Wittering on suffering - Autostrasse Porsche RR 14th April 2013

Cycling has taken me many places over the years. I have skirted stone walls and precipitous drops screaming down mountain passes too fast, having suffered the sustained near suffocation of climbing to the top. I have ridden through Berber villages and sated my hunger with the drifting aromas of various tagines. I have ridden 170 miles solo as a 21 year old, and suffered the early stages of hypothermia above the mythical climb of Alpe D’Huez. I have enjoyed sun soaked rides in many countries of the world. And I’ve fallen and broken bones, and sustained more cuts and bruises than I can recall.  I have been lucky enough to race; to compete; and to have some success. And to suffer. Or at least I thought I had suffered until last Sunday…

Last Sunday was the Autostrasse Road Race. An E123 race penciled in for 75 miles. Sunday was by far the warmest day so far in 2013 after a torrid start to the year. Temperatures touched 21’c and the sun shone all day. It was stunning. I hardly noticed. What I did notice was the wind. Jeez the wind was blowing. Two things I know about racing in Suffolk; 1) It is not as flat as you imagine, and 2) despite this if the wind is up there are some hellishly exposed roads.  I knew the circuit based nr Somersham having ridden it a couple of years ago. This wasn’t to help me.

Approximately 60 riders lined up for the start including a good showing from IG Sigma Sport, and a handful of other domestic pro riders. These were the men who would shape the race. The first lap was hellishly fast. Attack after attack after attack. Thankfully I was relatively well position about halfway up the bunch and avoided the fate of the 20 or so riders who were dropped on the very first lap. The circuit is a tricky combination of uphill finish, drag over the top, left turn into a huge head/cross wind main road section, followed by a twisty narrow fast section to the bottom of the climb again. 11 laps were in the offing. The bunch was strung out single file by IG along the main road in the cross wind with everyone sat in the right hand gutter. It felt incredibly dangerous.

Shortly after beginning the second lap and turning onto the main road I spotted a light someway in the distance. It was one of those new LED ones and looked like a cyclist. True to the previous lap the race was all about the right hand gutter. I was still groveling at this point, but this light played on my mind and I remained vigilant given where we were all riding! Very quickly about 3 riders in front of me I saw that the light belonged to a motorcycle, who was by now stationary. It looked to me as if it was inevitable someone was going to hit him, and sure enough a split second later someone did exactly that. I can recall seeing the rider flying 6ft up in the air, as my sub-conscious made me bail for the left hand gutter. I somehow managed to avoid the bits of flying carbon, and carried on. It was a nasty crash and I was surprised to learn that the rider who came off was ok. Sadly the motorcycle rider was not and ended up in the back of an ambulance.

The race was stopped on the second lap as the police and emergency services were now in attendance at the crash. We waited for about 20 minutes, but after a stern talking to from the Commissaire we were under way again. Experience told me that the race was bound to split and so I made a real effort to move up a bit. And sure enough it did split on the following lap. Initially I missed the move, and it took a massive limit effort to grab the last wheel going, of the 20 or so who made the front group. IG drove hard over the next couple of laps to cement the advantage. The cross/headwind section was murder as the 50-70W advantage of the Elite boys could not be negated by sitting in the bunch to anything like the same effect as usual. But I clung on.

When the attacks returned it was unsurprisingly IG who were the main protagonists.  The race split and reformed several times, before the elastic finally snapped and a group of 5/6 went up the road. As is often the way this merely created more attacking and more mayhem in the group behind, and it soon splintered into 4 separate groups. Through a combination of tactical astuteness and incredible power I was in the rearmost group by the skin of my teeth! There were 5 of us, and I was relieved to find that everyone was willing to work to try and find our way back into the race, or at least not to be caught by those who were (presumably) still riding behind. Unlike the TV trying to keep track of who is where, and at what gaps is very difficult when racing, and more difficult when you are about to expire!

What ensued was a horrendous chase over the next 20 miles or so. To be fair the group worked well together, and despite my best poker face I assume I looked as totally fucked as I felt. On some of the more open stretches we could see that some of the front groups had come together. Then it looked as if we were pegging their lead. And finally we started to close them down. Eventually we got into the cars behind them and the race was back together. Of course, the re-grouping merely prefaced another bout of ridiculous attacking which lead to the race quickly splitting again, and the eventual lead group forming. We were left with 9 in our group including one of the IG boys. I sort of lose track of what happened after this in what I can only presume is oxygen-deprived amnesia.

The abridged version is that attacks came and went. I yo-yoed on and off the group a couple of times in the harder times, but always got back. Oxygen debt is a funny old thing and it is why (for me at least) I can’t achieve the same heights in training as I can in a race. It hurts; A lot. Your legs scream at you (obviously) but they are accompanied in a compendium of pain by your searing lungs, aching chest, and a subconscious shouting “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO ME!!?!?!?” constantly. It takes a substantial mental effort to ignore all of these obvious physiological pointers and to keep driving on. I suspect I was within 10-15 seconds of totally blowing – the point at which you body finally calls “time” – on 5-6 occasions, but I managed to hold on. But, God it hurt.

Having decided I could probably hang on until the finish I took at least my fair share of the workload in the last few laps. I was determined to make the best of this best-of-all training sessions. Any result would simply be a bonus. I was more than delighted to hear the bell for the last lap. I say hear, as I couldn’t see it as I only really had tunnel vision by this point. I knew that if I could make it down the main road for the last time I would finish. I ended up getting bunged on the front more than I ought to have done but largely kept riding. I realized with about 3km to go that I was going to be “leading out” the sprint. I had figured long before that I would not have any legs to compete up the finishing climb, but set myself an objective of not finishing last in the group. I failed in this objective , and flew over the line in 20^th place. A point! A solitary point. And yet never has a point been so hard earned. I shall cherish it to the end of the year! Incidentally the race was won by James Moss of IG Sigma Sport.

This was the hardest ride I have ever had after 20 odd years of riding a bike. My heart rate AVERAGED 179bpm for over 2 ½ hours. I was deep into the red so many times I lost count. So what have I learned? Well, I learned that I can push harder, and go deeper than I ever thought, and be broadly competitive against riders who are both significantly younger, and a lot more talented than I am. I learned that I am again riding towards the top end of 2^nd Cat – and it’s early in the season (this is supported by the numbers I’m seeing in training). And I learned that cycling continues to provide me with new challenges, new highs and new lows. Roll on next weekend. 

Pinching myself at The Beaumont Trophy

Beaumont Trophy July 1st 2012. 108 miles Premier Calendar E12 

It feels like I am currently riding at a decent 2^nd Cat level, but probably no better than that. I have been riding a few E123s with the goal of stretching myself, so that when I step down to 234 I should be right at the top. And so it was that I found myself on the start line on Sunday 1^st July for the Beaumont Trophy. The Beaumont Trophy is one of 8 Premier Calendar events in the UK, one of the oldest races in the UK, one of the toughest races in the UK, and as such attracts every man and his dog that is “a bit handy” on a bike. The experience was surreal, incredible, overawing, and ranks amongst the memorable things I’ve ever done on a bike.

Back up a couple of days to the Leazes Criterium. I hate crits. I have never been any good at crits, and so it was with some trepidation that I was stood on the start line having been caught behind a crash last year and subsequently coughed my lungs up trying to get back on. For once I found myself in a decent position and to cut a long story short I rode at or near the front the whole race, and by the standards of crits, didn’t feel too bad. I managed to choose the wrong wheel on the last lap and ended up ninth. Truth be told I probably “deserved” better but that, of course, counts for nothing.

Back to Sunday morning and I line up with 130 others for the Beaumont Trophy. There were 5 other 2^nd cats on the start list. The majority of the riders were Elites, with a few first cats hoping to make a name for themselves, so I was sure I was at or near the bottom of the pile and the very best outcome I can hope for is a really tough day out.

This is the first full-on closed roads road race I have been a part of – closed roads are loads of fun btw.  There were a dozen police bikes, two police X5s, and 20 odd National Escort Group motorcycles, in addition to a dozen team cars, and numerous other hangers on. In other words; a proper peloton with a proper caravan. As you can imagine this is similar to a decent Sunday leaguer all of sudden finding himself on the pitch at Wembley. The whole thing just felt surreal to be honest, and to say I felt out of my depth would be an enormous understatement. 

As I stood on the startline I found myself immediately behind a short-arsed Yorkshire bloke holding court amongst the other riders. That’ll be Russell Downing then. The very same Russell Downing who rode for Sky last year. The same Russell Downing that completed the 2011 Giro D’Italia. No matter he was just one rider amongst many, and he didn’t look that lean to me – probably put a bit of weight on since Sky I guessed…. Wrongly.

I looked to my left and there was Marcin Bialoblocki the guy I had watched winning one of the Tour Series events on the TV the previous week. Further across on my right is Russell Hampton – 3^rd in the National Championships the previous weekend.  The 100% ME riders all looked significantly younger than pants I own, but as our future Olympians they all have proven pedigree. And so it went on….. Psyched out? Me? You fucking bet I was.

And so we rolled out to the applause of a couple of hundred spectators, and the excited tones of the commentator on the enormous finishing gantry. I couldn’t see the massive train of cars behind the race, nor the riders behind me (looking backwards in a bunch generally being a pretty bad idea) but I would guess I was sitting in the last 20 or so. As we go up the climb I find myself sandwiched between Russells Downing and Hampton, and thinking to myself “I’m SO in the wrong place”.

The first lap of the large circuit resulted in us all getting a huge soaking, and me enjoying sprinting out of every corner from a near standstill to get back in to the bunch. It was tough, but probably no tougher than any other road race I have been part of. The Beaumont Trophy contains a climb called the Ryals. I know the Ryals well as the roads of Northumberland are where my love of cycling was ignited, and later consummated. It is a nasty thing with a long drag to the base and then two 20% ramps to the top. As we approached the bottom of the climb I have never known a bunch ride with such anticipation (or perhaps it was fear?).

We were fanned out 8-10 wide across the road going not very quickly at all.

As we hit the first ramp there was a NEG rider stopped in the left hand lane, stood in front of his motorcycle with his arms spread wide blowing a whistle. Everyone was being funneled into the right hand lane, and being at the back of the bunch that meant going slower and slower and slower. A couple of the other guys unclipped their feet from their pedals they were going so slowly. So I started the hardest climb I have ever raced up, and one of the steepest climbs in the North East from more or less a standstill. Great, just perfect.

As we all started riding again I went straight into the red of course. I got over the first ramp in bad shape, but on the wheel of the guy in front, and firmly part of the peloton. I was now in a desperate struggle to try and stage some sort of recovery for the second ramp whilst holding the wheel in front. As with all recovery time it passes much too quickly and we hit the second ramp with me still in oxygen debt. Looking ahead I see that the bunch has split and the hammer is well and truly down at the front. The second ramp is a bit of a blur but I crested the climb just about in touch with the wheel in front. As the bunch accelerated I felt the wheel in front slowly and inexorably slip away.

I knew I had to try and ride within myself and recover if I am to have any chance of getting back on, and I was joined by another chap. I did a good kilometer on the front and after a couple of flicks of the elbow he comes through. He’s in worse condition than I am and so after a hundred metres or so I go back to the front, as the caravan of cars begins to come past us. No sticky bottles or sit-ins are forthcoming from the team cars. We’re on our own…

I think he does one more turn before he disappeared backwards leaving me to chase on my own. The road back to the start/finish is gently undulating but I had a cracking tail wind so at least I felt that I was shifting along. I was pretty much spun out in my 50x11 and was doing over 35mph most of the way back. In doing so I was getting further and further behind the bunch. Thinking about it with hindsight, a 2^nd cat who can’t time-trial has precisely zero chance of catching a bunch of Elites and 1^st cats who themselves are chasing a split peloton. Still, there was no way I was going to climb off.

I go through the start/finish line to a decent ripple of applause and continue my lonely furrow. A handful of miles later I pass a couple of the NEG riders marshalling a junction. One accelerates past me and the other pulls up along side; “We’ll stay with you as long as you’re ok” he says.  “It’s a bit late for that!” I retort. For the next 15 miles I have my own private escort. I figure I’m going to make the most of it so I sprint out of every corner, punch my way up every climb, and grovel my way up the long drag into what has become a raging headwind. As I approach the bottom of the Ryals the NEG leave me to my suffering and I endure the climb for the second time. I power my way back to the finish milking the tailwind for what it is worth, and am in two minds about whether to continue for another lap.  As I hit the small climb shortly after the finish there is a slow moving police car almost blocking the road. I make my way around it, and spot a good friend of mine walking on the right hand side of the road. This surely is a sign and I ride up behind him and we start chatting. I’m done.

Unashamedly and brutally I found both the limit of my current fitness, and arguably my talent. I was a long way from being competitive at this level (even taking into account the lingering illness that had seen me off the bike most of the previous week) and found myself questioning what I’m sacrificing myself for. I guess the answer to that is not to ask the wrong question. I am too old, and not talented enough to be a pro. This is not news. I am not committed enough to get to Elite level even if it were possible. No, in many respects this just confirmed what I already knew, and cemented my pre-existing goals. I wanted to ride a Premier Calendar event this year. I have now done so. I also wanted to make first cat. I still think that is possible, albeit difficult. Next week I step back down to 234. Nothing worse than top 5 will be acceptable and I’ll be gunning for better than that.  The Beaumont Trophy of 2012 meanwhile will leave an indelible impression on me.

Russell Downing winning the Beaumont Trophy 2012. For a full report of the race at the sharp end and the best cycling reporting in the UK check out VeloUK.net

Not getting a kicking by the bigger boys

Central RR Championships E123 82 miles

My 6^th race of the season, and first E123, was the divisional champs, run over 3 laps of a larger circuit, and 21 laps of the short circuit featured in the Andy Morrison Memorial race a couple of weeks ago. There was a full field of 80 riders, including a number of full time pros so I was fully expecting a tough race.  My intention was to sit in the middle of the bunch and try and hold on to the finish. As it turned out the race was significantly less difficult, and certainly less attritional than several of the races I had already ridden this year.

The race came at the end of a tough training week. At this time of year I don’t cover hundreds of miles, but will try and get one 3-4 hour ride in and supplement with various interval sessions.  This served me well last year, and I lined up feeling more confident than I have done so far this year.

The first three laps of the larger circuit went in a bit of blur. There were a couple of very fast sections where the bunch got drawn out, and there was plenty of attacking but from my vantage point it was all pretty straightforward. A break of 6 did establish itself shortly before we moved to the smaller circuit, and I believe survived into the later stages. One of the things that you are often blissfully unaware of sat in the middle of the bunch is exactly who is going up the road, how many groups are away, who has been caught etc etc.

I was moderately concerned about the longer distance but as it turned out this was not really an issue. The 21 laps passed quickly and fairly easily really, with various attacks coming and going and with me showing no interest in getting into any of them. I felt pretty strong, with good legs, but was content to ride my way round to the finish for what inevitably seemed like being an almighty bunch sprint.

As we approached the last lap I would guess that there were at least 50 and perhaps 60 left in the bunch. The pace was pretty fast and so moving up the bunch was difficult. I was sat perhaps 1/3 of the way down the bunch but used the climb to move up a little (at 22mph it turns out!). As we swung into the long finishing straight it was a cross to head wind and so the bunch was lined out in single file. The break looked likely to get caught but managed to hold on by about 5 seconds. I felt as if I had all the legs in the world but managed to get a particularly unattractive wheel and was badly boxed. As the sprint wound up I found myself freewheeling unable to find any space, and never really got the afterburners lit. I rolled over the line somewhere in 20^th position. 

I am in something of two minds looking back. Firstly that a top 20 in the divs is a reasonable result, and one that I would have been happy with on the start line. And secondly wondering what might have been. It’s an odd sensation being involved in a sprint without actually really sprinting. In the final analysis I guess my key takeaway is that I am in decent enough shape to get round a E123 race, and should now be pushing towards top 3 and winning in 234. This all bodes well for the rest of the season, and my 1^st cat licence feels like it ought to be attainable with continued hard work and a bit of luck along the way.

Some sun at last - Surrey League Road Race (Farnborough & Camberley) 13th May 2012

It felt slightly odd lining up in the afternoon of the 13^th May with the sun shining and the temperature a frankly barmy 16’c. The latest round of the Surrey League was held over 12 laps of the Cutmill circuit and I had a degree of forewarning that it was another reasonable tough circuit. There were two main challenges. 1) there isn’t a lot of flat in it, including a long drag up to the finishing climb, and 2) the deadest of dead turns covered in gravel which lead straight into a two step climb which in turn lead to a 40mph descent.

For the second time in as many weeks a break went almost from the gun that included 4 riders. As alluded to above there was not a lot of rest on the circuit and the race was characterized by almost non-stop attacking, and a resultant yo-yoing of the pace throughout. The break continued to push on going out to a lead of about two minutes by halfway and it felt like it was pretty much game over. As the race went into it’s second half the attacks became more sustained and tended to feature the stronger riders left near the front. As they did so the break started to come back with the gap falling 15-20 seconds per lap.

Truth be told I felt pretty rubbish throughout, although ironically the climb provided probably the easier part of the circuit for me.  I certainly didn’t feel in any danger of getting dropped, but nor did my legs ever feel like they were totally with me, and I suspected that in the last lap burn up the climb I might run out of gas. The penultimate time through the finish the break had come in to about 45 seconds and the hammer went down at the front of the bunch. I had managed to contrive to get myself about 20^th or so position and so found myself struggling to make it into even the second group that formed. I had to put in a monster effort over the top to get into a group of 4 chasing a much stronger group of 6. It took a really hard chase of 3 or 4 miles to reel them back in which inevitably took it’s toll on everyone.

There was a more substantial regrouping on the downhill into the bottom of the final climb and the break was down to perhaps 10-15 seconds as we hit the bottom turn. Ironically this was the nail in the coffin for the chase as everyone assumed the job was done and sat up for the lower part of the finishing climb, as Will Hayter attacked the break and went on to take the victory.

For my part I didn’t feel like I had the legs to take the bunch “sprint” but rode near to the front, and got a couple of lucky breaks which allowed me to move up the very inside to sit in third wheel as we hit the final ramp. It kept feeling as if someone would come round me, and I was pretty much maxed out trying to hold the wheel of a London Phoenix rider. The jump eventually came on the far right and I had nothing left to go with it. In the end I could only watch as the wheel in front inexorably inched away from me, helpless to prevent it in a way that spectators never understand. Although I only needed to push “a little but harder” I was spent and my legs begun to cramp in the last 50 metres or so. A photo will presumably appear on the internet at some stage which will betray quite how painful it was!

Anyway, I trundled across the line 6^th in the bunch and 10^th overall, which with hindsight is a reasonable enough result and lands a few more points. At least I am at a reasonably competitive stage, although there is a good deal more work to do if I am to progress this season. Next week is the divisional champs, and a good excuse to get a proper kicking from so

Dull race, dull racer? - Andy Morrison Memorial Road Race - 5th April

It was a strange race on Saturday for a couple of reasons. 1) It was (surprisingly) only 40 miles long (must pay more attention to start sheets) 2) I managed to win the 60-strong bunch sprint despite feeling pretty lousy for most of the race. It was an early, cold, but bright start on Saturday in stark contrast to the previous weeks’ racing. Since the previous Sunday’s race I had felt pretty under the weather. I’d managed a couple of half decent interval sessions, and a pretty awful 60 miler over the previous 5 days but I didn’t line up with a whole lot of positive feeling.

The Andy Morrison Memorial Road Race is held over a 2 and a bit mile loop nr Cranfield University. The course has a 40mph descent followed by a long drag back to the top of the circuit, and a slightly undulating finishing straight. Repeat 18 times bringing to a slow boil. Truth be told it was a pretty dull race, that yours truly rode in a pretty dull way. The climb is the only place where things might split but it was a raging headwind and the bunch screamed round the rest of the circuit hovering up I don’t know how many wanabee attackers. Richard Simmons did manage to get clear early on, and was eventually joined by two other attackers with about 2 laps to go.  These three would go on to battle out the win.

I could talk you through the first 17 laps from my perspective but I’m not sure even I could stay awake long enough to tell it, so wouldn’t give you a lot of chance of staying awake long enough to read it. Suffice to say I spent my time following wheels and doing very little. The fact that over 60 riders started the last lap in the bunch tells you all you need to know about how hard (or otherwise) the race was. I started the lap towards the back of the field and held station on the fast descent.

As we turned left and begun the climb I positioned myself on the right hand side of the road and started to make progress. There was an attack near the bottom of the climb which served to string things out a little, and I was feeling alright and continued to ride up the outside of the bunch without exerting myself unduly. As the attack was caught there was the inevitable easing and I moved into the top 5. As we hit the turn Henry Latimer took it up and drove hard out of the turn onto the finishing straight. He would hold the front all the way to the last 100m.

With about 600m to go, I managed to get myself into third wheel over the next 3-400m. For the first time in the race I felt pretty good, and had that wonderful feeling of waiting to kick, but floating along holding the wheel and waiting. The last 200m had a slight downhill, with the last 100m or so being slightly uphill. It was in a crosswind so I thought it best to leave the jump a little later than normal. I kept expecting someone to come round me on the right, so was hyper alert to it. No one did. Instead the guy in front of me went on the left. This was it, and I kicked hard to Henry’s right. I remained in the saddle as I pulled level with him, and kicked again. I hit the front still seated and continued to power on crossing the line in 4^th place. This was probably the biggest bunch sprint I have won since coming back to the sport, and I can’t recall the last time I finished outside the top 3 in any sprint I have contested. I guess I can sprint a bit.

In some respects though this race left me a bit cold. Although it’s nice to finish well, I rode the race in a very negative way. I didn’t really learn a lot, nor did I stick my nose in the wind to make it difficult for myself, and look to improve. Last weekend was an infinitely more edifying ride. I guess in some respects that’s cycling I suppose. The history books record the results, but the mind and body record the experience in far more granular detail than words and numbers ever can.

Another wet day at the office - Reading CC RR 29th Apri

Having pestered the organizer all week for the possibility of a ride I awoke Sunday morning to the gentle thrum of rain on the roof outside. Brilliant! The Reading CC Road Race was full, with ten reserves, so the only chance of an entry on the line was a bit of rain. The Big Fella had kindly obliged. So in a calculated risk I headed off for Woodcote nr Reading for a 2/3/4 race. Sure enough after a bit of waiting around I got my ride.

The circuit was really quite tough, and made tougher by the torrid conditions. Not only was it raining heavily, but there was a lot of standing water and the cross to headwind in places was verging on the dangerous. The circuit was broadly out along the main road where the wind played the biggest part being cross to head, and giving everyone a really tough time, followed by a sharp left turn and a really quick section in the tailwind to the foot of a 800m finishing climb which steepened towards the top. On a clement day it would be tricky circuit, on a day like today it was very tough indeed.

I later learned that only 18 of the 70 odd starters made it to the finish.

It is often said that it is the riders that make the race not the circuit, and almost from the start it was an attacking race. I believe the bunch split to bits first time up the main road where the only shelter was in the left hand gutter, trying desperately not to get blown into the verge. It was really quite unpleasant on all counts and only the strongest and better bike handlers survived. First time up the finishing climb I was riding in the first 20 or so, and felt lousy. I used the length of the bunch to slowly slip backwards thinking all the while about the subsequent 4 ascents to come!

 Second time along the main road a break went away and the bunch splintered further. I was probably in the second group on the road and actually felt ok. I seem to do ok in those sorts of conditions but it became pretty clear that a lot of riders were not going to finish. It was also clear that if you got taken out the back it was going to be almost impossible to get back on. Nick Baker from Zappi’s was one of the main protagonists driving things along. Next time up the finishing climb was not too bad and I was beginning to feel a little better. Obviously I was soaked and cold but riding ok.

The next lap a break of 5 went away along the main road including some decent riders. There was 8 in my group I think and it was only the fact that we organized a chase quickly to which most people contributed that we caught them back up round the back of the ciruit. A really tough 10km of riding though and I paid for it later. It was sometime around this stage that the race winning move went and ultimately lead to Alec Baskaya time-trialing to a well deserved victory.

Next time up the main road was proper purgatory. I came very close to getting dropped as that man Baker drilled it. I understand he has made 1^st Cat already this season so he’s evidentally flying. It felt like it, and I only just managed to hold on to the group to the left hand turn. Nick Baker’s attacks eventually paid off as one resulted in everyone watching each other and away he went. I suspect others were feeling the pace as badly as I was and didn’t really have the stomach for the chase!

His work left a group of 10 riders and having made the selection (thank goodness) something of a truce was called over the next lap or so (yours truly in the black in the photo below - see www.grahamrobins.net for more pictures).

Had we continued to ride at the limit I fear I would have been dropped as my legs were really feeling it. However, at one point in the tail wind it was almost pleasant! The penultimate time up the climb was relatively steady and yet I was towards/at the back of the group. Not hanging on but certainly drawing the conclusion that I wasn’t going to be fighting it out for the win! The last lap stayed relatively steady until we hit the bottom of the finishing climb. My tactics were to make sure I didn’t blow and just ride steady and hope to pick up a few places over the top. That all went out the window as an attack went near the bottom and it quickly became every man for himself. My legs were shot and I was out the back pretty quickly trundling over the line in 12^th place overall.

Looking back I’m glad I made the effort to go. It was a very tough for the second race of the season and the conditions made it more so. There was some pretty strong riders there, but ultimately I made the final group and just failed on having the legs for the finish. (Lack of race miles perhaps?). Nevertheless I am pleased that I made it that far and chalked up the first points of the year. Here’s hoping for a drier slightly warmer race next weekend!

Rough conditions for the Sloan Trophy Road Race

Since my last race the winter has been and (supposedly) gone. My early season training has gone ok, with a couple of tough weeks in the very hilly terrain of Northern Croatia setting me up quite nicely for this weekend’s Sloan Trophy Road Race. This was the 60^th running of the race promoted by the club I was a member of as a boy, the Gosforth Road Club. The Sloan is the sister race to the Beaumont Trophy which is now a Premier Calendar race, and last year was the National Championships.

The first race of the season is often a difficult affair. It is tricky to train hard enough to get properly race fit, and so the first outing of the season can be a painful affair. Sunday dawned bright and sunny, although the forecast was ropey at best. This raised the problem of what to wear for a race that could have turned out to be sunny and warm, or wet with hailstones. I opted for the cautious approach and wore intermediate jacket, with overshoes, full finger gloves, and ¾ length shorts.

The Sloan is held over 67 miles on the Ogle circuit which is well known in the North East. While it lacks any proper climbs, it is a real hard man’s circuit with several long drags where the wind can be a real feature. (Click here for a guide written by someone else). The 80-strong field was pretty good with several teams from out of the region fielding 5 or more 2^nd cat riders. My tactics – in so far as any were necessary – would be to not get dropped, and follow wheels. If I could get round in one piece then I felt that would be a reasonable achievement first time out. 

The race begun with the sun still shining, and two riders went away almost immediately the flag dropped. The run up through Blackheddon is gently uphill most of the way followed by a rapid descent to a dead-turn where the drag up to Wallridge crossroads starts. I would have to interrogate my Garmin but I would guess that it is a mile and a bit long at 4-5% gradient. First time up either I was very rusty, or the hammer properly went down. The bunch was lined out in single file the whole way up the climb, and there were gaps appearing all over the place. I was pretty close to the limit and severely worried that I wasn’t going to make it up there another 4 times if this was what it was going to be like. I later learned that 20 people got dropped on this short stretch. Given I was trying not to swallow a lung I missed the break forming. It may well have been first time up to Wallridge with 3 going across to the two who attacked from the gun making a group of 5. In any case as I looked up the road it felt that these guys meant business, and so it turned out as we never caught them.

The second lap was pretty rough as the heavens opened and by turn hailed and rained on us for a good 20 minutes. There was standing water everywhere and in no time I was soaked to the skin, filthy and absolutely freezing. It was about now that my hands went numb and didn’t recover until half an hour after the race had finished. At this point it felt like it was going to be a long race although this photo (taken on the last lap - remember 80 started!) doesn't quite capture the full glory of the weather (yours truly on the outside of the bunch in white)

It was an odd race thereafter, but as time went on I felt stronger and stronger. There was lots of attacking but nothing that stuck, and there was never a chase that got going. The gap to the break hovered around a minute for a long time, and I felt that if the bunch had got a chase together we could have caught them. Having said that I was in no mood to either try to organise a chase, nor to get involved in any breaks. With hindsight perhaps I should have ridden more aggressively and might have got a better result as reward for it.

By the last lap the bunch had slimmed down to perhaps 30 riders, and I suspect a few more were clipped off the back with the last run up to Wallridge. A small break of 3 or 4 riders went up the road shortly thereafter and hovered off the front at maybe 15 seconds – a gap they were to hold to the finish. Over the last lap I had been finding it increasingly difficult to change gear and despite trying to get some feeling back into my hands the problem was getting worse rather than better. I couldn’t get gel out of my pocket, and was unable even to squirt the liquid out of my second bottle! (I ended up chucking it to a marshal).

The finish was at the top of Stamfordham bank, a short and not terribly steep climb but enough to sap cold tired legs. It’s one of those where you don’t want to go too early. Thankfully I had positioned myself near the back of the bunch as we hit the climb, and paid the price getting switched into the verge and then baulked twice thereafter. I actually finished reasonably well in the last 50 metres (despite cramp in both my thighs) and crossed the line probably 8^th or 9^th from the bunch. I suspect that had I positioned myself better I’d have been top 3-4 in the bunch sprint. I would think that this put me towards the bottom end of the top 20 overall. I

On reflection I am pretty chuffed with my performance today. I didn’t find the racing that tough, and got round in the (depleted) bunch strongly. That I lacked the final kick at the finish is not that surprising, and is more likely a reflection of my lack of race miles. More importantly I really enjoyed the racing, and I’m sure I’ll look back on today as being a good building block in what I hope will be a successful season.