My First Ultra-Cycling Race: Race Across France 2024

How far can you push yourself? In 2024, I set out to find the answer during my first ultra-cycling race, the Race Across France. Over four days and 1160km, I discovered both the limits of my endurance and the beauty of the journey

Why Race Across France?

After completing my 5000km bikepacking trip in 2023, I wanted to try something new the following year—an ultra-cycling race. Among the many options in France, I chose the Race Across France because it seemed accessible for beginners.

The event offers distances ranging from 200km to 2500km. For my first attempt, the full 2500km felt too daunting, so I signed up for the 1000km route (which turned out to be 1160km in reality). This route included three base camps where participants could access food, a camping bed, and a shower. These facilities made it easier for newcomers like me to focus solely on riding without worrying about safety or logistics.

Nightly departure

The race began on Monday evening with staggered starts every 30 seconds to ensure a solo experience—drafting is not allowed. My start time was 10:03 PM, and my plan was to reach the first base camp by Tuesday night.

This first stage covered 289km with an elevation gain of over 6600m. Starting from Anglet in the Basque Country, the route traversed four mountain passes: Ahusquy, Marie-Blanque, Spandelles, and the iconic Tourmalet, before ending in Bagnères-de-Bigorre.

Cycling through the night was one of the most memorable parts of the race. The excitement of the start kept me wide awake, and I quickly tackled the first two passes. At the summit of Marie-Blanque, I was rewarded with a stunning sunrise, its warmth cutting through the chill of the night.

However, things became challenging on the climb to Spandelles. I had underestimated my food needs, and without an open bakery in sight, my energy levels plummeted. The 10km climb at an average gradient of 8.3% felt endless. After finding food in Argelès-Gazost, I took a much-needed half-hour break to eat and recover before the Tourmalet.

I began the Tourmalet climb at 2 PM under the searing sun. With temperatures exceeding 30°C and little shade, it was a grueling ascent. Multiple breaks were necessary, but eventually, I reached the summit and descended to the base camp for a well-deserved meal and seven hours of sleep.

The Grueling Second Day

I started my second stage at 4 AM, facing a 349km ride—the longest of my life. Fatigue from the first day lingered, but my strategy to prioritize sleep paid off. Feeling fresher, I overtook many cyclists who had slept less.

Despite the advantage, the stage was tough. I spent 17 hours on the bike, and with food stops and short breaks, I didn’t reach the second base camp until 11 PM. Exhausted, I slept six hours that night.

Facing Mont Ventoux

The third stage, a 250km ride, was supposed to be shorter and mostly flat until the end, where Mont Ventoux loomed. Unfortunately, the relentless heat made this day the hardest for me. I struggled to stay cool and eventually took a 20-minute nap in a public park.

As the day wore on, I found it increasingly difficult to eat sweet foods. My body craved salty snacks, which made it harder to meet the calorie demands of the race.

By evening, I reached Malaucène, the base of Mont Ventoux, and decided to wait for cooler temperatures. At 8 PM, I began the climb, reaching the summit two and a half hours later. The experience of cycling up Ventoux at night was surreal and unforgettable.

The descent, however, was nerve-wracking. In complete darkness, the cold cut through my jacket, and I was eager to reach the final base camp in Sault. Arriving late, I struggled to find a place to sleep, but managed a short four-hour rest before my final push to the finish line.

The Verdon Gorge and the Mediterranean Sea

The last day was the most visually stunning. The route took me through the Verdon Gorge on narrow roads skirting towering cliffs. Despite the beauty, the heat was again punishing. Still, the thought of the finish line kept me moving.

My body was falling apart by this point—bruised hands and feet, aching neck and back, and legs that felt like lead. For the final 100km, I checked my GPS every kilometer and counted down pedal strokes.

As I reached the top of the last climb, the Mediterranean Sea came into view, less than four days after I had started from the Atlantic. The sight overwhelmed me with emotion, and I descended to Mandelieu-la-Napoule with tears in my eyes.

Crossing the finish line to cheers from other participants and a small crowd was a moment of pure joy. I had met my goal, finishing the 1160km in 94 hours and 56 minutes—just an hour and four minutes under my target of 4 days. Out of 302 starters, I ranked 89th.

Reflections

This race taught me that ultra-cycling is as much about mental resilience as it is about physical endurance. The highs and lows tested me in ways I never expected, but they also made the experience unforgettable.

When I crossed the finish line, I swore, “Never again.” The exhaustion, the heat, and the relentless climbs had pushed me to my limits. But just a few days later, I found myself reminiscing about the journey and wondering, What’s next? Ultra-cycling has a way of pulling you back in, and this race was just the beginning.