In an age when unsupported Ultra endurance events in all shapes and sizes are popping up all over the place Bikingman Oman is the package tour of Endurance cycling races which includes:
- Fixed published route with gps track and “survival map” showing food/water stops along the way.
- Mainly quiet main roads.
- Two manned checkpoints with meals and somewhere to sleep.
- The option to book hotels through the organisation for before and after the race.
- Airport transfer to the start.
- Local sim card, baggage storage and transfer etc etc.
Whats not to like about the simplicity of paying the money, booking a flight to somewhere warm in the Winter in one of the safest countries in the world? The Oman race is the first in the Bikingman series which also includes stunning and challenging locations like Corsica, Laos, Peru and Portugal. An ambitious endeavour to organise five races per year, but a great business model if things work out, and a great race model for people who like the structure of such races (and the discount when signing up for the series).
Each race in this new fashion of ultra endurance cycling has the right to have its own unique style and approach, and its own definition of “unsupported”. I personally prefer slightly more rough around the edges grass roots races like BTG, V2B etc. But, this was a great Winter get away without the need for any serious planning or preparation other than staying fit, getting a medical certificate and deciding which bike to take.
That said, there was still the small issue of cycling 1040km within the five day cut off (which was really a 112 hour cut off for those of us that wanted to make it on time for the finishers party). In the weeks before the race I really suspected I’d bitten off more than I could chew with such a huge “sprint” race. The only solution would be to chew like crazy.
The pre race plan
” 1: Ride further than I’ve ever ridden in one day (280-340km) which will bring me to the base of the Jebel shams climb. Jebels is a nasty 1500m climb over 22km to CP 1. Which I’ll keep for after a 2-4 hour sleep.
Day 2 : Climb Jebels, have breakfast then descent around sunrise (view should be stunning). Then crank out around 250km through the desert. Again finishing with 2-4 hours sleep.
Day 3/4: Hang on for dear life and hope to do another 250km per day. Getting me done in time for a nap before the party 🙂
But, no plan survives contact with the enemy….”
Race Preparation
I arrived in Muscat a few days before the start of the race to give myself time acclimatise and de-stress (I still find pre-trip stress much worse than I should by now). Though I hadn’t booked the airport transfer I bumped into Axel and Didier at the airport and they were happy to give me a lift to my hotel anyway. I’d chosen a hotel in Barka, about 4km from organised hotel and start line. I thought it better to have a few days to myself to prepare rather than get wound up by other cyclists, there would be plenty of time for that in the last 36 hours when I moved over to the race hotel.
I got lucky with the hotel I’d booked, though simple and without any tourist facilities I had a large bedroom, living room and mini kitchen. Perfect for bike prep, three days hanging around and unwinding.
For me acclimatising isn’t just about the temperature jump from a Dutch 3 degree’s to the dusty 30 degree’s of Oman and a ride around town. It’s also the simple things like getting used to a new country, their money, checking out the local coffee shops to see how life works in a country so different to where I live. The biggest lesson being that the flies in the Afghan restaurants I had dinner in loved the salad but not the meat or bread. So, no salad during the race then.
The weirdest thing during these couple of days was that this was the first bike trip since 2012 without a pep talk from Johann or last minute picking his brains for advise or moral support. No non-sense chatting, no sharing photo’s of the silly things I saw as I rode around town.
Obviously, it is time to get my big boy pants on and get on with the rest of my life without his support.
Check in
Friday morning I moved over to the race hotel. The race check in was super smooth as I was one of the first ones through and the volunteers super friendly. The hotel grounds a blur of cyclists arriving, putting bikes together, stressing about transport damage, or like myself walking around half bored just wanting to get started. I also got very lucky with my room mate, Simon was calm, quiet and organised.
Saturday was a slow day hanging around watching the late arrivals stress about getting their bikes ready before the check in cut off, a quick massage from Mr Goldfingers then waiting for the race briefing that started 40 minutes late. Then checking baggage in and just waiting for the 3am start.
Three main things were clear from the briefing.
1. The race organisers had gone to a lot of trouble to increase the safety of the race (police/motorbike escort out of the city and doctors en-route should things go wrong).
2. The race organisers had gone to a lot of trouble to get media coverage of the race and sponsors.
3. NO DRAFTING.
The race
“…angst is quickly replaced with the adrenalin rush of knowing you are facing the trail, the elements, and yourself and nothing else—the world is simplified.”
-John Stamstad
Simon and I had an early dinner then went to bed around 6pm, he was snoring five minutes later, I was restless until finally sleeping at around 11pm, managing around 2 hours sleep before breakfast and the 3am start. The early start has two reasons, to get out of town while traffic is light and to just fuck with the minds of the riders.
Even though I’d only slept for 2 hours it was great for moral that I’d rested in bed for 7 hours and the 2 hours sleep a bonus. I was stoked but relaxed and ready for action.
The Neutralised start with police escort was fun, a relaxed start and great to chat with other riders now that things were about to get real. Officially the neutralised zone and police escort was only for the first 20km. By 50km the sirens and lights were starting to piss me off almost as much as the fact that we were still cycling as a group, we were long out of the city and the roadworks had stopped a few kilometers back. The pace was slowly picking up so I decided to drop out of the group and ride my own pace and keep some self respect regarding the drafting rule, the drafting grey area was getting greyer by the minute. ( I would later hear that some people were still drafting/ riding as a group way past the 100km mark).
Just before sunrise I had the feeling I was last in the race, I hadn’t seen other riders for half an hour or so. Though I’d planned not to look at the tracker on day one, I had a quick look and could relax, there where still around 15-20 people behind me. Not that that says anything on day one, but at least I wasn’t last. I pushed on, enjoying the gently climb into the hills.
As the sun came up over the mountains the wind picked up to a gentle breeze as forecast. Though I was pacing myself with my power meter to make sure I didn’t blow myself up on day one I was keen to get past Ibri by 1pm if I could, that way I would have the worst of day’s wind as a side/tail wind instead of a head wind.
As the morning continued I passed a couple of other riders who’d obviously pushed too hard to stay in the group and had blown themselves up. A couple tried to draft me as I passed. But I still had plenty in reserve to pick up the pace for a couple of minutes and lose these leeches (guess they were sleeping during the race briefing when Axel said NO DRAFTING 10 times).
At 190km it was obvious I was way ahead of my plan. I was still feeling fresh though my water had just run out. I’d only eaten a handful of nuts and 2 muesli bars since breakfast 9 hours ago so was starting to feel hungry. Though my low carb(keto) prep had worked perfectly no diet survives the gas station diet of a race. Once you hit race day it’s time to treat your body like a rental car and just thrash it and hope it gets to the end in one piece. It was time to go high carb.
Just on cue (and just like the “survival map” said it would) a small Pakistani coffee shop magically appeared. I set my phone countdown timer for 20 minutes to make sure I wouldn’t get stuck there too long and had my first break of the day. Like most of my rest stops this one was super slick. The owner assured me they could make anything on the menu within five minutes so I ordered a warm lunch of “chicken poppers sandwich with chips” and some coffee. During the five minutes wait I refilled my water bottles, used the toilet and checked my bike over. The food arrived on time but didn’t seem like a lot for the next 100km so I ordered another one. Around this time two other cyclists appeared from a nap in the family room, they were looking pale and tired, they’d obviously pushed too hard too. My timer started buzzing and two minutes later I was on the bike again.
Though still feeling fresh the next couple of hours I took it easy as my knee’s were starting to whine. Most of the afternoon a blur of getting slowly cooked riding along side a motorway, the afternoon temperature getting up to 34 degree’s. At the 300km mark (now my longest day ever) I took another 20 minute break at a fuel station, second lunch being crisps, ice cream and ice coffee.
At Al Hamra (320km) I stopped again at a supermarket and filled up on junk and drinks, the next chance for both would be at CP1 40km away including a 1500m killer climb. My plan of sleeping first then going up made no sense as I was about 4 hours ahead of my most positive prediction.
Starting such a tough climb 340km into a ride was never going to be graceful. But experience has shown me that I always get there in the end, without a deadline its just a question of slowly and patiently pushing on, and that’s what I did.
Yes the climb was horrible on empty legs but I got to CP1 and a warm welcome from the staff at around 8pm. It was tempting to take a longer break, but that would mean descending in the cold of early morning, I thought it better to have a quick break then push on, I could be back down before midnight.
I set my timer for 50 minutes, meaning I could be back on the bike within an hour. The look on the faces of tourists at the Jebel Shams resort was hilarious as we dribbled in one by one looking broken then took a huge plate of food from the buffet, then another huge plate 10 minutes later. I also had 2 bowls of soup though skipped desert as I was full :). Mr Goldfingers was also available for a massage at CP1 and he did wonders to remove a cramp and generally make my legs feel almost like new, now I know how the pro’s get on so well in multi day events.
With a full belly I freshened up a little then checked out of CP 1 for the slow dark descent down Jebel shams. With a gradient of 25% in places I took no chances. It was good for moral to see so many people still struggling up the gravel section, I shouted encouragement as I passed, but they probably hated me because I was on the way back down. Arriving back in Al Hamra at 10.30pm I made the most of the supermarket that was still open to stock up on water and snacks to get me through the night and stuff my face with more food. The tracker showed that most people were taking a break at CP1 or in one of the hotels in Al Hamra, there were only about 20-30 people ahead of me, the perfect time to push on for another hour.
Some time before midnight my legs started complaining that they’d had enough. I soon found a dark spot between two villages, pulled 30m off the road into a field and unpacked my sleeping gear.
I’d drastically over achieved my wildest expectations for day one. I felt proud and content, all that was needed now was to consolidate it all with four hours sleep then hang in for three more days.
Wow! What a day you had! Impressive!
Absolute madness to be honest. Hopefully one day I’ll be fit enough again for similar madness.