directions_bikePúchovský Mordor: Deluxe Edition - The Premiere

An unexpected journey into the depths of cycling suffering. When sweat rains down your glasses like a hypnotic waterfall, blurring the world into abstract shapes, and your heart hammers at 170 before the climb even begins, then screams at 191 for what feels like eternity - you know you"ve entered Mordor.

Under direct sunlight with 30+ degrees frying us from above, knowing your bottles are nearly empty and the next water source is somewhere beyond the next peak - this is when cycling becomes survival. Surrounded by well-oiled machines disguised as cyclists, flowing from peak to peak with impossible grace, I found myself swept along in their slipstream.

The group"s energy pulled me beyond my limits, their wheels always just ahead, always just out of reach. 10+ hours of sustained effort revealed a new dimension of fatigue - the kind where satisfaction and exhaustion merge into one. Used to pushing hard for an hour or three, this was different. This was Mordor. And I wasn"t prepared.

But that"s the beauty of it. Knowing that somewhere in those salt-crusted kit, between the first climb and the last, limits shifted. Next time, maybe, just maybe, I could hold their wheels a little longer.

PS: The morning started with doubt - a sharp knife through my freshly rehabilitated knee while gathering the last bits of kit. The official rehab had just concluded, everything felt perfect the day before. Decided to just go with it, maybe it would get better and I would be able to have a nice flat ride, maybe somewhere towards Piešťany. In the worst case, I would make a quick grandma style loop back home.

Twenty kilometers later, the pain faded to whispers, but I still felt a little tired from the last few rides. After the second climb, it returned as a dull companion for the remaining hours. My bike suffered too - the chain crying for fresh wax, components begging for love after their trial by fire. We both survived, tired but stronger.