ASA Epic: Riding My Own Plan, My Own Pace, My Own Way

ASA Epic delivered exactly what I needed: proof that I could still do it. Over 1,000km through the Netherlands and Germany, I rode to my own plan and achieved every goal I set myself, in under 60 hours. I achieved more than I could have hoped for, I was the first woman across the line and 11th overall. After months of burnout and a crushing DNF that had shattered my confidence, this ride became my comeback story. I remembered that ultras aren't just about suffering- they're about finding your rhythm, trusting your instincts, and riding your own race. The storm that forced me to shelter reminded me that flexibility isn't failure; it's wisdom. Rolling into that finish line, I wasn't just completing a route - I was reclaiming my love for long-distance cycling.

ASA Epic wasn't just another ride - it was a chance to start again. But to start again, I had to achieve my first goal: to start.

The months leading up to ASA were difficult. Lost in burnout and through periods of little sleep, I seemed to have lost my confidence in my ability to ride long distances. An attempt at an ultra in April resulting in a very swift DNF had caused me to pause and reflect.  

But I soon realized I needed an ultra - one for me, to show myself I could still do it. That's when I found ASA Epic. Luckily, I managed to secure a spot and set that first goal: to start.

The Build-Up: Burnout, DNF, Rebuilding Confidence

Now I had a new goal, something to work towards. My first step was getting that joy and confidence back. Logically, I knew I had the fitness, but my brain had become the demon in my ears, telling me I couldn't do it, telling me how I'd fail, turning what had been meditative long rides into torture. I knew I had to do two things: give myself space to recover, show myself compassion, and wait until I could sleep again. Then I needed to do a long ride for me - riding to a destination solo, for myself.

Getting to the Start Line: Emotions, Goals, and Nerves -With a Plan

As the week before ASA approached, the nerves started to take control. I had worked on an outline of a plan, so felt more prepared than for previous races.

The 1,000km route seemed to naturally divide into three days: a flat day 1, a hilly day 2, and then a flat day 3 to the finish. I'm much more comfortable sleeping in a hotel, and that's always my first option for ultras. I also wasn't going to put too much pressure on myself by trying to ride through either night.

Race Journey

Day 1: I Started...

We all set off at 6am with a lap of the cycle circuit before heading onto the route - and we were off. The first few hours of an ultra race can be quite busy with passing and being passed by other riders, and this day was no exception. The cycle paths of the Netherlands were indeed flat, but they held unexpected significance. During this first day, I realised I was following some of the same paths I had taken on my first solo bikepacking adventure, almost two years to the day. That trip had been a different kind of ride - following the Rhine from source to sea - but one that equally pushed my mental limits and marked the beginning of my journey into ultra endurance cycling. It had given me so much joy and confidence. Now, as I questioned how this race would unfold and still carried doubts from my recent DNF, it felt profound to be retracing those early steps. The familiar paths reminded me that I had taken bigger leaps before, and that sometimes the greatest victories come from simply having the courage to begin again.

I found a hotel to stop at after about 390km and set about getting a little rest before starting the hilly section of the route.

Day 2: Sunrise and Strangers' Kindness

After a couple of hours of sleep, I woke feeling quite alert. I contemplated staying for another 30 minutes of sleep but felt my body was telling me to get moving.

I was soon climbing to the highest point of the ride, Kahler Asten, in time to see a sunrise that had me transfixed. After this, the morning got harder. Around 8am, I hit three progressively steeper and longer hills that suddenly made me feel my legs were fatigued. But as I made my way through these, a woman was standing on the street, cheering. I realized she was cheering me on - here in this remote part of Germany, she must have seen others come through before me. It's amazing how one stranger giving you encouragement in a moment of doubt can change your mood and spur you on.

I had been lucky with the weather so far. Yes, it was on the hot side, but with plenty of water top-up stops, I much prefer this to cold and wet conditions. Looking at the group WhatsApp, it seemed the weather further back on the route had turned, and people had already encountered storms.

I reached the hotel around 7pm and had a Burger King from nearby. After settling in and doing my hotel admin, I set my alarm for a couple of hours later.

Day 3: The Stormy Night...

I set off at 11pm on Saturday. I had looked at the forecast and knew the weather was likely to turn during the night, but I was hoping to make as much progress as possible before that happened. I had managed to stay approximately to plan at this point - timing-wise, I could reach my initial goal of mid-afternoon Sunday. But with all things, plans sometimes need to be flexible.

After a few hours, flashes of lightning could be seen in the distance ahead, and I knew I was heading towards them. Deciding I would keep going until the rain came and the storm drew closer, I knew there were quite a few towns on route that could provide cover, and I would often pass well-enclosed bus shelters, so I felt confident I could find somewhere to stop when the time came. I don't like thunderstorms at the best of times - I find unexpected loud noises particularly hard to deal with. I also knew I had at least 12 hours of riding left and would rather not get soaking wet (I hadn't packed for heavy rain).

When I entered the town, I knew it was time to stop. The rain was now getting heavy and the storm closer. I found shelter, got as comfortable as possible, and waited it out. As the storm passed overhead, I had my lowest point of the ride. I suddenly felt quite alone. Riding through the night can be full of emotions, and sometimes I can feel quite lonely knowing most people are tucked up in bed. I find on these occasions that knowing other riders are on the same route and nearby really helps ease this feeling. Sitting there, I turned to the tracker and was comforted by knowing other riders were stopped at various locations quite nearby.

As the sun came up and my feet dried out, I was soon back in rhythm. I had marked a McDonald's and stopped there for longer than I had planned. One thing I contemplated on this race was that maybe McDonald's wasn't as fast as I thought, and maybe not as good for my stomach as I had assumed. I was stopped for almost an hour! These stops often resulted in being passed by multiple riders whilst I patiently waited for my fast food. I was often left with nausea, and I think this as my main source of food needs to be reconsidered. I find McDonald's and Burger King so useful - knowing exactly what I'll be getting, being able to order without having to speak to anyone - it eliminates a lot of the stress and anxiety I have with food stops. But maybe multiple visits per day isn't the best strategy going forward.

The last stretch seemed like a bit of a headwind battle, but I was grateful for the sun and lack of storms. I was proud of myself for getting through the night and keeping going, accepting my change in plan.

Finish Line

Rolling back into Amersfoort, I was greeted by cheers. I was so happy to have finished what I set out to do. All my goals and more had been achieved.

Final Reflections

ASA Epic became more than just a 1,000km self-supported journey from Amersfoort through the Netherlands and Germany to the Sauerland - it became a bridge between who I was and who I could be again. Two years ago, after that first solo bikepacking trip down the Rhine, I was uncertain if long-distance cycling was truly for me or just a one-off adventure. I couldn't have known then that taking the leap on that quiet, solo ride would unlock everything that followed. Through months of burnout, a crushing DNF, and the slow rebuilding of shattered confidence, ASA Epic reminded me that the hardest part isn't the climbing or the weather or the sleepless nights - it's believing you belong out there in the first place. Sometimes you need to ride 1,000km not to discover something new, but to remember what you already knew: that the courage to start is the same courage that carries you home.