Close enough to push through. Far enough to stop.

A Silk Road Mountain Race story by Alexander Kopp.

 

 

 

 

 

The last night of the Silk Road Mountain Race wasn’t a heroic story in hindsight. No epic battle against sleep, no “I completely destroyed myself and still kept going.” Quite the opposite, and that’s exactly why it stuck with me.

Over the past few years, I’ve raced a number of ultras and got to know pretty much every version of myself: the over-motivated one that implodes after 24 hours. The “I’ll just close my eyes for a second” version that wakes up two hours later at a bus stop and no longer knows what their name is. And of course the completely rational version that, at 4:30 in the morning, thinks: “This is actually a really good idea.” The stubborn one that ignores warning signs until the knees give out. But also the version that finds its rhythm, listens to itself, and ends up feeling surprisingly good.

And at some point you start to notice something: the best races are rarely the ones where you completely destroy yourself.

 

 

 

 

 

Over time, I’ve realized that I enjoy it the most, and usually perform the best, when I treat myself somewhat reasonably. So eating before the body shuts down. Sleeping before everything blurs. Washing, just to feel decent, to be able to be around people without seeming completely disrespectful. And in general, trying not to completely crash your own mood. Focusing on positive thoughts and keeping the negative ones out as much as possible. In the end, your head is the biggest engine.

Sounds unspectacular. It is. But it works surprisingly well.

At the Silk Road Mountain Race 2025, my goal was therefore pretty simple: finish. Everything else is a bonus. I had a fairly wild year leading up to it and wasn’t quite at my best. Top ten would have been nice, anything beyond that a welcome side effect, but nothing I was willing to completely wreck myself for.

And then came that last night. Close enough to the finish to push through. Far enough away to sleep one more time and still spend the entire next day riding.

 

 

 

 

 

I was riding along a river. It was quiet, almost too idyllic for a race. And every few minutes, it felt like perfect sleeping spots. Flat, sheltered, inviting. A bit like a bad influencer post: “Your tent could be here.”

At the same time, I knew there were two riders behind me. So the classic situation: push again, stay awake, suffer a bit, and maybe gain a few more places.

I’ve done that before. And I’ll probably do it again. But this time, the reaction was more like: why, actually?

I could have pushed through the night. But I also knew what that feels like, that half-delirious state where you’re still riding, but not really taking anything in anymore. And I also knew that it wouldn’t necessarily make me faster. Just more broken.

So I chose what was probably the least heroic option: to stop.

I found a good spot by the river, set up my tent, and lay down. The plan was to sleep for four hours, then continue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reality was six hours. Overslept, again.

I woke up, looked at the time, and thought: well, I guess that was needed.

In other races, that would have been a stressful moment. “Slept too long,” “lost time,” “not disciplined enough.” This time, it was just okay. Because it felt right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And that’s exactly where the difference is for me.

These days, I like to race in a way that allows me to stay stable for as long as possible. Sure, I rode this race relatively “soft,” especially when it comes to sleep. There’s still potential there. Next time, I’ll probably reduce sleep a bit, simply because I now better understand what works, and because I know the route and the country.

I’ll race it again this year. With the same approach, but a bit more result-oriented.

At the same time, I’m noticing more and more how much it helps not to constantly push beyond your limits. To reach the finish and not think: “I don’t want to see a bike for a while,” but instead feel like getting back on it casually the next day. That has become almost more valuable to me than a few places further up the rankings.

In the end, it comes down to something pretty unspectacular: I don’t get faster by destroying myself.

If I eat, sleep, and stay reasonably clear in my head, the whole thing just runs smoother. Not spectacular, but surprisingly effective.

And sometimes, the fastest decision in a race is simply to go to sleep.

Video, photo & text by Alexander Kopp