5 things I learned from my BikingMan Corsica ultra-cycling race
In May 2024, I took part in the BikingMan Corsica, a 1,000 km ultracycling race, with 19,000 m of positive elevation gain, to be completed in less than 120 hours, and all in complete autonomy. Here are five essential lessons Corsica has taught me, beyond the breathtaking beauty of its landscapes.
Photos in this article by David St-Yves for BikingMan
Context
The start and finish of the course imposed by the BikingMan Corsica organization were in Bastia, in the north-east of the island. In addition to the overall time limit for completing the route, there were three intermediate checkpoints to be passed within prescribed time windows.
Only six percent of the 178 participants who took part in this crazy adventure were women. As for me, it took me 97 hours and counting to cross the finish line. It’s like a condensed version of the emotions we experience over a lifetime… a life-size laboratory for getting to know ourselves better.
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Lesson 1: Having the right equipment is crucial
Even though I’ve been cycling for almost 10 years, had read the recommendations on the event page and know my equipment, I underestimated the gradient of the climbs that awaited me (or overestimated my quadriceps, depending on how you look at it). With the weight I was lugging around, a crankset-to-cassette ratio greater than 1 was far too limiting for the firecrackers of the Isle of Beauty. Although this mistake wasn’t fatal, Corsica quickly called me to order when I crossed the Col de Battaglia on the first night.
Preparatory tip : Test your equipment on similar passes. If you don’t have one nearby, choose a gear ratio that’s softer than necessary; it’s better to turn your legs than to burn them out on the first ascent.
Anecdote
First day, 260 km to my accommodation. Start at noon, with a steady pace, and lunch on the bike to optimize time, because the later I finished, the less time I’d have to sleep.
As night falls, I attack the Battaglia pass leading to CP1. The stars are shining brightly and the climb begins peacefully, but quickly becomes harder. Alternating between sitting and standing, then compulsory dancing and thighs on fire. I end up zigzagging from one side of the road to the other, at the end of my rope.
It was at this precise moment, noting the pedal-to-cassette ratio of the other participants beside me, that I realized my poor choice of equipment.
Impossible to change anything at that point, so I laughed at my mistake and swallowed the 4,000 meters of ascent. Arrival at 2:30 a.m., just enough time for a shower and 2 hours’ sleep – top time!
Lesson 2: It’s not enough to know how to climb…
To echo the previous lesson: if climbing on a bike requires practice, descending requires just as much. Perhaps it has something to do with my Canadian origins, as we don’t have any European-style passes in Quebec, but I quickly realized that the lead I often had when climbing was lost in the first few seconds of descent. Not that I’m racing, far from it, but if the Battaglia pass was so revealing, seeing my fellow racers speeding downhill and undoing the laces with such ease was a great lesson in humility!
Preparatory tip : If you live in a flat region, plan mountain training courses specifically to work on the descent, a technical aspect often neglected.
Anecdote
I surprised myself not by taking a break to rest my quads on the climbs, but rather by doing something I’ve never done before: stopping on the way down… to rest my hands.
The Isle of Beauty is a sight to behold, both uphill and down, and my photo stops were fortunately a good excuse to give my aching fingers a break from braking too hard.
My bike hasexcellent hydraulic disc brakes, but they don’t make up for my lack of experience and confidence in riding downhill for dozens of kilometers at a time.
So I’m adding an item to the homework list: get off!
Lesson 3: Tame the emotional roller coaster
In ultracycling, it’s not just the altitude difference that dictates the ups and downs – it’s also our mental state. As the years go by, I know it’s impossible to avoid a dip in motivation. The only certainty is that there will be some, but that they will pass.
There’s nothing like experiencing it again to refresh this lesson; there’s no point in trying to avoid slumps, it’s better to focus on tricks to get through them.
Preparatory tip : Changing focus can trick your mind, and my foolproof technique is to… socialize! Even if you’re a naturally solitary cyclist, a conversation can turn a difficult moment into a memorable one. Remember, it could be the cyclist next to you who’s going through a dark moment, and you could be the long-awaited change of focus!
Anecdote
Penultimate day, climbing the 16 km Col de la Vaccia (ironically called the “cow pass” because we were surrounded by sheep).
I bumped into a companion with whom we laughed about this aberration before rambling on about our craving for sausage – we were starving! He later confessed to me that he was in for a rough ride, and that this suffering climb had finally passed very quickly thanks to our conversation. His smile returned during our digressions.
So don’t forget: socializing helps you move forward.
Lesson 4: Assume your fears to better overcome them
A once unspoken but persistent goal: to alleviate my fear of riding alone at night. Despite several accomplished challenges, this box remains unchecked. Although I know my fears are probably irrational, I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is that frightens me. Is it fear of wild animals? Fear of having an accident? That I’ll get sick? That no one will find me? Or a bit of all? I don’t know! In any case, it’s inevitable: as the day wears on, my anxiety increases.
Preparatory tip : Accept fear without fighting it, find distraction techniques and celebrate every positive experience that boosts confidence.
Anecdote
As the second night approached, I still had 34 km and 1000 m of D+ to go before reaching my accommodation. I found myself, once again, alone with myself, in the dark of night, tackling a 17 km pass whose road was so bad that I sometimes had to put my foot down to avoid falling over the holes.
The tracking app confirmed that I was totally alone, so I took off my windbreaker and attacked the monster in one fell swoop!
Guessing the canopy beneath my headlights and dreading the pairs of eyes flashing around me, I started singing at the top of my lungs!
Despite the thickness of the night, the Scalella pass was conquered by shouting at the top of my lungs “hot shower, cosy bed”, which I found a few kilometres further on at 11.45pm.
Lesson 5: Respect your limits
In such a large-scale event, doubts often creep up on us. Are the deadlines reasonable for my abilities? Am I sufficiently trained? Have I dragged everything I needed? Am I capable of sustaining such long distances, for so many days in a row? It’s a normal feeling in this context, but an unpleasant one all the same. You have to know how to listen to it, but sometimes sparingly too. At what point do you listen to your instincts and decide to slow down, or even stop, or go ahead anyway?
Preparatory tip: Our limits fluctuate on a daily basis. Being easy on yourself is part of long-term performance.
Anecdote
On the penultimate day of the BikingMan, I was in low spirits and the weather didn’t seem to be getting any better, so grey was it; I was even one of the few participants to experience a few hours of rain. I was feeling a general weariness.
Suddenly, a dog cut off the cyclist coming down a few hundred metres ahead of me, causing him to fall violently. When I arrived at the scene, I saw him sitting in the middle of the road, his eyes blank, his cheek scratched and his helmet broken a little further down the road. A good Samaritan was keeping traffic moving while we waited for help.
There were only 140 km left on the course, but my teammate’s run was over. Already morally fragile, this scene reminded me of my own accident a few years earlier. I chose to end my day after “only” 144 km, when I could have completed the remaining 118 before the finish. Psychologically, I didn’t feel up to it.
For a long time, I blamed myself, as I’m used to days of over 250 km. With hindsight, I’ ve learned to forgive myself: yesterday’s limits are different from those of tomorrow.
That day, in that context, I’d given enough. Why torture yourself unnecessarily when ultra is precisely what you need to get to know yourself better?
Five lessons, but probably a hundred more in the pipeline. In the end, perhaps the most beautiful Corsican landscapes are those you discover within yourself – and every adventure is first and foremost an encounter with yourself.