It's always the same with these marathon stage races. A heroic name, a promotional photo with three filters and you've got the salad. Once you've absorbed enough photo and video material sitting on your cosy couch, your calves start to itch subliminally, but as the days go by, they get stronger and stronger. You suddenly want to know again: Are you still up for battling with pithy, wet-rubbed men and women over mountains and through forests, with your tongue on the top tube and your pulse in the red zone?
Andalusia: the Bavaria of Spain
While surfing through my spam mailbox, I came across a slightly reduced starting place at the Andalucia Bike Race arrived. Southern Spain, spring sunshine, grippy trails and, thanks to the highest UCI status, real race fever. It's funny how the cosy sofa can suddenly seem like an enemy. The stress of preparation with the right choice of tyres and a brutal diet of fries make up a large part of the appeal for me. It's easier to survive a mean cold winter on Mallorca when the fear of being left behind drives you onto the trails, even in bad weather.
Andalusia is, in a nutshell, the Bavaria of Spain. When a non-European thinks of Spain, with its torreros, tapas or fiery flamenco dancing, and olive oil promises eternal life, they inevitably end up in Andalusia. It is the original Spain, the likes of which have long since disappeared from the big cities in the north. There are forests populated by wild boar and brutal bumps in the road. A third of Andalusia is covered in bony olive trees that doze away on steep hills.
There is only up and down
The first stage starts as a prologue with 28 kilometres and 600 metres of elevation gain in Jaen. The trails are bike park-like, perfect and very clean by Spanish standards. There's a warm Coke at the finish, the sun is shining and at the finish we immediately compare our times with the nine guys we're sharing a hotel and bus with. On a road trip with so many roosters in the stable, it's more about beating your mates than the rest of the huge field of almost 800 participants.
There is no U30 category in Spain. So as a 28-year-old, you are registered with the elite riders, which means that you can or must start in the first starting block every day, no matter what time you rode the day before.
On the second day, there's another full load of vitamin D from the top. I'm allowed to line up in starting block two. Behind Markus Kaufmann, who is sitting on his tuned Centurion Numinis with Aerospoke wheels and Schwalbe prototype tyres, his high-performance veins in his left leg twitching in anticipation. I feel more intimidated than motivated. The second stage from Jaen to Villaviciosa is organised as a mass start. It's pretty cool to start a marathon in 50th position out of 800. It becomes problematic when the 200 master riders, who are faster than me, make their way past me through the masses towards the trail. Preferably immediately and from the left and right! Even with 350 watts on the crank, which makes me gasp in panic, I am overtaken as if I were taking part in a mass sprint on a tricycle.
My coach Josep had warned me to pace myself. But here it's all kicking and gasping. My mission: to keep the professional women in sight for as long as possible. We ride past small villages where greying men in white vests with their breakfast cigarette and a beer in their hand watch boredly next to their cat on the windowsill as the colourful Lycra pack races through their front garden. There's no need to mention the speed, but it's on.
The last time I took part in the Andalucia Bike Race, I always arrived at the hotel so tired that I didn't have the energy to take off my helmet before showering. This year, thanks to better preparation and the absolutely essential race bike, I'm in a better mood when checking the A4 results lists. For a few days now, the weather forecast on far too stressful Spanish television has been warning of a low and rain. We can only laugh about rain and headwinds in the evening over dinner with red wine and Serrano ham.
The nightmare of a fair-weather driver
Stage three starts in Cordoba. The first raindrops on the windscreen of our van, which is crammed full of cycling gear, do not bode well. What we find over the next few days at the Andalucia Bike Race is a fair-weather cyclist's worst nightmare. Rain, wind and four degrees at the start leave the remaining participants shivering in their short-shorts as they wait for the starting signal. It's unbelievable how many water-shy starters drop out of such a top event because of the bad weather. One of my Mallorcan mates, who I now know is made entirely of cardboard, gets off his bike halfway through the stage. Even though he was in an incredible third place in his category!
The trails are so muddy that in some places you are submerged up to your hubs. I even see one poor chap looking for his shoe in the mud. During a river crossing, the arse-cold water is up to my chest. Despite the race organisers shortening the distance, stage four is a pure fight for survival.
After two days in the rain and 30 per cent of participants having dropped out, the mood at dinner is rather modest despite the 4-star hotel. The rain is pattering against the windows and the fifth stage starts tomorrow in Andujar, 80 kilometres away at an altitude of 1300 metres. The car journey towards the start becomes a war of nerves. Inside, the heating is on full blast, outside it's the total apocalypse. Someone checks the organiser's official website every five minutes until the long-awaited news finally arrives. Stage cancelled and the sixth leg shortened. It's a shame we're missing out on the top route, but after two days in the pouring rain, there's no end to the jubilation.
Every few minutes, we are approached by wildly honking rental cars with high-end bikes on the roof racks flashing their high beams as they emerge from the flooded start area, unable to believe their luck any more than we can. We spend the following afternoon in various bars and shopping centres, where we meet a number of fellow cyclists who are instantly recognisable thanks to their Oakley glasses and tracksuits plastered with sponsor logos.
After the water battle
The material suffers incredibly in such conditions, as you often read and hear. Experiencing for yourself how both brakes only make a quiet whirring noise despite continuous grinding is something else. Sometimes I even had to click off to brake with the soles of my shoes in Indiana Jones style. The queue in front of the official Shimano service at the first refreshment point is a sea of desperate faces of participants who have just caused their carbon shoes to delaminate on the trail. Like all stages, this water battle will eventually come to an end.
At the finish line, the fountain with the statue of the heroic knight is converted into a bike wash. So, together with a dozen other starters, I go for a swim in the fountain in full kit at eight degrees and constant rain - bike included.
Summary
The Andalucía Bike Race is without question a top event, but its early date in the race calendar makes it very susceptible to the weather. Due to the widely scattered locations, the tight pace and the modest supporting programme, it is more for hardcore racers who want a little taste of blood for breakfast early in the year.
See you next time, Mucho Gas!
Alexander
