Lessons from the Divide

8 Unfiltered Lessons from the 2025 Tour Divide

(Update: After I posted this, I realized I’d missed one invaluable lesson - one that my kids reminded me about and of which I’ve reminded them repeatedly since I returned - see #8 below)

Since returning from completing the 2025 Tour Divide a few weeks ago, I’ve been reflecting on what I learned during the ride. The short answer? A lot. But I wanted to share a few thoughts in more detail - both for anyone considering the ride themselves and for those curious about what the experience was like.

What follows is a mix of things I got right, things I got wrong, and a few surprises I only discovered in the thick of it.

1. The Golden Trifecta: Eat, Drink, Sleep

Day 7 of the Tour Divide was my worst-ever day on a bike. I woke up already depleted physically and mentally, and following a brutal day it forced me to take a hard look at what I was doing wrong. (check out my video recap of the day for some raw thoughts on this). The answer was simple, but critical: I’d been neglecting the three fundamentals - nutrition, hydration, and recovery.

Nutrition: For too much of the ride, I fueled poorly - too much sugar, not enough complex carbs. I dragged a half-eaten jar of peanut butter from Banff to Del Norte, NM, before finally throwing it out. Lesson: fuel with purpose, not just calories.

Hydration: While I had plenty of water capacity, I often carried too much weight unnecessarily. Worse, I rationed my electrolyte tablets early on, which meant I was missing key nutrients. It wasn’t until I moved an electrolyte bottle within easier reach on my handlebars that I started correcting this.

Recovery: I underestimated how important sleep would be. After Day 7, I aimed to be off the road by 8:30–9:00 p.m. to give myself a solid 5–6 hours of rest. It wasn’t perfect - case in point: Abiquiu, NM, where I got only 3 hours of sleep after late-night bike repairs - but once I prioritized recovery, my performance and morale improved dramatically. When I got it wrong, my next day almost always sucked.

It took until much later in the ride before I started to more consistently get these things right, but once I did my experience became much better.

2. If in Doubt, Ride On

Notwithstanding my reflection on recovery above, the saying “make hay while the sun shines” resonates strongly with me as I think about some of my missed opportunities on the ride.

There were days when I stopped early, despite having more daylight and energy left (on day 10 it was as early as 5:30pm). Looking back, I regret not pushing on those evenings. I would also often waste time before actually going to sleep, so the "extra rest" didn’t translate into recovery.

Had I extended a few of those days by just an hour or two, I likely could have shaved a full day or more off my total time- without compromising sleep. Of course, this isn’t a hard rule. When I truly needed rest, I took it. But in hindsight, I wish I had capitalized more on the good days.

3. Ride Your Own Ride

This dovetails with my earlier reflections on recovery. Too often on the Tour Divide I allowed other peoples’ rides to influence my own - whether that be their pace, their decisions around when to start or end their days, their distance goal for the day, or any other aspect of things. I allowed the fact that I was “racing” the Tour Divide to cloud my perception of what was “good enough”, instead of focusing on what I intended at the outset - racing against my own capabilities.

At times this led me to think negatively about my performance or the respectability of my overall effort, and to not enjoy the incredible experiences as much as I might otherwise have.

Once I started to set that aside and just ride for myself, things got way easier, both physically and mentally. My days got better, I got better rest, I felt better about the ride, and I didn’t stew over comparing my ride to that of others.

4. Don’t Wait for the Next Meal

Never skip a good resupply opportunity. I never regretted stopping for food. I occasionally regretted not stopping at a viable place in favour of somewhere later that may or may not have turned out to be open.

A great example was right at the end of Colorado when I passed up the town of Platoro in order to push through to the next town - Horca - only to find everything there closed. I lucked out as the owner of the (very closed) Red Bear Haus saw me in their parking lot and graciously opened their store for me, but could have gone differently.

I got lucky at the Red Bear Haus in Horca, but I shouldn’t have needed that luck.

Moral of the story: if there’s food or supplies available and you're even thinking about stopping - do it. You’ll never regret having more food in your bag, but you might regret not stopping when you had the chance.

5. Do Your Research

In the six months leading up to the ride, I spent hundreds of hours researching the route, resupply points, lodging, water sources, road conditions, and likely repair scenarios. I created a detailed spreadsheet of hours, services, elevations, you name it.

I also customized my GPS route files to ensure turn-by-turn navigation was accurate, and I practiced basic bike repairs, including upgrades I installed myself. For anything unfamiliar, I pre-loaded guides and videos on my phone so I had offline help if needed.

This applied to my gear choices too. When snow hit in Idaho, I was able to ride through it comfortably. When the temperature spiked to 51C (124F) in New Mexico, I had enough water capacity.

Despite that, things still went wrong - but being 95% prepared meant I was rarely caught off guard. Some people might see this level of planning as overkill. For me, it made the ride smoother and less stressful.

6. Get Comfortable with Your Bike

I’m glad I put in multiple 150–250 km rides and an overnighter during training. These shakedown rides were essential in dialing in my setup and getting used to the 12–16 hour days I'd be facing.

That said, I wish I had sorted out my saddle setup earlier. I saw the issue coming, didn’t address it in time, and paid the price - early saddle sores that stuck around for the rest of the ride.

Overall, though, my setup worked well. There are a few things I’d change (check out my post-ride gear review and bike review for more on that), but I felt confident in my bike and comfort level for most of the journey.

7. Strong Plans, Loosely Held

I spent a lot of time building a daily riding plan - targets, possible camp spots, resupply options. But I also knew from the start that those plans might unravel immediately.

Sure enough, by Day 1, after experiencing heart issues as I entered British Columbia, I had to adjust my end-of-day target. From then on, I made decisions on the fly.

That big spike threw a wrench into my day one plans.

What made this work was all the preloaded knowledge. Because I knew the route so well and had options mapped out, I could adapt quickly and confidently.

I also leaned heavily on a beta version of an app called BikepackPro, by Matthew Trinneer. It let me analyze sections of the route in real time - distance, elevation, weather (including wind!), and road surface - making day-to-day decisions faster and easier.

Bottom line: make a plan, do the prep, but stay flexible. The Tour Divide will throw everything at you, and you’ll need to pivot often.

BONUS: 8. You Can Do Hard Things

An incident on day 1 nearly led to me hitting the SOS button on my tracker - my heart rate had soared to over 200 BPM, and had stayed there for the last 20 minutes. I was faint, dizzy, weak and scared. Then I thought about a video that my wife had sent me the day before I left. In it, my 5 year-old son simply said to the camera, “Daddy, you can do hard things.” Moments later my heart rate had dropped to 135. While it was still a touch high, I was able to get back on the bike and on the trail, and ended up riding another 100km that day, for a total of over 200km.

The message stuck with me.

On day 7 I was completely cooked after making a bunch of mistakes. I couldn’t ride up anything more than the most gentle hill, I was in a dark place mentally, and I was facing a big upcoming climb - no light at the end of the tunnel, at least for a while. I remembered the video: “Daddy, you can do hard things.”

As I hiked up large portions of a 7-hour, 60km climb in New Mexico in the pouring rain, hearing thunder all around, I thought: “Daddy, you can do hard things.”

It takes preparation and training. It takes stamina and mental fortitude that you might not know you have. You’ll need to find your “why” and the things that can motivate you to push through the lows.

But you can do hard things.

Final Thoughts

The Tour Divide pushed me harder - mentally, physically, and emotionally - than anything I’ve ever done. But I also found joy, resilience, and pride in ways I didn’t expect, and while this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, it’s also one of the most rewarding.

If you're planning to ride it yourself: do the work, know your why, and prepare to adjust.

If you're just here for the story: thanks for following along - it means a lot. This ride changed me, and I hope some part of this helps you on your own adventure, whatever form that takes.