Older But Faster: Beating My PB at the Mallorca 312 – My 7th Time at the Start Line
by James Walsgrove
The alarm went off at the usual 3:45am and, as ever, my first thought was: here we go again. There’s something oddly comforting about knowing what’s ahead… until you remember that what’s ahead is 312km of pain, sweat, and the occasional existential crisis on two wheels.
This year marked my seventh time taking on the Mallorca 312, and while the course stays the same, the experience never quite does. We began the pilgrimage to the start line at 4:40 am, shuffling through the dark streets of Playa de Muro in search of a good spot. It’s early, it’s cold, and it’s still pitch black—with thousands of riders quietly buzzing with nervous energy. The low murmur of conversations, the occasional hiss of a pump, and the flicker of bike lights cut through the darkness. There’s a strange camaraderie in the stillness—everyone waiting patiently to launch into a day that promises challenge, chaos, and a fair bit of suffering.
With my famously weak bladder, I always come prepared… and let’s just say the wide-neck bottle came in handy once again. As if that wasn’t awkward enough, the “zero chance of rain” forecast turned into a full-on downpour. Great for masking bottle sounds, not so great for dry kit. Poor Sharon didn’t quite know where to look.
Being a slightly bigger rider, the opening climbs are never my strong point. I tend to suffer quietly (okay, sometimes not-so-quietly) as the whippet climbers dance past. But once we hit the descent off Puig Major, it’s a different story. Let’s just say gravity becomes my friend. “Not many overtook me on the way down—though I did spot one guy in a white jersey and brown shorts… not sure they started off brown!”
You start to recognise people during the ride—those familiar faces you pass and get passed by again and again. One guy in particular stuck in my mind thanks to his full-face road helmet. I’d never seen one before, and every time he appeared beside me, I couldn’t help but think of Hannibal Lecter. Let’s just say it kept me pedalling.
This year, my nutrition strategy was the best it’s ever been. No gut issues, no bonking, just consistent energy all day long. A big thanks to Precision Hydration for their products and to Kate McCloud for the event-specific nutrition guide. Having a solid plan really does make all the difference.
In the second half of the ride, there are some golden opportunities for drafting. I did my fair share of pulling, but I also got a decent tow at times. There was one moment on a long, flat stretch where I realised someone had been tucked behind me for miles. I gave the universal flick of the elbow. No reaction. Slowed slightly. Still there. Either he didn’t speak the international language of cycling, or he was just in it for the free ride.
My external battery pack died earlier than expected, forcing me to switch the Hammerhead into power-saving mode—basically leaving me with a blank screen! Not ideal, right? But actually, it wasn’t the end of the world. I often encourage riders to go more by feel once the event is underway. It’s helpful to watch your numbers early on to avoid going out too hard, but after that, trusting your training and instincts can be more powerful. In fact, having too much data can sometimes be distracting or even counterproductive. Stripping it back can really help you tune in—especially when you’re deep into an endurance event and all the beeps and numbers start to blur together.
Reaching Arta felt like arriving at the finish line, even though it’s still 30km from the actual one. The party atmosphere there is more Magaluf —free beer, music, cheering crowds, and Coke (the drink, not the other kind). Spirits lifted, it was time for the final push.
I felt strong all day and only stopped for a total of 9 minutes—by far the most efficient I’ve ever been at the 312. That comfort and consistency is 100% down to the training. There’s no substitute for putting in the work. When the day comes, it always pays off.
The last 30km back to Playa de Muro is flat, fast, and mentally tough. I held on, kept pushing, and finally crossed the line with an official event time of 11 hours and 21 minutes—a personal best by nearly 30 minutes.
So yes, I’m getting older—but I’m also getting smarter, stronger, and faster. Seven editions in, and I’m still learning, still improving, and somehow still loving it. It just goes to show that age isn’t the limiter. It’s the training, mindset, and the right nutrition that makes the difference.
And finally… a surprise ending.
Despite feeling good all day, the moment I crossed the line and the adrenaline dropped, I suddenly started to feel cold and a bit rough. I tried to eat and drink something but it didn’t go down well—and promptly came back up. Next thing I know, I’m being told I need an anti-sickness jab… and before I could protest, I had my bib shorts pulled down and got jabbed right in the buttocks. Not quite the finish I had in mind—but hey, it worked. I felt a lot better afterwards. Nothing like a surprise mooning to round off a big day in the saddle!
Will I be back in 2026?
Most likely… these epic days have a way of pulling you back in. Seven down. Who’s counting?
Are you looking to ride the event in 2026?
👉 Register your interest for the Mallorca 312 Training Academy hereYou’ll get early reminders, registration advice, and exclusive preparation support.
