My First Ultra: 806 km Across the Andes
At 5:30 a.m. on Tuesday morning, I’m at the second checkpoint of an ultra-distance cycling race in the Andes. A few riders are clipping in and rolling out into the cold dawn. I’m doing the opposite — curled up on a sofa, squeezing in a few minutes of what I jokingly call “luxury sleep” after days of bivvying and a late dinner.
An hour later, I hear one of the friends I’ve made during the race ordering breakfast. Half asleep, I jump up and mumble, “Same for me, please.”
That single hour of sleep feels indulgent after surviving on 30-minute naps for the previous 48 hours. My friends leave. I linger, chat with other riders, soak up the camaraderie, and finally roll out an hour and a half later.
This was my first ultra-distance race — and it would teach me more about myself than any result ever could.
The Reality of a First Ultra-Distance Cycling Race
The first 24 hours were a rollercoaster. I started strong, riding within my limits and holding a solid position. But by sunrise, everything began to unravel.
I felt awful — weak and dizzy. It turned out the rice I’d eaten during the race had gone off in the heat.
The weather was far harsher than expected. While the forecast promised 23–25°C, my Wahoo was reading a “feels like” 43°C in the mountains.
For around 100 km, I rode with no carbs, no protein, and no electrolytes.
That’s when my mindset shifted.
From Racing to Experiencing
At that point, I stopped racing and started experiencing.
I spoke with locals, rode alongside other riders, took photos, and absorbed the landscapes. I stayed present while respecting the learning curve of a first ultra.
I set two rules for myself:
- Keep riding at night
- Only sleep when I genuinely needed it — not just when I felt like stopping (and only pay for accommodation if absolutely necessary)
These rules weren’t about toughness. They were about curiosity — understanding how my mind works under sleep deprivation and how I make decisions when exhausted.
Riding Into the Andes — and Into My Limits
Deep in the Andes, around 50 km from the nearest town, unable to keep any food downand barely any power in my legs, it felt like I was riding deeper into my own limits as much as into the terrain.
As sunrise approached, the sky turned an unreal shade of purple. Ancient Araucaria (Monkey Puzzle) trees lined the horizon — some over a thousand years old.
In that moment, there was no room for self-pity — only the rhythm of my pedals and the certainty that this was a view I’d carry forever.
80.5 Hours Later: Crossing the Finish Line
I crossed the finish line after 80.5 hours:
- 46 hours riding
- 34 hours stopped
- Approximately 6 hours of sleep, mostly in 30-minute naps
One nap was at a police station near the Argentinian border at 3 a.m. Another under Araucaria trees in Conguillío National Park — freezing, silent, unforgettable. The final nap came just two hours from the finish after briefly falling asleep on the bike.
I stopped for safety and woke to an older woman asking why I was sleeping roadside at 11 a.m. Easily one of my favourite memories.
I finished 12th, just two hours outside the top 10 — filthy, exhausted, and completely content.
Results vs Experience: What Really Matters
There was a brief “what if?” — but it passed quickly.
- How much I learned
- How present I was
- That I stayed upright and injury-free
- That I completed my first ultra on my first attempt
After starting the year injured, I finished with:
- No saddle sores
- No wrist, neck, or back pain
- No injuries at all
The Bike That Got Me Through 806 km
The race covered 806 km, 12,000 m of elevation, and roughly 60% gravel.
My Reilly Gradient titanium bike handled the terrain beautifully. Titanium made a huge difference to comfort over long hours.
A key detail: an XXS frame with 700c wheels and no toe overlap . Small details matter in ultras.
Looking Ahead: Going Deeper, Not Wider
2026 isn’t about racing more — it’s about going deeper.
- Endurance
- Exploration
- Accessibility
I’ll keep choosing experience over prestige, committing to longer, harder, more meaningful rides — and continuing to learn what I’m capable of.
If this resonates, follow along on Instagram @aridewithpurpose 🚲✨