Beaumont Trophy July 1st 2012. 108 miles Premier Calendar E12
It feels like I am currently riding at a
decent 2nd 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 1st 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 2nd 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 – 3rd
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 2nd cat who can’t time-trial has precisely zero
chance of catching a bunch of Elites and 1st 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
