The exertion has turned the eye sockets into deep, dark craters. The cheekbones press hard contours into the face. The lycra hangs limply from the emaciated legs. The whole body looks somehow juiced. And the race hasn't even started yet.
It's 4.40 in the morning. At the front, by the inflatable arches, bass-heavy clap-along bangers are booming. But Gerhard Gulewicz (49) can only hear individual, diffuse wisps of sound. The rear section of the start straight is not even covered by the floodlights. Hundreds of people crowd around in the bright white of the floodlights. There is no one behind Gulewicz. And if his plan works, he will also be the last to cross the finish line tonight. At 9 pm sharp, just in time before the timekeeping closes. He will then have been in the saddle for sixteen hours. A nice little warm-up exercise for someone like him. Normally. "I have to do this mentally today," murmurs Gulewicz and tries to tape the bright red flag to his bike that the organiser has just handed him. An absurdly large, bulky thing. "Pacemaker" is written on it in white capital letters. No one should miss it.
Almost 720 riders are about to rush off to face what is probably the toughest endurance test on the mountain bike scene - the Salzkammergut Trophy, or more precisely: its legendary and infamous "A-distance". A thigh shocker of particular severity: 211 kilometres and 7119 metres in altitude. Twice as long as the extreme distances of the great marathon classics. The winner will need around ten hours. Around a third of the starters will give up. Exhausted, demoralised, bleeding, dehydrated, humiliated, or knocked out of the race by one of the grace periods. "Once to hell and back!" is the advertising slogan on the event website.
Nobody knows hell better than Gulewicz. You could even say he's a regular there. Just a few days ago, he returned from America, where he once again tried to win the Race Across America. For seven days, he tormented himself virtually non-stop towards the finish, only to throw in the towel demoralised after 3452 kilometres. The exertion caused his thigh circumference to shrink by eight centimetres, and Gulewicz would still need weeks to regenerate. If he were a squirrel, he would be taken to the rescue centre to be nursed back to health with a feeding bottle. But Gulewicz knows that he is needed. He is the angel from hell. For the past six years, he has been escorting drivers who are in danger of failing the waiting times to the finish line.
"Let's see how many I can get to the finish line today," says Gulewicz. The starting gun echoes dully in the darkness of the alley. It's the first time Gulewicz has been on a bike since the Race Across America. Last week he had tried to roll a few kilometres. But the pain caused by the festering seat sores was unbearable.
The mountains of the Salzkammergut are covered in haematoma-blue clouds. The weather service has forecast rain until the afternoon. That is bad. Muddy ground costs time and energy. The checkpoint at the Goisern bridge must be passed by 8 a.m. at the latest. Gulewicz plans to ride over the measuring carpet to the minute. The power he feeds into the cranks of his full carbon hardtail is calculated according to an exact marching table. 200 watts of continuous power, i.e. three watts per kilo of body weight. A sporty pace, but not a hard one. Nevertheless, the first riders are already falling behind.
"Come on, hold on!" Gulewicz shouts to a Swiss man breathing heavily, while the drivers in front of him turn round again and again in alarm, as if the devil were after them.
"Once, someone at the refreshment point dropped everything in a panic and jumped on his bike when he saw me," grins Gulewicz. Everyone here knows that the red flag is nothing more than a silent reminder of impending failure.
The human body is not made for riding 211 kilometres and 7119 metres in altitude on a mountain bike in a single day. The organs crave oxygen, carbohydrates, fluids and minerals. But if you want to manage the grace periods, you won't even be able to satisfy half of your needs. The cells die. Whereupon a disgusting, painful feeling spreads through the body, similar to that of a gastrointestinal infection. Legs, back, shoulders, everything hurts. The psyche begins to rape the body. Only those whose will does not falter have a chance of reaching their goal.
The first grace period is just a kilometre away when Gulewicz spots a mending man at the side of the track. Mission for the pacemaker! The rear tyre erases the tarmac. Quick puncture repair. Minutes later, Gulewicz races across the track with the unlucky tyre in his slipstream. 8:00, almost to the second! A reason for joy and at the same time a reason for concern: there are still 175 kilometres and almost 6000 metres of altitude to go to the finish. If they want to make it over the next measuring carpet in time, they have to keep the chains as tight as possible.
Gulewicz knows how bitter failure feels and the subject has become part of his life. He had to give up six times in the Race Across America. And his first mountain bike race also ended in defeat. It was only a tiny one. But it upset Gulewicz so much that he lost 50 kilos and went from amateur bodybuilder to professional cyclist at the age of 40. It all started with a bet. Gulewicz, a 109-kilo muscle man at the time, had mocked his mates' bike spree and bet that he could ride the 100-kilometre distance of the Salzkammergut Trophy in under eight hours - without any training. Gulewicz suffered the most agonising day of his life and failed by two minutes. His ego was crushed, but his ambition was
ambition was so fuelled that he rode the 211-kilometre extreme distance the following year. Since then, he has lived for cycling. He has competed eleven times in the 4800 kilometre Race Across America. He came second twice and third twice. Trying to win has defined his life for years. The fact that he didn't make it again weighs heavily on his psyche. A dark, gnawing feeling. Gulewicz says he cried his eyes out. The fact that he has been the pacemaker at the Salzkammergut Trophy for years also has to do with the fact that he wants to spare others this feeling.
"In the first few minutes, giving up doesn't feel bad. The weight comes off. But the real misery comes later," says Gulewicz, routinely pedalling the absolutely necessary wattage. He still has no idea what drama is about to unfold.
14:45, Goisern Bridge: Just seconds before the third time limit expires, Gulewicz's transponder triggers the "beep". He has waited until the very end to be able to slipstream as many riders as possible on the important flat section over to Hallstatt. Around twenty desperate riders are panting behind him, but Gulewicz senses that something is wrong. The organiser had changed the waiting times at short notice. There are still almost 30 kilometres to go to the infamous checkpoint 4, the Waldbachstrub near Hallstatt, including the cruel Salzberg passage. They have to be there by 17:20 at the latest.
"Shit ...", mumbles Gulewicz: "It's never going to work out." Seconds later, his computer registers a massive increase in wattage. Some of the group try to follow. No chance.
Waldbachstrub near Hallstatt, 5.19 pm: timekeeper Günter Ekersdorfer, known as Gü, takes one last look at his wristwatch. Then he pulls the side cutter out of his trouser pocket and places his folding chair in the centre of the gravel path. Gü knows what dramas are about to unfold and grants an approaching group a reprieve.
"Okay, that's it," he finally shouts and, with the rigour of a GDR border guard, snaps the number off the handlebars of anyone still in front of the folding chair. An Austrian collapses, as if knocked out. A Czech stands there frozen in shock. A cemetery of hope. Twelve hours of agony. And then this! Eight minutes after the end of the grace period, Gulewicz also reaches the folding chair. He looks badly shaken.
"What idiot changed the waiting times?" he shouts angrily at number cruncher Gü: "You'll never make it from Bad Goisern to here! I had twenty in tow. They all burst off!"
Gulewicz takes an irritated sip from the bottle. Then he clicks it back on. Gü lets him go. As an angel of hell, Gulewicz naturally has special status.
How strong am I? What can my psyche take? What can my stomach take? The A-distance forces the riders to answer questions like these. Gulewicz asks another one: "German? English?" The Dutchwoman, who is slogging up the climb to the Roßalm with worrying body language, is too weak to answer.
"Come on, stay tuned! Come on! Come!" motivates Gulewicz. The Dutchwoman nods, extinguished. Gulewicz gently, almost tenderly, pushes the pace. If the Dutchwoman's legs are actually doing anything, it is unfortunately not noticeable. At least not in the form of an increase in speed. Gulewicz turns round one last time. It's like leaving someone behind in a burning house. But Gulewicz knows there's nothing he can do. This is the hell described in the programme booklet.
21:27, Bad Goisern town centre. The day is already being engulfed by darkness when the presenter interrupts the thunderous party. The crowds stare in anticipation at the finish straight, which has long since been closed, where Gulewicz sprints into the floodlights with a group of collected riders behind him. Frenetic cheering.
"As I said about myself in the film: You feel like you're somewhere between Superman and a toddler the whole time," says Gulewicz, stretching his yes thumb in the direction of a smartphone camera. His face is caked with mud. His eyes are even deeper than they were in the morning. What was that now? Failure or triumph? Gulewicz doesn't know exactly right now. At the moment it feels pretty good. Time for an after-work beer.
INFO SALZKAMMERGUT TROPHY
The race
As soon as the name Salzkammergut Trophy is mentioned, marathon fans cringe in fascination and shudder. The event is overshadowed by the mythical reputation of the extreme distance, yet it is a festival for the whole family. On the race weekend in Bad Goisern/Austria, marathon sport and folk festival come together to form a unique concentrate. 4731 riders started on eight different distances.
The infamous A-distance
The longest of the eight distances is advertised as "once to hell and back". It is regarded as the biggest kilometre shocker on the marathon scene. That didn't stop 719 bikers from setting off at 5:30 a.m. on the 211-kilometre route with 7119 metres of climbing. The German Andreas Seewald set a new record time of 9:48 minutes. Most of them were fighting to make it through and against the time limits. Almost 30 per cent do not make it to the finish.
The route
It is difficult to find a rhythm as a starter in the A distance. Right from the start, the route climbs 800 metres. From then on, the gradients, surfaces and path widths change constantly. It is a constant up and down. Again and again, steep wall-like passages drive the pulse upwards. The route can be roughly divided into two sections. The first, which ends at kilometre 130 in a long flat section. And the second, which begins with the infamous climb to the salt mine - the 60-kilometre finale that decides whether you finish or give up.
Who can make it?
Anyone who signs up for the A-course in a beer mood is 100 per cent certain to experience their Waterloo. The 211 kilometres require not only many years of marathon experience, but also super-fit legs and a well-trained psyche. Only those who know how to deal with mental lows stand a chance. If you can ride the long distance in a well-known marathon (Hero, Dolomiti Superbike, Kitz Alp Bike, etc.) without pushing yourself to the limit, you can take a chance.
The biggest mistakes
As with every marathon: speed kills. Always cycle in "feel-good mode", i.e. never above the aerobic threshold. And eat diligently! A-distance runners should know how to replenish their carbohydrate intake. Tip: Only stop at the refreshment points for as long as necessary. This will quickly save you 15 to 20 minutes over the duration of the race, which you can put to good use as a buffer in view of the cut-off times. Take enough gels or bars with you. There is plenty of food at the refreshment points. But mostly fruit, cake and the like.
Pacemaker Gerhard
Fascinated by how hard the riders behind fight, Gerhard Gulewicz enters the race every year as a "pacemaker". He rides close to the qualifying times and motivates slower riders to stay on his rear wheel. He acts as a guide and has already helped many desperate riders to the finish line. But beware: there is no guarantee! This time, Gulewicz miscalculated himself after the grace times were changed at short notice. www.gulewicz.net
The video Reporter Henri Lesewitz had already toiled over the A distance in 2012. His video report "Long Saturday" is available on: www.bike-magazin.de / Webcode #13247
