Heroes wear Lycra. At least in comics and action films. But this is reality. And now there are 4016 lycra-clad people wearing crash helmets on their heads as an expression of their normal mortality in order to join the league of heroes for once in their lives.
But to be honest, they look more like rabbits in front of a giant snake. The guy next to me is so nervous that he seems to be shaking. I've been feeling queasy myself for days. "TODAY IS YOUR DAY", it shouts in capital letters from the start banner.
How many loaves of bread would a baker sell if he advertised the incompatibility of the ingredients? How popular would a beach holiday be if the travel agency advertised the breakneck nature of the rugged shoreline? The PR strategists of the Dolomite resort of Selva Gardena can be credited with a certain amount of courage for not creating an "Ayurveda Wellness Week" to boost summer tourism, but rather the "toughest mountain bike marathon in Europe". There were already plenty of them. But the South Tyroleans firstly had a much more impressive backdrop than the many other "toughest marathons in Europe" with the Sella mountain massif and secondly an ingenious idea. They called the race "Hero" and came up with a fancy logo. The core message, which everyone can understand, is that anyone who conquers the 86 kilometres and 4500 metres of altitude is a hero. Okay, maybe not one who rescues a woman from the clutches of a three-headed beast. And not one who saves the world from climate collapse either. But at least a small, happy hero of amateur and recreational sport. When a small field of 400 bikers set off on the Sella Ronda Hero premiere in July 2010, nobody could have guessed what a heroic epic it would soon become. It is now even harder to get a race number than to reach the finish line. Four thousand participants! Heroes are now being forged on the Sella massif, like railway tracks in a steelworks. They have erected a huge Hero logo at the entrance to the village. Hero flags and Hero banners hang everywhere. The fan shop is open all year round and sells Hero trainers, Hero jerseys and Hero anti-stress balls. Hero, Hero, Hero. The total heroisation.
It takes an hour and a half for all the starting blocks to be pumped onto the course. The very first climb is a baffle for the untrained. Wolkenstein is at an altitude of 1500 metres, the Dantercepies to be crossed is at 2300 metres. The pros have fitted 28 mm chainrings to tame the nasty gradient. Sweat boils out of the pores of the amateur riders as if it were pasta water. Some have problems wrestling the crank into the next revolution, which causes quite a bit of compression. Those falling behind and those approaching clump together into a colourful, panting mass. The overstretched demand passage loudly, but the overstretched don't even think about leaving the ideal lane. Why should they? Traffic jams are only annoying at the back.
"Scusa, scusa! Left, left!", I try to get past the muddle in the loose gravelled left-hand lane, which of course doesn't achieve much except a nasty lactate shot. I have no idea what evolution had in mind. As soon as you get out of breath, the lactate scrapes through your veins like barbed wire. Your muscles turn sour like expired yoghurt. Why does the body do this? What's the point? You feel downright wounded by the metres in altitude. And there are still several thousand of them lurking. Never mind, just think about the supermarket shopping, walks and other weekend hardships that you can avoid by doing this, which helps to make the pain in your legs more or less bearable.
And that's also the concept of marathons: only hours of cooking in muscle pain, breathlessness and despair guarantee the surge of euphoria as you hurtle through the finishing arch. No summer without winter.
So onwards, stomping on the pedals with beastly force, the calf relief is maximally angular.
"Scusa, scusa! Left, left!", I push a rumbling man back onto his track. Unfortunately, he has no sense of humour at the moment.
"Hey! You are not the champion!" he shouts after me in an adrenaline-fuelled voice. Maybe not the champion, my friend, I smile benevolently. But maybe a hero soon. But only if I hurry. The grace periods are not too generous. If you're just a minute late, you'll have your number snapped off the handlebars without mercy. Marathon - the top of the pyramid of luxury problems.
Is that why everyone is so crazy about this marathon? Why Eurosport is sending 2 camera teams with helicopters to report live? The battle of 4000 bikers with stubborn metres of altitude? The answer has to be worked out a little, but it becomes clearer with every kilometre conquered: the Sella Ronda Hero is an epic test of endurance in the midst of an almost unbelievable natural backdrop. Like the work of a megalomaniac sculptor, the Sella massif is enthroned in the already monumental Dolomites. A granite block of gigantic proportions. Bare, angular, silver-grey. The stony heart of the marathon, the route around which is so eventful that at times the exertions seem like sacrifices. You thank the mountain for its splendour and give it your breath. My goodness, did I really write such a rant? But it's true: you can't imagine a more beautiful sports arena. The fact that it is also a treacherous one only becomes clear as the day progresses.
It's just after midday when the glowing July sun is overcast by dark clouds. At first it drizzles shyly, then the sky pukes unrestrainedly over the route. The subsequent drop in temperature decimates the mood considerably. The fastest riders are already chasing towards Wolkenstein, but the majority of the riders are still on the cruel gravel ramp between Arabba and the Passo Pordoi - halfway through the route. With their faces ashen, like the undead from "Brigade of Zombies", they trudge towards the toppled summit. It's so steep that nobody has been driving for kilometres. Everyone suffers in silence. Some are shaking gels in the hope of somehow surviving the madness. That's absolutely all they care about. Surviving, finishing, being a hero. Like weathered robots whose controls have broken down - except for the autopilot function. Wolkenstein, 46° 33' North, 11° 46' East, still
45 kilometres! Left leg, right leg. And on and on. I'm really sorry, dear top riders, to have to demystify you figureheads of biking like this. But the real extreme sport takes place in the last third. You can't photoshop or facetune yourself so blatantly that you could look as devastated as the desperate riders who struggle with twitching cramps against the grace periods. But that's exactly the experience they've booked. For 110 euros.
The Hero motto: TODAY IS YOUR DAY!
On the climb to the beastly Passo Duron, my motivation finally comes crashing down. The rain has made my minimalist wardrobe, typical for this type of sport, freezing cold on my skin. What's more, I've been feeling extremely uncomfortably weighed down by the metres in altitude for some time now. In general, I'm no longer particularly physically active. The summit is finally in sight. Despite the double-digit ascent percentage, I suddenly notice a sudden drop in pedalling resistance. "Oh, how nice!" I'm just about to rejoice that the power gel I've just absorbed is working so quickly. Then I realise the cause of the lively crank rotation: A broken chain. In a situation like this, that can mean two things. Firstly, I repair the chain and ride on. Or secondly, my frozen fingers are no longer able to do so, which is why I'm stranded in this rocky desert and my body is gradually shutting down all non-essential functions due to the cold. As a result, I have to drag myself half staggering, half crawling towards the finish. Which would fit in perfectly with the event motto, but would be a little too authentic for me in terms of the term hero.
More than seven hours after leaving the start box, I cross the finish line with a creaking chain. The presenter announces me to the crowds as if I've pulverised the course record. His voice almost breaks. And so it goes with every other rider, and I'm sure it was the same with everyone else before. "WOW ... WHAT A FEELING" is emblazoned at the top of the finish banner. Interesting realisation: Wolkenstein has remained Wolkenstein for all these hours, but the riders seem to have changed massively. They are all dirty. They are all worn down. Some are bleeding. But all of them are laughing happily from behind their muddy panade. No doubt about it: heroes wear Lycra. Not just in comics and action films.
Info Sella Ronda Hero MTB Marathon
The precinct
The mighty Sella Ronda massif stands in the already magnificent Dolomite landscape as if chiselled out of granite by a thousand sculptors. It's no wonder that Selva Gardena, located right at the foot of this imposing scenery, is one of the tourist hotspots of the Alps. The area is very well developed and has a huge capacity of beds. Travelling time from Munich: around three hours.
The route
The race course circles the Sella massif once without skimping on metres in altitude. A total of 4500 metres in altitude are covered in just 86 kilometres. The climbs are steep, the panoramic views always the best. Individual sections of the downhills lead over developed flow trail routes. The technical demands of the marathon are not too high. At least when the route is dry.
The best passages
Dolomite walls like fangs, spectacularly illuminated by the morning light: crossing the Dantercepies at an altitude of 2300 metres gives every rider goosebumps. If you turn your head to the left, you can see the starting point, Selva Gardena, 900 metres below. If you look into the mountain gorge to the right, you can see the famous Gardena Pass. But it's also possible that you can only see the many spectators who traditionally form a thunderous cheering trellis up here on the Dantercepies. Also great: the somewhat more technical descent from Passo Pordoi, which requires well-trained reflexes in some places.
The key point
All six climbs are steep and exhausting. However, the last long climb up to Passo Duron turns out to be a nasty motivation killer. After a hard slog, you think you've almost reached the top on a plateau. After a sharp right-hand bend, the shock: the summit is still a long way off. Anyone who has a moral crisis now will find it difficult to reach the finish. Refuel in peace at the refreshment point behind the pass. Then tackle the last 300 metres in altitude, which are no longer quite so nasty on the calves.
Good to know It takes an hour and a half until all the starting blocks are on the course. The organisers really do everything they can to equalise the crowds on the course. Nevertheless, everyone will be stuck in a traffic jam somewhere. Shouting, jostling and things like that won't change the situation, but will only spoil the mood - that of the choleric person and that of the others. So stay calm, take a deep breath and simply enjoy the magnificent scenery.
Viewer tip
The only traffic artery, the road around the Sella massif, is closed during the race. This makes it extremely difficult for spectators to get to the course. Tip for fans: take the cable car up to Dantercepies. If you get up early, you can even cheer on the first racers there.
Hero tours
Biking in the footsteps of the Hero Marathon, but relaxed? You can find a large selection of tours here: www.herotrails.com
Marathon registration
The registration database for the Hero is usually activated in September. If you want to take part, you have to be quick. The 4017 places (4000 plus 17 for the year of the event) are snapped up within hours. Info under www.herodolomites.com
