Oh Albania, your roads might be the worst I've ever seen, but your people are ever so great. Every time I've done it, there was a point in the Transcontinental where I felt like the race was trying to break me. If you're stubborn enough to push through that point, you get rewarded. Today might have been that day.
The alarm goes and I cannot walk. The road rash burns like fire and makes me literally limp onto the bike after taking a painkiller and waiting another half hour. Pedalling works, most Albanian dogs are sleepy or scared, only a big one seriously chases me. In a small village the road bends downwards, a little girl waves at me from over a wall, I wave back and see the big bump in the road too late.
A badly timed bunny hop attempt, an audible crack, I look down and can immediately see that the wobble has increased. As long as it's rolling, no excuse to stop. Sketchy bridge just before CP3, bee sting, eggs with rice and onto the parcour. One happy rider found a backpack full of food.
A TCR off-road parcour is never easy, but doing that nursing a cracked rim, two seeing wounds, with barely functioning hands, while the thermometer shows 44 degrees (38 in the shadow, only there is not much shadow) and you get an experience that is definitely up there with the most insane things I've done.
It's all relative though. I meet a rider that has been walking for 41 kilometres with a failed tubeless system and Sara did the whole thing without food, because she lost her backpack... Maybe I didn't have such a bad day after all.