Race report: with some considerations on ultracycling and ultracycling races (by Sara Taglialatela)

On September 18, 2009 near Kinsale, in Cork County, Fabio reached three goals from the season: winning the Ultracycling World Cup, the European Cup and the Ultra Cup. While he was achieving this triple objective he was in the lead in the Race Around Ireland. The RAI is an ultracycling race that is valid like a World Cup Trial and its length (1,350 miles) and difficult route make it the second most challenging only to the Race Across America, therefore it is surely the most important race in Europe. The race starts in Navan, a small city in Meath County, about 60 kilometres from Dublin, and immediately heads northeast towards Belfast, across Northern Ireland and along the coasts, until touching the furthest north point of Ireland, Cape Malin, in the northwest of the country. After a lap around Cape Malin the route descends toward Connemara, all the way down to Cape Mizen, the most southern point of Ireland and from here, continuing east, it starts to climb up toward Dublin and Navan. Unlike what one imagines the territory of Ireland to be like, it is full of mountain chains, which, even if they are not known for their peaks, are unforgettable for their slopes: Cooley Mountains, between the starting point and Belfast; Gap of Mamore; Gap of Dunloe; Turners Rock; St. Patricks Hill; the stretch of road toward Mahon Falls; Mount Leinster; the mountains of Wicklow and other nameless points, simply “climbs” in the Route Book. The majority of these stretches have climbs that reach even 25% slopes. The race follows byroads, often lanes lost in the Irish countryside, where adolescents have fun playing with the road signs, by hiding them or changing their direction. The road surface is terrible, like it always is in country lanes: stones, holes, grass … The luckiest thing that can happen is that the weather is mild: no rain or wind, which make the Irish sky so famous. We are truly satisfied with how we ran the race. Fabio raced non-stop for 50 hours, he slept an hour and 25 minutes, he starter again and continued to ride until the 72nd hour. His passing times at the Time Stations were always much less than the forecasts of the race organizers and those who came up with the route, and despite all the difficulties and obstacles we came across. We are satisfied with the entire team’s work: six people in two vehicles (five of whom were without any experience in ultracycling events) and no camper, but we were able in any case to mange stops in hotels during the night in order to let the team rest and wash comfortably every day. What blocked us first and then stopped us? What impeded us from crowning the season’s successes with a victory at the Race Around Ireland? Ultracycling races are carried out on roads open to traffic and along a route defined by the organizers, which participants must strictly adhere to, otherwise they risk being disqualified. The organizers prepare the tools that guide the cyclist and his or her team along the route. These tools are: the Route Book (a detailed description of the roads and the turns to follow) with altimetric and road maps; indications along the route (which can be marked on the ground or with signs); files for GPS navigation. I have listed these tools in order of importance and priority, that is if there is any discordance the Route Book with maps must be faithfully followed, even if the GPS indicates another road. The Route Book for the RAI was changed ten days before the race and despite our repeated requests while organizing the race, we did not receive altimetric and road maps until ten minutes before the race started (even the definitive files for the GPS were ready only in that moment). While I was waiting in the van near the starting line a young man came up, opened the door and handed me a pack of sheets 30 centimetres high and said: “Here are the maps. I hope they’re okay because we finished everything in a hurry and didn’t have time to check. There aren’t any maps for Northern Ireland because the government didn’t give us permission”. He closed the door and the race started. I had just enough time to number the pages, the “encyclopaedia instalments” that made up the pack, in order to avoid confusing the Time Stations, seeing that they hadn’t even written which race section each group of photocopies referred to. Each pack of sheets contained: a page with the altimetric map of the section and three or four sheets with route maps. The road maps were much more detailed than what we had brought from Italy, but practically useless because the copies were in black and white and therefore it was impossible to distinguish the race route from other roads. Our only option was to rely on the Route Book. From the first sections of the race, however, it was clear that the Book was full of mistakes: it indicated turns that didn’t exist, to go straight on when there were junctions, exits from roundabouts that didn’t exist or didn’t coincide with the direction to take. The same errors were reported in the GPS files, because who also followed the GPS, apart from the Route Book got on the same roads where we were. Regulation set forth that each time you make a mistake you must turn around, get back on the route and start from that point. Often we went back and forth, riding many more miles than are shown in the final official data. This imprecision and these errors caused problems for everyone, including the judges, who were also in bind when identifying the route and forced to ask inhabitants where the road we had to take was. Seeing the ones who should have had control of the situation groping in the dark creates confusion, insecurity and mistrust. We decided to withdraw after a phone call from the organizers, who told us that there was a possibility that we weren’t on the right route (not the certainty, a possibility), that there were two cars of judges following different roads looking for us, but perhaps we could have been on the right road, but simply in another point. They advised us to turn back, almost at the last Time Station registered and start again from there, even if they weren’t sure we had taken the wrong road. We could have even gone back and forth on the same road, wasting time and accumulating more miles on the legs and only because of a doubt they had that couldn’t be checked, because the judges couldn’t find us. We decided, in spite of how crazy it was from a strategic point of view, to do as they said and go back. But along the road we found our second vehicle. “Did you get here by following the Route Book?” we asked the English and Irish guys on our team. “Yes”, they replied. Well then perhaps we hadn’t taken the wrong road after all and were on the right one? We called the organizers again because they owed us some clear explanations: if they wanted us to turn around after all those kilometres they had to assure us that they knew what they were making us do and why. They weren’t able to give us an answer that was other than: we can’t guarantee that you’re on the wrong road, for all we know you could even be on the right road, try turning back. Almost two hours had passed since registering at the last Time Station and we were at their mercy. Practically, what happened was that who was responsible for checking and giving certainties asked us to cover that role. Like it had happened the day before. On the afternoon of the 16th the English and Irish guys and I arrived at Time Station 6 (Sligo) two hours before Fabio. About forty minutes before Fabio arrived all the vehicles of the cyclist who went on to win the race (he had a 19-member team, two campers, two motorcycles, a van, and a station wagon, which was the main vehicle, the one authorized to always follow the cyclist at his pace). As soon as I saw them turn up I got out of the car and waited with the other two team members for the cyclist to arrive: if his vehicles were all there he couldn’t have been very far away. There was a lot of traffic in Sligo and I thought that since they hadn’t been able to follow him they had given him directions to continue alone and had come ahead to wait for him. After a little while the vehicles started to move, some towards the next Time Station and others turned back on the road that finished where we were; shortly after the vehicles starter to go back and for ten minutes went back and forth on that road. All in all not more than fifteen minutes had passed. I immediately called the race headquarters to find out what time they had recorded that cyclist passing Time Station 6 and they told me he had been recorded twenty minutes before my phone call. It was not true: we were there and nobody had passed. There had only been a lot of chaos with the vehicles going up and down the road with the clear intent to create confusion. I reported what happened and the Race Director immediately contacted the other cyclist’s team. The explanation they gave us was that they had got lost and therefore had brought their cyclist by car to the next race section. They were taking a rest ten to fifteen kilometres ahead. He got a penalty of fifteen minutes for this. The way the whole matter was solved was quite debateable. Ultracycling regulations set forth that the cyclist precisely follow the route and pass through all the Time Stations. If the cyclist goes off the route he must give notification and explanations; then he must go back to the point where he left the route (let’s suppose he took the wrong road) and start again from there. In any case, passing the Time Station is obligatory. Only giving one penalty for what happened was too little because: it is not clear what gain there was in terms of time spent and kilometres ridden by bicycle (we know where they were when they were contacted, but we don’t know where they “got lost” and at what distance the point was from where they were resting); no importance was given to the fact that a Time Station had been completely skipped. There were other strange cases as well, which the organizers did not take into consideration and did not check into further, as we had explicitly requested. These situations, which spoil the trust in those who should guarantee the correct course of the race, weigh on the races almost more than the kilometres still ahead. In spite of the training, experience, familiarity with what happens during the race days, ultracycling is a sport that absorbs and requires immense energy to be used in the concentration required to do those simple yet precise things I have written about before. This goes for the cyclist as well as his team. In order to do this the basic conditions that concern everyone’s safety and the correct execution of the race are important and essential. When who has to carry out this role does not do it or has difficulty doing it in the best way there is chaos. We withdrew because the season’s objectives had been met and because we didn’t want the rest to detract from our satisfaction and ruin the celebrations for what had been achieved that year and during the race in Ireland. It was a great race on our behalf: on behalf of Fabio, who raced for 50 hours before stopping, testing what science sustains on the maximum limit of 36 hours, beyond which the body and mind, if not rested, become inefficient; on behalf of the team, who collaborated on a common goal, apart from the discomforts and the physical and mental commitment required. We withdrew because we are convinced that ultracycling is not and must not be understood as a gruelling sport or as a test of inhuman physical strength. Ultracycling, like all endurance sports, is first and foremost an experience and a test of intelligence: in managing energy, resources, objectives, hopes, positive qualities and negative ones. In everything and in everybody.

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