My Search for the Perfect Bike for the TCR by Mark Kowalski

Designing a Bike for 5,000 km of Self-Supported Racing on the Transcontinental Race

The perfect bike is a moving target.

It was another dark, wet London evening in March on my commute home when a car turned left in front of me and my beloved Canyon Endurace was written off.  I counted my lucky stars.  It was just the bike.  My body escaped any lasting impact.  But now what was I going to race on?  I was in the middle of training for my third Transcontinental and now was in a race I didn’t sign up for.

My Endurace had a lot of ultra-specific tweaks made to it over the years.  This kind of build cannot be found on a shop floor.  And now I was given the unsolicited challenge of starting over with limited time.  The months were falling away and I was having no luck sourcing an appropriate frame.  

My mate Gav Hudson - of Butternut Bikes in London - pressed me to reach out to Reilly Titanium.  I had not heard of them before and was apprehensive, but soon found myself exchanging texts with a very understanding team.  Chris invited me down to their barn studio in Westerham where he sent me off on a couple of test rides.  He then personally delivered to my home their Reflex model for me to borrow and test.  They were all dreamy works of art that rolled effortlessly across the broken country lanes of Kent.

Reilly and I shook hands on it under the proviso Gav at Butternut could build it up for me, who also works closely with my coach and bike-fitter, Niel Copeland.

The fundamentals of riding farther

To quote my mother, a retired dance instructor, “I’m worried about your knees.” After eight years of constant cycling and avoiding most things people do in their thirties, the wear and tear was becoming a concern.  My ability to ride farther always seemed hindered not by a lack of strength or a lack of will, but pain. My knee hurts.  My lower back hurts.  I can’t feel my hands.  My butt looks like it got punched - repeatedly.

In designing a new bike, I adopted the simple mindset to maximise comfort.  Comfort means longevity which means speed.  The first step before shaking hands with Chris was sending the Reflex’s geometry to my coach and bike-fitter, Niel Copeland. It was a near perfect match to my Endurace.  My body would not need to adapt to a new riding position - one I had already honed with Niel.

With the help of Niel, Gav and my riding circle, I decided upon the following components to achieve this objective.

The perfect bike does not mean the perfect race

My problems started right away.  I was fairly new to using a power meter and despite my coach’s insistence to pace my first day at no more than 150w, I was averaging 180w over the first 24 hours.  I justified it in that I was still way behind the leaders and regularly being passed.  The damage was done though.  My right knee blew up to the size of a grapefruit.  Putting any pressure on it resulted in a shooting pain firing through my knee.  I almost scratched on the third day.  It seemed dangerous to keep going.  I was carried forward by the ever-encouraging words of my partner, Myrna, and a friendly Carrefour fish monger who shovelled crushed ice into a carrier bag, held in place by my bib shorts while I rode.  I then started massaging the tendons in my thigh to take tension off the knee.  It wasn’t until around Day 7 when I finally managed to get the pain under control.

Meanwhile the bike performed admirally, but no amount of v-guard endoskeleton will protect you against a 2-inch drywall screw discarded on the side of the road and finding its way perfectly into the tread of your rear tyre.  My first tubeless puncture needing a plug.  It took three. The stress of whether and where I should replace the tyre took a lot of headspace (I gambled and never did, desperate to not lose further time).

The perfect bike will also not help you gauge when you’ll arrive at an infrequent ferry crossing.  For that I recommend a spreadsheet and prior experience that even a 20 minute lie down at the side of the road can get you moving again.  Can you push yourself 775km without sleep on Day 8 to make it?  You may just have to try and find out. 

Perfection is a race to lose.

If it’s not obvious by now, cycling farther and faster doesn’t boil down to the perfect bike.  Or pushing yourself harder than you’ve trained for.  It dawned on me once during one of the many moments I’ve had for self-reflection.  We’re all out here just trying to master a craft.  The master did not get there overnight (and neither will they ever call themselves a master).  As cliché as it sounds, distance cycling is no different.  We are all out here thinking: what can I change to get better?  What are others doing that I could learn from?  The experience of what works and what works better, only really arrives by putting in the hours. Not only to do with what you put on your bike but what situations you are able to carry yourself through.  And no matter your experience there will always be something new.

Keen to do your first race? Maybe the TCR?  I hope what I’ve written here gives the reader some food for thought.  That said, you will feel both physical and emotional pain regardless of what bike and kit you take.  A good friend of mine Colin Woof completed TCRno1 on a loaner bike from the Edinburgh Road Club - his mates pitching in the money for his entry fee.  He used paper maps to find his way from Westminster Bridge to Istanbul, awakening a napping Mike Hall with a tap on his car window on the edge of the Bosphorus.

Adventure awaits.

Mark Kowalski is a 3x Transcontinental GC-finisher, achieving 12th overall on TCRno11, and organises the London Lockdown 100-mile night ride event - “London’s biggest bike tour”.

IG: @kowalifornication @londonlockdownride