In my head, my birthday and Christmas fall on the same day. The sun is shining and my heart is beating to the beat of rock classics. At this moment, the central nervous system capitulates, opens all the floodgates and floods my body with endorphins. The corners of my mouth ache from the permanent grin. I am completely sober and yet still intoxicated. A quick glance at Tobi reveals that he is also about to burst with happiness in the packed starting block. The starting signal is given and we are finally riding over the Alps together again. We've done this many times in our 20-year friendship, but never at race pace. The Maxxis BIKE Transalp is a seven-day party and we've only just got past the bouncer.
As a BIKE editor, I was able to get us a few benefits: premium starter package, premium bikes, premium starting place directly on the back wheel of Transalp legend Karl Platt. Yea! A little cockiness seems understandable. So now we crank up the first ramp behind Ehrwald in a colourful group of like-minded people and let ourselves be carried away by the high spirits. We are actually well above the agreed watt range. In the euphoria, it only took a few seconds to throw our good intentions overboard. "I'm really up for it!" beams Tobi as he pedals alongside me. A week with my favourite school buddy in my favourite landscape. I'm completely high. Even the fact that the brutal ramps of the Marienbergjoch force me out of the saddle and the subsequent aerodynamic downhill position sends nasty cramps through my legs can't change this state. I'm floating three metres above the ground. It's as if I'm wearing rose-coloured bike goggles. But how much good humour can a person endure as soon as they reach their physical limits?
Between flow and carriageway renewal
"Yay, Raaadfahreeen!" shouts Tobi next to me. It's 5.40am and still completely dark. Nevertheless, I know that he is sitting up in bed with childlike anticipation. We don't need an alarm clock once in seven days. A cocktail of urination and excitement always brings us out of sleep mode. Tobi is already whizzing around the room, making one casual remark after another as he pours powder into bottles and applies sun cream. This man is truly an inexhaustible source of energy and motivation. For 26 years, the Maxxis BIKE Transalp has been famous, popular and notorious for its concept. Although other formats are now also organised, the race traditionally starts in teams of two. At breakfast, a repeat offender predicts that his own team partner will become more and more like a Transalp spouse over time. The romance in our marriage of convenience is already over on the second day when Tobi consistently leaves the door open when he goes to the toilet. Nevertheless, it's true: He's there for me in good times and bad. Before we start our duet down the flow trail to Nauders later in the day, my partner takes me into his slipstream on the long tarmac sections of stage two. Together we push through the midday heat and fly through pitch-black tunnels where deafening milling work is being carried out. "Teamwork makes the dream work", so they say.
Neither of us are marathon racers by nature and we want to blow our horns on our first timed transalp. We love long tours with challenging trails, are both fit and don't shy away from altitude metre orgies. Together we have already cranked over Europe's highest mountains a handful of times with a tent and camping cooker in our rucksacks. But taking on the main Alpine ridge at racing pace is a completely different matter. I'm too big and too heavy compared to the mountain fleas and racing bike aficionados in the field. Tobi knows that tempo rides and flat sections on the road are my nemesis. He pulls me along behind him, motivates me for the last push over the crest and sets the pace for our team. Despite our lack of competition experience, we are in 21st place in the ranking with the world-class elite teams after day two - sixth place among the amateur riders without a UCI licence.
Without Tobi, I would certainly have spent an hour longer on the route every day and wouldn't have been able to maintain this position until the end. However, I've also heard of Transalp couples attacking each other, first pretending that everything was easy and then going full gas after the bend and out of sight of their partner. Just to demoralise each other. In 1999, mountain bike legend Gary Fisher won the first stage and immediately left in a clinch with his team partner. The latter had pushed him to the limit over the mountains. After stage two, everything is still harmonious between Tobi and me. But deep inside me, the first doubts are smouldering.
Pride comes before a fall
The third day plays into my hands with steep ascents and descents and a high proportion of trails. Today we have what it takes to set a really fast time on the course. We both know this and so we push on over the first mountain above Lake Reschen with wattage values beyond good and evil. Fast uphill, fast downhill, a bit of dirt, a bit of pain: this is awesome, this is mountain biking! All around us the rugged peaks, below us the turquoise-blue water: a dream! The technical spin trail is also right up our street. Where many other riders are pushing, our formation of two simply passes by. Once again, Tobi takes the lead on the final cycle path, then we shoot through the finishing arch with a high-five.
"Wow, what a feat of strength!" I think and stagger to the refreshment point. A chilli sin carne from nutrition guru P. Jentschura and a non-alcoholic soft drink later, I am overcome by a deep tiredness. I know this typical feeling of being run over by a train from our camping trips. When every muscle fibre aches as if it's been hammered. It's almost always the third day when the tired body signals that it's time to stop endurance biking and go back to the couch. This time, the train has mainly travelled through my legs.
Stage four marks the start of the really long ones. After yesterday's short but tough route, we made every effort to regenerate. But no matter how nice the hotel double room is, a stage race is always a bit like a twin room in a hospital. The beds are close together, the occupants groan with every movement and can't really avoid the odours or the private needs of the other. During the Maxxis BIKE Transalp, I am literally twenty-four-seven with my team partner, listening to every phone call and registering every visit to the toilet. This level of closeness is otherwise only possible under medical supervision or in a civil partnership. When I round the bend on the fast gravel descent from the Bruggeralm and see Tobi lying in the ditch, my heart sinks. His real-life spouse would hardly forgive me if I didn't bring her husband home in one piece. Fortunately, there are no bruises.
I paid Tobi back for the scare on the same day when a slower rider tried to pass us on the descent to Bormio. Tobi, the leading locomotive, has already passed me when she slips into my line on the narrow singletrail and I have to put my foot down. At first nothing happens because the brakes are completely overheated, then I roll down the steep slope. I don't have a scratch, but I have to pick up my bike three metres further down and turn the handlebars straight. I burn myself on the red-hot brake disc. Cursing inwardly, I shout to Tobi "Everything's okay, go, go, go!" and the chase continues. Our bodies are exhausted, mistakes happen. Seven days in race mode is a long time. Not everyone who starts in Ehrwald makes it to Arco on Lake Garda. We didn't follow a training plan, didn't stick to a diet and didn't spend the night in the altitude simulation. I feel my strength dwindling. Luckily Tobi had postponed my planned stag party until after the Transalp. Otherwise I would have been finished by now.
Crisis dialogue
You can see the strain of the last few days on the other teams too. They sit in pairs at breakfast in the morning with a blank look on their faces and remain silent. It seems as if another drop of life energy is being drained every day. My team partner is probably an exception. While the teams at the neighbouring tables have nothing more to say, Tobi chats away like a waterfall. I reply in short sentences, because I really want to go back to bed and not stuff myself with oatmeal for the queen stage. Tobi is in a good mood today, laughing all the way and making no secret of how much he's looking forward to another day in the saddle. I, on the other hand, am somehow on the ropes. I know my partner well from 20 years of friendship and I also know that his failure rate is proportional to his motivation. As a trained social pedagogue, I feel the need to bring Tobi back down to earth. I don't want to talk him down about his Transalp experience and make him look like a sourpuss. But I want even less to witness my friend going over the handlebars in the high alpine terrain. On the 1400 metre ascent from Bormio to the Gavia Pass, I have enough time to think about how best to broach the sensitive subject.
Shortly before the refreshment station, I confront Tobi with my observations. Today I've spotted warning signs in him that are causing me concern and I need to get them out now. Tobi cranks silently beside me. All around us is a natural idyll. Through lush green meadows with thick mountain grass and past babbling, crystal-clear streams, the narrow ribbon of asphalt winds its way up to the 2600 metre high pass. In reality, the silence only lasts a few seconds, but for me it feels like an eternity. Then Tobi pats me on the side and I know that he has understood. Tobi is without doubt one of the strongest downhill riders in the amateur classification, but a short time later on the Gavia trail I'm glad to have applied his handbrake a little. The tyres and suspension of our race bikes are not made for the steps and loose scree. Everyone pushes. I slip several times on my smooth carbon soles, but I'm secretly grateful for the speed boost, because the second big climb of the day is already waiting.
It's simply miserable. The climb from Pezzo to Alta Via Camuna is one of the most beautiful on the whole route and I hardly notice a thing. Instead, I'm stuck deep in a motivational hole, listlessly reeling off one crank revolution after another. First Tobi tries to get me out of my slump, pushes me a little, talks me through it. Then he understands, picks up speed and disappears behind the next bend. I've reached the bottom of my mental trough. In English, they say someone is "in a dark place". That's exactly how it feels. Right now I just want to be by myself. Luckily, my boyfriend can read me like a book, giving me the time I need and my peace and quiet. I realise far too late that a cruelly slow onset of hunger is one of the reasons for my low mood. When Tobi picks me up at the highest point at 2600 metres, a long way from race pace, I have to ask him to stop for a moment until I can shove a bar into my mouth, powerless. He stays there for ten minutes, even as we ride along a marvellous panoramic trail. I just can't swallow the thing.
Holidays on the motorway
Although my spirits slowly returned at the much-needed refreshment station, the fifth stage demanded everything from me. I absolutely had to regain my strength if I didn't want to collapse just before the end. But a Transalp is not a leisurely ride. A different bed every day, different food, unpacking and repacking everything. On some days, food and accommodation are uncomplicated and comfortable. Sauna and wellness included. On other days - like this one - they become an additional challenge. Storing almost 600 riders plus hundreds of carers and helpers and loads of luggage in one place in the mountains for just one night is a logistical feat. Every afternoon, when we leave the deckchairs in the event area, tired and battered, we are surprised by the location and facilities of our hotel. Today, after the royal stage, our surprise lies less than five metres from the motorway above an old lady's flat. We put the bikes in her laundry room and open the windows in the small, overheated room. Everything that hums and rattles can be found here, plus a drinks machine that the local village youth have chosen as their party venue.
For the fact that it feels like we've spent the night on the central reservation of the motorway, our mood is surprisingly good the next morning. Gallows humour suits us. We also benefit from this on the long pushing section up to Passo Bregn Da L'Ors. Some of the riders are loudly expressing their displeasure about the walk, but we take it in our stride. After all, the Maxxis BIKE Transalp is not like other marathon races. The route leads one-way through the mightiest natural obstacle on the continent. Humble pushing and carrying is simply part of our experience. The steep tarmac ramps at the end of the stage hit me much harder. My legs are closing up. Not much more is possible. Fittingly, the realisation hits me at the finish line: The final chapter of the adventure has begun.
The miracle of the body
A spontaneous landslide shortens the final stage by seven kilometres. I hope nobody was injured, but I'm also a little grateful to Mother Nature. The fast pace of the past six days has taken its toll. Robotically, I stoically follow Tobi's rear wheel. Somehow we've managed to blend in with some of the fast teams again and the battle for position starts all over again. A relaxed roll out on the last day? No way! I don't really care about the position. We can't make up another place at this point, nor can we move back a position. The devil would have to be at work. Nevertheless, there is something that has the plus button on the internal cruise control permanently under control. Sprinting through small historic alleyways and vineyards with a view of Lake Garda with a bunch of fast bikers can't leave any biker cold. We didn't start as racers, but we crossed the finish line as such.
There it is again: the feeling of intoxication. The corners of my mouth ache, my heart leaps. When Tobi and I cross the finish line hand in hand, there is nothing but joy. A hormone cocktail like this makes two old friends forget all the chafing, all the back pain, all the muscle cramps, every drop of sweat and all the motivation problems. It's a biological and social miracle. As we stagger back to our double room late at night from stage 7.5, namely the finisher's party in Arco, we actually feel a bit like an old married couple: Our legs are full of lactate and our hearts are full of friendly love.
Jan Timmermann
Editor
