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.

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.

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.

Watch My Race Report

Highlight Videos from the Federation

Men’s Elite

Women’s Elite

40+ (My Race)

50+

Your Thoughts

Share below!

How the Race Was Lost: Zwift Games Stage 1 (Loop de Loop): Dropped On the KOM… Twice

The Zwift Games have arrived, and it’s time to race against some stacked fields! I had the rare opportunity to race (and lose) Stage 1 twice while learning some lessons along the way, and thought it would be helpful to share and compare the experiences.

This stage was held on two laps of Watopia’s new Loop de Loop route, and as it turns out, this is a really fun race course. In two laps you’ll cover 24.9km with 289 meters of climbing, and the route includes lots of places to attack, no boring/flat bits, and a key climb that is just far enough from the finish to keep chasers interesting!

Read on to learn how the B-category races went for me…

The Start

Race 1 began with 200 riders, while Race 2 began with 107. Straight into The Esses, and Race 1 was definitely a bit spicier, with me needing to hold 20W more to hang in the front pack down to the JWB Sprint arch.

The pace was solid, but not crazy. Everyone knew the Hilly KOM up the road would be making the big selections. Still, riders were falling off the front pack as we headed back through The Esses and into downtown Watopia. By the time we hit the downtown banner, race 2’s peloton had shrunk to just 63 riders – 41% attrition, and we hadn’t even hit the Hilly KOM yet!

I’m sure race 1’s pack had shrunk too, but since Zwift only renders the closest 100 riders, all I knew was the pack still had at least 100 riders in it. On to the KOM!

The First Climb

In both races I was well-positioned heading into the first Hilly KOM, just a bike length or two from the front of the pack. This is a classic strategy used by “overmuscled” cyclists everywhere: starting a climb near the front of the pack allows you to slowly drop back in the pack over the course of the climb, while hopefully staying in touch with the back of the pack over the top so you don’t get dropped.

Done right, it lets you stay in touch with the top climbers while putting in a segment time that’s several seconds slower.

In Race 1 I averaged 425W and set a new race PR on the climb of 2:01. And I finished right near the front of the front pack!

In Race 2 I averaged 444W, setting a new race PR of 1:58. But the crazy part is, there were 7 riders who finished a few seconds ahead of me, across a gap that was too large for me to bridge alone! So strong.

That Middle Bit

In race 1, I finished the KOM in a front group of 36, and a group of 17 bridged up to us before we were done with the descent (impressive work, chasers). 1 lap down, and the attrition rate was already at 74%.

In race 2, the group of 7 stayed off the front until I and 10 others caught them as we headed into The Esses. With 18 in the front group, our attrition rate was now 83% with a lap to go.

Nothing remarkable happened in this middle bit in either race. The big selection had been made, legs were tired, and everyone knew the second (and final) KOM would be even tougher than the first.

Sidenote: Powerups

The powerup scheme for Stage 1 was interesting. I loved it, but there were clearly lots of confused riders who didn’t understand what was going on!

We only received powerups at the JWB Sprint arch (so two powerup opportunities in the whole race) and the only powerup given was the Draft Boost.

I saw a lot of racers activating their powerup just before hitting the downtown arch, thinking that arch would give them another powerup. Even in the Elite race (shame on you, elite racers.) Because no: you weren’t getting another powerup at the downtown arch, or the hilly arch. So you needed to be smart about where to use the powerup for maximum benefit.

For most riders in the front group, the smart place to use the first draft boost was probably over the top of the Hilly KOM. This is where your legs would be most knackered, so you could benefit a lot from a bit of a respite as you sat in the wheels.

The second draft boost was ideally saved for the final sprint – but if you needed it in order to hang with a pack over the top of the KOM, you had to make the judgment call to use it or not.

The Final Climb

I started the final climb in race 1 a bit too far back, as the pack surged well before the KOM start line and I wasn’t able to quickly push to the front. This would prove a costly mistake as I hit the KOM arch with a small gap to the back of the strung-out front group. That gap? Just about the same size as my misjudged distance to the front of the group at the start of the segment.

I was better positioned for the start of the climb in race 2, but when we hit the second half of the climb it felt like the 10 riders just ahead powered up as my legs exploded! I went from tailgunning the front pack to 5 seconds off the back in that final 400 meters of Hilly KOM. Ouch. The front riders finished that KOM even faster than the first.

It’s interesting how similar my performances were on the final climb in the two races:

• Race 1, 2nd KOM: 2:04, 417W
• Race 2, 2nd KOM: 2:04, 416W

The Finish

In race 1, I activated my draft powerup just after the KOM arch so it would help me hang onto the snaking line of 7 riders chasing the front pack of 34. Coming into the finishing sprint a group of 32 was on the front chasing the podium, while I was in a pack of 9 fighting over the leftovers. I dug deep, but didn’t have much left. 36th place, 17.31 seconds behind the winner.

In race 2 I crested the KOM in no man’s land, with the front group of 10 too far away to grab with nobody next to me to aid in the chase. But help came soon enough! A train of four zipped past and grabbed on. I hammered to the front on the descent, towing the group as I supertucked for a few seconds, grabbing a much-needed breather. 8 off the front, 7 of us chasing, and 1 in between the packs.

I fancied my chances in a sprint, since I still had my draft powerup. So I didn’t push to get off the front. Instead, I soft-pedaled, sitting in the draft until 300m to go. Then I hit the powerup, powered up myself, and started to hammer!

This sprint felt hyper-focused. I saw a rider just ahead, and sat on his wheel, waiting until I was closer to go all-in. I could also see we were going to catch the lone rider up the road, so I didn’t need to work extra hard to make that happen. Then I poured on what power I had left to come around the rider ahead, coming in first in the chase group… 9th overall.

Race 1 Time: 35:46
See race 1 on Strava >
Race 1 results on ZwiftPower >

Race 2 Time: 36:21
See race 2 on Strava >
Race 2 results on ZwiftPower >

Watch Race 1

Watch Race 2

Takeaways

I thought the two races would be more different than they actually were. But it turns out both races behaved very similarly, and I got dropped from contention in the same place both times!

My race 2 result was better than race 1 – not just in terms of finish position, but in terms of ZwiftPower ranking (166.23 in race 2, vs 256.51 in race 1). My legs were also a bit fresher in race 2. In the end, neither result was particularly good, but that’s not surprising – I do best in flat/rolling races.

Race 1 was a good reminder of the importance of positioning myself near the front before short climbs. This strategy doesn’t do much good on longer climbs, but on shorter stuff it is a super-helpful strategy. I’d say official KOM segments where “sagging” works well include all these shorter climbs:

Your Thoughts

How did you Zwift Games Stage 1 go? Did you sag the climb, or beast it? Share below!