I expected my body to protest. It began with a three-part barrage of cramps that surged across my lower limbs in paralysis of all forward progress: As I staggered up the steepest section of the whole course, a painful stab seized my right IT band while another twisted knots into my groin, followed by an aftershock rumbling across the left thigh for good measure.

A fervent bicycle culture has seen rapid development in Bhutan. Its northern border with Tibet runs along a treacherous seam of the Eastern Himalayan mountain range, which has historically protected the Switzerland-size country from outside influence and fortified it as one of the only nations in the world to never be colonized. This geographic and political isolation has long delayed Bhutan’s modernization. The cycling culture has grown thanks to the bike-crazy former Druk Gyalpo, or Dragon King, who spends his days cruising trail networks throughout the mountains. Bhutanese citizens idolize the royal family, often wearing lapel pins with the current king’s handsome sideburned portrait.

“My goal has always been to create a world-class cycling event in Bhutan,” His Royal Highness Prince Wangchuck said. “For someone who is a believer of healthy living, cycling is a very important sport to promote national happiness.”

The roadside scenery alone was enough to warm the heart, with hydropowered prayer wheels spinning beneath canopies of colorful prayer flags and wrinkled old women smiling toothless smiles as they shyly waved to passing cyclists. The landscape is so lush and green (over 70 percent of Bhutan is still covered in forest) that the hillsides explode with dense treetops resembling ripe heads of broccoli. It’s a constant collage of enchanted scenery.

At 10 hours into the race — after a bleary-eyed 2 a.m. start, a headlight dying prematurely in the dark, gravelly mud caked inside my eyelids and the onslaught of cramps as I pedaled through the upper end of a 50-degree temperature swing — I found it hard to smile. My achy legs felt like bags of concrete. My seizing lower back muscles were on the verge of snapping. My neck and shoulders were so fatigued that I couldn’t even hold my head up to see where I was going. I had already doubled the distance of my longest training ride, and I was starting to look for a place to pull over and rest, or maybe just quit.