Tales From the Tail of a Race: TransAlp 2023
"I had done this race—the TransAlp—once before, in 2016 so I was aware of the pain cave I’d voluntarily entered. Turns out seven more years on the engine, five months less training and a dithering bout of Covid can wreak havoc. Who knew?"
“I’m sure you are a perfectly nice guy, I just really don’t want to see you right now.” He nodded with a small smile but something in it indicated he was merely acknowledging that sounds had come from my mouth. And why should he understand? We were in Austria and I do not speak German.
Staring down the barrel of a seven-day mountain bike stage race over the Austrian, Swiss and Italian Alps, I was undertrained and overwhelmed. And now here were the tail gunners—the five or so dudes riding last each day to pick up the stragglers, the lost, the injured, and to take down route markings. Their presence meant I was DFL—Dead Fucking Last.
I had done this race—the TransAlp—once before, in 2016 so I was aware of the pain cave I’d voluntarily entered. Turns out seven more years on the engine, five months less training and a dithering bout of Covid can wreak havoc. Who knew? Bike TransAlp began in 1998 and was thus celebrating its 25th anniversary. Routes, mileage and elevation change slightly every year, and it seems that race organizers were searching for a sort of masochistic “best of” to celebrate this milestone. At 308 miles and 57,000 feet of climbing—and not all of it on the bike mind you—it may not have been the absolute hardest version, but the rain, thunder, lightning, hail and heat gave any one of them a run for their money.
Not having raced in many years, I’d forgotten that such an event can create a buzz that envelopes the atmosphere and makes its own weather. There was a nervous energy in town the night before stage one in Nauders, Austria, and even in civilian clothing, any racer was easily identifiable, floating as if they were an inch off the ground. The giant, inflatable Maxxis arch that formed the start line served as the backdrop to our dinner al fresco on the plaza of an old Austrian mountain town and added to the giddiness of the scene. Three sips into my Aperol spritz and the digital clock embedded into the arch blinked to life and started the countdown. 13:45:23 til race time. *Gulp*
The TransAlp can be done solo, but is most often done in teams of two. My partner was a long-time friend, legendary for her climbing ability. I’m legendary for my ability to give up and walk. She inquired early on if we needed to stick together.
“Heck no. You do you and I’ll be along sometime after that. Though maybe I can make up time on the downhills.”