The Traka 100

on

 

The Traka 100 — What Happens When a Road Cyclist with T1D Shows Up to the Biggest Gravel Race in Europe

100km. 1,300m elevation. Zero gravel experience. One Omnipod. Let's go.

Welcome or welcome back to my adventures! 🚴‍♀️

This time I am bringing you somewhere very different from my usual cycling world. No smooth tarmac. No perfectly calibrated watt targets. No carbon race wheels.

Just dirt, rocks, Catalan mountains, a borrowed Decathlon bike, and my CGM on my arm.

Let me tell you about The Traka.

What is The Traka?

The Traka is one of the biggest gravel cycling events in the world, held every year in and around Girona, Catalonia — one of cycling's most iconic destinations. It attracts thousands of riders from across the globe: experienced gravel racers, adventure cyclists, and apparently, at least one completely unprepared road cyclist with Type 1 Diabetes.

Gravel cycling was born as a beautiful, slow, communal sport — a celebration of off-road adventure, of getting lost in nature, of riding with friends without caring about power numbers. In recent years it has grown enormously, and events like The Traka sit right at the intersection between that original spirit and full competition. The atmosphere is unique: everyone is pushing hard, but there is still a sense that the experience — the terrain, the views, the community — matters as much as the time.

I chose the 100km format, with 1,300 metres of elevation gain.

I had never ridden gravel before.

The Setup — A Story of Questionable Decisions

Let me be transparent with you: the preparation for this event was not my finest hour.

I arrived in Girona the day before the race. Without a bike.

My plan? Borrow one from a friend. "It'll be fine," I told myself. And it would have been fine — had the bike in question not been a heavy, entry-level Decathlon gravel bike, very far from the lightweight Canyon I ride at home. I am a road cyclist. I am used to a bike that responds to the slightest input, that feels like an extension of the body on a climb. This was not that bike.

The gearing was limited. The brakes were, let's say, optimistic. And the night before the race, I also made the very last-minute decision to swap my road clip-in shoes for gravel shoes — which I had never ridden in before.

By the time everything was sorted, it was late. I slept in the apartment of generous, wonderful friends who had been kind enough to host me. They also had a dog who had very strong opinions about sleeping schedules.

I did not sleep well.

Race Morning — T1D Does Not Take Days Off

Wakeup: 6:00 am CGM reading: 228 mg/dL ↗

If you live with Type 1 Diabetes, you already understand what that number means in context. If you don't, let me explain.

A reading of 228 mg/dL is above my target range. On a normal morning, with good sleep and a calm environment, my Omnipod 5 automated insulin delivery system manages my glucose beautifully. But this was not a normal morning.

I was:

  • Sleep-deprived (dog + race nerves + new environment)
  • In a new, unfamiliar space (away from home)
  • Physiologically stressed (cortisol, adrenaline — the pre-race cocktail)

And here is the science behind what was happening: cortisol and adrenaline cause the liver to release glucose (hepatic glucose output), while simultaneously creating insulin resistance in peripheral tissues. The result is a glucose spike that has nothing to do with what you ate — it's your body preparing for perceived danger. In a race environment, this is extremely common for people with T1D, and it is one of the hardest things to manage because you cannot simply eat less or inject more without understanding the full picture.

My Omnipod 5 was doing its best. The algorithm was working. But automated systems have limits when the hormonal environment is complex.

The plan had to adapt. That is T1D sport. You have a plan, and then you adapt.

Breakfast & Pre-Race Fuelling

Time: ~6:30 am (approximately 90 minutes before start)

My breakfast was deliberate and structured:

  • Slow-release carbohydrates (oats) — to provide sustained energy without a sharp glucose spike
  • Protein — to slow gastric emptying and stabilise glucose rise
  • Half a banana just before the start — a fast carbohydrate top-up to ensure available glucose at gun time

Omnipod 5 settings: Sport Mode activated before breakfast and kept active for the entire duration of the race. Sport Mode adjusts the algorithm's insulin delivery target upward — meaning the system is less aggressive with corrections and allows glucose to sit slightly higher than usual, which is appropriate protection against exercise-induced hypoglycaemia.

Dexcom G7: Armed and transmitting. My safety net.

At 8:00 am sharp, along with thousands of other riders, I rolled into the start of The Traka 100.

The Race — Part One: The Hardest 45 Kilometres of My Life

Let me be honest with you: I knew the first half was going to be brutal. The course profile shows it clearly. What I could not fully prepare for was experiencing it.

The first 45 kilometres of the Traka 100 are predominantly uphill. Not the smooth, cadence-friendly climbs I know from road cycling. These are gravel climbs: loose surface, unpredictable gradient changes, sandy patches, sharp rocks. Every descent that comes between the climbs requires technical skill — reading the terrain, choosing the right line, controlling speed on a surface that shifts under the wheel.

On a heavy bike. With brakes I did not fully trust. In shoes I had worn exactly once before.

I kept moving. And I kept fuelling.

Fuelling Protocol — On Course

This is important, so I want to be specific:

  • 1 gel every climb — approximately every 30-45 minutes depending on effort and duration
  • Gels were timed to follow significant efforts, before glucose had the chance to drop
  • I was monitoring my Dexcom continuously, checking trend arrows as much as absolute numbers
  • Water at every feed station

The glucose management during intense, varied-effort sport like gravel racing is significantly more complex than steady-state riding. Let me explain why.

In Zone 2 and 3 training (steady aerobic effort), glucose tends to drop steadily and predictably. You can plan for it, time your gels, and the Omnipod algorithm adapts well.

In gravel racing, you alternate between:

  • Explosive anaerobic efforts on steep pitches (which can cause temporary glucose spikes from adrenaline)
  • Technical descents requiring concentration but less muscular work (glucose can drop)
  • Sustained aerobic climbing (steady glucose draw-down)

The result is a more volatile glucose pattern — and one that requires more active management and more frequent fuelling than road riding.

My strategy was simple: do not wait for glucose to drop. Fuel proactively. One gel after every significant climb. Trust the system. Keep moving.

Kilometre 40 — The Crash

I had given myself one instruction that morning.

Eleonora, don't crash.

At kilometre 40, the course tightened. A technical descent, a sharp turn, the nervous energy of hundreds of riders around me all making the same calculations at the same time. And then: a large rock. A hole in the path. My front wheel hit both.

I went down.

Blood on my arm. A bruised body. Gravel in places it had no business being.

I lay there for a moment. Around me, riders flowed past. The race continued.

I cried. Honestly, I cried — briefly, properly, because I was in pain and I was scared and I was 40 kilometres into a 100-kilometre race on a bike I didn't really know, and nobody was coming to fix it.

Then I did what you do.

I checked my CGM. Still in range. Still moving in the right direction.

I got back on the bike.

The Race — Part Two: Finding the Rhythm

Something shifts after you crash and keep going. The fear is already spent. What remains is just the work.

The second half of the Traka is kinder. The terrain opens up, the climbing becomes more manageable, the field spreads out and you find space to ride at your own pace. I found mine.

Gel after gel. Kilometre after kilometre.

I kept checking the Dexcom — not anxiously, but attentively, the way you check in with yourself when you are doing something hard. The glucose was responding well to the fuelling protocol. The Sport Mode was doing its job. My body, despite the crash and the sleep deprivation and the cortisol of the morning, was cooperating.

I thought about what I always think about on long efforts: why I do this. Not for the results — I am not going to podium at the Traka. Not for the suffering itself. But for the proof it gives me, again and again, that T1D does not set the ceiling on what I am capable of. That the body I have — sensors and patches and automated algorithms and all — can do extraordinary things.

That thought carried me through the final kilometres.

Finish Line

Distance: 100km ✅ Elevation: 1,300m ✅ Glucose at finish: 170–180 mg/dL — stable, in range

I crossed the finish line of The Traka 100 and received a small, heavy, gold-coloured dog tag.

The Traka · Finisher · The Gravel Revolution.

I held it and felt the quiet, private triumph that comes from finishing something you had no business starting. The kind of finish line that is yours alone, not because you were first, but because the distance between where you started and where you ended up was enormous — not in kilometres, but in everything else.

What I Learned — T1D Takeaways

For those of you managing T1D in sport, here are my honest reflections from this race:

1. Stress glucose is real and it is powerful. Cortisol and adrenaline will raise your glucose regardless of what you eat or how your system is set. In a race environment — especially with sleep deprivation — plan for it. Don't panic when you see a high reading on race morning. Activate Sport Mode early. Give the algorithm time to work.

2. Proactive fuelling beats reactive fuelling. In high-intensity, variable-effort sport, do not wait for a drop. Fuel by effort and time, not by glucose number alone. One gel after every major effort kept me stable across 100 kilometres.

3. Trust your system — but stay attentive. The Omnipod 5 and Dexcom combination worked beautifully throughout the race. Automated insulin delivery is genuinely transformative for sport. But it still requires your input: selecting the right mode, timing your nutrition, reading the trends. The technology is a tool. You are still the athlete.

4. Crashes happen. Check your device. When I went down at km 40, the first thing I did after stopping my tears was check my CGM and my pump. Both intact. Both working. Then I got back on. If you wear technology for your survival, know where it is, know how to check it quickly, and keep going.

5. Borrowed heavy bikes are not ideal. This one is self-explanatory.

Final Data Summary

Distance100 km
Elevation1,300 m
Glucose at wakeup228 mg/dL
Glucose at finish170–180 mg/dL
Fuelling on course~6–7 gels, timed after major efforts
Insulin modeOmnipod 5, Sport Mode, full duration
CGMDexcom G7, continuous monitoring
Crashes1 (unplanned)
TearsBrief. Necessary. Followed immediately by forward motion.

To My T1D Community

You are allowed to sign up for things that feel too big for you.

You are allowed to show up underprepared, on a borrowed bike, with a glucose reading that is higher than you wanted, in shoes you have worn exactly once before.

You are allowed to cry at kilometre 45.

And then you are allowed to get back on. Check your CGM. Trust your system. Take your gel. Keep going.

The finish line does not care how you felt at the start.

It is just waiting for you. 💙

To know more about my challenges and my day to day diabetes management:

Comments

Post a Comment