My first race of the season unfolded like a dream. In mid-January, I journeyed to Lanzarote for the Club La Santa 4 Stage MTB Race. Spanning four gruelling days and covering approximately 210km across the island's distinctive volcanic terrain, it was a challenge like no other.
In the lead-up to the race, my biking mojo seemed to have vanished. Despite spending a week before the race riding in Lanzarote with my girlfriend, Molly, in hopes of reigniting my passion, I still found myself lacking the usual excitement for hitting the trails. Mentally, I wasn't in the best headspace as race day approached, although physically, I felt prepared.
Setting the goal with my coach, Ash, back in September, of mastering clipless pedals before the start of the 2024 season felt like a distant dream. Months of grappling with injuries and harrowing moments while clipped in had nearly dashed my hopes. While I had grown comfortable on easier trails, any technical terrain left me rigid with fear, increasing the risk of a crash. Despite being reassured that Lanzarote's tracks weren't excessively technical, I hesitated before committing to racing clipped in.
After a week of intensive practice, I made the bold decision to tackle the race using clipless pedals. Here's how it all unfolded:
Stage One
As I stood at the start line, I felt a sense of intimidation. The first day was chaotic, with over 200 competitors jostling for position, creating a frenzy. Mass starts have never been my favourite, and this one was especially nerve-wracking.
With confidence lacking on clipless pedals, and surrounded by a sea of riders, I felt far from comfortable. The race started with a series of mishaps on the start line and I managed to avoid them, but it did hinder my progress as we were led out on to the tarmac before heading off-road.
The chaos intensified on the gravel, with reckless overtaking manoeuvres leading to numerous crashes and punctures. I witnessed several riders go down due to risky manoeuvres (they were all men – just an observation!).
My passive demeanour on the start line was something I acknowledged needing to improve. Nonetheless, I saw it as valuable practice, especially considering I won't be facing such large fields back home at the Nationals.
Once the field spread out, the race became more enjoyable, although the frustrations persisted. Technical descents and climbs were often bottlenecked by less skilled riders, and it irked me when some male competitors refused to yield, hindering progress.
Having ridden half of stage one the previous day, I found comfort in knowing what lay ahead, which helped me settle into the race. Navigating through lava fields and rocky singletrack trails across farmland showcased the island's unique terrain and added to the thrill.
The final stretch of the first stage seemed to drag on. With the finish line in sight, the route took us on an extra loop over rocky terrain, delaying the end. Crossing the line in second place in the Masters 30+ category, I was satisfied with completing the stage clipped in without any major mishaps.
Stage Two
The second stage, although six kilometres longer than the first, seemed to pass quickly. Despite feeling mentally and physically tired and not thrilled about the crowded start line, I wasn't completely drained. However, a poor start left me stuck behind some of the others, struggling to find my rhythm. Despite a thorough warm-up beforehand, standing at the start line for nearly half an hour undid much of the preparation.
Navigating technical singletrack, I found myself frustrated by slower riders walking the sections that I was psyched to ride. Experiencing some parts of stage one in reverse added an enjoyable twist to the ride, but there were a few daunting descents on loose gravel, akin to riding down a scree slope, which tested both nerves and brakes!
In the race's final stretch, we encountered a stunning ridge leading to a summit, boasting panoramic views of the coast and Club La Santa. The challenging climb was preceded by an exhilarating singletrack descent. During the ascent, a sudden gust nearly swept me off the mountain. Despite a timely unclipping, navigating the steep gradient with my lightweight bike buffeted by the wind was gruelling.
As I cautiously resumed, eyeing the enticing singletrack below, trepidation set in. The wind continued to pose a challenge, causing me to struggle and lose my footing multiple times. Despite this setback, I closed the gap on my competitors, showcasing promise for the overall standings.
Stage Three
The time trial – my favourite stage – was a blast. With no mass start, just a 30-second gap between riders, it was dreamy, and turned out to be a thrilling course.
Starting with a solid stretch on fireroad climbing up from the sea, I realised over the previous stages that I excelled at climbing. Moving forward, I felt a growing sense of confidence. By the time we reached the singletrack, I had surpassed all but two of the women ahead of me, and felt even more assured about my climbing prowess.
While I played it safe on the descents, opting for caution, I knew my strength lay in climbing, at least compared to my competitors. As I navigated the course, I was stoked to recognise a section of singletrack down the valley that Molly and I had ridden the week before. Recalling our interval sessions, with Molly hollering at me from behind, I couldn't help but smile – it was a little psychological boast, which no doubt helped me conquer the technical climb at the end before joining the fireroad.
I was now the leading woman. Traditionally the course stuck to the fireroad all the way to the top, I was later informed, but this year's course took a turn onto a technical singletrack climb. It was energy-sapping and felt like the longest two kilometres I've ever ridden, but eventually I crossed the finish line to the sound of cheering spectators. I rode well, finishing well ahead of my closest rival and securing a commanding seven-minute lead heading into the final day.
Stage Four
It was back to the mass starts for the 85km Marathon, but with fewer participants, and the importance of a fast start not so great, I was more relaxed.
My legs felt as heavy as lead, making it easy not to push too hard from the start. Watching my competitors ride off into the distance, I reminded myself it was a long race with ample time to catch up. Passing an Elite rider, I received some friendly advice to pace myself, as there was still a long way to go. XC riders are a friendly bunch.
Keeping the advice to pace myself and fuel properly for this marathon distance in mind, I regularly tucked into my bag of Haribo and made good use of the feed stops – something I hadn’t really done in previous stages.
Stage four was an amazing course, perhaps my favourite, although marred slightly by a challenging stretch of deep sand that we had to navigate twice.
Queen of the Mountain
Having tackled a portion of the marathon course the previous week, I had an advantage. At the farthest juncture of the course awaited an arduous 8km ascent to the race's highest point, where the fastest Masters riders would earn the coveted titles of King and Queen of the mountain. A title I won’t mind admitting I really wanted to win.
During this climb, I finally overtook my main competitor, British rider Loren Ward of Passion Fit Coaching. It took me over 40km to catch up to her, but there I was, pushing ahead towards victory. Once I surpassed Loren, my focus shifted to safely completing the race with both me and the bike intact, confident in the lead I had established.
The climb itself was epic, shielded from any wind, which made it even more exhausting but also more fulfilling. Soon after conquering this ascent, we were treated to the most exhilarating descent of the entire four-day race, and undoubtedly the best one I had experienced on the island.
The descent began with the reverse of the hill climb finish, a 2km stretch of rocky singletrack featuring small drop-offs and flat corners, set against the stunning backdrop of the glistening sea. This transitioned into the most technical section of the entire race, characterised by larger rocks and drops that took us onto the valley floor, heading back towards the town of Teguise and Club La Santa.
During a previous attempt with Molly, I had to unclip and walk a section due to hesitation thanks to being clipped in. However, on race day, fuelled by determination and knowing the best line, I confidently crushed the descent, repeating “stay high, stay high” aloud, to ensure I stuck to the line of least resistance! On the lower section I saw two guys pushing down the final bit and, knowing that my rhythm could not be disrupted without dire consequences, I yelled in my best broken Spanish for them to clear the path, and they obliged, cheering me on.
I was grinning from ear to ear after conquering that section while clipped in, brimming with confidence. As fatigue set in, I realised I hadn't eaten in a while. Fuelling myself properly on anything other than gravel roads has always been a challenge for me, an area I know I need to focus on. So, during a slow climb, I hastily stuffed a cereal bar into my mouth, making a mental note to refuel properly at the next feed station. Despite the thrilling prospect of potentially winning, what really had me excited was the realisation that I was nearing the end of four days of competitive mountain biking while clipped in – something I never imagined I'd achieve.
The Final Push
At the 70km mark, the inevitable encounter with the daunting sand awaited, and by this stage in the race, I was completely fed up with it! Drained of energy, I lacked the will to even attempt riding through much of it; my approach became a head-down trudge as I aimed to simply tick off the kilometres.
Aware that my bike had endured two weeks of rigorous riding relatively unscathed, a mechanical issue would likely sabotage my chances of victory. Having miraculously made it this far without incident, I erred on the side of caution, determined to cross the finish line in one piece.
But in the sand, with my spirits low and each step accompanied by curses, a cheerful “heya!” from Mai Marie Holm, a Danish rider in the Masters 40+ category whom I had overtaken long ago, suddenly pierced through. Even though she wasn't in my age group, her presence reignited my competitive flame. I was determined to be the first woman (excluding the Elites) to cross the finish line.
Mai’s greeting provided the motivation I desperately needed, and internally, I thanked her as I watched her zoom past. Jumping back on my bike, I wrestled with the deep sand along the undulating terrain. While Mai effortlessly navigated the sand, I struggled to keep pace, but she remained within my sight. A fellow rider joined our small group. As we hit a brief stretch of tarmac, Mai found herself tucked in behind him, while I pushed hard to close the gap.
Soon, we were back on the fireroad, and to my delight, a hill loomed ahead. Knowing my strength lay in the hills, I overtook both of them just after passing the ‘5km to go’ marker. From there it was smooth sailing – a mix of singletrack and fireroads with a slight downhill gradient led to the finish line. I managed to cross it a minute or so ahead of Mai… I guess I am competitive after all!
The race vibe
Club La Santa excels in event hosting, running a seamless race operation. The diverse courses showcased Lanzarote's unique terrain, with clear markings and attentive marshals ensuring a smooth experience. Volunteers were instrumental in the race’s success and as racers we are forever grateful to them. One minor suggestion for the organisers would be clearer parking instructions for stage three, located away from Club La Santa, to alleviate any potential stress for first-time racers. Despite this, early arrival secured a convenient roadside spot for me near the start.
The race drew participants from all over the world, with Spanish riders prominent on the start list. The global representation at the event highlighted its popularity, with MTBers from various countries including UK, Denmark, USA, and Slovakia to name a few. The event's international appeal underscores Lanzarote's allure in January, offering guaranteed dry weather and affordable race opportunities. More insights into the trip's cost will be shared next month.
Off to a flying start
I learned a lot from my experience at the Club La Santa 4 stage mountain bike race in Lanzarote, the nitty gritty of which I'll delve into more deeply in next month's diary.
With the first race under my belt, I am even more excited for the British season to begin. Lanzarote not only bolstered my confidence in my riding skills, fitness, and race strategy but also highlighted areas for improvement. I have a lot to learn, but this race showed me exactly what I need to work on to keep up my winning ways.
The pressure is on, and I’m vibing with it!
Be sure to tune in next month for an in-depth look at the Orbea Oiz's performance, insights into my gear choices, and a detailed account of my approach to recovery and fuelling for this epic event.
