52 Hours of Madness: How I Survived Friday the 13th and Lived to Tell the Tale
Ah, Friday the 13th. The day of superstitions, black cats, and all things unlucky. For me, however, it wasn’t so much bad luck as it was an absolute whirlwind of a weekend—one that started with work and ended with a podium finish. Buckle up because this is how I spent 52 hours running on caffeine, adrenaline, and sheer willpower.
Friday: The Marathon Begins
The day started innocently enough with a typical day at work. By late afternoon, things ramped up as I joined my work friends for a Christmas party in Ronda. A lively Spanish dinner party with my colleagues, filled with great food and conversation, check. Then, just as I felt that I could collapse into bed, I had one more hour of work to finish. Yay, me!
By 7 p.m., it was time to load up my road bikes and hit the road to Huércal-Overa, my family home. I rolled in just after 11 p.m. to find my dad waiting, ready to perform some late-night mechanical wizardry on my race bikes. You know your life is busy when even your dad is on your pit crew. By 1:15 a.m., we finally called it a night.
Saturday: Awards, Floods, and Fast-Talking Sponsors
At 7 a.m., I was rudely awakened by the rhythmic tapping of dog paws outside my bedroom door and the glorious scent of coffee wafting through the air. Honestly, it almost made up for the sleep deprivation.
By 9:30 a.m., we were en route to Adra for the Federación Andaluza de Ciclismo Gala Awards. The highlight? Receiving the yellow jersey and a trophy for winning the 2024 Ranking Andalucía. Not-so-highlight? A detour caused by road closures due to flood damage in Balanegra from two weeks earlier. The devastation we saw was humbling, a sobering reminder of how nature can turn lives upside down.
The gala itself was brilliant. After collecting my prizes and soaking in the applause, we headed back to Huércal-Overa. There wasn’t much time to bask in the glory because my dad and I had a leg activation session to prep for Sunday’s race. On our way back, we stopped by Cerveceria Las Cañas where my mum was enjoying her Christmas work party. My ex-boss spotted me and immediately wanted the lowdown on my newfound cycling fame. I thought, “This could be a sponsorship opportunity!” Spoiler: it wasn’t. His pockets are deep, but his arms are far too short.
By 7 p.m., I finally got to sit down for a glorious hour before collapsing into bed at 9 p.m. The alarm was set for an ungodly 5 a.m.
Sunday: Race Day and Redemption
At 5 a.m., my alarm went off, and I almost launched it out the window. The Clasica del Pavo awaited—my final race of the year. It’s a special one for me because it was my first-ever race just a year ago. Back then, I won the Elite class but placed 10th overall. This year, I had bigger goals.
After a 3.5-hour drive to Vélez-Málaga, it was go-time. The race was everything I hoped for and more. I smashed my goals, winning the Elite class again, this time finishing 5th overall, and shaving a cool five minutes off last year’s time. Progress? Absolutely. Next year, I’m gunning for the overall win.
With the car loaded and the adrenaline wearing off, I drove back to my flat in Ronda. By the time I got home, I ate like I hadn’t seen food in a week and promptly passed out.
Monday: Back to Reality
The dreaded alarm struck again, this time reminding me of a recovery ride before heading to work. Thankfully, being a teacher means I get to sit down —a small mercy after a weekend like that.
Final Thoughts
Was it madness? Absolutely. Would I do it all over again? Without a doubt. From receiving awards to dodging flood damage, racing my heart out, and navigating potential sponsorships, these 52 hours were a blur of chaos and triumph. Friday the 13th might be unlucky for some, but for me, it was just another chapter in this wild ride called life as a cyclist.
