The tenth edition of the renowned Thunderbolts Adventure was delivered in fluctuating conditions on Anzac Day, 2026. Hosted by Graveleur Events, this gravel event is fast earning its stripes as possibly the hardest one-day gravel race in Australia. Once a two-day event featuring two 125 km stages, it has evolved into a single-day route covering 175 km and over 4,000 metres of elevation gain in the beautiful Barrington Tops region of New South Wales.
Beating the Thunderbolds time cut – the real race
For me, the goal was simply to finish within the time cut. At this stage of my life, the desire and perhaps the capability to be competitive in such events has faded. Over the past five years, however, I’ve discovered something that once puzzled me: the appeal of being merely a participant in something genuinely challenging with no prospect whatsoever of a result. The course at Thunderbolts certainly ticks the challenge box, even for the most foolhardy gravel rider.
The race began under gloomy skies and early morning fog. Before long, the stronger riders had established a lead group of around a dozen over the initial rolling terrain. After 50 km, the main climb to the plateau atop the Barrington Tops began. Here, I quickly found myself dropped from the groups on this long, arduous ascent. Once over the top, at more than 1,500 metres above sea level, the temperature dropped and the moisture increased. The typically “champagne gravel” roads had turned into thick, sticky, peanut-butter like mud. The narrower tyres I had chosen, run at higher pressures, proved effective, cutting through the sludge to find something resembling traction beneath.
The inevitable descent off the highlands and back into the valley was tricky in such conditions. As we lost elevation, traction gradually became more reliable. During the descent, the area’s stunning beauty became obvious. One advantage of not being consumed by competition was the ability to take in my surroundings more fully. Rolling through remote cattle country, with uninterrupted vistas of the Mid North Coast hinterland, was genuinely inspiring, especially five hours into an effort that was shaping up to take close to eight.
Riding Thunderbolts With Diabetes
At this year’s event, two riders were competing while managing diabetes: myself with type 1, I was racing this event representing the professional team I once competed for Team Novo Nordisk, the world’s first professional sports team consisting entirely of people with T1 diabetes. Also competing was Ian, tackling the full 175 km with type 2. Terrain this demanding, combined with such fluctuating conditions, makes predicting and managing blood glucose levels especially challenging. I use a continuous glucose monitor (CGM), which I’m fortunate to have access to in Australia. It sends alerts to my phone when levels are too high or too low. Early on, my levels were running high, likely due to a combination of a carb-heavy breakfast and pre-race nerves. Normally, these settle once the aerobic rhythm of a race takes hold. This time, though, my ego got in the way, pushing me into anaerobic efforts too often in the opening stages. For me, that leads to further increases in blood sugar, making it harder to consume the carbohydrates needed later and reducing my muscles’ ability to clear lactic acid. The result, especially on climbs, is legs that feel like bags of concrete.
Riding on sensations
That sensation isn’t new. I’ve learned to play the cards in front of me when it comes to diabetes management and to avoid catastrophising the situation in my mind. Instead: accept, deal, and move forward. I kept chugging along until my CGM lost connection, this was likely due to the mud and moisture around the sensor attached to my stomach. Adding to the challenge, I’d left my bike computer at home in Hobart, still plugged into its charger. Suddenly, I was riding old-school, relying entirely on feel for both performance and health, this is not foreign to me. In a way, that enforced ignorance helped me stay present, managing my effort climb by climb. After all, this was how I’d ridden for 20+ years in years gone by, I have reasonable trust in my sensations.
Eventually, the sun emerged and temperatures rose in the valley. The drier conditions restored the connection to my CGM, confirming what I’d suspected: my blood sugar had dropped significantly. For me, that carries a sharp decline in power and a sense of disorientation. Fortunately, it’s a scenario I’m well practiced in managing. My backpack and jersey pockets were still stocked with high-carb snacks; jelly snakes, muesli bars and gels. This coupled with a short trailside stop helped restore some energy.
But you can’t rest, ride or eat your way out of a lack of fitness or strength. I kept turning the pedals, stroke by stroke, through the remaining hours and eventually returned to Gloucester, finishing within the time cut.
Reflections on the Thunderbolts Adventure
Ready for a milkshake and a kebab, the Thunderbolts Adventure had well and truly put me in the hurt locker, an oddly familiar sensation for endurance athletes, and one that becomes satisfying in retrospect. While pushing pedals for eight plus hours over mountains isn’t something I’d call “fun” these days, the post-race reward; a good feed and shared stories with mates, does make it worthwhile. Often, the real happiness lies in the reflection rather than the experience itself. Upon returning home and slotting straight back into Dad mode for our two boys under four, I quickly came to appreciate that, with perspective, riding a bike for 8 plus hours is really not that hard ;-).
Thunderbolts Adventure, with or without a chronic health condition, is an enormous challenge—and one well worth adding to any cyclist’s check list of pursuits.
