On the morning of July 4, 2025, I rolled my bike out of my garage in a quiet suburb near Antwerp with a simple but daunting goal: ride for 24 hours straight, covering 638 kilometers, climbing 3000 meters, and pushing my mind, body, and equipment to their limits. This wasn’t just a test of endurance; it was a rehearsal for the 500 km Pyrenées Orientales ultra-distance race of UBF in September—a race that had captured my imagination and respect in equal measure. This 24 hour cycling challenge was about more than numbers. It was a personal journey, a way to understand my capabilities, face my weaknesses, and rediscover why I love cycling. Here’s my story—an honest, detailed account for those who dream of the open road, crave adventure, or simply wonder what happens when you ride past your comfort zone and into the unknown.
Preparation: Laying the Groundwork
A journey like this doesn’t start with the first pedal stroke. It starts weeks and months before, in the quiet commitment to train, plan, and prepare for every eventuality. My training had grown more structured since deciding to target ultra-distance events. I balanced endurance rides with shorter, high-intensity intervals, always listening to my body while gradually upping weekly mileage. I obsessed over recovery, sleep, and nutrition, knowing the smallest oversight could unravel a long day in the saddle.
Route planning was both thrilling and nerve-racking. I wanted to challenge myself with a mix of flatlands and rolling hills, passing through cities and countryside—Antwerp, Tilburg, Venlo, Mönchengladbach, Heerlen, Liège, Brussels, Gent, and finally, looping back to Antwerp. I spent hours on mapping software, searching for quiet roads, reliable resupply points, and scenic sections that might fuel my motivation in the dark hours. My bike—a reliable endurance road machine—was lovingly serviced, with fresh tires, new brake pads, and a thorough drivetrain cleaning. I checked and double-checked my tool kit, spares, and lighting system. Mentally, I prepared by visualizing tough moments and rehearsing positive self-talk. The message was clear: expect suffering, but embrace it.
How to train for 24 hour cycling challenge and ultra distance cycling races and challenges
For me, training for ultra-distance cycling is a year-round lifestyle rather than a short build-up toward a single event. I’ve learned that consistency and durability matter far more than chasing peak numbers, so my training naturally follows the seasons. In winter, I focus on building a deep aerobic base and strength. A typical week includes three rides of 70 to 100 kilometers, mostly at low intensity, one longer endurance ride up to 200 km, plus one interval session for strength building. I also dedicate one climb-focused workout on my Wahoo KICKR, simulating long, steady climbs to build muscular endurance and resilience. This period is also about strength training, mobility, and dialing in bike fit, knowing that ultra-distance rides magnify every small weakness.
Spring is where everything starts to connect. The ride durations increase, intensity becomes more structured with tempo and sweet-spot efforts. Besides back-to-back long rides become a regular feature to train fatigue resistance. When summer arrives, training blends seamlessly into racing. I usually take on around six ultra-distance races and challenges, using them as both competition and high-quality training. Long outdoor rides, race-pace blocks, heat adaptation, and precise fueling practice become essential, with the focus firmly on pacing and consistency rather than raw power. Autumn is a transition phase. I still line up for one or two ultra-distance events depending on the weather, but volume gradually decreases. Rides become more exploratory and relaxed. This allows physical and mental recovery while maintaining enough endurance to avoid losing the durability built throughout the year. This seasonal approach keeps me motivated, healthy, and always ready for the next ultra-distance adventure.
The Start: Rolling into the Unknown
As I clipped in just after sunrise, a cocktail of excitement and anxiety coursed through me. Was I ready? Would my body hold up? Did I pack enough? The silence of the early morning was broken only by the soft hum of my tires on the tarmac. My hometown faded behind me, and with every kilometer, I felt the weight of daily routine slipping away. The adventure had begun—not with a bang, but with the quiet determination of a rider on a mission.
The Journey: 638 Kilometers of Discovery
The first part of the route was familiar—rolling out through Antwerp’s suburbs, the roads still empty, the air crisp and cool. My legs felt fresh, and I consciously held back, reminding myself that pacing was everything. As I crossed into the Netherlands near Tilburg, I found myself weaving through tidy villages and lush countryside. The sun rose higher, painting the fields in golden light. By Venlo, I’d settled into a steady rhythm, soaking up the beauty around me and greeting fellow cyclists with a nod.
Crossing into Germany near Mönchengladbach brought subtle changes: the road surface, the architecture, even the smell of the air. I stopped briefly at a bakery for a pastry and some ice cream, savoring both the sustenance and the sense of moving through cultures on two wheels. The hills began to bite approaching Heerlen and Liège. Each climb forced me to focus on my breath, my pedal stroke, and to respect the growing fatigue in my legs. In the Ardennes foothills, the scenery was breathtaking—sweeping forests, hidden streams, and small towns seemingly untouched by time.
As afternoon faded into evening, I entered Brussels. The city pulsed with life, a stark contrast to the solitude of the earlier hours. Navigating urban traffic with a tired mind required extra vigilance, but also provided a psychological boost. I was well past halfway, with the promise of Gent and the final stretch to Antwerp ahead. As dusk fell, the sky painted itself in purples and pinks. I felt a deep sense of gratitude for this journey, despite the mounting pain in my body.
Riding at Night: The World in a Bubble of Light
Night riding is both magical and menacing. As the sun dipped below the horizon around Brussels, I switched on my lights and donned reflective gear. Suddenly, my world shrank to the narrow pool of light ahead. The roads emptied; the only sounds were the whir of my chain and the rhythmic thump of my heart. Fatigue set in, and the night played tricks on my mind—shadows became obstacles, distant lights seemed to beckon and taunt.
Yet, riding at night brought a unique serenity. The distractions of the day faded, replaced by a meditative rhythm. I found myself talking to the moon, laughing at my own exhaustion, and marveling at how alive I felt despite the discomfort. Safety was paramount—I stuck to well-lit roads whenever possible, wore a high-visibility vest, and checked in with friends and family via tracking apps. There were moments of doubt, especially during the long, lonely stretches between Brussels and Gent, but the knowledge that dawn would eventually break kept me moving forward.
Nutrition and Hydration: Fueling the Machine
If ultra-distance cycling has a secret weapon, it’s nutrition. I quickly learned that I had to eat and drink before hunger or thirst appeared. My goal was to consume 80-90 grams of carbohydrates per hour, paired with a balance of electrolytes, water, and occasional protein. I rotated through a mix sweet and salty. A mix of energy gels, salty bars and nuts, protein bars and electrolyte drinks. Every couple of hours, I’d eat something more substantial—a sandwich or pastry—to keep hunger at bay and spirits up.
Stomach issues are a common enemy during ultra rides. I paid close attention to how I felt, switching foods if I sensed discomfort. Hydration was just as crucial. I aimed to drink 500-750 ml of water or electrolyte solution per hour, adjusting for the heat of the day and the cool of the night. Sodium and potassium intake helped stave off cramps, especially in the later stages. I learned to listen intently to my body’s cues—a dry mouth, a hint of dizziness, or a rumbling stomach were signals to act, not ignore.
Despite careful planning, there were moments when I struggled—energy dips, mild nausea, cravings for salty snacks. Each presented an opportunity to learn and adjust. By ride’s end, I’d confirmed that having a variety of foods and fluids on hand—and the discipline to eat and drink regularly—was vital for success in the ultra world.
My gels and drinks are by the way from the Scandinavian brand Maurten. A well-considered choice because Maurten is tasteless and does not contain any acid. So it’s better for your stomach and your teeth.
Clothing Choices: Dressing for Success (and Survival)
One of the trickiest parts of a 24 cycling challenge is dressing for wildly changing conditions. I started in lightweight bib shorts and a moisture-wicking jersey, with arm warmers and a thin wind vest for the brisk morning air. As midday temperatures rose, I packed away layers, but kept a light rain jacket and leg warmers in my saddlebag for sudden weather shifts.
The real challenge came at night. Even in summer, the temperature drops noticeably after sunset. I swapped sweat-soaked gear for a dry base layer and added a thermal jacket, reflective vest, and thicker gloves. Comfort is king on ultra rides, so I invested in high-quality chamois, seamless socks, and a well-fitted helmet. My choices paid off—I stayed dry (no wonder because it was sunny day 😊 ), avoided chafing, and could focus on the road rather than my own discomfort. If I had one tip, it’s to overprepare: bring more layers than you think you’ll need, and plan for the unexpected.
Mental Challenges: The Inner Battle
No matter how strong your legs are, your mind will scream for mercy first. The mental battles began long before physical exhaustion set in. There were moments—especially deep in the night—where quitting seemed so easy. My strategies? Breaking the ride into small, manageable goals. “Just make it to the next town.” “Get through this hour.” I repeated mantras, focused on my breathing, and allowed myself moments of gratitude for the freedom to chase such a dream.
I expected pain and boredom but found resilience and clarity. Pushing through mental lows taught me that suffering is temporary, but pride lasts. I visualized the finish, replayed supportive messages from friends, and remembered my purpose—to prepare for the Pyrenées Orientales, to see what I was made of. Each time my resolve wavered, I reminded myself: “You’ve come this far. Don’t waste it.”
25 Hour Cycling Gear and Equipment: Trusting Your Tools
My Winspace bike and Lún Hyper Light wheels
The importance of a well-prepared bike can’t be overstated. My Winspace T1550 Gen 2 is the road bike I trust for my ultra-distance cycling challenges and races. It is built to be fast, efficient, and just comfortable enough to survive the long haul. It’s running a 12-speed Dura-Ace setup with a 30-tooth crank and an 11–30 cassette. This gives me the range I need for serious climbing without sacrificing smooth cadence on endless flats.
I’ve paired it with 30 mm tires for that extra bit of comfort and control when the hours really start to stack up, and the Lún Hyper Light wheelset keeps everything feeling sharp, responsive, and light under acceleration. The perfect combination of comfort, aerodynamics and lightness to climb. The whole build feels purpose-driven—no fluff, just a perfectly balanced machine that lets me focus on riding far, riding hard, and keeping momentum no matter how brutal the distance gets.
My carbon Gelu saddle
My carbon Gelu saddle was tried and tested on previous long rides—no surprises welcome here. I ride Gelu carbon saddles. I’ve got a few K4s that come in at just 59 grams, which I use for my ultra-distance cycling—around 28,000 kilometres a year. Whenever someone picks one up or presses on it, they look at me like I’ve lost my mind and say it’s hard as hell, and yeah, I get why they think I’m crazy. But the thing is, once you’re actually riding, the ergonomics are so dialed that the hardness just disappears. The shape supports me exactly where it should, mile after mile, day after day, with zero compromise. Comfort, for me, isn’t about softness—it’s about perfect support. At this point, I honestly don’t want to ride anything else anymore.
Other cycling gear and accessories
My repair kit included spare tubes, tire levers, a mini pump, multi-tool, chain quick link, and CO2 cartridges.
Lighting was critical for safety: a powerful front lamp with a backup battery, dual rear lights, and reflective tape on the frame and wheels. I used a GPS computer with turn-by-turn navigation and live tracking. Top tube and saddle bags held food, layers, and electronics. I packed extra chargers, a power bank, sunscreen, and a small first-aid kit. Each item was chosen for reliability and necessity. In ultra-distance events, you quickly learn that less is more, but redundancy in essentials (like lights and tubes) can be a lifesaver.
Ultra-Distance Cycling: Reflections on the Discipline
What draws people to ultra-distance cycling? For me, it’s the promise of discovery—of landscapes, limits, and the camaraderie among those who choose the hard road. The community is welcoming, always sharing advice and encouragement. Ultra events aren’t just races—they’re shared adventures, where finishing is often more important than winning.
This ride taught me to respect the discipline: the meticulous planning, the relentless pacing, the humility before nature and fatigue. I learned that every kilometer is earned, that mechanicals and mistakes happen, and that laughter and grit are as essential as fitness. Ultra-distance cycling rewards patience, adaptability, and a sense of humor. It humbles and empowers in equal measure.
Conclusion 24 hour cycling challenge: Lessons Learned and Looking Ahead
As I rolled back into Antwerp just after sunrise on July 5, every muscle ached, but my spirit soared. I’d ridden through cities and forests, over hills and through the night, fueled by stubbornness, curiosity, and a deep love for cycling. The 24 hour cycling challenge, a 638 km journey was more than training for the UBF Pyrenées Orientales. It was proof that boundaries are often self-imposed, and that with preparation, passion, and perseverance, we can ride farther than we ever imagined.
To all fellow cycling enthusiasts and ultra-distance dreamers: don’t wait for the perfect moment. Start where you are, with what you have. Test your limits, learn from your mistakes, and savor the road ahead—for in the end, it’s the journey, not the destination, that transforms us.
If you have any questions, just let me know and I will be glad to help you to become a passionate and well-prepared ultra distance cyclist.
