Saturday, June 6, 2026
Tenāc in Tuscany - Endurance Camp Recap
Touring and training in Tuscany with Tenāc — an athlete's perspective from the 2026 training camp based in Lucca, Italy.
New Roads: A Week in Tuscany
I've been training and racing on the bike for years, but I had never taken my riding overseas. When my coach Chad Beyer told me that Tenāc was organizing a camp in Lucca, Italy — his old training grounds from his years as a professional cyclist — it didn't take long to say yes.
I had been working with Tenāc for just under a year at that point. The coaching had already changed the way I thought about training, but I had no idea what a week in Tuscany would do to the way I thought about cycling itself.
Chad is a former world tour rider who spent roughly two years living in Lucca while competing at the sport's highest level, including racing the Giro d'Italia. His passion for the region is deep and personal, and it showed in everything from the routes he selected to the cafes he brought us to. This was not a generic European cycling tour — it was a homecoming, and we were fortunate enough to come along.
Our group of athletes was small and beautifully diverse. Four of us made it to the start line, a mix of riders across disciplines and age groups (20's to 70's). Six athletes had originally signed up, but life had other plans for two of them. The four who made it formed a tight bond quickly — the kind that develops naturally when you're grinding up mountain climbs together far from home.
Leading the whole operation was Jason Tullous, Tenāc's founder and head coach, who had organized and shaped the camp with a level of care and intentionality that was apparent from the first day. Together, Chad and Jason made sure that nothing about the week felt accidental.
The camp ran Sunday through Friday (not including travel days) — six days of riding across Tuscany and into the Apennine Mountains. The week demanded something in the neighborhood of 350 miles and 28,000 feet of climbing in total. The Giro d'Italia was running concurrently, which added an almost surreal backdrop to everything. We found ourselves watching the Giro every afternoon after returning from the day's ride — giving us even more to discuss at dinner each night.
Getting There, Settling In
One of the first things that stood out about the Tenāc experience was how cleanly the logistics were handled. A shuttle was arranged directly from Pisa International Airport (PSA) to Lucca, with space for bikes and luggage. For someone arriving in a foreign country with both luggage and a bicycle, that kind of seamless airport-to-hotel handoff removes an enormous amount of anxiety before the camp even begins.
Athletes had the option to ship their own bikes or rent locally (in my case, I rented). Those who rented had access to bikes through Taddei Bike Rentals, a well-regarded shop out of Santa Croce sull'Arno. The bikes they provided were S-Works Tarmac SL8s — elite-level race machines that were meticulously maintained and impressively lightweight. They were perfectly matched to the climbing we'd be doing all week. As you'll read shortly, Taddei also went far beyond their normal support in ways I won't forget.
Our home for the week was The Tuscanian, a boutique hotel tucked inside Lucca's ancient walled city. Set in a 17th-century palazzo just steps from Piazza San Michele, the hotel strikes a remarkable balance between timeless elegance and genuine warmth. The rooms were beautiful, the staff was consistently kind and helpful, and the breakfast buffet each morning — before heading out to climb — was everything you'd hope for in Tuscany: fresh, local, generous, and unhurried. We also dined at the hotel on a couple of evenings, enjoying classic Tuscan cuisine in the inner courtyard. All meals throughout the camp — breakfasts, dinners, cafe stops, and the occasional gelato — were included in the cost of the camp. The restaurants they chose were rooted in local cycling culture, the sort that have been feeding riders in this region for generations.
Life Inside the Walls
Lucca is one of those places that feels almost too good to be real. Founded by the Romans and layered with history across two millennia, the city is defined by one of the best-preserved sets of Renaissance-era walls in all of Europe. Those walls form a continuous loop around the entire old city — and rather than sitting behind glass, they're a living part of daily life: a wide, tree-lined public promenade where residents walk, run, and cycle. I spent a good part of my first day in the city walking the full circuit, watching everything unfold around me.
What makes Lucca charming beyond its architecture is the quality of the streets at ground level. Cobblestoned lanes, unexpected piazzas, towers peeking above the rooflines at every turn — the city rewards wandering. It's compact enough to understand in a week, but layered enough that it keeps revealing new things.
We arrived during a sort of Renaissance fair, which added a vivid layer of living history to the first few days. Medieval encampments lined the walls, knights marched through the city's streets, and cannons were fired that echoed off the stone. Later that afternoon, hundreds of Vespas from across Italy and across the decades came rolling through on a club parade. It was an opening act that set a wonderful tone for the unpredictability of the week to come.
The Dream Support Crew
No honest account of this camp would be complete without a proper acknowledgment of the people who made every day possible.
Alessandro of Asimismo served as our local guide throughout the week. Asimismo specializes in bespoke, boutique cycling tours of Tuscany — intimate rides crafted for riders who want to genuinely know the land they're moving through. Alessandro's deep knowledge of the region's roads, climbs, history, and culture elevated every ride in ways that were hard to quantify but impossible to miss. He knew when to stop and let a moment breathe, and when to push on.
Tommy from Z-Adventure Cycling provided fully-loaded SAG support on our biggest day. Tommy followed us all day in a support van stocked with drinks, nutrition, gear storage — and a fully operational coffee machine. He wasn't just a driver; he was an extension of the team, ready to respond to anything the road threw at us. As it turned out, he would play an absolutely critical role at the most pivotal moment of the week.
Our nutrition throughout the camp was supported by First Endurance, with bottles and fueling products keeping us properly loaded on every ride. For a week of this volume and intensity, having reliable nutrition locked in is one of those details that quietly makes everything else possible.
Day One: An Unexpected Start
The rest of the crew set out on a beautiful and challenging route just north of Lucca, featuring a series of steep climbs and techincal descents across both roads and bike paths.
My camp nearly ended before it began. My luggage — containing my cycling shoes, pedals, helmet, kit, and everything else I needed to ride — was lost somewhere in the airline system on the way to Italy. By the time the group was gathering for the first ride of the camp, my bag had still yet to be located.
This is where Taddei, Alessandro, and the Tenāc coaches stepped in without missing a beat. Within hours, they had sourced shoes, pedals, a helmet, kit, and glasses — enough to get me on my rental bike as soon as possible, and doing so on my behalf while I navigated both the airline systems and local laws surrounding lost luggage. The responsiveness and genuine care behind that effort meant a great deal. To have a team mobilize so quickly and cheerfully over a problem that was entirely outside their responsibility said something important about the character of everyone involved.
I spent the day wandering the city with no agenda. I walked the full circuit of the walls in the afternoon sun, taking in the city, the landscape, and the people. It was not the day one I had planned, but at times felt like a secret gift to spend a day fully dedicated to experiencing life both within and on the walls of Lucca.
Day Two: Switchbacks for Breakfast
By day two, thanks to Taddei's quick work, I was equipped and rolling. My bag was still missing, but I had what I needed to take on the second-hardest day of the week.
The route was a proper introduction to what Tuscan road riding actually feels like — relentlessly, joyfully demanding. We climbed a steep switchback stretch with views of the coast early on, which set the tone immediately. The switchbacks were technical, the views were stunning, and the effort was honest.
From there we tackled a long climb that ended through a tunnel almost a kilometer long — the kind of sustained effort that rewards patience. A cafe stop followed before one final kicker and a long false flat back into town.
Day Three: A Tale of Two Climbs
Day three brought two very different climbs and one spectacular bridge.
The first climb was steep and uncompromising — the kind of gradient that demands honesty about where you are in your fitness. The second was long and gradual, a sustained effort that rewarded pacing over power. In between came fast, flowing descents with views that seemed to go on forever, and a cafe stop in a creek-side town.
One highlight came near the end of the day. We stopped by the Ponte del Diavolo — the Devil's Bridge — an ancient stone arch that has spanned the Serchio River since the 11th century. It's beautiful, steep, and cobbled, and Jason climbed it on the 40mm tires he'd brought to camp.
Thankfully my bag finally arrived at Pisa airport, and that evening I was able to go pick it up.
Day Four: Wine, Views, and a Well-Earned Pause
Day four was the rest day of the camp — though in this context, "rest" is a relative term. We still climbed over 1,200 feet, but the pace was notably more relaxed. The intention of the day moved from training to experience. The route wound through some of Tuscany's many wine-growing regions, with views of vine-covered hillsides appearing around every bend.
Lunch was at Fattoria Al Dotto, a family-run estate just north of Lucca in Carignano. The farm produces its own wines and olive oil, and the tasting lunch — six pours paired with local food, overlooking the Lucca countryside from the hillside — was one of those meals you know immediately will stay with you. Alessandro took the opportunity to share more about local cycling culture and his own work at the intersection of cycling and photography.
We pedaled back to the hotel that afternoon a little slower, a little fuller, and quietly grateful. What lay ahead the next morning would demand everything we had.
Day Five: The Queen Stage
There are days in cycling you know, from the moment you wake up, are going to be something. Day five was that day.
Before we even made it out of town, the day announced its character. Within the first ten minutes of riding, another athletes Di2 electronic drivetrain battery went dead. In the wrong circumstances, that ends a ride entirely. But Tommy and Chad responded without hesitation. The group split — most of us continued with Alessandro while Tommy and Chad retrieved a charger, plugged it into the support van, and drove to catch us. Chad, being the former professional that he is, motor-paced the van on the way up to rejoin the group. By the time we reconvened, roughly an hour in, the bike was charged and we were all together and back on it. We rode the rest of the route without technical issues.
Then came San Pellegrino.
The climb is 8.1 miles long, gains 3,850 feet of elevation, and averages a 9.9% grade — with the final mile averaging over 13% and sections hitting 18%. There is nowhere to hide.
I had been looking for an opportunity all week to put in a true all-out effort. This was it. Chad rode with me for the entire 1 hour and 6 minute effort, providing a continuous stream of encouragement, coaching, and feedback — cadence cues, breathing reminders, honest assessments of what was left in the climb and where I was in relation to it. Having your coach immediately beside you as you test yourself through a brutal mountain effort is a privilege that is genuinely difficult to overstate.
The climb ends near a small mountain town with sweeping views of the Apennine Mountains. We sat there for a quiet few minutes, recovering and taking in the views we had earned.
Alessandro rerouted our descent to get ahead of significant rain moving over the mountains — another moment where his local knowledge quietly shaped the entire experience.
After a cafe stop, the second half of our day would take us through a canyon unlike anything I'd ridden before: a tight passage between towering mountains on both sides, a river running alongside the road the entire way, and lush greenery overhead that felt almost tropical. We stopped to touch the water for a minute, which only felt appropriate to fully take in the beauty around us.
Day Six: One Last Summit
The final ride of the camp had a different quality to it from the start. A lightness. A sense that we were finishing something together and ought to do it properly.
We made a late decision to swing briefly through Pisa and stop at the Leaning Tower. It was a short detour from our original route, and given how close we were, it felt like the kind of thing you'd regret skipping. We stopped, took a moment, took some photos, and moved on — glad we'd gone.
The main feature of the day was Monte Serra. Chad had described it as a climb that professional riders in the area use for 20-minute test efforts, and once we began ascending, it became immediately clear why: the gradient is steady and honest, traffic is minimal, the road surface is clean, and there's enough tree cover to keep the heat manageable. It has all the hallmarks of a great benchmark effort — predictable enough to pace well, demanding enough to test you.
The views from the top, looking out over Pisa spread below, were breathtaking. It was a fitting final vista for the last climb of the camp.
We descended back into town and thanked Alessandro for the week. It felt inadequate, but it was sincere. What he brought to the experience — the routing, the local knowledge, the culture, the photography, the conversation — was irreplaceable.
What Tuscany Taught Me
The climbs and the kilometers are easy to summarize. What's harder to put into words is what a week like this actually does to you.
You are stronger than you think, and the best way to find out is to stop thinking. There is almost always something to fixate on — how hard the next bit will be, how sore your muscles feel, how your nutrition could have been better. What I learned is that you can choose to keep running those calculations, or you can simply keep going. The limits we fear are almost always further than the limits we actually reach.
A coach provides so much more than a training plan. Riding alongside Chad and Jason for a week provided a kind of real-time feedback I couldn't have gotten any other way — body position, descending technique, breathing, recovery strategy, mental framing. Tenāc has always operated from a holistic support philosophy, but the sustained direct access of a full week together was something I hadn't experienced before. It was invaluable.
It gets better as you go. This was the most demanding week of training I have ever done, by a significant margin. There were mornings in the early days where I woke up genuinely uncertain whether my body had anything left for another big day. What I learned quickly was that the heaviness fades not long after you clip in. Changing my internal script from "this is going to hurt" to "I just need to warm up" sounds like a small thing. It is not.
Riding your bike in another country changes how you see the world. The diversity of what we experienced across six days — the terrain, the climbs, the descents, the road conditions, the towns, the culture — made everything feel a little larger. I came home wanting to visit more places on a bicycle. That impulse, I've come to think, is one of the sport's finest gifts.
A Camp Worth Every Kilometer
Tenāc delivered a genuinely VIP experience from the shuttle out of Pisa to the final descent into town. Every detail — the hotel, the routes, the cafe stops, the vineyards, the gelato, the coaching, the support — was thoughtfully chosen and executed with care. No two days felt the same, and every one had something distinct to carry home. The balance between training and cultural immersion was calibrated exactly right. Lucca as a base camp was inspired, and I now fully understand why Chad has been so passionate about returning here.
The partners and vendors who helped make this week possible deserve genuine recognition:
Taddei Bike Rentals — World-class rental bikes, immaculately maintained. And when my bag went missing, they went above and beyond to get me equipped and back on the bike. That kind of responsiveness is not easily forgotten.
Alessandro / Asimismo — A truly elite guiding experience. Alessandro's knowledge of Tuscany's roads and culture transformed every ride into something more than just a workout. If you're looking for a bespoke cycling experience in this region, look no further.
Tommy / Z-Adventure Cycling — Fully-loaded SAG support with the kind of initiative and resourcefulness that turns a potential disaster into a non-issue. The coffee machine in the van was a nice touch, too.
The Tuscanian — A beautiful, warm boutique hotel inside the walls of Lucca. Great rooms, excellent staff, and a breakfast spread that makes getting out of bed at 7am feel like a privilege.
Until Next Time
I came to Italy for a cycling camp and left with a shifted perspective on the sport, on what I'm capable of, and on what it means to experience a place from a bicycle seat.
I am already looking forward to the next opportunity to do something like this with Tenāc. If attending a future camp is something you've been considering, I'd encourage you to reach out — it was genuinely worth every penny.