Excellent photographs kindly provided by @charlottegamus, carlajokr & mittelgebirgeclassique
Preamble
The MittelgebirgeClassic was the first of my two primary ‘goal’ events for 2023. This race, first run in 2022, appealed to me in main due to its timing, location and parcours.
Held in late May, I would have the whole of the winter and spring to build towards this whilst leaving the summer for less performance-orientated activities (eg. a Tour) before resuming a serious focus on my next event in late September.
The MittelgebirgeClassic starts and ends at Neustadt an der Weinstraße in western Germany, a country I have only briefly passed through previously. The route extends through the Palatinate Forest, the Black Forest and the Vosges, crossing the France-Germany border three times and promises spectacular, mountainous scenery with less risk of extreme weather conditions at this time of year than higher alpine regions.
The parcours can best be described as relentless. ‘Only’ 1,060 km (659 miles) but including 22,740 m (74,606 ft) of elevation gain. The Rhine Valley is crossed twice, but otherwise it is almost always up or down. The highest passes are around 1,400m so, as the name suggests, these are medium mountains mostly taking 30-60 minutes each to summit. I felt the nature of this course suits my physiological and psychological preferences. I find I perform better in persistently undulating terrain and, with the Peak District on my doorstep, am all too familiar with shorter, sharper climbs. Having the imposed short-term goal of making it over the next hill also helps to break up the effort mentally, with focus required on the road rearing up in front of oneself rather than contemplating the next two hours sitting in the same position with unchanging scenery that often accompanies flatter routes.
My year started with a sharp focus on being at my best for the MittelgebirgeClassic and for the first time I employed a coach. Although I take a structured, disciplined and generally scientific-based approach to my training I felt that the external perspective would help to highlight my shortcomings and tendency to sometime lean towards doing too much. There were positive and average elements to my build-up to the event. I didn’t progress in relation to measurable performance markers to the extent I would have expected and cut a couple of corners (literally, on occasions) on some of my longer preparation rides. A few weeks before the start I was concerned that I was on a slippery slope towards over-training, a sensation I put down to too few extended rest/recovery periods and the difficulty of juggling increasingly long rides at the weekend with focussed interval sessions mid-week. Then, two weeks prior to the event, I pulled the plug a few hours in to my final shakedown ride. This was due to be a solo attempt at a route local to me (which I still have an itching to complete…) but despite feeling super physically I just suddenly found myself questioning my motivation to complete the full route and let creeping anxieties convince me that the right thing was to bail. I didn’t feel too disheartened, but this accumulation of factors led to me approaching the Mittlebegirge Classic with more an aim of enjoying myself and letting the ride pan out in a way which felt right rather than committing to a more ambitious strategy to be competitive in the race. I still wanted to get the best out of myself, but perhaps my confidence to do this was not quite there.
My journey to the start in Neustadt from Sheffield was an event in itself. Ever keen to avoid flying for environmental and disassembling-and-rebuilding-my-bike-avoidance reasons, I chose to take the train to Hull, an overnight ferry to Europoort, ride the 35km to Rotterdam and then catch 5 trains to arrive in Neustadt around 24 hours later. The first part went smoothly, but delayed trains once in Germany (apparently not an uncommon occurrence) meant I missed the connection for the only train that required a pre-booked bike space. This led to a 3 hour extension to the journey, arriving late in the evening (following another missed connection) and 11 hours sitting on trains, not able to properly relax whilst frequently checking the time I had to dash across platforms to make the next connection. Nevertheless, I still had two nights before the off staying in a picturesque village straight out of a Disney film just outside the town, amongst the vineyards stretching across the valley side.
I didn’t sleep well at all the night before the race. Despite not thinking I was particularly anxious, I found myself getting up to discharge my bladder almost every hour. Maybe this was psychological, perhaps just an error in nutrition, but in any case it wasn’t ideal. I woke up fairly sprightly nonetheless for the 6am start.
Day One
The route naturally headed straight uphill and I believe I did a reasonable job of riding conservatively whilst not getting carried away by the presence of 150 other riders, many of whom may not be as disciplined. There was some thinning out of the field but an inopportune wait at a railway crossing just as the route was flattening out towards the Rhine Valley brought a large group of 20-30 together. I tried my best not to take advantage of the potential draft on offer by purposefully riding alongside others or towards either side of the road but got the impression that some were less keen on making this effort. I diplomatically shared my opinion that we should be doing more to ride apart at one point to a group behind, but this didn’t do much to change the situation. To be fair, it was difficult to break free from the situation without deliberately holding back or sprinting off the front and maintaining a higher pace and the lack of proper hills didn’t allow for a natural separation.
The ‘group’ eventually dispersed, and the serious climbing truly began on entering the Black Forest. The forecast had promised temperatures of 25°C+ which for me, coming from a British Spring where single digit temperatures were more familiar, was a slight concern. The hazy start to the day was pleasant but from hereon we were in conditions I had not experienced since the previous summer. I continued to ride within my capacity, unconcerned about the relative speed of others especially at this stage when a lot of leapfrogging was going on. I could sense by this point that I wasn’t particularly at the sharp end of the field but also knew that the first day sprint has never been my strength and heading in to the first night is where moves can be made as the race really takes shape.
The race starting on a Sunday somewhat restricted re-supply choices for the first day. I found that almost all German shops were closed for the day, or at least the afternoon, and I’m never keen on waiting for service in cafés/restaurants when trying to minimise non-moving time. I made my first stop at a petrol station at 155km and, unimpressed by the selection of foodstuff on offer, resorted to deploying a large slice of Käsekuchen to my face in an undignified manner. Plus ice cream, of course.
There was some wonderful cycling in the Black Forest, particularly stretched of pristine tarmac not permitted for motor traffic winding through the trees, passing ‘grottes’ which looked perfect for a quick nap (despite signs explicit warning not to sleep within them). My next stop was at around 260km, with an even paltrier selection of real food forcing me to make do with restocking my chocolate bar supply. Conditions had turned slightly tempestuous during the afternoon and although I caught glimpses of lightening, I avoided anything worse than a light sprinkling. Drenched roads in places however suggested that there had been some serious downpours so my feet still got a soaking. I generally coped well physically with the succession of ascents and descents. Gradients were keen at times, but there was nothing particularly standout, with the major challenge being pacing the effort and managing food/water intake.
During the early evening my thoughts centred on considering my options for the first night. I packed as light as I deemed reasonable for the event and opted not to carry proper sleeping kit. Too many times have I lugged around bivvy bag, mat etc. without using them. I also reasoned that the quality of sleep I would get indoors would be superior and surely I wouldn’t be sleeping much anyway if I wanted to be near the pointy end. There was a checkpoint at 440km and another at 670km, both offering the possibility of shelter for sleeping and ample refuelling. The obvious tactic would be to target these two waypoints for rest and press on between. I projected that I would arrive at the first checkpoint in the early hours, perhaps not even before sunrise, at the pace I was moving in this terrain. Not something I haven’t done before and not an overly ambitious target especially in a race this ‘short’. Yet, my commitment wasn’t there. The poor sleep the previous night and concerns about not being able to properly re-supply for the night shift convinced me that a room indoors was my best option. Even at the time, I realised this was something of an admission that I was unlikely to be competitive in this race. I was still in the mindset of keeping non-moving time to a minimum but this didn’t seem to extent to the nights and my willingness to push through, relying on naps if needed. The thought of committing to riding through the night intimidated me to an extent I had rarely experienced in similar circumstances, which I may put down to a lack of confidence lingering throughout the build-up. Consequently, I booked a hotel for the 330km mark and whilst doing so noticed that immediately next door was a 24-hour vending machine building. Ideal, I thought.
As night was exerting its influence over the remaining glimmers of light in the sky, I began what I thought was the last descent before Hinterzarten and the room I had booked. Signs for roadworks appeared and all-to-suddenly I spotted a sequence of trenches dug out running horizontally across the road. It was either the first or second that I hit too fast and hard, not having the time to react and reduce my speed. My front tyre went flat immediately. The diagnosis was exactly the same as during TPRNo2 six months earlier. The impact had pinched the sidewall and the sealant wasn’t even attempting to plug the hole, however hard I would press on my pump. It needed the deployment of an inner tube but the timing wasn’t ideal in the fading light as thoughts were switching to getting to the hotel. I knew I was close, but didn’t realise until I checked the map how close I was. The hotel was 400 metres away! Instead of faffing around on the roadside, I walked the remaining distance and checked in to the hotel (incidentally all done online on my phone, including the opening of the door – a novelty to me). There I could wash out the remaining sealant from the tyre in the shower and do the rest from the comfort of a hotel room. Thankfully, the tyre was this time a lot less stubborn and I had no issues with fitting the tube and re-seating the tyre on the rim.
I also made use of the vending machine next door, but not entirely successfully. A few large machines lined the wall but savoury options were not abundant, once again sugary items dominating the menu. I made do with crisps, ice cream and various sweet bar things which all plopped out, but my request for the tempting litre carton of soya milk was not so successful. On attempting to release this item, the machine jammed. A message in German relaying something about a refund popped up but (against my Yorkshire nature) I wasn’t going to spend the time figuring this out for the sake of a couple of euros. I was more irked about missing out on this and the whole machine was now showing as out of order. It was later I felt a bit guilty that another rider passing by, perhaps relying on this to stock up for the night would be left disappointed. Sorry if this was the case for anyone! The unanticipated faffing had maybe cost me a bit over an hour and after around 4 hours sleep I was back on the road at 3:40am the next morning.
The Numbers – Day One
Distance: 203.13 mi / 326.91 km
Elevation: 21,562 ft / 6,572 m
Moving Time: 15:19:41
Elapsed Time: 16:20:21
Average Speed: 13.3 mph / 21.4 kph
Average Power: 157w
Normalised Power: 185w
TSS: 535
Day Two
There were still a couple of hours of darkness remaining and 110km to ride before reaching the first checkpoint. The roads remained wet from the night before but it was mild and I was treated to a marvellous sunrise while cresting a tasty 10km climb. There were ascents of all natures in this region, from a pleasingly regular 11km at 4% to nasty little kickers with 20% gradients signposted. The road surfaces (sporadic trenches aside) were generally very good, permitting some stonking descents. At the foot of one of these I hit a supermarket bang on its opening time at 7am and was able to treat myself to some fresh food for the first time since setting off.
It took 6 hours of riding time to hit the first checkpoint. This was held at a fairy-tale reminiscent outpost in a gem of a spot on the hillside (a stiff climb to get to nonetheless!). I ate far too much frühstück, going big on the cheese slices, but didn’t hang around long before descending to the Rhine Valley and being greeted by a rather intense heat in the unshielded sunlight. I picked up another spare inner tube in Mannheim and made a further stop at the far end of the valley after crossing in to France before entering the Vosges. The valley traverse was perhaps a low point of the whole event. Dull, straight roads with no shade from the beating sun and not much to distract my mind from doubting my capabilities. I was already considering my accommodation for that night, again convinced that I needed somewhere indoors. Options were sparse, but it was only just after midday so I delayed any decision until I had tackled the next section.
I perked up once back amongst the hills, the stiffness of the gradients of the Petit Ballon in particular not leaving much spare brain capacity for the mind to wander. I also gained confidence from the observation that I was on the whole moving faster than those around me, overtaking fellow riders on the hills whilst riding at a pace which I felt comfortable at. Another hoick up to the highest point of the route at the Grand Ballon conquered, I reached the next town just as a shower hit. There had been some moody clouds circling the mountains and signs of brewing storms and I later learned that if I had summited the Grand Ballon half an hour later I would have been treated to an almighty drenching. In the event, I was just subject to a mild roasting whilst the sun still shone on the exposed upper slopes.
At this town I re-checked accommodation options. There was a campsite with cabins around 30km away over the next hill, but it wasn’t yet 6:00pm and I had only covered around 230km. Beyond that I would have to commit to making it to the second checkpoint which was 130km distant including three serious passes. Again, my commitment and self-belief wasn’t there and I opted for the cabin, comforted in the knowledge I could stock up at the supermarché before everything seemed to close at 8:00pm, benefit from a shower and set off as early as possible following some sleep. I was thus in bed just after 8:00pm, willing myself to sleep despite not being overly tired and almost broad daylight outside, with my alarm set for 12:15am. I tried to justify to myself that it is the amount of time that you move over a 24 hour period which counts, however you cut your sleep, so I could make up for this with the early start the next ‘morning’ (after midnight being the next day after all).
The Numbers – Day Two
Distance: 157.68 mi /253.76 km
Elevation: 18,346 ft / 5,592 m
Moving Time: 13:14:13
Elapsed Time: 15:42:44
Average Speed: 11.9 mph / 19.1 kph
Average Power: 147w
Normalised Power: 175w
TSS: 422
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