This past weekend, the MTB marathon scene gathered in the Tyrolean ski village of Ischgl. Both amateur and professional athletes took on the challenge of the Ischgl Ironbike, competing across four different courses.
Also participating were Tobias Steinhart and Florian Fink from Team Dowe-Simplonder RSG Zollern-Alb. The evening before the marathon, both took on the competition in the Short Track race through the ski village. Starting from the last row of the field, they initially focused on working their way forward in the early laps. Steinhart managed to advance quicker than his teammate, and within a few minutes, he had joined the leading group.
Shortly afterward, Fink also made it into the leading group and was temporarily in fourth place after a third of the race. However, the 22-year-old soon paid the price for his effort in closing the gap, losing contact with the front. Not long after, Fink’s chain broke on a climb, forcing him to abandon the race. Meanwhile, Steinhart tried to conserve energy and consistently stayed within the top 5. However, his defensive strategy caused him to miss the crucial attack in the penultimate lap, and he ultimately crossed the finish line in 5th place.
I’m feeling desperate: during my preparation, I tested various types of nutrition, exchanged experiences with other athletes, and monitored my diet for compatibility in the past few weeks. During the race, I did everything to avoid upsetting my digestion: I only consumed water, bars, and bananas, and was meticulous about not overpacing. Is this going to be my pain point forever? Maybe long-distance isn’t the right thing for me? And yet, I love long distances so much… I’m completely lost in self-pity, and then I see Thomas Jacke flashing by on the side of the road.
I report on my condition. He had already suspected it, as he follows my splits. How nice it would be to lie down in the cozy camper van after a refreshing shower. When I make no move to continue running, he urges me on. Okay, I’ll stop at the next aid station, get rid of everything that’s troubling me, and then push through. I give the visibly bored Mathilda a kiss. Indeed, I manage to run another 5 kilometers before cramps force me to take another walking break. At the aid stations, the broth helpers already know me and offer words of encouragement. I take another quick stop and decide to run the remaining miles, come what may. The thought of Mathilda waiting at the finish line motivates me. The area along the route has quieted down.
