Gear update
Saddle
As I wrote last week, I decided to order the same saddle I had, but in the narrower version. When it arrived, it looked… off. I quickly discovered it was the Figura, not the Figura Gel. That “Gel” part matters.
The non-gel version, mounted on a shop wall, whispers “performance.” Mounted under your pelvis at kilometer 187 (116 mi), it screams “why are you like this.”
So I boarded a train back to the store and exchanged it. Luckily, they had the correct version in stock. The Gel. The holy hyaluronic acid of saddles. I am convinced the gel is the molecular glue holding my sit bones together over long distances. Remove it and morale microfractures begin immediately.
Crisis averted. Gluteal perfusion preserved.
Water bottle
I mounted the Fidlock bottle on the top tube using something resembling a strap-on system. I have two master’s degrees and a PhD and still cannot decipher what those straps want from me. They look like they were designed by an engineer who dislikes humanity.
After several failed attempts and a configuration that appeared structurally questionable, I secured the mount with cable ties instead. It now looks vaguely illegal but highly functional. Not elegant. Very solid.
Outdoor ride
This week we created our own DIY multi-day mini ultra. Partly to test ourselves. Partly to test the mechanical integrity of The Limousine. The first 142 km (88 mi) and 160 km (99 mi) rides went flawlessly. Naturally, we interpreted this as a sign to up the ante.
I used this as a rehearsal for my RATN planning skills. I mapped a ride from our home to Bregenz, Austria, and back. The goal was 230 to 250 km (143 to 155 mi) per day, since RATN requires a minimum of 230 km (143 mi) daily to survive the time limit.
The roughly 480 km (298 mi) route was divided into 200 km (124 mi) segments with grocery or bakery stops every 25 km (16 mi). This is not a food strategy. It is a survival protocol. On rides of this length, consistent fueling is not optional.
My longest ride so far was 218 km (135 mi) at an audax in April 2024. After months of training, I was curious to see whether I would implode, transcend, or both.
Since we had no idea how long we could realistically ride the tandem, we scouted hotels between 200 and 300 km (124 to 186 mi). I noted a few with 24-hour reception. Two were cyclist-friendly with secure indoor bike rooms and self check-in. My version of a perfect hotel. I added POIs along the way and made small cards for quick reference while on the bike.
The night before departure, I charged everything and mounted the bags. That is when I rediscovered an unexpected side effect of tandem riding: you have to decide together where all the gear goes.
Solo cycling is an epiphany of independence. You throw items wherever, and if your toothbrush ends up next to your dirty bibs, that is between you and your immune system.
On a tandem, chaos must be negotiated. It is not just about synchronization on the bike. It’s about agreeing on the definition of “clean,” “somewhere,” and “absolutely not.”
You decide together where everything goes before it starts resembling a hoarder’s bunker. RATN is not survived by watts per kilo. It is survived by not having a midnight argument about where the bicycle pump went.
Luckily, Marco and I share the same bag-packing logic. Things found their place. Civilization held.
Day 1: the fun begins…
First start
As usual, the alarm went off at 06:00. We got up, had breakfast, liberated our electronics from their chargers, and installed the narrower version of my current saddle on the tandem.
Fully convinced this was The One Saddle to Rule Them All, I left the old one at home.
We rolled out at about 06:45.
Roughly 2.5 km (1.6 mi) into the ride, I started feeling pressure.
Unsure whether my sit bones would tolerate 200 km (124 mi) of this saddle experiment, we turned around, went home, and shoved the old saddle into the tailfin bag.
First 5 km (3.1 mi) sacrificed for pelvic integrity.
Second start
False start complete, we left again and began chipping away at the distance to Bregenz. At around 15 kilometers, the saddle became impressively uncomfortable. Fortunately, road construction forced us to stop at a diversion anyway, so we took the opportunity to swap the narrower Terry Figura Gel for the wider one. Relief was immediate. Pain gone, just like that. Apparently, my hips have opinions. And they prefer the wider saddle!
The sun was shining and the weather report had confidently declared Beaufort wind force 0. Around Möhlin, on top of the hill, it was windy enough to suggest the forecast had been written by someone indoors.
“Look! The sun is shining! And there is absolutely no headwind!” we said, while panting uphill battling a strong headwind. This is the type of humor you develop when you know the day ahead is long and retreat is no longer elegant.
At around 50 km we stopped at the Volg in Leibstadt. I genuinely like that grocery store brand. Efficient bun acquisition, minimal time loss. Marco chose a cheese and bacon bun. I defaulted to salami, bread and some chocolate cookies.
My dearest reader, I feel no shame about storing leftover salami pieces between wine gums and chocolate cookies in my feeding bag and consuming everything simultaneously. Macronutrient diplomacy at its finest.
Truthfully, if our navigation units had failed, we could have ridden the first 100 km (62 mi) by memory. We have spent countless hours along the Rhine. It feels almost like our back yard at this point.
Around the 100 km (62 mi) mark we entered less familiar territory. We found a cute bakery and sat down for additional calories. When I returned to the counter for a second round, the lady looked at me with mild concern. I explained we had already cycled 100 km. Her face shifted into something between disbelief and pity, and she handed me a small chocolate for free.
Free chocolate after 100 km tastes like validation.
From there the terrain became hillier, offering good opportunities to practice tandem climbing. We did not drop the chain once! We discovered that if Marco announces a shift to the big chainring and I completely remove power, it transitions smoothly.
It was nice cycling through territory we do not visit that often, and then, almost theatrically, the Bodensee appeared. The sight of it felt slightly unreal. I never thought I would ride from our home all the way to the Bodensee! Arriving there on a tandem made my brain pause for a second. It already feels far by car but by tandem it feels almost mythological. I quietly felt proud!
The Bodensee features the very imaginatively named Bodensee Radweg (Bodensee cycle path). We have cycled it many times before and, honestly, we probably could have navigated it without any devices at all. It is one of those routes that settles into your muscle memory.
Another quick bakery stop for additional munchies and we were off again. I swear this is not a food blog, but when you cycle these distances, eating becomes your primary occupation. Pedal. Chew. Swallow. Repeat.
Around Konstanz we hit a very sharp curb and before I fully processed what happened, I felt that unmistakable wobble. Front tire flat. Classic snake bites. Perhaps mentioning a few weeks ago that I wanted to test our pump was unwise. The cycling gods are attentive. We removed the front wheel, replaced the inner tube, and tested the pump. It works beautifully, if by beautifully you mean it has the acoustic subtlety of a jet engine. I am fairly certain half of the Bodensee heard us reinflate that tire.
Sixty seconds to 65 psi. We then realized we had no idea how much bar that actually is. After pinching the tire between two fingers (two doctors palpating a bicycle tire haha) and performing what can only be described as tactile guesswork, we decided it was acceptable. We usually run around 5 bar. Close enough for sure. Back on the tandem and rolling again.
Right before crossing from Switzerland into Austria, dusk started settling in. And with it, something else. I had a feeling that is difficult to describe. I did a quick internal check to rule out the obvious. Hands slightly tender. No real pain. Not bonking. Not thirsty. Physically fine. I figured it must be something emotional.
I had been cycling from dawn to dusk, covering a distance that my brain still categorizes as unreasonable. As the light faded, it suddenly hit me how long I had been on the bike, how far we had come, and that tomorrow we would ride it all back. It was not fear. More a quiet internal “wait a minute… I did what?!” For a brief moment I questioned whether this was a good idea. Whether I should continue. It felt like my brain was filing an objection on behalf of self preservation.
Then I realized Marco was right there. A few centimeters in front of me. As long as we are together, we are fine. I decided to focus on him and let the strange thoughts pass. As dusk dissolved into full darkness, the unease faded as well. By nightfall, I was steady again.
We had hotel options in Arbon at 200 km (124 mi), in Hard at 238 km (148 mi), and in Friedrichshafen at 267 km (166 mi). Slightly tired but still determined to reach at least 230 km (143 mi) , we chose the Velotique hotel in Hard at 238km (148 mi). I booked it on my phone while we were cycling. Stoker efficiency FTW!
Unfortunately, about 10 km (6 mi) before reaching Hard, we hit gravel. I truly dislike riding on gravel. It is finicky. It offers multiple creative ways to crash. It throws dust, branches, and general forest debris at you. Add nightfall and you have what I would describe as recreational stress exposure therapy.
At some point I felt something whip against my lower left shin. Immediately after, Marco yelled, “The timing belt broke!”
My heart sank.
For context: the timing belt is the belt that connects Marco’s drivetrain to mine. Without it, Marco contributes approximately zero watts and I become a solo engine hauling a packed limousine. Not ideal at kilometer 228 (mile 148).
We dismounted and walked to a nearby street lantern like two Victorian mechanics. Thankfully, the belt had not snapped. A branch had wedged itself between the timing belt and the chainring, levering the belt off the drivetrain.
The timing belt is tensioned via an eccentric bracket, similar in concept to a fixed gear bike, and requires a specific tool to adjust. That tool was at home. Of course it was. So we improvised. Marco placed a small section of the belt onto the chainring. We gently turned the pedals. The belt snapped back into place. Even the pedal timing was almost perfectly synchronized! My dearest reader, this was the most epic roadside repair I have ever witnessed. No swearing. No drama. Just calm, surgical reapplication of mechanical dignity.
Energized and deeply relieved, we mounted the tandem again and rolled the final 10 km (6 mi) toward the hotel. By now, after a diet that would make any endocrinologist file a formal complaint, we were craving real food. Unfortunately, it was Friday night. The restaurants we passed were fully booked.
We rode the last stretch in near total darkness toward Hard. Slightly hungry, but very relieved the tandem was operational.
About 300 meters from the hotel, we spotted a restaurant. I went inside, fully prepared for rejection, but hey had a table available! I was profoundly grateful we ate before checking in the hotel, because after a hot shower and the sight of a bed, I doubt I would have found the will to put clothes back on and venture out again.
The hotel check in process was slightly finicky, but we managed. The bike room was superb. We left the Limousine to rest in the secure bicycle room.
However, in my booking enthusiasm, I had accidentally reserved a room with two separate beds. Marco efficiently corrected this architectural oversight. Don’t worry, everything was returned to its original configuration the next morning.
So, 238 km (148 mi) completed. Warm shower. Proper food. Horizontal surface acquired.
I flopped onto the bed and immediately attempted sleep. And then I discovered a new concept: tandem legs. You know that sensation when you spend all day on a boat and, once on land, your body still feels the phantom rocking? I had that, but then from riding the tandem all day. My nervous system was apparently still pedaling!
Apart from sore hands, feet, and sit bones, I felt fine. Marco reported mild shoulder and neck soreness. Day one: survived.
Day 2: the fun continues…
Another 06:00 alarm. We got out of bed, packed our things, mounted all five bags back onto the tandem, and at 06:45 entered the bakery down the street for breakfast. Efficient, slightly stiff but still operational.
After the strange mental episode the evening before, I was determined to eat and drink better. I suspected a mild form of bonking, even though the clinical picture had been unconvincing. Still, aggressive carbohydrate hydrotherapy seemed appropriate.
About an hour later we were back on the tandem, rolling along the Bodensee. We were both grateful it was still early. Around Bregenz the cycling path can be crowded, and maneuvering a tandem through a swarm of tourists is not a hobby Marco aspires to develop.
We were rewarded with stunning views of the mountains and the lake. I am still working on improving my photography skills while riding on the back of the tandem (it’s wobbly!) For now, the pictures will have to function as evidence rather than art.
Day 2 unfortunately carried the residue of Day 1. We needed more frequent stops, not dramatic ones, just small acknowledgments that 238 km (148 mi) leaves a footprint. Sit bones were tender. Marco noticed soreness in his shoulders and neck. He also had some stomach issues, which limited his intake and therefore our pace. Underfueling is a quiet saboteur.
Our first official stop was again around 50 km (31 mi), at a small bakery featuring a surprisingly charming chicken fountain. The weather was cooler and less sunny than the day before, so we wore warmer layers for most of the ride.
The route took us through Stein am Rhein, with its beautiful old town. I stopped to take a few pictures, trying to capture the atmosphere the best I could. Soon after, we reached Schaffhausen and the Rheinfall. I was unfortunately too slow to secure a decent photo.
During one of the climbs, we noticed a ticking noise coming from the drivetrain again. My heart sank. Not another mechanical issue. Given our limited options and the absence of catastrophic failure, we decided to continue toward home and observe. Apart from the noise, the tandem seemed to be functioning normally. Sometimes clinical watchful waiting applies to bicycles as well.
The stretch from Schaffhausen to Jestetten was tough. More climbing, lingering fatigue from the previous day. In Jestetten we decided to pursue real food with intent. There was a restaurant nearby called Cafe im Winkel, where we parked the tandem and went inside. It turned out to be located inside a retirement home, and we quickly became the primary topic of conversation for the table across the room. Two slightly salt crusted cyclists tend to attract attention in that environment, probably not just by looks only, but by smell as well haha.
The kitchen was officially closed for another 1.5 hours, but the lady at the restaurant kindly offered to open early for us so we could eat, we really must have looked famished! An act of generosity that felt almost ceremonial. We both devoured our schnitzels with clinical efficiency. After a quick stop at the grocery store, we mounted the tandem again and continued our way home.
Riding out of Jestetten, dusk started settling in again. And with it, that same strange unease. Up until that point I had been eating like a champion. I had consumed quantities of iced tea and Isostar that would upset a hepatologist. It was definitely not thirst. It was not bonking. Quick body check. No pain. Some tenderness in my hands and feet, same as yesterday. Physically fine, mentally off. The road from Jestetten to Waldshut was the longest I have ever ridden. Those roughly 50 km (31 mi) felt longer than the entire 480 km (302 mi) combined. Waldshut simply refused to appear. The route was sprinkled with small climbs, each one emotionally unnecessary. I felt drained. The same intrusive thoughts resurfaced. That I should not be doing this. That perhaps I could not do this. That stopping might be wise. Sensible. Civilized. Once again, I focused on Marco in front of me. A few centimeters away. Steady cadence. Predictable movement. As long as we’re together, we will be fine. As night fully settled in, the unease faded.
I seem to have an issue with dusk. Maybe it is the symbolic end of the day combined with doing something I still do not entirely believe I am capable of. Perhaps it triggers a misplaced self preservation reflex. A lizard brain memo suggesting caves and safety. Strangely, once it is fully dark, I am fine again.
Finally, finally, FINALLY in the middle of deep darkness, the streetlights of Waldshut appeared. I genuinely doubted we would ever see that city. We rode through, deciding against leaving the tandem unattended in a city generously marinated in Friday night alcohol, and pushed on toward Laufenburg for dinner.
The road out of Waldshut had one final gift: more night time gravel. Three kilometers. No streetlights. Steep climbs. Loose rocks. Thrilled would not be the correct word.
After surviving that section, we dismounted and did some stretching. Keeping a tandem upright on gravel in the dark requires significantly more energy from Marco than riding on asphalt. It is not just the micro vibrations. It is the constant micro corrections to keep us straight and keep the rubber side down. There, under questionable lighting conditions, nighttime tandem yoga was born.
Just before entering Laufenburg, we passed a small pizzeria and decided to stop there instead. Inside, a small crowd was enthusiastically watching a soccer game. It felt almost festive.
While reviewing our route, we realized there was considerably more gravel between Laufenburg and Bad Säckingen. We chose wisdom over stubbornness and switched to the Swiss side for the way home. After crossing the bridge back into Switzerland, we rode by memory. I also discovered that the Garmin Edge has a navigation feature where you can enter an address like in a car and it simply takes you there. I felt technologically sophisticated.
After 248 km, and more hours than I will officially record, we finally rolled into our driveway. What an epic adventure.
Final words
We rode the final 150 kilometers with the captain’s bottom bracket creaking in protest, every pedal stroke accompanied by its own small mechanical lament. Apparently, even our bike wanted to make sure we would never forget those last miles.
The next day I gave the Limousine a proper clean and slowly rotated the pedals to reach every last grain of road tea. There it was again. The click. Clear, repeatable, and always at exactly the same crank angle, like a tiny mechanical metronome of doom.
We checked and tightened everything, but nothing was loose. Not a bolt out of place. We have emailed our tandem mechanic and are now waiting for his verdict.
I sincerely hope we did not cook another bottom bracket 🫣
Noteworthy moments Petra
- Dusk and I are apparently not that compatible. It is mentally the toughest time of the day for me. If Marco had not been there, I suspect I might have scratched. I am still trying to understand why. My working hypothesis is a combination of realizing the magnitude of what I am doing, paired with the day ending and my inner lizard suggesting we retreat to a cave to avoid predators.
- My hands were sore on both days. A bar tape upgrade is overdue. I am also considering adding Redshift bar grips. Preventive medicine for contact points.
- The Garmin Edge is an absolute beast. With the power mount and a power bank, it stayed at 100 percent battery for the entire ride. The power bank itself dropped to about two thirds over two days. This is deeply satisfying.
- The water bottle placement on my stoker top tube annoyed me from minute ten on Day 1. I had mounted it too far back. Every time I dismounted, it shifted sideways and then hit my left leg with every pedal stroke. After repositioning it more times than an overgrown hemorrhoid with identity issues, I lost patience. Next ride it moves 10 cm (4 inch) forward. We will attempt reconciliation.
- The gravel sections taught me we need a second headlight. Visibility was limited and Marco had to run the light at almost full capacity. I was mildly concerned about running out of illumination. In RATN a second headlight is mandatory anyway. Next time we comply proactively rather than reactively.
Noteworthy moments Marco
- Some difficulty eating on Day 2, leading to underfueling
- New shoes perform flawlessly
Final final words
My dearest reader, this concludes week 9.
May your bicycle pump never resemble a jet fighter,
may your timing belt never eat sticks,
may dusk be kind to your lizard brain,
and may your chocolate always be free.
I will catch you at the next one, and remember to keep the rubber side down.
👍 nice to read. And lot of kilometers done. 😎
🍕’s Look good.