Double trouble
A little voice in my head implores me to get up, and yet, try as I might, every part of my body fights against the need to get off the floor. Again it attempts to cajole me into action.
‘You’re one kilometre from the finish. Get up and start pedalling!’
That I have even made it this far up the final climb, one of the most revered in all of cycling, is a triumph in itself. For the past 50km I have been suffering from severe stomach cramps that have done their best to derail my effort to complete one of Europe’s premier sportives, the Gran Fondo Stelvio Santini. Unable to eat, sustained purely by three cups of cold Coca-Cola, I have slowly been edging my way ever closer to the summit of the Passo dello Stelvio and the promise of an end to my suffering.
This is not how I’d imagined the day unfolding, especially after how effortless the first few hours had felt. But then this is a ride that cruelly lulls you into a false sense of security, disarming you with an opening, the gargantuan and majestic Stelvio.
