400 Ultra: My Masochistic Mountain Bike Adventure

Hi, I'm Vojta, and apparently, I don't have enough pain and suffering in my life, so I signed up for the 400 Ultra – a 400 km mountain bike race across Czech mountains. Doesn't that sound fantastic? Of course, it does. So, I was registered before I even had time to think about it, which is a universally known trait in men. And since I'm still a bit of a baby face trying to achieve the status of a man, I'm happy because thanks to over-estimation of my capabilities-criterion, I proudly manifest a status of a manly man. Not only did I sign myself up, but I even tried to trick my friend Láďa into joining me. I spun him tales of what great fun it would be, what amazing sights we'd see, and how proud he'd be when they hung the medal around his neck. Incredibly, Láďa fell for it. And he's usually such an intelligent guy... My dear parents summed up the whole situation best: "Wait, so someone is actually going with you? What kind of guy is that?" which, loosely translated from parent-language, means: "We've known you're a nutcase for ages, but are there really more of you?" And so, there we were on the starting list – two manly men from Letohrad. Vojta the idiot, who signs up for any nonsense that even slightly smells of sweat, and Láďa, who did once cycle to Adriatic sea, but since then has mostly just been working on his biceps and pecs. The difference in IQ is particularly evident in our approach to training. While Láďa gradually increases and then deloads his training, Vojta starts training four days before the race.

McDonald’s is Key

On Thursday evening, we packed our things, and on Friday, we set off for Mostek near Dvůr Králové, where the whole race starts. And since Letohrad doesn't have a McDonald's (which is quite remarkable for a town of seven thousand people) a visit to Uncle Donald's was the most important point on Friday's itinerary. With happy bellies, we arrived at the start line, but the nervousness was already palpable, especially when we saw the well-developed thighs and professional equipment of the other cyclists. Note: I wouldn't want to misjudge anyone, but according to my records, Vojta is the only competitor riding without clip pedals. In the end, there wasn't much time for nerves because Láďa's tracker wasn't working, so he swapped it for a new one a minute before the start. A few seconds later, eleven o'clock struck, and we headed off into the mud and the adventures. But mostly the mud.

Mud and Night

And then darkness fell. Curiously, about five racers overtook me twice because they mistakenly went off course somewhere. The night was warm, and the riding was quite pleasant. I struggled a bit with navigation because in places we were riding along the German-Czech border, and my offline maps weren't prepared for this eventuality. However, thanks to the constant stream of racers overtaking me, I luckily didn't get lost. Probably the toughest section was the Hvozd peak in the Lužice Mountains. Going up was still manageable (of course, I was pushing my bike), but the descent was a whole other level. We all dutifully put our bikes on our shoulders and descended with a good dose of general disgust and outrage. We also managed to get lost at least three times there. Combined with fatigue, a lack of water in our bottles, and a worsening position, it's no wonder I occasionally slipped into a curse word or two, despite my good upbringing. I managed to solve the water issue a few kilometers further on at a local stream; luckily, I had brought a filter with me. Filtering took about 30 minutes, but the break definitely did me good. Five minutes later, I discovered that my second gel tube had also been scalped, and the frame and bottles were once again covered in goo. Two gels out of two – that's some success rate – unfortunately, I don't remember the manufacturer to call them out here for their terrible lids... Once the water was replenished, food became the problem. I had underestimated this a bit, so around five in the morning, I headed to a gas station in Děčín. The receipt exceeded 400 CZK (=16 EUR) which at the time was some serious money for Vojta McDuck.

Mud

Vojta the moron ambitiously tried to push his way to the front, but just two kilometers in, his chain slipped between the chainring and the crank, and the damn thing wouldn't release the chain. A delay of about 1-2 minutes – so it was already clear that Vojta wouldn't be the winner. What a shame... And it's the chain's fault, definitely the chain, or maybe the underestimated training and preparation, but more likely the chain. "Mud here, mud there, through the mud I make my way" – I came up with that myself. And when I wasn't humming it, I was indulging in my second favorite pastime, which is cultivating hatred towards the organizers. As an experienced cultivator, I didn't even need to water much; a little rain was enough – holy Jesus, those were some serious crops of hatred. Lest I forget, we also had to pedal a bit. But just lightly... Sometimes even uphill, even though the route was made considerably easier because there was still snow in parts of the original track. Besides being a manly man, I'm also a bit of a tripolar:

• Vojta the pedaler – aka the racer chasing times and kilometers
• Vojta the admirer – who stops at every little thing to take blurry photos
• Vojta the complainer – who plots a painful death for the organizers

The "pedaler" mode usually correlates with the amount of caffeine in my veins and also with the number of racers overtaking me. As soon as more than three racers pass me, I immediately switch to "admirer" mode – pretending I'm not racing and that I just came to take photos. Highly recommended, a great mechanism for defending a fragile ego. "Complainer" mode depends on three factors: hills, weather, and again, the amount of caffeine in my blood. An uphill climb, rain, and a lack of caffeine are an absolutely deadly combination. These are precisely the moments when there's silence, and all energy is focused in one direction – hatred.

Mud and More Mud

You'd think that once all the basic needs are met, the ride would be smooth. But you'd be wrong. And so, I cultivated again. This time, I really went to town on spring 2021 – me, who normally absolutely loves spring! Because it had been raining or snowing for over a month straight, and now I also had a headwind, lack of sleep, hills, and mud to contend with... Who wouldn’t have a go at such spring. Fortunately for Kuba (the organizer), the weather improved after a few hours, and only the mud remained. By then, however, I was cruising through Bohemian Paradise, where there was always something to look at. Castles, rock formations, forests – but most importantly, no hills. For the first time in my life, I saw the Trosky and Bezděz castles, and they were magnificent! And lo and behold – the sun came out! That made the ride completely different. I even started to enjoy riding through the mud because I had finally developed the skill and was wading through with "dry feet." In the foothills of the Krkonoše, the hills announced their return, and that wasn't good. My back, wrists, and butt were aching, and I also started to develop an allergy to red, because every time we turned off the road onto a forest path, it was marked with a red hiking trail. I arrived at the finish line absolutely empty, with no water or food left – but I was all the more looking forward to the finish line beer and goulash. And it arrived! After crossing the finish line, however, I first had to ride an extra kilometer and a half to bring the total distance to four hundred kilometers. I don't want to look like a loser on Instagram who only rides 398.5... In total, we climbed 9576 meters, so the goulash and beer were an absolute bliss!

Mud and Hills

The beginning of the race was a bit hillier, which was actually good because riding the Krkonoše mountains with 350 km already in my legs would probably have exhausted my entire swear word vocab. Throughout the race, I chuckled slightly at the sentence Kuba (the organizer) uttered before we set off: "The better among you won't have to get off your bikes anywhere." Hmm... I had my reservations about that. Right at the 15 km mark, we were dragging our bikes uphill through undergrowth. It was there that my first comical mishap also occurred. I probably snagged a branch while carrying my bike over fallen trees, and the lid of my gel tube flew off. Unfortunately, I didn't notice until absolutely everything was sticky with apple-flavored gel. Both bottles and my frame bag instantly became a "Do Not Touch" zone until I rode somewhere near water to rinse it off. The opportunity came in Horní Mísečky, where I abused the hospitality of an open takeaway window, washed my bottles, and listened to the first five minutes of the Czech Republic vs. Russia ice hockey match – unfortunately, we were already losing 0-1. Nevertheless, I diligently spread this news among the other racers, because it forced them to slow down a bit when they were overtaking me. At the 60 km mark, I started looking forward to a beer, and I wondered if it wasn't a bit too early...? By the 70 km mark, however, I was already planning a swim in the river because my sweaty backside could use a light rinse. Unfortunately, the swim didn't happen in the end, partly because I'm a pig, and partly because I was kind of racing, occasionally. In the Jizera Mountains, a hiking trail awaited us, where we naturally had to carry our bikes over rocks, but this time I didn't whine even though it was raining because it was actually a beautiful sight. The showers quickly passed, and the most beautiful part of the route around Hrádek nad Nisou arrived. Sunset, wind turbines, and rapeseed fields as far as the eye could see. Just then, three racers overtook me, so I switched to "admirer" mode, stopped, changed clothes, had a snack, and took photos.