Al Salam 2026: A Race Like No Other

A race that has so many factors that are certain. That allow you to prepare mentally and physically. You could say totally out of character for someone who has spent so much time pursuing endurance events with so many unknowns. Everything serves us somehow, so long as we know how then the net gain normally turns out as an upside and not the other way round.

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For the hardcore mountain bike crew as well as those with a certain perception of what a bike race should look like, please look away.

This is a race like no other, something pretty unique. Sand of various density and gradient, even rather damp at times. And of course, mother nature’s conditions in the open space of Al Qudra that change by the minute. The wind during our warm-up different from that on the start line, the change never ended.

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Al Qudra. The Arabic word which translated to English roughly means power, ability, capacity. How fitting that it has been my playground for the last 15 years. A place where I have been lost, broken, frozen, boiling. A place where I have completed training and challenges that I genuinely believe have made my life better. A place where I have trained many other human beings to be better at life. A place where on occasions I thought I would never make it out of. A place where ultimately, I have been reborn.

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Today we would check our power, ability and capacity not only physically on the bike but also mentally in so many ways. The 10th edition of the Al Salam series under the patronage of HRH Sheikh Mohammad Bin Rashid. My 3rd consecutive participation of the mountain bike race. A race that sits in the back of my mind most of the year. A race that as it nears brings me some amazing focus and feelings. A race I get to do with my InnerFight team mates each time it is held.

The process is always the same. This year no different. As there are 2 minutes left on the clock the organiser announces that the start will be delayed by 15 minutes. We had already been on the start line for 20 minutes so that we got a good start spot for the wind and the sun. No stress. I expected it. Many don’t, the complaining starts. The result doesn’t change. We wait.

Tom and I joke about the Maurten Bicarb we took based on its timing window. We know it will still have the desired effect but these things come into your mind. We continue to relax and joke about people around us. It’s a fun time. I always feel pretty calm at the start. Maybe it’s because I know that for every minute the clock ticks down I am a minute closer to going all in.

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“All in” is a weird one for many. “Best effort” is the same. For some it’s numbers, for other it’s feelings. For me it’s a wicked cocktail of the two with the post race photos that bring more clarity and answers to unanswered questions. I never really set which metric I am using. I do not think you have to. Being aware of the metrics is the key. The ability to adapt on the fly I think enables you to tap into what you want to.

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The gun goes off and it’s on. From a 40 minute stand still to full gas in about 5 seconds. Epic. Everyone is drilling it. A couple of seconds later Tom ends up on the front. Not sure if that was his plan but as I find my first shelter from the wind of the day I smile. I think Phil is just behind me. VK and AB there to. This is not the type of race or the type of start where you can afford to check. If your eyes wander for even a second you will miss a change in terrain or someone’s rear wheel in your line. Dust rises. Sand flicks. Adrenalin courses through me. I catch a glimpse of my heart rate. Red line. Just where I knew it would be. You could say wanted it to be. The race is on.

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Of course 2 kilometres into a race like this the organisers stick in a u-turn. That soon sorts out who has bike handling skills and who doesn’t. The next test comes 2 kilometres later as we exit the first water hazard of the day. A minor puddle compared to whats to come. Good all the same and the field further splits. Someone loses control in front of me. I lose the lead group. I am good with that. Their pace is not my pace. Out the other side. Wet, sandy and smiling.

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A lot of people can push big power in small spurts. Few can continue to give those spurts 30,60 or 90 minutes into a race. The people around me now may or may not be there in 5 minutess. Me likewise. These races are a lot different to traditional bike races on roads that are more predictable. The surface is always changing and with it the type of rider it suits.

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We are through the first few obstacles and into the first major climb. 20m sand dune. Actual % gradient irrelevant. Off the bike. Digging our toes into the dune. Sand free-flowing into my shoes. The leg burn of climbing a mountain arrives. Mountain bike race you ask? I see Stephen at the top, nice surprise. I greet him as I pass. I am not sure if he is surprised and or happy that I have the energy to say hi. The way I see it is that he has way better things to do on a Sunday than be 50 kilometres from his house on the top of a dune cheering for me. The least I can do is smile and say hi. No high fives or handshakes. I have a race to take care of.

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Having raced this race before and knowing Al Qudra like I know the back of my hand, I have already labelled the next section as key. We have some consistent terrain and cross winds. This is where being in a group can save your legs and increase your speed as riders work together. At least that is the idea. There are always riders that are on the limit and genuinely can not contribute. Then there are the others who claim they are on the limit which is absolute bollocks as they try and attack later on.

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I was part of a small group which is not a bad thing if people are willing to work. A couple of kilometres later we are down to 2. A guy who I have raced with before and I know his strengths. We exchange a few words of agreement to work together. Up ahead we can see another group and I just lock on to maintaining the distance and bringing it down if possible. We are only 15 kilometres into the race. I have to be smart with energy. That reminds me to have another Maurten gel so I hit my 100 grams per hour formula. Maybe the most debated formula in cycling these days. Last year I had 240 grams of carbs in this race. This year I have chosen to go a bit lighter and let the blood work in my muscles not my digestion.

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We see the first pro woman ahead of us. She looks like she is dropping back. As she does we suck her up and she is with us. Fortunately she is not totally cooked and is happy to pull some turns. Now the work is divided by 3 and not 2. Big win. Or big win until the track turns right back onto softer sand and her lightness favours her and she takes off. We are back to two and I think we are both happy. Good honest turns. There to work for each other knowing that’s the fastest way to the end.

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As we get back to our rhythm I look down at my bike computer and see my heart rate is still high. Just over an hour into the race I feel really good and do not let it worry me. The power is about 15-20 watts below what I know I can normalise. It is there as a guide. I am not owned by it. My metric of feeling is front and centre of my mind. I feel good. I pause and think about the bicarb I took and I am confident having tested it that it is working. I can keep the power on for longer and once again I check in and know I feel good. Did I mention I was feeling good. Haaaaa.

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We sweep up another rider. I am not surprised. This is where this starts to happen as we are inside 20 kilometres to go. Those who have pumped too hard early will start to drop. Everyone will be looking for a wheel to hop on for a free ride to the finish. Ryan, who I have been riding with for a while is not new to this sport and as we approach riders that look like they are tiring he pushes the power up 30-50 watts. I smile and do the same. No free lunches. A guy manages to stay with us but of course is too cooked to help us out. Or so he says.

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Two water hazards to go and 10 kilometres. The first is the biggest of the course. Man-made, over knee deep, smells like shit. Last year I tried riding through it and failed. It trashed my bike and it was slow. This year I dismounted, picked up the bike and ran as fast as you can through water of that height and a floor of sludge. A cruel but beautiful sensation at this point in the race.

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I was hurting. We were close, I knew it. I had had a gel recently and was praying that even if technically it was not going to help me much that I would feel something which would give me a mental trigger that I had more in the tank. A minute passed, I was still in the bin. A few more and suddenly I felt unreal and was back on the front. Watts were easy to come by and what I wanted. Heart rate still off the charts but I cared little.

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6 kilometres to go. I know we have to do the massive dune in reverse and I am ready. I know it’s going to burn but I know the guys I am with are also in the red. One has been making whaling noises for the last 5 kilometres, not come to the front but is somehow with us. What was I saying earlier about people strategically sitting in. Part of bike racing but it does not make it easier to digest.

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As we exit the last obstacle section there is a short climb. I have power and drive the pedals again. “I’m away” I think to myself. Turning left onto a short section of asphalt I glimpse and confirm I am away. Head down and work. Nothing else matters. 2 kilometres to go. “How much do you want it?” I ask myself. I know I can hurt.

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“Marcus!” I hear Ryan shout. I turn back and see I have missed a timing mat on my right by a metre. I screech to a halt to go back through it, as I do the guy who has not done a single turn for the last 12 kilometres sails past saying nothing. Ryan is chasing him. I try and hop on Ryan’s wheel but he is also at least 20m ahead. What a huge mistake. I have no time to dwell on it. I still challenge myself for more, more watts, more effort, more more more. The wind blows cross head. Who cares. More power. The gaps remain. Ryan can not catch him. The gap between Ryan and I remains. 500m to go. Same position.

My goal was to give my best. I crossed the finish line totally destroyed. Sensations in my legs that even after all these years of endurance were new to me. I checked in with myself. My gut said I had given my best. A handshake and thanks to Ryan who was in a similar state. No sign of the guy that got a free ride to the last section in binned us off. I am sure he slept super fine. That’s sports. I have no regrets. It was en epic race. I did everything I could. Training Peaks tells me I set an all time record for my highest heart rate for 60 and 90 minutes. I have been using training peaks since 2009. Thats a pretty good metric.

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For what? For many things. I wrote in my post about Gravel Burn that I do not need races to get me out of bed. Races are there to test things. Races deliver environments that are naturally hard to create in training much though we try. Races serve us well if we approach them with the right mindset. Races should be the reward for the hours that you put in to training week in week out. If they do not feel like that then maybe the week in week out is not quite right.

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I have always loved riding my mountain bike since I was a kid. Racing it then and racing it now gives me many of the same feelings. Yes it hurts a bit and honestly as I said to someone on Monday morning, no it was not a fun race. Not all races are. This one was hard and it was absolutely what I needed. The good news is Jani says he thinks I can go harder. Shall we?

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For sure we go again next year!

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