24hour-race (alleycat) 🏁 – And a life lesson in dealing with fatigue.
The title meaning 'finishing is more important than participating' was a joke me and a colleague made a few days before the race. It was meant to replace the common (Dutch?) saying: ‘Meedoen is belangrijker dan winnen’ – participating is more important than winning.
At the time, it was a silly thing we laughed about, with no more meaning to it than us being entertained by how much we (and other people) were willing to suffer for 'fun'. It was also a reference to me accidentally missing the finish at the previous edition. I had cycled home after having reached the last checkpoint, because the ‘ending’ at the bar was something I wanted to skip. Hanging out with a bunch of people was something I didn’t feel like doing anymore, but I’d never thought to interpret the bar as the actual finish line of the race. Naïve little me. I knew better now, and this edition I was going to have to reach the finish. Hence: finishing was more important than participating.
At the start of the event, I realised it could actually also be interpreted as thinking that participating doesn't really count unless you finish the race. A bit harsh, Thomas and I concluded, as we were cycling our first kilometres.
Now, first things first. What is the ‘24-hour race’? It’s an annual race organised by and for Dutch bike messenger companies. There’s a few checkpoints that all need to be checked off within 24 hours, and the race is always long enough for everyone to definitely spend the night riding their bikes.
As I had cycled an all-nighter the weekend before, I promised myself I would sleep at least 8 hours every night during the week in-between. Otherwise I wouldn’t allow myself to participate. I succeeded at this, and booked an AirBnB near the start, so I wouldn’t have to take an early morning train (and possibly lose sleep over that).
The start was slow. We all had to wait at the train station before starting off the race with a group ride. After having to follow Thomas, who had an inflatable seagull attached to his helmet, we reached a place where we took a group picture. Then we all got our first manifests with the addresses of our next checkpoints. As the big group disbanded into smaller groups, I stuck with a group of my own colleagues and split up from them every now and then to cycle some parts by myself.
Each checkpoint turned out to be a lighthouse. We’d be cycling North along the coast, and would at each of those lighthouses either have to collect a simple stamp for on our manifests, or complete an extra assignment to receive the stamp from the organisation.
The first part of the route was practically a part of the RatN-parcours in reverse, which brough up a lot of memories for me. The idea of being there with a cargobike was in insane thing to think about. I felt happy being on a ‘normal’ bike and having tailwind on the Oosterscheldekering this time around. (Although I would say this was a little more boring, if anything.)
In Zeeland we got two fun extra assignments: we had to make an origami seagull, and for bonus points we had to write a poem with the words ‘fiets’, ‘Fred’ and ‘flats’. The origami was a tough challenge, but I managed to give my paper bird a nice piercing (staple) to keep it together. For the poem all given words were meant to be Dutch, but it somehow worked better in English in my head.
At one of the lighthouse-checkpoints a woman said to me: “Stoer hoor!” – a way to comment on what I’m doing, meaning something between ‘tough’ and ‘cool’. I was cycling alone at the time, and she’d probably heard what we were doing from other participants ahead of me, who were all men. I was really annoyed by her way of approaching me, but I didn’t really understand why at the time. I do now. She would never have said that if I’d been a guy. I had probably cycled twice as much this year than at least half the participants, but I’m female, so I must be having a hard(er) time. I’m sure this woman meant well, but this shit annoys the living crap out of me.
Rant over. Sorry.
A few checkpoints later, we were with a relatively large group. I wasn’t patient enough to wait for everyone to finish up their assignments, so I left before the rest did (knowing the group would catch up with me again later). Bram decided to join me, and we rode together for a while. The next few stops were just simple stamps at lighthouses, after which we would arrive in The Hague. The sun had gone down by now, and we were cycling on an unlit path through the dunes. With the tiles of this path being a little loose, we could hear ourselves riding over them. There were also a lot of invisible – some of them drunk – people walking on this path, which made it a very challenging part of the day. We got through it alright, and then had a proper dinner-stop at the next checkpoint, which was located inside the apartment of one of the organisers. Soon the most testing part of the race would start: cycling through the night.
For the biggest part of the night we would just be collecting stamps at lighthouses. But first, we had a funky extra assignment to complete. After letting eat people dinner in groups (in which they usually arrived) the organisation would split the group in two. One half of the group would go to point A on the map, the other half to point B. The people at point B would signal something in Morse Code, which the group at point A would receive and decode. (The word was ‘Kak’, meaning shit. 🐦)
This was a nice way to ensure that no one started their night of cycling by themselves. Kudo’s to the organisation for this 😊
Bram and me were still with just the two of us, which is something I was relatively happy about. Cycling in groups is something I don’t necessarily like, definitely when it’s dark. I got a flat short after completing the assignment. Bram helped me find the incredibly tiny piece of rock that caused it, and up North we went. Relatively fast we collected the stamps at the few following lighthouses. I was surprised by how good I was still feeling, also by being able to keep up with Bram fairly easily.
Bram getting a stamp at one of the lighthouses
This was, however, soon about to change. At the lighthouse of Noordwijk, the bigger group with my colleagues arrived at the lighthouse when Bram and me just got on our bikes again. We left in the expectation they would soon catch up with us a little further ahead. We were en route to IJmuiden now, and while entering Zandvoort I started to crash mentally. I thought the environment of the city would pick me up a little bit, but instead I was overwhelmed by fatigue and I started to struggle keeping up with Bram – even though we were already going pretty slow. (It was around 01:00 now.)
Bram and me had decided to take the ‘legal’ route through the dunes, and were surprised by some (emergency) bridges built over the road, dunes that had started to reclaim the road, and deer literally staring into our headlights. It was shock after shock for me. I had no time to process the whole situation, because I was also still trying to keep up with Bram. I didn’t want him to slow down, I just wanted myself to cycle faster. Around the southern lighthouse of IJmuiden we found the group again. They took the illegal route, which was much better rideable and also shorter. They, however, couldn’t find the checkpoint, so we joined forces in looking for it.
After a lot of confusion – and I think a phonecall – we found Rens and Laura with their camper, waiting for us with warm soup and hot coffee. Objectively speaking it was a great checkpoint, but my mood continued to decline fast. I was struggling to enjoy the soup, the game we had to play, and the company. (Sorry, guys. It wasn’t you, it was me.) I considered leaving by myself, but being as mentally not-resilient as I was at this point, this seemed like a bad idea. I – impatiently – waited for everybody to finish up. Our next two stops were going to be a little complicated, because the stamps we needed were located on two piers. It was better to do these with a group anyways.
Unfortunately, cycling in a group, also means having to keep more things in check/mind. Especially in the dark, when everybody has bright and sometimes flickering lights. I couldn’t handle it at all: not being able to see what was in front of me, ‘frightened’ me in a sense. I was feeling very tense on the bike, kept falling to the back of the group, and eventually getting dropped. This happened quite a few times, but I would catch up with the group each time as well. Sometimes because someone fell, or had a flat, or when the group had to wait for everyone to collect their stamps at the checkpoints.
This of course also didn’t have a great effect on my mood. I got grumpier and grumpier, and had no headspace left to ‘enjoy’ the dystopian vibe of cycling around Tata Steel in the middle of the night. The piers we had to partially cycle on to reach the checkpoints, were also covered with their own miniature sand-dunes, and could therefore be added to the list of things that were mentally draining me.
During waiting for someone to fix their flat tire, I mumbled something like: “What if this had happened to me? There would have been no one waiting for me.” I was told they would have, and I realised at the time, too, that I hadn’t told anyone I wanted them to keep an eye on me. I think (hope!!) I said this out loud. There was no resentment coming from my side, and I was pretty proud I still managed to not blame other people for my own feelings/choices. Whatever the sentiments may have been, after this moment, Thomas stayed behind to help me get back to the group anytime I had started to fall behind. For which I am eternally grateful.
To get from the Southern Pier to the Northern Pier of IJmuiden, you have to go aaaall the way around Tata Steel
When we were just a few kilometres away from reaching the final manned checkpoint before the finish, I managed to flip the switch. I had to accept (and trust!!!) that the people cycling in front of me could see the road and that they knew what they were doing. I shouldn’t let myself get distracted by the other lights from their bikes, I just had to follow them. Again: really proud of my brain in these circumstances.
Upon arriving at said final checkpoint, it became clear there wasn’t much of my personality left. I could hardly smile when meeting Eva and Anouk, people I’m usually 103% happy to greet when at the office. (See also: videoclip of me imitating a lighthouse.)
As we continued, the sun started rising, which made it easier to cycle in a group again. We were riding at a pretty decent pace (27km/h) given the state we were all in. I felt dead inside, but also fairly surprised by how well I could still keep up with everything. I was confident I’d reach the finish soon enough, and was counting down the kilometres as we progressed. This morning also rewarded us with the most beautiful view of the entire ride, as we made a turn to the right, following the road into some open fields. The sun cast a beautiful light over the grasslands and the fog and dew floating above it. The pictures and video’s don’t do it justice, but the collective ‘wow-moment’ we all had together as a group was a fun experience. It felt like a true reward for all the struggles each one of us had been going through.
We finally entered the last part of going up and down through the dunes before reaching the final lighthouse of Den Helder. It was actually a lot of fun, pushing a little extra while rolling downhill to struggle a little less with the uphill parts. And then suddenly, as the Dutch would say: “De man met de hamer”. (The man with the hammer.) No power left, not to cycle, nor to even shape any sort of facial expression. I was exhaustion, and exhaustion was me. There were only 14 kilometres left, and it was the absolute worst thing I’ve ever had to do on a bicycle.
I was still counting down the kilometres. And even though the number was low and the distance seemed doable, it seemed to take forever. The final part of the dyke to Den Helder’s lighthouse was a part I remembered well from RatN. Where in RatN the turning point at the lighthouse felt like I was ‘finally’ starting to make my way back to Amerongen, during this 24-hour race the turning point meant finally being near the finish. It was only 3 more kilometres from there. We took a group picture at the checkpoint, and Thomas and some others decided to still go for a short swim. I had absolutely no energy or patience – or decency – left to wait for them, so I decided to go towards the finish, with two other riders which names I don’t remember following me. (But I couldn’t keep up with them.)
The people that went for a swim arrived at the finish shortly after me, which painted a slightly painful picture of how slow I must have been going. There were unlimited pancakes available, and some drinks and places to doze off for a while. I tried to sleep while sitting in a chair with my head resting on the table, but it didn’t work. During my attempts to nap, some fellow participants had learned that the trains had a changed schedule because of some construction work somewhere along the route. There would be busses between two of the train stations. Since bicycles aren’t allowed on these busses, that meant we had to cycle for 16 kilometrees between the two stations. I could not for the life of me handle that idea. I tried checking for hotels, but all of them were at least 5 kilometres away. Even that seemed like too much. It’s interesting to see how exhaustion can change your personality and the way you deal with obstacles.
Yet a fun bonus: Because my Garmin had sent me the wrong way a few times in the first few hours of the race, I won a cool pair of socks which I – still very – happily accepted. These were meant for ‘the person who had cycled the furthest’. (Or maybe the person who had been miserable on their bike the longest.)
If you’ve read up until here, well, thank you. You must have been wondering why on earth I would put myself in a situation like this. Believe me, I would (and did) wonder the same thing. But I was also completely okay with it. The goal was to finish this edition, and that I did. I had already decided I would take a break from cycling after this event, so I didn’t mind the extent to which I suffered that much. At least, I didn’t mind it too much.
Did I cycle to a hotel or even the train station? Absolutely not. My colleagues who were also organising the event were kind enough to take me with them in their car. Would I have survived the cycling? Definitely yes. But it sure didn’t feel that way. Let’s say this has been a good lesson on the importance of sleep, and what being deprived of it does for your problem-solving skills. It’s of course something you know, but not something I’ve ever quite experienced as visibly as I did here. Me not telling the group in the night that I needed their help, was a part of this process, too. I’m grateful for everybody that helped me out. Maybe I could have taught myself that I would have figured it out by myself too, but I’m glad that’s going to be a lesson for another time. This was tough enough. I’m looking forward to the next edition. And arriving a bit more well-rested at the start 😊
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