I Raced the Danish National E-Cycling Championships

The Danish Cycling Federation recently hosted the 2024 national e-cycling championships. But this year, besides the elite category, they also let some of us ordinary dad zwifters have our day in the sun.

I couldn’t quite believe it. The commentators and the live audience couldn’t either.

With about ten kilometers to go of the Danish national championship race, I was alone at the front. Pedaling furiously to keep my 20-second gap to the pack. Could this complete nobody surprise the favorites and actually run away with the gold medal?

But before I get ahead of myself, give me a minute to explain how I ended up in this situation…

Out of the Shed and Into the Limelight

You all know the feeling. Go into the shed, basement, bedroom, or wherever you have your Zwift setup. Race your heart out in Scotland, Watopia, or Innsbruck, get off the bike, and hit the showers without ever leaving home.

But have you ever wondered what it would feel like to get on your zwifting bike in a public venue, your opponents panting and grimacing right beside you? To do an official weigh-in before the race? To have commentators and a live audience applauding your brave but ultimately hopeless breakaways?

And to top it off, doing all that with a national championship on the line?

Well, I got to try it – despite being anything but an elite zwifter.

And let me just tell you: I highly recommend the experience.

A Championship for Shed Racers

For those top zwifters who rank highly within their country, doing an in-person event with the prospect of getting an actual championship medal around your neck probably seems feasible. Like a thing that could happen in this version of the universe.

To me – a 41-year-old dude who zwifts in a tiny shed when the kids are asleep – it seemed completely outlandish.

But when I heard that the Danish Cycling Federation had decided to host not just the elite riders at the 2024 national championships, but also set up separate events for the more chronologically enriched people aged 40+ and 50+, I did start to dream. And I signed up faster than you can descend the Radio Tower.

Four Races to Qualify

The whole thing started in January. The Federation had set up a series of four qualifying races, giving riders four chances to gather enough points to grab one of the 16 spots at the live finals event. With bikes and wheels being neutralized, and with 100% trainer difficulty being enforced, you kind of felt that these races were different to your average Zwift event – and with a way bigger carrot at the end. The fact that they were live-streamed with an ex-pro commentating added some extra gold dust.

Of the four qualifiers, the first one seemed to suit me the best. As a relative lightweight, three laps on Spirit Forest and four quasi-ascents of Temple KOM would be a litmus test for my chances to qualify. To my horror, I was pretty much dropped from the front group on the first lap, but somehow managed to claw my way back and stay on to finish in 8th place. Off to a good start!

Let the Dieting Begin

I got similar results in the three remaining races and ended up qualifying as number 10 out of the 16 finalists. Not exactly a strong showing, but with a lot of experienced racers in contention I was basically happy just to get a foot in the door. Now it was time to prepare.

I’ve never been much for structured training, and I must confess that even the prospects of racing in a national championship didn’t make me want to try it out. I know workouts and Zone 2 rides are good for you, but they also bore me out of my skull, and I am here to have fun!

What I was prepared to do, though, was to try and see if I could improve my WKG output by adding a bit of structure to my diet. Or rather, by removing structure from my diet.

I had already cut the late-night snacks, but a friend advised me to also try a so-called low-residue diet in those last days leading up to the event.

This basically means that you cut fibre and salt to drop excess water weight and get rid of those pesky, ehm… residues… that are just creeping about in your guts without adding any power to your pedaling. It also means you save a lot of money on toilet paper.

And I do mean a LOT of money.

…which you can then spend on white bread, white rice, cottage cheese, and other ghostly, colourless substances needed to keep your energy levels up for the big event.

The Final – Finally!

The diet did its job. At the official weigh-in before the race, I was several kilos lighter than I’d ever been on Zwift, but without feeling tired in any way.

So I entered the venue in high spirits. They were lifted even further when I saw the winner of the 50+ age group cross the finish line. That loud, triumphant groan as he outsprinted his last competitor convinced me that even though we might not belong to the elite category, a national championship title is still something special – and you are allowed to take it seriously.

Our event was six laps of Loch Loop. Straight from the gun, one rider took off. Having won silver (scratch) and bronze (iTT) at the 2023 world championships for amateurs in Scotland, we all knew that this guy meant business, even if this was an indoor event.

That’s me in the black headband (credit: Torsten Ahlbeck, Stjær e-Cycling)

He managed to stay away for two full laps, but eventually we caught him, and he duly received a round of applause from the audience.

The next laps were slowish, the pack acting nervous and hesitant. I knew I was generally a giant underdog in this race, but with my sprint being my worst feature, I knew my chances of getting a result would be worse the longer the pack stayed together.

As we approached that final draggy ascent on the fourth lap, I decided to go for it. With 16 km to go, I got out of the saddle and started to push away from the pack. I had hoped to maybe get one other rider with me, but I quickly realized I would have to do this alone.

Build the gap. Try to ration the efforts. Work hard on the uphills, ease off a bit on the downs. Suddenly I felt the crushing heat at the venue. The fan I had brought felt ridiculously underpowered. But when I approached the final draggy climb with a 20-second lead, I could hear the commentators starting to speculate if this heroic feat could actually be carried out.

It quickly became apparent that it could not. Several riders in the pack started to crack open the box of orange numbers. My gap started to come down. 15 seconds. 10 seconds.

By then I had started to ease off, wanting to save energy to follow attacks on the last lap. I took some pride in the audience applauding my effort, but to this day I’m still unsure if I could have gone all the way if I had fought harder.

I didn’t, however, and now I was back in the pack, approaching the finish for the last time. Attacks started coming left and right, several riders wanting to use that final ramp to get away. Although paying a price for my earlier efforts, I was still able to catch up to the leaders and get in the draft for the last 500 meters.

My lack of a sprint meant that I never got in contention for 1st or 2nd, but I did come within inches of snatching the bronze medal. Many people probably loathe 4th place more than anything, but if you had offered me that before the race, I would have taken it without hesitation.

credit: Torsten Ahlbeck, Stjær e-Cycling

Don’t get me wrong. Sometimes at night, my toes still curl up when I consider what might have been. Could I have built a big enough gap if I had gone deep in the red to stay away? Could I have had a gold medal hanging in the shed by now?

I will never know.

But what I do know is that this whole project was such a great experience from start to finish. Besides bringing a whole new sense of purpose to my zwifting, it also had the added bonus of validating my previous Zwift performances. You know that tiny little doubt you sometimes get that your equipment could somehow be overestimating your numbers, or your scale could somehow be underestimating your weight? Gone. Having done an official weigh-in and riding on a smart trainer tested by the cycling federation, I can now let go of those doubts for good.

Which is almost as good as a medal. But let’s be real. Not quite as good as a medal.

As a last shout, I really want to thank the Danish Cycling Federation for putting on this event, and especially for opening it up to us ordinary Zwift racers. I highly recommend having a national cycling federation as cool as the Danish one. If yours is less cool, feel free to send them this article and convince them to up their game.