March 2018 draped Chongming Island in soft spring light, and that day, my RAW mates and I faced a milestone: our first 100KM group ride. The air carried the faint sweetness of blooming clover, and as we lined up to start, I gave my mountain bike a pat—its thick, knobby tires had gotten me through short rides before, but 100KM felt like a whole new challenge. Little did I know, the day would teach me two big lessons: how critical fuel is for long rides, and just how much a bike’s design changes everything.
We rolled out at 8 a.m., laughter mixing with the whir of wheels. For the first 20KM, I kept up easily, my legs fresh and my excitement high. But by 10 a.m., the sun had warmed the air, and my energy started to dip. My throat felt dry, even though I’d sipped water here and there, and my legs began to feel heavy—like someone had slipped small weights in my pockets. That’s when our club leader called a stop at a roadside pavilion: “No one hits 100KM on fumes!” he said, pulling out energy bars and fruit from his bag. I grabbed a banana and chugged half a bottle of electrolyte drink; within 10 minutes, I could feel the sugar and salts kick in—my legs loosened up, and my focus came back. It was my first real taste of how long rides aren’t just about strength, but about consistently refueling.
By noon, hunger hit hard, so we stopped at a tiny family restaurant near the coast. We piled into a wooden table, ordering heaps of stir-fried vegetables, steamed buns, and bowls of hot noodle soup. I ate more than I usually do—my body was screaming for carbs to burn. As we finished, my mate Myron laughed and tapped his new road bike: “Bet you’ll wish you had one of these for the second half.” I brushed it off at first—how much faster could it really be?
But once we got back on the road, the difference hit me like a gust of wind. The group’s road bikes sliced through the air, their thin, smooth tires barely making a sound on the pavement. Myron and the others pedaled steadily, their legs moving in easy, efficient strokes, while I found myself pushing harder just to keep up. My mountain bike’s thick tires fought the road, creating more friction, and every hill felt steeper—by the time we hit the 60KM mark, my calves were burning, and I was huffing harder than ever. I’d been sipping water nonstop since lunch, but even with fuel, my bike was holding me back. When we pulled over for another water break, I leaned against a tree and studied Myron’s road bike: its lightweight frame, the narrow tires, the way it sat low to the ground. “It’s not just you—road bikes are built for speed and efficiency,” Myron said, noticing my gaze. “Less resistance means less energy wasted.” That’s when it clicked: my mountain bike was great for rough trails, but for long, smooth distances? It was like trying to run a marathon in boots.
By 3 p.m., we crossed the 100KM finish line and my final distance was 105.34KM! I collapsed onto a bench, grinning despite the soreness. I’d chugged three bottles of water, eaten two energy bars, a banana, and a whole bowl of noodles—and without that constant fuel, I never would’ve made it. And as I watched Myron lean his road bike against the bench, I made a mental note: I must change to a road bike. That day on Chongming Island wasn’t just about finishing 100KM—it was about learning to work with my body and my gear, not against them.
