The Saddle-Sore Solution

How I ride pain free

Guys, it’s finally happened. The final episode. The closing chapter. The end of the saga. That’s right: I’ve finally survived an ultra, my longest one yet, completely saddle-sore free.

Those of you who have been following my journey for a while know all too well that saddle pain has been my most long-standing and unforgiving nemesis when it comes to cycling bigger distances. No matter what I tried or whose advice I followed, my saddle remained intent on sabotaging every ride that ticked over 200km. This wasn’t so much of an issue in my early days of cycling, but as I’ve ventured further and further into the world of bikepacking and multi-day endurance events, it started to become a real pain in the butt*

I was particularly nervous when I published my last entry because I had some pretty big plans for the summer and was terrified that saddle pain would finally defeat me, provoking my first ever DNF.

Those pretty big plans happened to involve cycling 4,000km across Europe, covering distances in excess of 200km every day, for 20 days straight. That’s a lot of time to spend on a saddle for someone who is notorious for not being able to spend a lot of time on a saddle.

At the time of writing, it’s been exactly seven days since I dragged myself and my bike over the finish line in Northcape, an overwhelmed and uncontrollable sobbing mess, and I am beyond ecstatic to confirm that the only thing causing me pain was my severely depleted bank balance. I’d done it. Not only had I traversed eight countries, survived cumulative fatigue, and lived on a diet of custard pastries and chocolate milk – I’d done it all without crying about my bottom. If that’s not a victory, I don’t know what is.

So, how did I do it?

I’m not going to pretend that I found some magical solution, nor am I going to pledge that what worked for me will work for everyone; but what I will do is share an honest account of all the things I believe contributed to a happy heinie, and cross all my fingers and toes that someone, somewhere, is able to enjoy riding their bike a tiny bit further as a result.

Find a saddle that works for you and your anatomy

Let’s start with the basics. The saddle is the part of the bike you spend the most time in contact with, so of course it makes sense that it scores pretty highly on the comfort scale.

I recently changed my saddle to an Ergon SR, and I stand by the fact that it was one of the best adjustments I made ahead of the event. It has a platform that is much flatter than other saddles I’ve used in the past, meaning that my sit-bones perch a little higher, reducing pressure on the soft tissue – a small, but mighty difference.

Whilst I don’t believe that the saddle alone can solve all your problems, I do believe that it can single-handedly create them. That’s to say: finding a saddle that works for you is absolutely critical, but it’s only one piece of the puzzle. Do your research, speak to experts, and try as many as you need until you find ‘the one’.

Get out of the saddle. A lot.

Now that you’ve found the perfect saddle, make sure you don’t spend all your time sitting on it. One of the mistakes I made in a lot of my early endurance events was staying seated the entire time; this is mainly because it made me feel more confident handling a fully-loaded bike, but also because pedalling out of the saddle was exhausting.

One of my non-negotiables during Northcape 4000 – no matter how tired or exhausted or sleep-deprived I found myself – was to change my riding position frequently and consistently. Whether it was lowering onto my aerobars, getting out of the saddle whilst climbing, or lifting myself off the seat whilst descending, I made sure that the same part of my nether regions were never in contact with the same part of the bike for too long.

Something as simple as letting yourself ‘air out’ on descents makes a huge difference. Sure, you sacrifice some of the speed going down hills, but when the alternative is a potential DNF I know where my priorities lie…

Invest in a quality pair of bibs that can go the distance

The other thing that spends a hell of a lot of time in close proximity to the troubled body-part in question is your bib shorts. Again, I don’t believe there’s a one-size-fits all solution when it comes to kit; it takes a bit of trial and error to find something that works for you and your unique anatomy.

The recommendation is to make sure your bibs fit snug against your skin as any excess material can lead to the long-distance cyclist’s nightmare – chafing. The shape, material, and quality of the chamois is also a key component; some bibs market themselves specifically for endurance rides due to their advanced wicking abilities and thicker pads, but it’s still important to test whether they work for you in real-world scenarios before rocking up to the start line of your first ultra and praying the marketing jargon was true.

I personally choose to ride in Kostüme bibs and find them insanely comfortable over long distances – and apparently I’m not the only one!

Make sure your bike is tuned to your body, and be honest about what’s not working

The age-old and often unsolicited “get a bike fit” advice that floods the comment feed of anyone who’s ever admitted any discomfort on a bike, ever. Whilst the replies get old, the stance is sound. Throwing a significant chunk of change at a bike fit has become a routine part of preparing for any cycle event, but something less spoken about is the need to challenge things that don’t feel right.

Yes, we pay professionals to tell us how high our saddles should be, the ideal position of our cleats, and the recommended width of our handlebars, but whilst they may be experts in the science, we still remain experts in our own bodies.

I had a bike fit with Niel Copeland prior to Northcape 4000 and, as an experienced ultra rider himself, he knew exactly the type of problems I would suffer whilst on the road for that amount of time. Whilst I trusted his recommendations, he also trusted my feedback. Together, we made a bunch of changes – some more significant than others – that completely eradicated a lot of the issues I’d previously faced on longer events: stiff neck, lower back pain, toe numbness, and of course, the infamous saddle sore.

Find someone who knows their stuff, don’t be afraid to be explicit about what’s causing you discomfort (and where), and be honest when something doesn’t feel right.

Prioritise comfort over everything else

I’ve never been a weight-weenie when it comes to cycling so this wasn’t a hard lesson to learn, but it still deserves a place on the list.

When packing for events I often find myself apprehensive about the sheer amount of stuff and what that means for the overall weight of my bike that I’ll be having to self-power over hundreds of kilometres of (likely) hilly terrain. I go back and forth over my kit list a fanatic amount of times, debating where and what I’m willing to sacrifice. Then I give myself a stern talking to, remind myself of this point, and put everything back in the bag.

I’m never going to be at the pointy end of a race; I’m not fast, and I don’t want to be. My love of endurance comes from the sense of adventure, the personal challenge, and the experiencing of new things; if adding a little bit of extra weight means I’ll maximise my enjoyment, then that is 100% a race strategy I can get behind.

One of the new pieces of gear that I installed prior to this event was a Redshift suspension seatpost, and now I can’t ever imagine riding without it. The suspension helps to dampen any vibrations coming from the road surface, as well as absorb any larger ‘bumps’ from potholes or uneven ground – to the point where gravel feels like tarmac. This means that your backside moves with your saddle instead of against it, minimising all that lovely friction that comes from the movement between two static surfaces.

And all it cost me was 445g. Bargain.

It’s ok to drop the lycra

Due to my pretty traumatic history of saddle pain, I now like to have multiple contingencies should shit hit the fan. Something that I’ll never sacrifice from my packing list, no matter the distance, is a pair of super-light running shorts. These bad boys not only double up as sleep and evening wear, but give you an airy alternative should the bibs get a little overwhelming (or damp).

On nights where I slept outside, I would always start the following morning by riding in my running shorts (accompanied by a memory foam saddle topper). Then, when I stopped for my first caffeine hit of the day I’d use the cafe toilets to change back into my bibs and carry on as normal.

It may not sound like much, but allowing my body a couple of hours of direct access to cooling air helped prevent a build up of sweat and general stickiness – one of the main causes of saddle sore hell.

Wash everything, all the time

I developed somewhat of a militant routine during the 20 days I spent on the road: arrive at destination, eat, wash self, eat, wash bibs, eat, charge devices, sleep.

Washing myself and washing my bibs at the end of every day sometimes felt excessive and incredibly taxing, especially when every minute spent off the bike was a minute that could have been spent sleeping (or eating). All I wanted to do was crawl under the covers of another faceless hotel, but I knew I’d regret it the following morning when pulling on dirty bibs and feeling the first signs of the dreaded chafe.

Hygiene is so important on multi-day events, and is something that’s so easily neglected. I had intended to bivvy a lot more than I did during Northcape 4000, but the draw of a hot shower, sink, and towels for drying my kit ultimately outweighed my aspiration to be frugal – and I have no regrets.

There’s no need to beat around the bush

It’s often considered a taboo subject, but it needs to be said: hair ‘down there’ is a benefit, not a burden. By trying to prevent saddle sores we’re essentially trying to limit friction, and hair is an extremely effective and inexpensive(!) way to add an extra barrier between you and anything trying to cause you harm.

And just incase you’re too embarrassed to ask Google for more information, I’ll link you straight to an article that dives a little deeper into the details.

Stick a bandaid on it

And sometimes we can do all of the above and still a hot spot appears. On day four of my ride I noticed a small bump on the inner part of my groin that was starting to give me some discomfort. After some frenzied catastrophising, I took myself to the ferry bathroom, gave myself a quick wipe clean, and applied my new favourite miracle cure: a Compeed blister plaster.

Hear me out. This guy is like a second skin and doesn’t shift around like a regular plaster; he’s there to stay. The extra thick layer allowed me to continue riding whilst giving the hot spot time to heal without further irritation. Four days later, I prised off the dressing and everything was good as new.

For a last minute panic purchase, it was one of the best.

---

And there we have it. A quick(ish) rundown of everything I believe helped me survive 20 days of back-to-back riding without a single ugly cry dedicated to the state of my derriere.

Here’s to hoping the pain-free experience continues as I mull over my next life-affirming adventure…watch this space.

I’d love to hear about your own experiences with saddle pain, and any other tips for overcoming the dreaded chafe! If you know anyone who may benefit from this article, please feel free to share far and wide, or subscribe to my blog to be the first to hear about new updates

*Pun appreciation is welcome in the form of a slow clap