Roads paper Pope Francis,

I would like to thank you for the organized World Youth Day in Krakow at the end of July. The event, which paralyzed the city of exhaust fumes, also blocked many nearby events. One of them was one of our favorite, annual races - Tatry Tour, which due to the closing of the borders was moved from the last weekend of July to the beginning of September. It was a great decision: perfect weather, a bit less traffic on Zakopianka ... and we missed the extremely rainy Cyklo Gdynia, which, like most of the big races in the rain, turned out to be a small armageddon. The most important thing is that Gdynia has collected all our pros. I like to ride with strong competition, but not in such a race. Here I could recall the memorable year 2014, when on the 10th kilometer my lungs stretched on the asphalt. It was not difficult to guess that it would be so, when we saw the bus Activeujta parked next to us. Those who counted, to which buffet enough water bottles and whether to take 6 bars, or 5 However, he won a guest, it seems with Mexler ... with time 5:05. It was the most ruined race ever. This time it was supposed to be completely normal.

The Tatras Tour is a funny race: 195km long and over 2,000 meters in the vicinity of 2,750 meters are deterred by most less-trained cyclists - after all, it's almost two hundred hills in the mountains! After a moment of reflection, however, it turns out that it is not so bad. You can even get the impression that this race is quite simple, because the hills are just 4, and the average slope per kilometer of the route is relatively low. The more I look at the profile, the more I tell myself that it will be easy. Autoperswazja works to the point that one month before the race I am laughing at everyone who says it is difficult. Stupid me, it's not a profile, and the length makes it hard.

In the long distance (the only one right for boys and hard girls), usually a hundred dozens of people compete. This year a little less, because this unfortunate Cyklo Gdynia. People are going to the Tri-City, because greater prestige, greater chance of accidental victory, easier for a good result. Let's be honest: Tatra can not be won by chance. It can not even be reached by chance in a tuft. Half of the stakes is a very good result, and it hurts such boots a bit as we do, because how does it sound like: "I arrived in the sixties, I gave everything"? As befits the Open European Championship, there are no random people there.

THE RACE OF TRUTH

The race route has been the same for a couple of years - it used to drive through Zakopane instead of the Tooth. Whoever was at the peak of the season in Zakopane, knows how well this city is going. Even the starter package is the same as always: banana, croissant, socks. Socks on the occasion of the 11th anniversary of the race, which I got also 2 years ago when it was ... 11th anniversary of the race. It's not really nice - if it were not for the race I probably would not have decided to ride it every year - there are much better places in the area.

The beginning is a 10-kilometer driveway to the Strbske Pleso, which can be missed while riding in a group (unless it asks you to pull). Then, instead of a beautiful lake and an ultra-expensive hotel, we reflect down, where a 45km long downhill is waiting for us. We drive somehow slowly, sometimes even super slow (although the average of those ~ 50km goes around 42.5km / h). The slow driving of the peloton always results in the same - accidents. In Likow Mikulas, in the middle of a wide, even, two-lane road, 10 people are put on the eye. Someone is landing in an ambulance, someone is breaking halfway Trek. There are some nervous situations when from time to time a car appears in the front, protruding slightly into the street and you have to narrow down, but for a Mazovian cyclist it is a daily bread. A few kilometers ahead of the Hutami (about which in a moment) a car parked in front of the narrow road appears and I already know. I feel the stink of the block (brake), I see how the next rows of cyclists are slowing down more and more ... the guest before me is doing a trick and goes across the road. So I fall in on him, my bicycle makes a ladle and stops at 160 degrees of rotation, hanging a saddle on someone's shoulder. I do not know how it happened, but I'm standing next to him. So I get back in, I take a look at how serious the losses are around me (lies, for example, a girl who half a year ago stayed with us in the group for a long time) Jarna Classics) and I chase the peloton.

Josef Gray

The race begins. Entry to Huty (11km / 4%). This is where the first group of the race gets lost. These 30 minutes define how you will spend the next 3 hours (minimum). You will stay in a strong group and you will defeat next kilometers quickly and pleasantly (let's say) or you'll run down and you'll be on the back of the fast-shrinking group. In a nutshell: at Hutach, you have to give as much as you can and then pray for the bomb to arrive as soon as possible. If by some miracle it does not come: you will be in the lead. So for illustration: to have around 25 minutes, you need to generate an average of about 4.5W / kg. At the congress you have to watch a bit, because it's easy to sleep the formation of the group. We are rescued by a player in CCC outfit, who loses the next cyclist to the lone TT, creating the right peloton. The guy in general was incredibly strong and reminded me of someone. In the results I checked that Josef Bily was riding with a happy number 7, so nobody known. Although from the look of Josef Cerny (CCC-Sprandi-Polkowice), from the date of birth too ... and from the outfit, Bily, after all, can not be Cerna ;-)

Then there is some hops, some very uneven asphalt, some quite steep but short hops, border and driveway number two: Tooth. Short, but effectively preparing for what is to come in a moment. The exit from which the average exceed 70km / h, the intersection of Zakopianka, roundabout in Poronin, where you will feel the hateful looks of drivers who have been standing in a traffic jam for a week and the worst part begins:

The weak must be busy, the strong must survive

Bukowina, about 10 kilometers of driveway. I start it with my group, which regularly loses and collects more cyclists. There are a lot of us, around 20. We are fighting for places around the first 30th. However, a crisis is coming. The driveway starts healthily above 30km / h and we slow down. Unfortunately, the group slows down at a little less than me. They are moving a meter, two, five. Subjectively, pass the next hours, and they are getting farther away from me, and finally disappear on the horizon, and I stay alone - this is the end of a beautiful race - 150 kilometers, so few ran out. I'm cradling to the roundabout at the top. It reminds me of what I forget every year - the roundabout at the top is actually at the summit of Bukovel, but only halfway up the driveway. Only then does it get really bad. It's so bad that as in June during entry to Mortirolo I'm starting to calculate my pace and the remaining length of the route and it comes out to me that I will be late for the evening.

Well, it happened - I'm going like a grandfather. Above me, no one, no one behind me. It's a nice feeling that the 15 people with whom I traveled are already riding a hose down, honest changes and almost no fatigue. I'm catching up with a friend from Oski Warsaw called Teresa. He once dropped out of the group in front of me, then he stayed in the driveway to Ząb. He saves my life, we are going together until the end of the race in two (sometimes in 3 with some random Slovak). We spend time on Bukovina, we overcome the descent with the speed of good trekkers, then in my head I have only a driveway to the buffet and a depressing road to the finish line, which runs through a delicate driveway to infinity. The buffet restores lost hopes, because for the last hours it was like Jerry for Tom, like Struś for Kojota ... Then we are going at an already fair pace, eg a 15-minute downhill ride from Zdar with an average of 50 km / h. We do not meet anyone on the way. Sometimes there will only be a car with a roof on the roof and we wonder if it's people who have finished.

I struggle with contractions from Bukovina. They've never caught me so much in my life. It's an interesting feeling when your legs straighten straight away and every move makes pain. I feel serious discomfort at the thought of driving on the edge of contraction for 1.5 hours. Once I stand in a place, because it can not be otherwise. The reason for this is very simple: I took 2 bottles for almost 6 hours. Along the way, you can stand on the buffet (drinking in cups and splashing, the first two buffets are about 40 minutes away) and lose the group or save supplies - the choice is simple: I stop only at the 160th kilometer. Without support on the route, you can not count on a good result. Dozens of cars pass me, especially on Huty, who drive drinking and eating tired athletes. Somehow I fail to visit any of them, and whoever does not drink, does not go. Contraction is evil. I thought that the worst thing that can happen to me today is that I forgot to pee in before the start and go with a vision of holding for a few hours ... but no, the contractions are worse. With piss, at least I know how to deal with an emergency situation. Replacing the bottles would be enough in two places - at the top of the Hut and at the top of the Tooth. Service cars always have problems only. Will I be behind me when I turn my head? If I drink everything, will it be able to replace the water bottles? Will not we get lost somewhere?

Over the last 20 kilometers, I repeat myself that I never again and wonder where it makes sense. At the finish line I support this sentence with my friends. A few hours later I can not wait for next year's race. It is always the same.

Panda comes two days after me (which is more or less as much as I am for the winner), taking third place among women, for which he gets: champagne, thermal mug, umbrella and medal - quite decently.

Alaska stop

We spend the rest of the weekend (at least this small fragment in which we do not sleep) on hiking exploring the mountains. By the way, we also find the perfect place for pre and post-competition buffet. The pub, in which the portion of pasta has 350 grams and consists of pasta and the minimum amount of additives, and garlic soup is like eating garlic and sipping it with water, into which a ball of yellow cheese has been thrown. For 13 euros, we get two two-course meals, which are hard to drink even with our (telling our, of course, I mean: my) spit.

We discover on the occasion the biggest mystery of Slovakia: how is it that as soon as we cross the border in Łysa Polana everyone disappears. Slovakia is empty, passing through towns as if everything is normal, but people are missing. I wrote about it many times: "Slovak Paradise: emptiness, mountains and occasionally Gypsy children in the puddle"And in more winter scenery:"Slovakia: a country of emptiness, carpets, Gypsies ... and beautiful routes". Well - people are there, which is easy to find when looking for accommodation - everything is booked. They are just where it should be: in the mountains, on the trails. It's enough to take a piece off the main streets towards the mountains to see for yourself - cafes, full parking lots, dozens of people passing by on the trails. Take this into account when booking an accommodation, because it is not always easy!

The movie from the trip is available here: