Day #5 How one climb changed my race

I woke up in an unidentifiable shack and felt like baby Jesus in a shed. I didn’t have any supernatural powers, but I slept in cozy warmth, thanks to the breathing of the local fauna—Daniel was asleep, but not snoring. A rare trait for an ultra-endurance cyclist. I started packing carefully, trying not to wake him. That wouldn’t be a sportmanship.

I knew that from CP3, where I had arrived yesterday, it was roughly 24 hours to the finish. So I expected to be done by some time in the evening. It was two in the morning when I booted my navigation and let out a few miserable sighs before plunging back into the impenetrable night.

In moments like this, my head is empty, free of most worries. But usually, it’s not food, water, or shelter I think about. Most of the time, I’m just wondering what that squeaky noise from the bike is 😁 In that silence, it’s often the only thing I hear.

🔼🔽 Up and Down

I wasn’t feeling sleepy, even though my progress was slow and kind of boring. In the darkness, the pitch-black forest wasn’t offering much in terms of beauty. That changed when I started the endless switchbacks climbing toward the Kaliakoudas pass. Just as the sun was breaking into the world and painting the landscape in vivid colours, I reached the top. What a view! I felt like all the effort I’d put into climbing that gravel road had actually paid off.

Going down wasn’t much easier. The road was full of rocks and the descent seemed never-ending. My hands were aching, and I had to take a break halfway through. It reminded me a bit of 1000 Miles, where there are also a few of those long, punishing descents. I dropped 1100 metres over just 10 kilometres.

The bottom part was kinda funny. I crossed a bridge—and immediately started climbing again. On a very similar gravel-filled road. My cadence was painfully slow, and I was crawling up the hill. I had almost zero stability, and my handlebars were swinging from side to side. To get a bit of energy back, I tried to take a nap. Those few minutes of sleep didn’t turn me into Pogi, but it gave me just enough to keep going.

🎷 Orchestra for the Final Kilometres

I was slowly climbing along the mountain slopes, passing one stunning view after another. This last day made up for all the suffering. I was falling a bit behind, so the Lithuanian rider Daniil Sadomskij caught up with me. I had already seen on the tracker that he was closing in dangerously.

The heat came back, which cracked my already fragile morale. What hit me even harder was when a screw fell out of my pedal! I had noticed for a while that one side wasn’t clipping in properly, and now it wouldn’t work at all. Avoid Xpedo at all costs! Well, I had a 50/50 chance of clipping in. I had spare cleat screws, but this one came out of the pedal and was totally non-standard. In the end, I unscrewed one side entirely so it’d be easier to aim for the correct one. I lost some precious time fiddling with it.

I kept inching forward through endless climbs and descents. When a pair of Bulgarian riders passed me, I ran out of patience. They flew by so fast I felt like a sack of pears on wheels. I decided to take one more break. I lay down in the grass—when suddenly I heard thunder. And that’s when my sprint to the finish began.

⛈️ I Pushed Through

A thunderstorm is the last place you want to be on top of a mountain—but that’s exactly where I was headed. I was almost at the summit and figured it’d be better to just ride over and descend into the valley on the other side, where I wouldn’t be so close to the lightning.

On the way up, I could hear thunder, and just below the top, it started to rain. I put on my jacket just as hail started hitting me hard. I was in my prime. I still felt okay, because even though it looked terrifying, the lightning was far off. A few thunderclaps were really loud, but by then I was already descending, rolling down through streams and little rivers.

It got cold fast. I threw on my waterproof gloves and pants. I didn’t feel in serious danger, even though I know storms high in the mountains aren’t exactly health-friendly—and I was probably around 1500 metres up.

On the way down, I ran into the Bulgarian riders again. It rained like that for hours, without any more thunder or lightning. Eventually, everything calmed down, and I had only about 60 kilometres left to Nafpaktos. It’s challenges like these that make the final stretch fly by.

🫶 It Was Worth It

I passed Daniil, who had taken shelter from the bad weather, and I was eyeing 11th place. I felt strong, and a wave of endorphins was pushing me forward. But then, my seatpost snapped loudly. The saddle twisted around. Now I get why bike manufacturers recommend checking bolt torques before every ride.

I had to remove my saddlebag and tighten the bolts on the seatpost. Then I had to do it all again because I didn’t tighten them properly the first time. I lost all hope of finishing eleventh.

But on the very last climb, I glanced at the tracker one more time, and Daniil was still close. So I hammered it as hard as I could, knowing he had to be right there—but I just couldn’t see him. When I was already staring at the wind turbines at the summit, I finally saw him. And he was pushing his bike!

I had to get off my bike a few times too, and that broken pedal made things really complicated. But when I almost caught Daniil, the most beautiful view of the entire race opened up before me. Suddenly, I forgot about my exhaustion, about all the stretches where I had to push my bike, and just admired the views of the forested peaks. All of it during the golden hour. The timing was epic.

👿 Racing Like a Devil

Suddenly, I lost the will to race. I’d rather enjoy the view, snap some photos—even though my lens was pretty dirty—and charge my camera to get some video. If I’m not fighting for the podium, it honestly doesn’t matter. Maybe I’d push harder for tenth place… but eleventh???

The views from the top were even better! I definitely didn’t capture it well on video or in photos—you really have to experience it. But from the other side, the coastline opened up to me, with lit-up towns, a bridge connecting mainland Greece to the Peloponnese… And those colours… it was simply stunning. I stopped again and filmed some more.

Then I just had the last climb to descend. It was flying fast—I nearly broke every bone in my body. But it was worth it. I caught up to Daniil on the descent! Racing in town made no sense, so we rolled into the finish together in 11th place.

🫅 After the Battle, Everyone’s a General

My main goal was to break into the top ten, which I just missed by one spot. But can I say I’m disappointed? Not really. I’m sure there’s room to shave off a few hours. However, this year, results aren’t the be-all and end-all for me. After the race, I didn’t face a long recovery. For the trip back home, I decided to use my bike and the very next day I got up and rode roughly 2,000 kilometres back to the Czech Republic — through Greece, Albania, Montenegro, Bosnia, Croatia, Slovenia, and Austria. But that’s a story for another time…

Did I like the race? Honestly, not so much during it 😅 There was way too much pushing and unrideable terrain for my taste. That’s part of these kinds of races, but I expected this one to be the most rideable of the whole series. At least, that’s what the manual said. And unmet expectations are the worst experience. On the other hand, that last climb completely changed my impression of the whole event. It managed to outweigh all the hardships, and I crossed the finish line feeling satisfied and in a good mood.

If you’ve made it this far in this epic, thanks! If you want to support my effort, I’d appreciate it if you shared the Hellenic Mountain Race video report with your friends and acquaintances. It’s in Czech but it has English subtitles, you just need to turn them on.

The second race in the Mountain Races series is done. First the Atlas Mountain Race, then the Hellenic Mountain Race, and now only the last and biggest challenge remains—the Silk Road Mountain Race in the high mountains of Kyrgyzstan. My goals? Probably just to finish. I feel unfit like I haven’t in a long time 🤣

Do you want to know what I brought to race? Mu complete gear list for Hellenic Mountain Race.