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Ultra-cycling without a finish: My honest account of Badlands 2024

Heat, exhaustion, and mental limits: Ultracycling starts in the mind – and that's exactly where it can also end.

800 kilometres and 15,000 meters of elevation on a gravel bike through the deserts of Spain, no support – I wanted to find out how far I could go. In the end, the most important realization came not from reaching the goal, but from deciding to let it go.

Badlands is one of the toughest ultra-distance cycling races in Europe. An adventure that tests not just physical, but especially mental limits. It means extreme heat, loneliness, and a lot of perseverance. Those who start here are mainly competing against themselves.

I wanted to find out if I was up to this challenge. Whether I had the persistence to fight my way through dusty deserts and steep climbs for days on end. This report tells of my attempt to face my limits – and what happens when they come sooner than expected.

A young woman poses with her gravel bike on a hilltop in front of a mountainous Spanish landscape. The sky is cloudless.
A young woman poses with her gravel bike on a hilltop in front of a mountainous Spanish landscape. The sky is cloudless.

Snapshot from the social ride the day before the start. © Photo: privat

The Event: Badlands

Badlands is an unsupported Ultracycling event in Andalusia, Spain. The route covers 800 km with 15,000 meters of elevation, 85% offroad. It goes through the deserts of Gorafe and Tabernas, the coast of Cabo de Gata, and the mountains of the Sierra Nevada. It's less of a race than a personal challenge: overcoming limits.

The Dream and the Doubts: Why I started at Badlands 2024

The decision to participate in Badlands came on the last day of registration. Friends had the idea during our bike packing tour through Italy in the summer – naive and megalomaniac at the same time, in my opinion. I wasn't sure if they were aware of the training effort it would require. Cycling is not a sport you can “just do” with good basic fitness. Endurance is earned – kilometre by kilometre. After two years of cycling, I still feel like a beginner.

Ultimately, I'm the only one among us with a spot – probably because I'm a woman. Many organizers specifically allocate quotas for women to increase the low female participation rate in cycling events.
I had to make my decision within a week. Badlands wasn't my idea, and I knew it would require a lot of preparation. I was eager, but also had great respect. However, a three-month bike packing tour through New Zealand was coming up, which would give me routine and experience. So, I agreed.

Wide shot of an eroded landscape in the Spanish desert. The steep slopes show banding caused by layers of differently coloured rock. The sky is a cloudless blue.
Wide shot of an eroded landscape in the Spanish desert. The steep slopes show banding caused by layers of differently coloured rock. The sky is a cloudless blue.

Badlands beckons with its unique landscape. © Photo: privat

Preparation: Between Perfectionism and Procrastination

Training

My training starts with registration in November – nine months of preparation. I begin with a Zwift training plan, but pause at the end of December due to overload. Only the three-month bike packing tour starting at the end of January in New Zealand gets me into a rhythm.

After returning from the other end of the world in April, my first real training block in preparation for an amateur race at the end of May follows. Then, Badlands becomes the focus for the first time – only I don't know where to start. I have no experience with structured cycling training. So, I find a 12-week plan for gravel races on TrainingPeaks – actually designed for shorter events like Traka or Unbound.

The implementation of the training plan is less than ideal. Not because of legit obstacles – but due to a lack of motivation. My reluctance grows over the training weeks, and I lose the joy of cycling. My hobby suddenly feels like an obligation. In the end, I follow the plan to maybe 65%.

Tip: Train together for more motivation

For some, it goes without saying: When motivation wanes, a training buddy can work wonders. Cycling doesn't have to mean biking 15 hours a week by yourself. Depending on the training session, it pays to meet up with friends and commit to each other. If you train strictly according to heart rate, power, or a fixed plan, you should coordinate this with your buddy beforehand – so that the joint rides remain effective, and you find understanding.

Perfectionism meets reality: The burden of preparation

My lofty goals and ambitions and stress-related procrastination are not a good mix. As the event approaches, I feel increasingly unprepared and unequipped. I haven't trained enough and at the same time, I'm procrastinating on everything important. Still, there are many things to do:

  • Bike fitting and finalizing/testing the set-up
  • Organizing the trip with the camper
  • Planning nutrition strategy and route

My theory is perfect – in practice, it will be different. I know how many carbohydrates I need when and how many kilometres I plan to ride each day – but in the race, everything will be different.

A grey-black gravel bike in right-side profile. The bike is fitted with bags and a hydration system. It stands on grey wooden planks, with blooming heathland in the background.
A grey-black gravel bike in right-side profile. The bike is fitted with bags and a hydration system. It stands on grey wooden planks, with blooming heathland in the background.

With the final setup, I only managed a single test ride prior to the race due to lack of time. © Photo: privat

Getting There: A Rough Road South

Heading south in the camper van – four to five long days on the road, forty degrees, no air conditioning. At least it meant I was getting used to the Spanish heat for the time being. Yet the closer the start drew, the greater the tension became. Joy? Not a trace of it. Secretly, I was hoping to find a reason not to have to start at all.

Hydration Lessons: What I’d Do Differently Next Time

My hydration system turned out to be impractical during the race: every time I had to take out and refill the bladder in the frame bag, it created chaos – everything had to be reorganised. The bladder in the oversized rucksack also proved less than ideal.

My advice: go for a small backpack designed specifically for hydration, where you can refill the bladder without having to take it out. On the road, I often looked on enviously at how well this worked for others!

Dialling In My Gravel Bike for Badlands

Bike

My Focus Atlas 8.7 Carbon Gravel Bike is equipped with a Shimano GRX 810 groupset – 46/30T at the front and 11–40T at the rear. I’m riding on 45 mm Schwalbe G-One R tyres.
UPGRADE: CASSETTE 11–34 TO 11–40

At short notice, I had to dive into mechanic forums and trawl through YouTube videos to figure out how to run my GRX 810 with a larger cassette than the standard 11–34. Small, light gears are definitely a must with this kind of elevation, but a completely new groupset was simply too expensive.

Conclusion: works smoothly! Even without a RoadLink or similar adjustments. The cassette will remain a permanent part of my set-up, even after Badlands.

Bags

In my full-frame bag I carry a 3L hydration bladder, my provisions and my sleeping kit – a sleeping mat and an emergency bivvy bag. Smaller items such as electronics, toiletries and other bits go into the top tube bag. My handlebar bag holds my down jacket as well as arm and leg warmers. In addition, I’ve mounted a bag on my down tube for spare parts. On top of that, I wear a hydration pack that can carry up to 2.5L of water and still has room for snacks.

Race Day: A Mix of Nerves and Excitement

One of the most striking and beautiful moments of the race is the start:

My alarm goes off at 6 a.m. The night has been miserable. Fully packed, I head towards the start line. On the dark streets of Granada I keep spotting the blinking rear lights of other riders – a first sense of community. At the meeting point I have a quick chat with a few familiar faces and say goodbye to my girlfriend. I can’t hold back a few tears. Then the starting gun goes off.

Sunday morning, 8 a.m. The city still asleep, the air fresh. The fear gives way to a feeling of belonging, anticipation and relief. It feels good. I am proud to be part of this event.

A dusty, sandy canyon. A telegraph line runs along the narrow gravel road, and a small patch of blue sky appears at the top edge of the image.
A dusty, sandy canyon. A telegraph line runs along the narrow gravel road, and a small patch of blue sky appears at the top edge of the image.

For long stretches, you ride alone through the spectacular yet inhospitable landscape of the Badlands. © Photo: privat

Tipp: Ganzheitliches Training. 

1.      Training ist nicht gleich Training: Kilometer sammeln reicht nicht. Ein Gravel-Event trainiert man nicht auf der Straße oder der Rolle. Die Grundlage vielleicht, aber der ganze Körper muss sich an die Offroad-Belastung gewöhnen: Vibrationen, Unebenheiten, Schlaglöcher. Nicht nur Sitzfleisch antrainieren, auch die Handgelenke müssen an das Terrain gewöhnt sein.

2.      Ultra-Cycling ist nicht nur körperlich, sondern vor allem mental extrem fordernd. Fit sein reicht nicht – die größte Herausforderung liegt mental. Die Motivation für solch ein Rennen muss grundsolide sein, und im Idealfall schließt man im Vorfeld Frieden mit der Fremde, Unsicherheit und Einsamkeit.

Detail photo of dry desert ground: cracked, dried mud with gravel tyre tracks.

Southern Spain is shaped by heat and aridity. © Photo: privat

Kilometre by Kilometre into Solitude

It doesn’t take long before riders start overtaking me. That’s fine – I had expected as much. What matters to me is not going out too fast and burning myself out.

Yet after a few kilometres, that acceptance gives way to a sense of isolation. I (wrongly) get the impression that I’m at the very back. For miles, I don’t see a soul, and loneliness starts to creep in.

60.2 km | 04:58 h

Finally, tarmac and civilisation. I stop at a bar, just wanting to use the toilet. Inside, men are already on their first beer – and it’s still early afternoon. I feel out of place. The toilet? After dozens of riders before me: anything but clean, complete with water damage. Quick exit, and back on the road.

77.4 km | 07:02 h

The first climb that’s too steep, the heat, the concrete slabs. Unrideable. So I push. From here it gets truly tough. The temperatures rise, the track becomes impossible: sand, washed-out paths, dusty ravines. My lack of experience with this terrain leaves me desperate. The first tears come.

In one ravine a rider speaks to me – he’s lost his phone. One of his eyes is bloodshot, his English broken. He doesn’t want to ride alone. I long for company – but our rhythms are completely different, and I can’t bring myself to trust him. In the next village we come across more riders, and he joins them.

The towns along the route show little sign of wealth, and I feel uneasy. At the second bar I once again stop only for a toilet break – missing (as I later realise) the first good chance of a proper meal.

92.6 km | 08:42 h

After nearly nine hours of racing, I rest in the shade of a small group of trees and send my first video message to friends and family.

The desert stretch that follows is unbearably hot. Not a breath of wind. My water tastes like electrolyte punch mixed with silicone. I have to walk much of the way. No energy for climbs. I long for the next village. And for a Cola.

“It’s really quite tough. I just hit a real low point. So much sand – I had to push for two kilometres straight. In my head, I’m complaining non-stop.”

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Disappointment and the Bitter Truth

127 km | 11:31 h

Almost twelve hours into the race. It’s just after 8 p.m. I had been looking forward to a Coke and a proper meal. But the first bar has nothing left. The kiosk? Only Coke Zero – no, thanks! Reality hits me: I am far too slow. I won’t reach my day’s target. Ahead lies the next desert section, and I have no idea where I’ll sleep. Everything feels uncertain. Emotionally, this is the first major low point, full of doubts and even tears. After talking with my partner and my family, I decide to push on into the night.

In the darkness, it feels easier. The temperature drops to 23 degrees. The limited visibility helps me focus only on the next ten metres. No steep climbs in sight, no racing thoughts. What also calms and reassures me at night are the blinking rear lights of other riders in the distance. That feeling of community and belonging is back.

153 km | 15:50 h

I ride on to the next village to get some rest. I’ve been racing for 17 hours already. My sleeping spot is poorly chosen and the rest I get is far from good. I don’t feel safe.

185 km | 23:15 h

Almost 24 hours on the move. I am exhausted. Dawn is approaching, but the reality is harsh: still no proper meal, barely any sleep. I’m crawling along at a snail’s pace. Sitting hurts, standing hurts, walking hurts.

206 km | 25:49 h

08:49 a.m.: it’s getting hot again. I want to hang up my bike for good. My emotions cloud my thinking and the tears flow. That last climb out of the desert feels utterly impossible, even if I had the energy. Steep, brutally hot, endless. I want to get there, but I know it will take hours.

I call my partner. I can’t go on. I need his words just to keep moving. But the signal keeps dropping, and eventually I have no energy left to try again.

At last. I reach the top. There’s hardly any shade, but enough to gather myself for a moment. Badlands is an unsupported race. Yet I break the rule: I ask my partner to book me a hotel nearby. With my last gels, I manage to balance my energy levels – just enough.

213 km | 26:54 h

Twenty-seven hours into the race. It’s 11:54 a.m. I can’t go on. I don’t want to go on.

Close-up from above of a gravel bike cockpit, showing a Wahoo Roam bike computer and parts of a Knog Blinder front light.
Close-up from above of a gravel bike cockpit, showing a Wahoo Roam bike computer and parts of a Knog Blinder front light.

Final tally: at 225.8 kilometres, Badlands was over for me. © Photo: privat

Tip: Music

I regret not having listened to music. I had wanted to save it for the really tough moments. But I failed to notice that I was already right in the middle of one – and by then, there was no room left in my carousel of thoughts.
Music carries me. Perhaps it would have eased the overwhelm, or at least delayed it.

Tip: MTB Instead of Gravel

For events like this, an MTB is the better choice over a gravel bike. You can’t ride fast – neither uphill nor downhill. So you might as well opt for suspension, comfort and easier gears.

Tip: Nutritious Meals and Restful Breaks

If you’re not aiming to finish in the top ten at an ultra-event like this, and you’re out on the road for several days, I believe it’s important not to neglect proper breaks with enough food. Of course, there will be plenty of moments when you just have to switch off your head and keep pedalling – but the body still needs energy and recovery.

The Moment of Decision: Quit or Carry On?

A hotel room is booked. I set off towards it. Google Maps sends me through a gorge, I’m chased by a dog, and I have no idea if I’ll even make it. The way there is just as dreadful as everything before.

At the hotel, it becomes clear: I’m out. Back into the wilderness? Eighty to a hundred kilometres with no village, no water? Unthinkable. The very thought brings me to tears.

I take a shower, sleep, and have my first proper meal. Afterwards, I go to the reception and order a taxi back to my campsite in Granada. I can’t go on. I don’t want to go on.

Rest, nutrition, progress, sleep, a sense of safety – everything turned out differently than expected.

A dusty grey gravel bike with frame bags lies in the boot of an estate car, on a red-and-white striped blanket.
A dusty grey gravel bike with frame bags lies in the boot of an estate car, on a red-and-white striped blanket.

Taxi drivers in the area are remarkably well prepared for carrying dusty bicycles. © Photo: privat

What Remains of Badlands?

I thought it would feel like failure. But when I return to the camper van, I feel only one thing:

Relief. No regret. No remorse. Just the realisation that giving up can sometimes also be a form of winning.

I look forward to my holiday, grateful for every kilometre and proud of having pushed beyond my limits. And I’m simply glad that the pressure is gone. No training, no stress, no overwhelm. It feels good that my hobby can be fun again. And it doesn’t feel like quitting – it feels like success. Reaching this point is my success.

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Badlands 2024 in Retrospect: My Learnings and Takeaways

Twelve months later

I look back on Badlands – an experience that shaped me far more than I had expected. It pushed me, took me beyond my limits, and at the same time taught me humility. Since then, I’ve hardly ridden my bike at all – but maybe that’s okay. Sometimes you need distance to rediscover the joy.

And despite everything:

I am proud. Proud that I recognised and respected my physical and mental limits. Ultra-distance events and races are not about gently easing yourself in – they are often a brutal battle against yourself. But that’s exactly what makes them valuable. I learnt an incredible amount – about training, about my body, and about my bike.

If I would do anything differently,

it would be the mental preparation. Kilometres in the saddle are important, but in the end it’s also your mind that decides how far you get. Limits are often mental, breaks matter more than perfection, and sometimes sheer willpower isn’t enough to keep going. And yet, in spite of all the hardship, there were magical moments: the community, the stunning scenery, riding in the dark, and the small encounters along the way that made things easier. And not to be forgotten: the support from home, from family and friends.

If you’re considering taking on a race like this yourself,

do it! Ultra-cycling doesn’t have to be merciless. If you want to ease into it, there are plenty of exciting alternatives: shorter bikepacking events, demanding gravel races, or multi-day tours where you set your own pace. There’s more than one way to experience adventure.

For me, the next season means one thing above all: riding my bike for joy, not out of obligation. Coffee rides, good weather, kind people. And to be honest? My favourite terrain is smooth tarmac with a gentle downhill.

Will I try again one day?

Who knows. But if I do, it will be with better preparation, a clearer mindset, and the same curiosity for new experiences and the challenge ahead.

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FAQ: Ultra-Cycling and Badlands

What equipment do you need for Badlands or ultra-cycling in general?

For Badlands, reliable bikepacking gear is a must: a sturdy gravel bike, lightweight waterproof bags, spare parts (e.g. tubes, brake pads), a good lighting set-up (ideally a helmet light, a front light on the bike and a rear light), navigation device, power bank, and enough water bottles. Appropriate clothing is also essential – especially given the extreme temperature differences between day and night.

What gravel bike is suitable for the Badlands ultra-cycling race?

One on which you feel safe and comfortable for long and bumpy stretches. A professional bike fit is highly recommended. A robust, comfortable gravel bike with wide gearing and tyres between 40–50 mm is ideal. Stability on long gravel sections is key, but the bike should still be light enough for steep climbs. Some riders tackled it on mountain bikes – and for next time, I would personally opt for suspension too.

How do you prepare physically and mentally for Badlands?

The best approach is to combine long base training with gravel rides on very rough terrain (!!), interval sessions, and multi-day tours. This builds endurance for long efforts. Mentally, it helps to practise dealing with solitude and crises during training. Sleep deprivation, however, should not be trained for health reasons. Also, make sure to thoroughly test your equipment and nutrition beforehand so you don’t face any nasty surprises on the road.

Is the Badlands gravel race suitable for beginners?

Badlands is among the toughest ultra-cycling races in Europe, and therefore not for complete beginners. But if you’ve already ridden long distances, have bike packing experience and prepare specifically, you can take it on as an ambitious first-timer.

How do you cope with sleep deprivation and loneliness in ultra-cycling?

Plan in advance whether you’ll rely on short power naps or a set sleep strategy. Listen to your body rather than clinging rigidly to the plan. Against loneliness, music, podcasts, or small mental routines can help keep you motivated. Most important of all: a positive mindset and your personal why – the reason that carries you through the toughest moments.

What tips are there for navigation and nutrition on the route?

A reliable navigation device is essential – and a smartphone backup too. Pack food that is lightweight, calorie-dense, and tolerable even in the heat. Many riders use a mix of bars, gels, salt tablets, and local supplies along the way. And above all: always carry enough water and check refilling points in advance.