TCRNo11 Day 18 // Credit Where Credit’s Due

Words by Jake Thorpe

Photos by Chiara Redaschi, Matt Grayson, Sam Dugon, and Tomás Montes

‍

‍

The Race Concludes

‍

The dust has now settled on the 11th edition of the TCR. In total, 161 riders arrived at the shores of the Black Sea in time to claim a position within the General Classification. Their brevet cards boast a race time – days, hours, minutes – a harmonising triplet of unique impressions; an experiential tapestry folded neatly into a single dimension.

‍

Some, of course, are still in transit, their compasses set, resolutely, for Constanța. With General Classification complete, 50 riders remained strung out across Europe, spanning 25 longitudinal degrees, eight countries, and a time zone. Sergey Shlubin (104), for instance, was turning the cranks of his single-speed through Serbia, his bullhorn bars pointing, purposefully, towards Bulgaria. Petra Scherer (116) and Doug Migden (047) – back for their sixth and ninth respective reprisals – straddled the Adriatic, with Petra pushing on towards the northern banks of the Danube while Doug skirted the Adriatic coast through Abruzzo. And TCRNo11’s Lanterne Rouge, Helen Weatherall (082), was crossing the Camargue, her daily average of 109 km edging her ever closer to the continent’s eastern limit.

‍

‍

But at 02:00 EEST on Friday morning, the final control closed, the last stamp was pressed, and the race, in substance, concluded. 

‍

‍

Adverse Camber

‍

Those assembling at Zoom Beach Bar for Thursday’s party were a motley crew. One of the more curious elements of a self-supported, point-to-point dash across Europe is the transformation that takes place for riders once across the finish line. Their silhouettes shift. Their attire, once a symphony of coordination, finely tuned to the task at hand, becomes instead an improvised ensemble, busking at civilian propriety – functional enough, but far from fashionable.

‍

It would make little sense for anyone to haul a whole wardrobe across the continent – much to the confusion of Mike Hall Bursary rider Lis Gardner’s (375a) friends, who had expected her to dress for dinner every evening, and curate her kit list accordingly. With no team car to ferry cargo, and no wiggle room within precisely dialled inventories for such frippery, riders arrive clad in Lycra, and very little else. As a result, the first stop for most upon finishing – after a hot meal, a shower and a good night’s sleep, of course – is Constanța’s high street, where outlets for outfits abound. 

‍

‍

There were some early aesthetic gems from the race’s first finishers. The printed, Potter-adjacent T-shirt of David Tschan (006) – sporting a collage of Harry Portal and pals – was a particular favourite. As was the surprisingly unprinted, fluorescent get-up of Christoph Strasser (002), from which his familiar Wiesbauer logos were a notable absence. 

‍

For the finishers’ party, riders dug out some particularly choice pieces. Julien Gravaud (398a), subtly reflecting his own inclinations, perhaps, about returning next year, had picked out a T-shirt in a fetching plum, adorned with a balaclava’d cherub and the inscription “Never Again”. Paired with baggy blue sports shorts, tube socks, and a bucket hat, as a whole ensemble, Julien was struck by just how much he resembled an action figure. 

‍

Sadly, Sofie Mangertseder (081) had already departed by Thursday’s party, leaving her showstopping outfit idea untested. Her plan, hatched from the saddle a week earlier, had been to synthesise two discrete ideals, fashion and function, into a single coherent whole. She had hoped high heels, inversely cambered to her cleats, might help to restore her gait come Constanța. Yet navigating the sand of Zoom Beach and the lattice of slatted boardwalks in six-inch stilettos would likely have negated any postural benefits – perhaps explaining why we didn’t see her hack appear elsewhere.

‍

‍

A Tale of Two Jerseys

‍

Yet not all of Thursday’s outfits were so premeditated. The Boy Wonder, Victor Bosoni (232), having taken the clean sweep of solo titles – the General Classification, the Green Leaderboard, and the Points Classification – augmented his own party attire with the spoils of this success, donning the inaugural Maglia Arancia, which he paired with a Low Carbon TCR cap.

‍

‍

The Maglia Nera, too, was awarded – the jersey given to General Classification’s final finisher. It was a closely contested title. Auri Teinilä (212), having battled illness earlier in the race, arrived in the nick of time to secure her GC finish, 38 minutes ahead of the cut-off. Auri had, however, raced her 4,703 km journey just 13 minutes too quickly. Behind her, less than half an hour before the final control shut up shop, James Illman (217) arrived on the sands of the Black Sea to claim his third consecutive GC finish. The Maglia Nera was a fitting reward. 

‍

At 7am on Thursday, 300 km from Zoom Beach Bar, James’ hopes of a GC finish had felt slim. “I’m going to need every minute”, he’d warned, “If the cut-off could be in CEST, that would be excellent.” Much to James’ delight, just 4 hours later, his wishes were realised, and then surpassed. A clarifying message from Jon, the TCR Comms Manager, not only confirmed the race time as CEST but also noted that an additional hour had been allotted to account for the amended Finish Parcours.

‍

‍

Yet James’ finish remained far from secure. Napkin calculations resumed – a theme of this race – which revealed an average speed of 17 km/h would be necessary to reach Zoom Beach Bar on time. These weren’t quite Bosoni numbers, but then again, Bosoni wasn’t forced to contend with 30 km of flooded gravel during his own race-saving time trial to the ferry. With James’ GC finish hanging in the balance, the British aerodynamicist put his skills to good use, gaining time on the road to mitigate his prudence while off it, eventually arriving with time to spare – 25 minutes to be precise.

‍

‍

The Spirited at Play

All journeys deserve to be celebrated, their efforts acknowledged. Of course, the traditional titles often prevail – the classification winners, the fastest woman, the Maglia Nera, the Lanterne Rouge. Yet other journeys, too, merit special recognition; a particular display of grit, perhaps, a decision made in the spirit of the race, or the flair of a tale made all the wilder and more baroque in the crucible of a continental crossing. Those stories resurfaced on Thursday, and were regaled and rewarded by race organisers, Andrew and Hannah.

‍

Martin Moritz (297) took home the Spirit of the Race Award – a recognition of his unwavering sportsmanship throughout his continental dash. Having put in the “race of a lifetime” to reach the ferry at Bari, a podium position – and, potentially, a win – all but secured, Martin’s only hope was that Victor, too, would make the crossing. He wanted to see a race; it mattered less to him whether or not it was a race he would win. Martin’s skill, determination and strategy put him on the podium, but his humility and his humanity are what made him worthy of the accolade.  

‍

‍

Christoph, too, received an honourable mention. Having exemplified the spirit of the race since his first victory, perhaps more than in any previous year, Christoph demonstrated in this edition what it truly means to compete. As a two-time champion, he had nothing to prove; arguably, he only had something to lose. Martin described his own race as “riding the wave” – the first success is often the easiest. But for Christoph, who knows how it feels to be on top, and had to tussle, instead, with the new sensation of falling just short, it showed immense character to continue to give every ounce of effort, refusing to let up until the journey was complete. Fifth place is no mean feat. Yet for Christoph, it was perhaps harder won, harder borne, and harder celebrated than it might be for most – and celebrated it was, with Christoph sticking around to trade tales from the road with riders for as long as the GC remained open.

‍

‍

Old Spice

‍

There were other awards besides these. Chris Murray (033) took home the Time Trial Award for her 635 km sprint to the finish. Riccardo del Re (286) was given the Inspiration Award for riding in honour and support of his friend, Edoardo, who was left paralysed following an accident on his bike. Riccardo rode Edoardo’s bike, recovered and repaired following the accident, and has surpassed his aim of raising €1 for every kilometre ridden – 4,800 – to buy his friend a hand-powered cycle, so they can return to riding together.

‍

Some, like the Darwin Award, were for wilder tales. Its worthy recipient John Pears (057), in a momentary lapse of concentration, managed to confuse his chain lube with his eye drops – earning himself the title of “The Visionary Mechanic”. But John wasn’t done yet. Later, struggling with punctures on the Finish Parcours, he bought a new tube of super glue to aid his repairs. Deeming it sensible to bite the end open, however, John soon found himself a little less loquacious than he might’ve liked, and has since been left sporting a clear and persistent veneer. We dread to imagine what might’ve come to line the chamois of his bibshorts had the race gone on any longer. 

‍

‍

Florian Büchele (363) was certainly pleased not to have fallen into the same trap as John with his own accoutrements. Given his petrifying fear of dogs, Florian tends to travel armed with aerosol pepper spray – typically a deterrent for bears – to ward off any unwelcome company. Mace under the armpits might well have trumped lubricating eye drops in the arena of discomfort. Not escaping scott free, however, Florian did earn the Chilli Award for the impact a rough section of gravel had on the integrity of one of his cans, stowed carefully at the base of his tail-bag. For the rest of the race, all his clothes, and most of his food, was tinged with an unmistakably peppery tang.

‍

‍

Presidential and Personal Alike 

‍

Yet whichever moments are lauded, whichever tales retold, from the 400 riders who line the start, spring 400 stories – each unique, each worthy of recognition. Some end in success, others end prematurely. They tell of disappointment, elation, chaos and balance. They evoke the full spectrum of human emotion. And they all deserve congratulations. 

‍

For some, like Victor Bosoni, that’s a message from your country’s president, praising the efforts of a race in which you’ve “honoured France and inspired a generation.” But for most, it will be a word from a husband, sister, grandfather or friend – or perhaps most powerfully from somewhere deep within – affirming, simply, that “you gave it a go.”

‍