 p.m. in traffic, not at all reassured by the trucks and 4x4s speeding along. So I accelerate even more on the downhill stretch to the finish, to reduce this less pleasant moment in the pollution and bustle on the outskirts of Marrakech.

One last look at the tracker, there’s nothing to do, I won’t be able to catch up with the rider in front of me. But I at least want to finish well, feeling as though I’ve put my last bit of strength into this adventure. With 10 km to go, the course finally leaves the expressway, the wind becomes less unfavourable and the little road I’m now taking twists and turns between localities without offering any horizon. It looks like a classic Breton or Belgian road. Those narrow roads where the scenery goes by much faster. I’m going flat out, 30 to 38 kph on the clock (32 kph average over the last 10 km). I’ve often got into the habit of slowing down to savor the last 10 kilometers of my long breakaways. Here, I enjoyed them in a different way. Watching the last few kilometers fly by is just as exhilarating.

At last, the hotel, its park and surrounding wall in sight. The emotion is intense. I pass under the porch, the bell rings to announce my arrival. I can see the finish line at the end of the driveway. Mélissa, Nico and Leslie are there, and I accelerate through the gravel, one last pedal stroke to the line. At the end of my braking, bike still between my legs, I fall into the arms of Mélissa, then Nicolas.

I crossed the line in 85h44min53s in 26th place. I didn’t win, but this finish had the flavour of a victory. I had nothing to win, yet this race offered me so much. This adventure was the best I’ve ever had on a bike. Being able to savor this moment with my loved ones was a moment I’ll never forget.