I am writing this some time after the event and so my memory is even hazier than it is of more recent races. It also means I have both the benefit of hindsight, and a great season behind me which perhaps colours my views of events earlier in the season.
The 17th April 2011 was something of a momentous day. It was the first day I had a number pinned to the back of my cycling jersey for almost 20 years, and I was nervous as hell. I had raced my bike many times before, but never without the benefit of having trained with other racing guys, and never with a flash bike that made everyone stare at me. The archetypal "all the gear and no idea"? I hoped not.
My cycling history goes back some way. I can vividly recall riding the roads of North Yorkshire aged perhaps 12/13 for hours on end with my erstwhile next-door neighbour Paul Bird. I suspect we rode 15-20 miles once or twice, but time and nostalgia has enabled me to blur the reality into riding hours and hours every day, looking like a jr. Eddie Merckx in a Peugeot cycling top that I probably never owned, with the chronology being more confused than I am. However, it was the move to Newcastle when I was 14, and a fortuitous meeting which truly started me down the road to, errr, cycling immortality. Over-egging it? I don't think so.
General Studies was, is, and forever will be, a total waste of time. I cannot recall learning anything of note during the one hour a week lesson that was a compulsory part of the curriculum in the early 1990s. As a spotty, socially inept, slightly awkward 14 year old I entered the portacabin classroom of General Studies for the first time. Not knowing anyone, I stood awkwardly hoping for either a) someone to talk to me, or, perhaps more likely b) a fire alarm or other unexpected reason to leave the room. A skinny bloke appears. I have no idea what he said, or how the conversation got around to cycling, but it did. Grasping at any source of camaraderie I no doubt exaggerated my interest much as I have done in the previous paragraph. The consequence of that conversation would affect my life for many years to come.
Al Burns and I are still the best of friends to this day. Following that chance meeting I joined the Gosforth RC for a Saturday morning ride on my second hand Peugeot Equipe racing bike. It looked something like this, but would have been slightly smaller, and without the flash two-tone bar tape.
Of course I had no idea what I was getting myself into, which, as with many things cycling, is a good thing. The details of that first 30 mile ride have gone from my memory, but I am positive I would have been dropped, and I continued to get dropped from club runs for what seemed like an eternity thereafter. Throughout these formative years in cycling I was very lucky in being supported enormously by many members of the Gosforth RC who (often literally) pushed me round club runs week after week. In time I found I could get round by turning the pedals all on my own, and moved on to become one of the stronger riders in the club. Eventually racing beckoned and, as a junior, Al Burns and I raced in the North East division achieving moderate success along the way. I was second to Roger Hammond at my favourite sprint at Cottage Homes, Ponteland (he went on to become a multiple World Champion and rides for Garmin Cervelo to this day) in a local race, and was regularly beaten by Chris Newton (Olympian, World Champion and multiple British Road Race champion now working as Olympic Academy Men’s Endurance Coach). I also finished 4th in the English national schools championships. After I moved to University in Manchester I continued to ride my bike for fun, but didn't race any more, and it continued that way for many years - until the 17th April 2011.
I was nervous as hell as I lined up for my first race back but I not been entirely idle. I had run a couple of marathons, numerous half marathons, cycled in the Alps and was in reasonably good condition. The Inverse RT road race is held on the same course as the Archer Grand Prix and it's a tough circuit. There is a 1km climb on each of the 4 laps which reaches 16% in the middle for a couple of hundred yards. Somewhat of a baptism of fire then. I had scoped the course before hand, so knew about the climb and ensured I was towards the front of the bunch as we hit it. In fact I ended up right on the front which was about the worst place I could have been. I rode the bottom of the climb (before we even hit the steep bit) much too hard, putting precisely no one into trouble except myself. People started coming round me as the gradient increased. Then some more people came round me as the gradient eased. As we got over the top some more people came round me and I got clipped off the back. I didn't miss the split by much but I did miss it.
I found myself in a small group of 6-8 riders and we chased very hard - or at least it felt very hard - for the next lap or so. We got relatively regular time checks and we were consistently losing ground. I punctured my front wheel on a fast descent (my Garmin later told me at 42mph) and was lucky to stay upright. Given that there was no neutral service that was my race done. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise, as I could convince myself that I was riding ok. In truth I was some way from the required standard to even stay in the bunch.
It would have been easy to give up at this point as being too old, too untalented, not fit enough, and reverted to being a fun rider. What I did do was go away and work out where I was deficient. My fitness seemed ok. My legs were not in trouble but my heart rate was maxed out for long periods of time. I had a ten minute spell as over 190bpm, so it seemed to me that I needed to work on my CV. I have since been reminded time and again that most riders are fit enough to ride the course of most races in the time (read average speed) of the winner. What they are not equipped to do is to stay in contention (in the bunch or get in the break) for the very intense, but relatively short, periods of time when they are working beyond threshold. It is a particularly unpleasant thing to do, but it is a very specific skill that you can train your body in. That is what I went away and did.
