Take an unfit amateur and sign up for a 200km gravel ultra. What could possibly go wrong?
You'll have been living under a rock if you've not yet heard of Traka. If said rock is your home, then Traka is one of Europe's largest and most popular gravel races.
Over the years, Traka and Girona itself - for that matter - have gained a vast following among cyclists for combining great weather, great food, ease of access and variety of terrain. Traka is an organised mass start event - part of the Gravel Earth Series - covering 5 distances (in 2024) 50km, 100km, 200km, 360km and a whopping 560km. Regardless of distance, Traka takes in some of Girona's most popular 'champagne' gravel segments, single track, rolling plains and the rest and if like me you're used to singletrack and mud, the Spanish terrain feels amazing.
The decision
Late in 2023, I decided I needed a few challenges in the diary to give me something to shoot for, something to train for and something to be excited about, cycling-wise. 6 months prior, you rarely consider the gravity of what you've signed up for and only as you get closer, do you take in what it truly means. That was very much my experience.
200km is a long way. It's a long way on the road, but it's an even longer way off road, over mountains and wildly shifting terrain. For reference, I've probably only done 200km twice, ever. Both on the road, both years ago so of little help to me here, in early 2024. Therefore the Traka 200mm was deep into unknown territory for me and that's a little frightening.
The build-up
Now, I'm lucky in many ways, as not only can I sign up to do and experience such things, but I'm lucky enough to have an amazing bike to do it on. Hence I try not to complain, as there are many athletes worldwide, that simply wouldn't get the chance. Putting that aside for a moment, for the sake of prose, the build-up to Traka was a real journey, both mentally and physically. I'd booked an early season race to get the engine fired up, that was Strade Bianche - the write-up for which, you can read here - and I suffered on that ride. In hindsight, it was the perfect test for the body, for the bike and for my nutrition, all of which needed severe work and all of which worked very well for Traka, but more on that later.
Beyond Strada, I planned and completed a handful, and I really mean a handful, of long-distance training rides, including some 110km, 150km and 180km but all on road due to the time constraints on hand. I trained inconsistently indoors too, balancing some sweet spot efforts, with some high-torque to try and simulate the harshness of steep gravel climbs that hit me so hard at Strade. While I'm sure all of this will have played its part, my run in was far from ideal, lackluster training, travelling for work, niggling pains that I'm still working to solve should have all contributed to a difficult experience, but for whatever reason, that's not how it transpired...but first the bike.
The bike
The bike I rode, was built around a 3T Exploro Racemax frameset, one of the first gravel racing frames to hit the market 5 years ago.
I built it relatively simple, with Shimano GRX di2 11 speed, with some minor tweaks to the rear end to allow for a bigger XTR cassette. This gave me a 31 x 42 lowest gear, which I used more than I care to admit and a nice 48t big ring for the rolling flat sections.
Tyres, I opted for WTB Raddlers as they were tried, tested and loved and with the promise of mud, would actually make for the perfect tyre. Spoiler alert, zero punctures, no issues whatsoever.
For wheels, I used Hunt's 40mm Gravel Race hoops, which have a nice 25mm internal rim bed fit for wide tyres and weigh...well, not a lot.
Bags were courtesy of Apidura (Shout out to Ian Carter) who kitted me out with Top tube food back, a 1-litre frame pack and a hydration vest which was critical to my success.
The race itself
Having read about my lackluster build-up, you won't be surprised to learn that I was pretty nervous in the run up to Traka. I had no idea what my body would cope with, whether I could even finish such a race and had to consider quite carefully what my battle plan would be if it didn't work out as planned.
I arrived in Girona a few days before, just as a period of bad weather (Really unusual for Girona) was moving on to new places. We caught the back end of the rain on some of my shake-out rides, but fortunately, it improved rapidly in the run-up to the race. I got two rides in prior to the race, both around 40km and both taking in some of the course terrain. I didn't want to put too much in early, but equally, I wanted to know what I had in store. Ultimately this was the right decision as both body and bike could get acclimatised to what was to come. Handlebars were tightened, pressures tweaked, bag set up altered.
The morning of the race, I rocked up in the start pen at 7.30, surrounded by near enough 1000 other riders, truly incredible numbers and somewhat daunting, knowing that the race would wind through narrow streets and up a very narrow set of climbs very early on. Had I been there to race, I would have been out of position very early on. Fortunately, I was there for the challenge and the experience, not for the placing.
The races all head up some steep climbs almost straight out of the neutralised zone, which gives you no time to bed in and control your pace, you either go or you don't. I opted to hang back and carefully pick through the bunch as we climbed out of Girona on some rugged and rocky farm tracks. I controlled my heart rate, I even ate a little, but I didn't push too deeply. Not with 190km to go. This was my first good decision.
Over those first climbs and down some awesome singletrack decent, we were treated to our first stop. Nutella sandwiches were the order of the day and really hit the spot for me, squishy white bread and plenty of spread. Spot on.
By this point, I'd made a friend, David from Southend, who came from a mountain bike background and who had pulled out a comfortable lead on our group on the previous decent. I'd decided I was comfortable to pursue, with an eye on having someone handy in my corner on the flat section to come. Chit chat was the name of the day and having some company was just what I needed to tick off the next few kms. We picked up waifs and strays as we moved through the flatlands, roads that should have been fast and easy rolling, but in reality were waterlogged and challenging, forcing us to weave and wade at points and avoid getting ourselves too wet and muddy early on.
This section was a welcome relief after the initial climbing, though it was hard going in places, the speed was higher and in a group, we could make good consistent progress. Vibes were good and we had wonderful camaraderie as our group flexed, growing and shrinking with the terrain. During this flat section, I felt like I met folks from all over the world. Colombians, Americans, Australians, Veneualans, brits and Europeans, all come together to enjoy cycling culture in Girona.
Feed station 2 landed just before the second big test of the day at around 105km, a brief respite and refuel before heading straight back up. Station 2 was situated in the last populated area for around 40km, giving some - who were on the edge of reason by this point - quite a tempting get-out. I, however, was feeling good. More Nutella sandwiches, a quick stretch and a couple of ibuprofen and we rolled out.
With the climbs looming, there was a bit of quiet in the group, considering what we had to contend with in our imminent shared future. The road in the run-up was rocky and challenging and slowly but surely, the cycling gods in the sky had begun to turn up the heat.
As we hit the climbs, the sun was baking our outlines into the mountainside, cooking the parched rocky ground along exposed steep gradients. I managed the first ramps of the first of two peaks, before opting to walk up a particularly gnarly and steep section. Many did the same and there was only the odd nod or small smile shared between riders as we picked up our way towards the summit. Silence struggle was the name of the came, with only the chirping of insects for company, I did even have the energy to get my music back on. I counted myself lucky, as a friend had suffered a ride-ending mechanical, having fallen over onto his rear mech.
At the summit, I was gifted with knowledge I could have done without, that of the twin peaks, we had in fact only covered one, where I could have sworn it felt like two. This was not the morale boost I needed and I spent the next hour quietly picking my way upward, in what was - in hindsight - the darkest point of my ride. I let the kms tick buy, willing the bike up and forward and fueling as much as possible. Had this been in the cooler part of the day, I think I would have faired better, but the heat was sapping. The upper gradients were more shallow and shaded - which was welcome - and the core group came back together towards the top.
We were all ok, not at our best. Julian was beginning to flag, Dave had dropped off during the climb and my hands were beginning to hurt from the constant barrage. Jane was still in good spirits and we let that energy carry us down the descent, which was technical, rutted and a little sketchy. As it flattened out towards the bottom, we were treated to some wonder 'champagne' gravel, literally sparkling in the sun and a lovely flowing section of hard pack gravel that made for real easygoing.
The third and final feed station was situated in a shaded forest clearing, welcome respite from the heat and for the first time all day, they had pasta, rice and other savoury treats. By this point, I'm sick of sugar and needed a break, so great timing on behalf of the event organisers! Before we headed out, we ran into a bunch of UK friendlies whom we had met earlier on and since lost. Charley, Biancha and a lovely Colombian - whose name I sadly forgot - living in Amsterdam.
This swelling of the group was the motivational boost we all needed, new conversations, new energy and more wheels to share the work. At this point, we had 60km still to do, which felt like a fair ask considering we were already 7 hours into the ride.
Maybe it was the pasta, maybe it was smelling the end, but the final 60km was arguably my strongest. I pulled the group, led on the uphills, sent it on the downhills and felt really strong in my self. While the legs were singing, the rest of me was screaming, hands, shoulders, neck and low back all in bits from the gruelling terrain. Still, I knew as long as the legs could turn, I could get back.
The final run-in saw us pass through some idyllic parts of the Gironan countryside, great views, river paths, flowing single track. A real testament to the route planning to keep it interesting this deep into an ultra. The final few kms took an age to tick over, taking in some rocky singletrack before spitting us out back at the start. It was the last thing we all needed after a hard day out, and every kilometre that ticked by felt hard-earned.
Finish line almost in sight, I found my final reserves of every to press on, losing some of my broken comrades to pick their way back. I kicked towards the line, managed a sprint and even a bunny hop over the line! Thoroughly cooked, but thoroughly pleased with my performance.
Traka is a unique experience. Not only is the racing fantastic, in some of the nicest gravel territory accessible from the UK, but Girona is full to the brim of cyclists - much to the dismay of the locals I must add - but for us, the vibe is unreal. You feel at home, no longer on the outside attracting stares for your lycra or your muddy visage, but welcomed and part of a wider family. I made new friends and connected with old ones, Girona is the gift that keeps on giving.
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