Racing Dust and Dreams - Luisa Keller at
The Traka 200.

Words by Luisa Keller

Only weeks after tackling The Hills, I found myself lining up for my second-ever gravel race—The Traka in Girona. It’s not just another event on the calendar; it's Europe’s most iconic gravel gathering, drawing thousands to this sun-soaked town nestled against the foothills of the Pyrenees. Riders from all over the world arrive early, soaking in the vibe, exchanging stories, tuning gear—and sizing up the competition. From elite pros to well-known bike personalities, Girona becomes the epicenter of gravel culture for one electric week.

I chose the 200 km loop. A distance that draws a deep, competitive field. It’s a course known for its raw, technical terrain—brutal in the dry, even more savage in the wet. You’re either dust-choked or knee-deep in mud. There’s no in-between. Picking the right setup is more than marginal gains—it’s survival. I trusted in the HUNT Proven Race XC UD Carbon Spoke 29" wheels: light, stiff, and unshakably reliable. Up front, a 50 mm mid-profile tire; rear, a 45 mm for a bit more roll and less drag.

It was my first start in the elite field—and you could feel it from the gun. Fast, tight, elbows-out kind of racing. Five kilometers of neutral asphalt gave way to a narrow gravel path, and things got chaotic quick. Bars tangled, bodies bumped—but somehow, I came through unscathed. On the first climb, the group began to string out. The front row disappeared into the dust, and new packs began to form.

I had a solid nutrition plan—900 grams of carbs dialed in, mostly loaded in my hydration pack. But without clear visibility into how much I’d actually drunk, I ended up under-fueling by about 120 grams. Rookie mistake. Lesson learned: water in the pack, carbs in gels. Keep it simple.

By kilometer 125, I was still riding strong in a solid group. But then the wheels (figuratively) came off. The dreaded bonk hit hard. Suddenly, I was alone, legs heavy, mind slipping. Every pedal stroke became a battle. The terrain didn’t let up: steep climbs, loose gravel, baked-in ruts, creek crossings, technical downhills. With only 12% asphalt, there’s zero room to zone out. Stay sharp or kiss your race goodbye.

After 8 hours and 21 minutes, I crossed the finish line—33rd overall, 3rd in my age group. Wrecked, dusty, elated. I gave everything I had. And even though there were moments mid-race where I thought, “Never again,” I caught myself thinking the next morning: “What if I try the 360 km next year?”

Through it all, my setup never flinched. The bike and wheels handled the abuse like champs. On those bone-rattling sections, I was thankful—again and again—for the confidence my gear gave me.

The Traka lived up to the hype. A relentless, beautiful, soul-stretching experience. I suffered—but I smiled through the suffering. And I’ll be back.

What makes this journey even more meaningful? I’m not just racing for myself. I’m a mother, too—juggling training, racing, and recovery alongside the joys and chaos of raising a little one.

Balancing ambition with motherhood isn’t easy, but it makes every finish line that much sweeter.