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The immense Andes, 1,045 kilometers, 20,000 meters of elevation – the Transcordilleras is a challenge that pushes the body and mind to their limits. And with that, the Colombian ultrarace is right up Laurens ten Dam’s alley. He shifts up a gear when he realizes he's five hours behind Robert Britton, the Canadian ex-pro, after checkpoint 1.

In the region between Vélez and Puerto Berrío, temperatures soar to 43 degrees Celsius. Keeping cool in this furnace becomes Laurens' highest priority. In desperation, he steps under an outdoor shower in the garden of strangers. The water is so warm you could cook an egg in it. An emergency hut for passing cowboys—with an old fridge containing cola—ultimately offers salvation.

After a short rest break, Laurens continues his route in the evening, with falling temperatures. Around kilometer 560, he takes three hours of sleep. What Laurens doesn’t know yet is that Britton has also had an incredibly tough time and has been lying down for four hours in the same village. Back in the race! The actual leader, Xavier Chiriboga from Ecuador, who has just been noticed due to a faulty tracker, hasn’t rested at all and thus drops out himself.

At checkpoint 2, kilometer 780, Laurens is in the lead. He sets his sights on a hotel 80 kilometers further in Fredonia and arrives there only five hours later due to the rough terrain and a long climb. After three-quarters of an hour, Laurens is startled awake realizing he still needs to swap out his chargers. On the edge of the bed, he sees that Britton is only two kilometers away. What to do now: go back to sleep or resume the race?

In the middle of the night, Laurens leaves the hotel and quickly picks up the struggling Britton. The Canadian is out of water and must look for some. Laurens, as the leader, prepares for a nail-biting finale, spiced up with a steep and long climb 80 kilometers from the finish, a tricky descent, and from there a relatively calm road of 50 kilometers to the line. He has no sense of time anymore, let alone knowing how big his lead over Britton still is. Feeling hunted, he crashes in a muddy corner. Back in race focus, he tells himself.

The inhabitants of the village Sante Fe de Antioquia are just starting their day. A young woman on a bench looks surprised at the laden cyclist who rides so wildly into the square, only encouraged by three men from the organization. No crowds, no speakers, no applause. Laurens doesn’t mind; the victory is his after less than 73 hours of adventure. He takes over the other free bench as a resting place for the coming hours.