Tuesday 5th May
With just two road races under my belt so far in 2015 I'm woefully unprepared for the upcoming circuit race season. And for round one the weather Gods are chucking in an unhelpful hand.
Windy! the course is strewn with debris. I have to make a hasty change to the bikes set up, the carbon deep dish wheels will send me up like a kite in this so they must come off. I have to swap freehub body, fit cassette, and swap out the carbon pads for alloy ones before re fitting the classic wheels.
Really I needn't have bothered. Probably a little pee'd off with the weather and mechanical work I was in a poor mindset to race.
We get the gun and the race is a out of the saddle sprint from the off. Team Corley and Velo Equipe cause the damage with us mere mortals gasping to stay in any form of race.
Two laps in and Pssssshhhh....puncture.
Not a good day in anyway, but we live and learn, Mainly learn.
Tuesday 12th May and round 2.
The suns out, the Lightweight Standards are back on, the winds not so bad. And I'm 1/2 an ounce lighter! And I'm not going to get dropped. I need to forget about not racing in 2014, and find the form that led to a win in 2013.
I have a good warmup and ready myself in a good position for the start. I need to be a bit tougher today, do my share but don't get taken advantage of. We're off. Like the Virgin Active I feel good and find a spot near the front, but in a place where I can slip in behind a wheel if needs be. I feel nicely in control of my own race and the halfway point comes without issue.
Then halfway through another section of the circuit is opened up. And then the familiar pattern reappears. I've done well so far, but when the winning break goes I can't quite hang on, and again I find myself the front man of the trailing group. I chase round the bends and find the lead group just up the straight, but without a committed effort from my small group we'll have to concede defeat and race our own race.
We settle into through and off, I say we as it's just myself and a Verulam rider doing the work. Annoying, but in a way good as we'll be riding ourselves race fit and there's a long way to go this season.
We swallow up dropped riders as our disciplined riding pays off, and the group swells. Myself and the VCC rider get a little saucy on the only incline just to drive home the message to those on our wheels.
We see the race out in this way, it's been good. I can now see were I need to improve and hopefully get back to 2013 form.
Also present and racing that day where Dave Brown and Andrew Martin who both race in different age bands. And than's to Justin Naylor for his marshaling duties.
I was unable to race round 3 on 18th May.
Saturday, 23 May 2015
The Virgin Active Road Race
Saturday 18th April. Andrew Martin and myself are racing in a LVRC road race, the Virgin Active being held on the undulating Botolph Claydon course. The weather as promised has dawned dry and sunny, but still bloody freezing and the one thing I've forgotten is my gloves.
We arrive at race HQ and step out of the car into howling wind, but at least the HQ is on a high point so perhaps elsewhere it wont be so bad?
For those that don't know the LVRC stands for league of veteran racing cyclists. It's purely about the racing and to qualify you just need to be over forty. Then the races are split into five year age bands, the usual format being 40 to 50 years old's (A & B) 50 to 60 years old's (C & D) racing together, myself being a D rider. Now before you think 'hang on this looks easier than BC racing.....think again. Unlike BC racing there are no points categories. So you might just end up racing shoulder to shoulder with a recently retired pro racer, or a cat 1 BC rider, or in my case ex pro and Commonwealth games medalist Bob Downs.
So the race.
On paper this looks tougher than my last road race, but I feel better prepared both mentally and physically for this one. Plus I'm just about to find out what racing on £2500 plus wheels is like. We line up outside and watch the the A and B's set off, and wait a moment before we are released. We're off and already I feel much happier than before. I find myself a nice little spot in the bunch that enables me to warm up with the race. All is going well until we turn to attack Pitchcott Hill into a horrendous head wind. I stay out of trouble for the bulk of the climb, but can't hang on when the leaders make a break near the top. And to make matters worst I'm on the front in the wind pulling the 'rest of us'.
We go over the top and turn to Winslow. It's here that I find out why some wheels cost thousands. The benefit is tangible. A small bunch of us TT the lap. I now feel strong and ready to chase down the small group up ahead, this is how I should have felt before the start. With bling wheels assisting we climb up to Boltoph Claydon for the final lap, and catch the group that was up ahead. It's clear the winning break is well ahead, so this is just for honours or training. In the group I recover and whilst on the Winslow straight again I consider a break, I nose out and feel happy but I bottle it and stay with the group. I'll regret that.
As we turn off the Winslow road we come across another age group race. The rules though unwritten say you mustn't influence another race, and as we ain't gonna win anyway we ease off so they can contest places.
I roll in immediately behind.
Though dropped I was very happy, it's early season and I'm 3/4 stone overweight. All good training.
We arrive at race HQ and step out of the car into howling wind, but at least the HQ is on a high point so perhaps elsewhere it wont be so bad?
For those that don't know the LVRC stands for league of veteran racing cyclists. It's purely about the racing and to qualify you just need to be over forty. Then the races are split into five year age bands, the usual format being 40 to 50 years old's (A & B) 50 to 60 years old's (C & D) racing together, myself being a D rider. Now before you think 'hang on this looks easier than BC racing.....think again. Unlike BC racing there are no points categories. So you might just end up racing shoulder to shoulder with a recently retired pro racer, or a cat 1 BC rider, or in my case ex pro and Commonwealth games medalist Bob Downs.
So the race.
On paper this looks tougher than my last road race, but I feel better prepared both mentally and physically for this one. Plus I'm just about to find out what racing on £2500 plus wheels is like. We line up outside and watch the the A and B's set off, and wait a moment before we are released. We're off and already I feel much happier than before. I find myself a nice little spot in the bunch that enables me to warm up with the race. All is going well until we turn to attack Pitchcott Hill into a horrendous head wind. I stay out of trouble for the bulk of the climb, but can't hang on when the leaders make a break near the top. And to make matters worst I'm on the front in the wind pulling the 'rest of us'.
We go over the top and turn to Winslow. It's here that I find out why some wheels cost thousands. The benefit is tangible. A small bunch of us TT the lap. I now feel strong and ready to chase down the small group up ahead, this is how I should have felt before the start. With bling wheels assisting we climb up to Boltoph Claydon for the final lap, and catch the group that was up ahead. It's clear the winning break is well ahead, so this is just for honours or training. In the group I recover and whilst on the Winslow straight again I consider a break, I nose out and feel happy but I bottle it and stay with the group. I'll regret that.
As we turn off the Winslow road we come across another age group race. The rules though unwritten say you mustn't influence another race, and as we ain't gonna win anyway we ease off so they can contest places.
I roll in immediately behind.
Though dropped I was very happy, it's early season and I'm 3/4 stone overweight. All good training.
Rapha Hell Of The North 6
Whilst the big boys were getting ready to leave Compiegne that morning for the 2015 Paris Roubaix. Three of the LBRCC were leaving Leighton Buzzard to ride the sixth running of Rapha's Hell Of The North. A 100km homage to the Queen of the classics. And though we had no Lion of Flanders flags waving in our face, we did set off from under the Black Lion of Leighton!
With our vehicle loaded and Steve finally here we set off for the 'actual' start in Pond Square North London. Like the great classic, this ride has a start and finish miles apart. So we parked up near the finish and rode to the start. The first thing that greeted us was a very strong headwind, always welcome on a long day out. Ross and myself were on normal road bikes, whilst Steve had gone for the popular cyclo cross option. However for now a cross bike on tarmac in strong wind was a bit of a burden. Though he would have known that after sign on we would about turn and head North for the first of the sectors, or gravé as Rapha calls them.
At Pond Square we signed on, were given route cards, beer and frite tokens a short briefing and then set off.
We were carried up the A1000 by the same wind. Myself with Ross in tow soon left Steve on his cross tyres behind. He must have been itching to get off tarmac and onto the first of the sectors, and we both were expecting him to come past at some point.
I led Ross along as I'd ridden this three times before and these lanes were my training routes as a teenager in the seventies. I could tell Ross was getting excited as I told him we were just about to turn onto the first sector, and whilst glancing back I could see Steve very close by.
'Here we go' sector 1. I was like a kid a Christmas and hit the loose gravel and numerous pot holes at over 20mph, loose grip, big gear and power with finesse and you fly through. Try and pick your way through slowly and it'll result in a heavy bike and of course punctures.
After this very long sector tarmac is for a moment a welcome break, though we soon grow bored and race for the next sector. Several sectors come and go and all are cleared without issue. Tyres and grins remain intact. Though Ross goes into work mode as our route carries us over an ungated level crossing, another nod to the PR!
At about 50km our, or Ross's luck runs out and we suffer our first puncture. A shame as it occurs on a great uphill sector. After watching dozens of riders pass in a cloud of dust we finally get ready to get going again.
Next stop is the velodrome at Gosling Park. See what they did there, another nod to the PR. Here we regroup with Steve and also meet Jules riding in his old LBRCC-Solgar team colours. We refill our bottles and do a lap of the velodrome before riding out. I forgot to stick my leg out a la Museeuw after crossing the line.
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| Museeuw winning after breaking his knee the year before |
Ross punctures again, this time though the inconvenience fires him up and he takes off across what in any language can not be described as a path, route or anything. Simply a baked hard tractor track. From the track you can see tarmac, that is when your eyeballs roll round to be able to see. It was the only sector I was glad to leave.
We leave the track and are all separated on the climb that immediately follows, but it's the home stretch now even if we are once again pointing straight into a head wind. At about 12km to go Ross has puncture number three, he kindly lets me carry on without him so I decide to really dig in for the final K's. It's a final long sector before we hit the A1000 again, it's also pretty brutal, a mix of quagmire baked hard mud 4X4 ruts and huge potholes. I gamble it and ride hard and dead straight until I hit a hole that tears my hands from the bars. I ease off and ride back with a small group from various clubs.
Now on the smooth tarmac of the A1000 it's just a simple drop to the finish where free beer and frités await. I'm welcomed in and push my bike into the sunny warmth of the pubs garden and await Ross and Steve while I down my beers and frités.
HOTN number six was another great ride, and I was so pleased that Ross and Steve enjoyed it. I'm pretty well up for this every year, but one day it won't be sunny.....that will be a story.
Here's a great link to the event. Look carefully and you'll see Jules in one of the photos.
http://pages.rapha.cc/events/ride-report-raphas-hell-of-the-north-vi
Tuesday, 7 April 2015
Bikes & Beer it must be Belgium!
It's Gent Wevelgem weekend, so Fraser and myself are on our way over to Belgium. We're to meet Phil, friend and fellow HCT Belgians member for some serious riding and beer sampling. A weekend of excess that will test out metal. To be honest I fear death by Duvel Triple Hop. Just the week before I'd had a day off work with terrible stomach pains, so what better a way to treat it than cobble stones and 10% beers.
The plan had been to get some riding in on the Friday, but by the time we arrived at Phils on the outskirts of Gent it was getting late. So riding plans were binned, and instead we went off in search of some 2015 Triple Hop. It took a while to find some, and Fraser moved in swiftly to grab the last few packs. I only managed to get a copy of the local cycling mag which I needed as I intend to come back over the summer for the racing, and this little gem had all the dates listed in the back. Looking forward to a race or two in Flanders using my LVRC/ICF licence.
So that was our first day done. We spent the evening downing huge pizza's in the local Italian restaurant.
Day two, no excuses. Phil has us up early as we're doing the Gent - Wevelgem sportive (I hate the S word) so keen are we to get an early start I eat my breakfast sitting on the pan....multi tasking at it's very best!
We're off and out, and into typical Flandrien grim weather. We haven't booked, but 10 euros makes us very welcome. We blag the entry form, the language isn't easy. And we're given our electronic card for the seat post, armband, bottle, well cool route sticker for the top tube and all the Etixx we can carry. The off we set.
A few K's in and I remark on the lack of banter between us. It's a bit bloody grim out here, though the Etixx vans impersonation of the Orica Green Edge bus/finish line fiasco cheers me up.
We lift the pace, warm up and start to really enjoy where we are. We flick along the narrowest farm tracks, picking off stragglers and sometimes hooking up with a fast moving club. Though ultimately we want to just ride two up. Phil I should say is doing the full distance, and is probably already heading into France. It's so so flat I feel a right twerp twiddling the compact chainset, it's so out of place here, but we do have the 23% Kemmelberg to climb, so I'll probably be thankful for it when the moment comes. The moment comes, I grin, I shift into 34, I grimace, then I swear. It's not going into 34. I have a John Clease moment, I mean what's the bloody point, it sits there all day doing nothing and when I do need it it doesn't bloody work. Some furious back pedalling gets it to drop and I start to climb. The Kemmelberg looks stunning, we've turned sharp right and the climb is shrouded in mist, it's actually a great climb and I'm sad when it's over. We descend around it's back, go past it's base and head for home.
It's still grey, but at least now it's dry. The mood lifts to 'saucy' we're in a moment most cyclists just would never get. We're in the drops big ringing it across Flandrien fields. The pace is up and we're towing the locals.
We then hit the cobbles of Kortrijk, stunning. We have another 'moment' It's Saturday, it's busy it's the middle of the town and just Fraser and me. The moment you ask? out step the police, whistles blow, hands go up, cars are stopped and we get waved through able to race through using all the road, sorry but this is fucking great.
In the dying kilometres we form a large group and I savour the simplicity of Belgian group riding. There are no calls, none what so ever. Riders coming past give you a quick whistle and let you know what side by brushing against you. I suppose to the new cyclist that might just seem rude and dangerous, or them bullying the English, but no just getting on with it. And to make sure I give no quarter. After forty years of racing no whippersnapper is going to get an easy ride from me. In fact Fraser and me give them the slip and ride alone to cross the finish line, the one to be used tomorrow for the race.
The event organisation still impresses. there's a free bike wash, security bike parking, free food, a great goody bag. And where the registration once stood now stands a bar the width of the sports hall. And there's no George and Mildred selling milky tea. Instead some clever sod had employed four pretty girls to serve beer. They play the tables trays aloft in both hands full of the local Kwaremont beer. Fraser later points out that we spent longer drinking than we did riding....shocking.
We get back to Phils and have all but no time to get showered dressed and out into Gent. First stop is a cycling bar, wall to wall memorabilia and screens showing cycling. Back on the Duvel now.
Then it's off to the Robot café for the famous double cheese burger, and more Duvel. The Robot café is also the sponsor of Phils club. Then another bar, I'm jaded so go for coffee. Then Phil announces GIN! and we're off to some sort of gin palace for some 10 euro gins, I'm now in fear of my life. But OMG these gins are great, Gin Sea, Monkey Gin and others yum. Then I just remember being home. What a day.
Sunday morning, my phones dead. I can't hear Phil or anyone, please don't make me ride a bike. No dogs barking, I'll just hide under my Duvet. I finally get up and it's very clear we ain't riding today. I look outside and there's one hell of a storm. Race day and there are going to be a few climbing off today. We mooch about and decide to drive over to the Flanders museum. I really enjoy it, right up my street. then sample the local meatballs and frites before heading home.
So not as much riding as planned, but you know when you're with good friends you can just do that, I mean just not ride and enjoy the rest of the delights life has to offer. Nothing to prove here.
The plan had been to get some riding in on the Friday, but by the time we arrived at Phils on the outskirts of Gent it was getting late. So riding plans were binned, and instead we went off in search of some 2015 Triple Hop. It took a while to find some, and Fraser moved in swiftly to grab the last few packs. I only managed to get a copy of the local cycling mag which I needed as I intend to come back over the summer for the racing, and this little gem had all the dates listed in the back. Looking forward to a race or two in Flanders using my LVRC/ICF licence.
So that was our first day done. We spent the evening downing huge pizza's in the local Italian restaurant.
Day two, no excuses. Phil has us up early as we're doing the Gent - Wevelgem sportive (I hate the S word) so keen are we to get an early start I eat my breakfast sitting on the pan....multi tasking at it's very best!
We're off and out, and into typical Flandrien grim weather. We haven't booked, but 10 euros makes us very welcome. We blag the entry form, the language isn't easy. And we're given our electronic card for the seat post, armband, bottle, well cool route sticker for the top tube and all the Etixx we can carry. The off we set.
A few K's in and I remark on the lack of banter between us. It's a bit bloody grim out here, though the Etixx vans impersonation of the Orica Green Edge bus/finish line fiasco cheers me up.
We lift the pace, warm up and start to really enjoy where we are. We flick along the narrowest farm tracks, picking off stragglers and sometimes hooking up with a fast moving club. Though ultimately we want to just ride two up. Phil I should say is doing the full distance, and is probably already heading into France. It's so so flat I feel a right twerp twiddling the compact chainset, it's so out of place here, but we do have the 23% Kemmelberg to climb, so I'll probably be thankful for it when the moment comes. The moment comes, I grin, I shift into 34, I grimace, then I swear. It's not going into 34. I have a John Clease moment, I mean what's the bloody point, it sits there all day doing nothing and when I do need it it doesn't bloody work. Some furious back pedalling gets it to drop and I start to climb. The Kemmelberg looks stunning, we've turned sharp right and the climb is shrouded in mist, it's actually a great climb and I'm sad when it's over. We descend around it's back, go past it's base and head for home.
It's still grey, but at least now it's dry. The mood lifts to 'saucy' we're in a moment most cyclists just would never get. We're in the drops big ringing it across Flandrien fields. The pace is up and we're towing the locals.
We then hit the cobbles of Kortrijk, stunning. We have another 'moment' It's Saturday, it's busy it's the middle of the town and just Fraser and me. The moment you ask? out step the police, whistles blow, hands go up, cars are stopped and we get waved through able to race through using all the road, sorry but this is fucking great.
In the dying kilometres we form a large group and I savour the simplicity of Belgian group riding. There are no calls, none what so ever. Riders coming past give you a quick whistle and let you know what side by brushing against you. I suppose to the new cyclist that might just seem rude and dangerous, or them bullying the English, but no just getting on with it. And to make sure I give no quarter. After forty years of racing no whippersnapper is going to get an easy ride from me. In fact Fraser and me give them the slip and ride alone to cross the finish line, the one to be used tomorrow for the race.
 |
| sooooserious |
 |
| Fraser acting as my super domestique |
The event organisation still impresses. there's a free bike wash, security bike parking, free food, a great goody bag. And where the registration once stood now stands a bar the width of the sports hall. And there's no George and Mildred selling milky tea. Instead some clever sod had employed four pretty girls to serve beer. They play the tables trays aloft in both hands full of the local Kwaremont beer. Fraser later points out that we spent longer drinking than we did riding....shocking.
We get back to Phils and have all but no time to get showered dressed and out into Gent. First stop is a cycling bar, wall to wall memorabilia and screens showing cycling. Back on the Duvel now.
Then it's off to the Robot café for the famous double cheese burger, and more Duvel. The Robot café is also the sponsor of Phils club. Then another bar, I'm jaded so go for coffee. Then Phil announces GIN! and we're off to some sort of gin palace for some 10 euro gins, I'm now in fear of my life. But OMG these gins are great, Gin Sea, Monkey Gin and others yum. Then I just remember being home. What a day.
Sunday morning, my phones dead. I can't hear Phil or anyone, please don't make me ride a bike. No dogs barking, I'll just hide under my Duvet. I finally get up and it's very clear we ain't riding today. I look outside and there's one hell of a storm. Race day and there are going to be a few climbing off today. We mooch about and decide to drive over to the Flanders museum. I really enjoy it, right up my street. then sample the local meatballs and frites before heading home.
So not as much riding as planned, but you know when you're with good friends you can just do that, I mean just not ride and enjoy the rest of the delights life has to offer. Nothing to prove here.
Monday, 9 March 2015
Baines Racing Road race
My first road race in about eighteen months. The reason being 'I wanted to try some new things' during 2014, however I really missed the racing. So after all those months of doing those new things and consequently a stone heavier I've ended up here. A 'D' cat racer on a steel bike lined up next to Bob Downs....ex pro.....ex Great Britain....and currently with Rapha Condor JLT. What I'm saying here is that it doesn't get any slower as you get older, far from it.
I've had a good warm up and find my place in the bunch. Don Parry gives us a brief talk and I take care to listen. He points out the fact that the worst pot holes are on the right, so staying left will be the safest thing to do, okay.
The lead car sets off and we follow, after a short roll we turn left and the hammer goes down, I mean Jesus it really goes down. Don't panic, yeah I'm not in form, nowhere near, but my race craft is pretty damn good. So then why am I stuck over on the right when the wise money is single file in the left lane?
I've only gone a few miles and I'm gasping into this headwind, I really need a wheel before I go out the back. As it isn't a Sunday run no one is going to let me in so my only option is to ease off and get on the last man. I'm on, but now I'm clinging onto the dragons tail. This is not good.
To make maters worst I notice the back half of the group (the bit I'm in) is becoming detached. Think think, sod everyone else just survive, but then some brave rider breaks to bridge the gap, I'm on his wheel in a nano second. We bridge the gap and a quick glance under my arms sees me leaving a small group behind. I'm on and trying to recover.
Though all too soon we turn left onto the first climb, so I'm not out of trouble yet. I couldn't recoup on the headwind incline and this climb marks the start of another attack. It's so fast that climbing in 53t is the only option. Finally it levels out and the wind is on my shoulder and I start to feel my legs coming back.
But then! we dive into a tight muddy left hander where the marshal is frantically waving at us to slow down. It turns in single file to start a furious descent, the downside is that the narrow lane doesn't allow for any passing so I'm near the back of a large single file express train that's about to hit the biggest climb on the circuit. My only chance for survival is to pass on the climb and get in the bunch, which I do manage.
However lap two is more like round two, I've been well and truly hammered and now the lead group is about to deliver the knock out blow. We're on the incline fighting a full on headwind and it's here the pace goes up a notch. I know what's going on, the lead bunch is working to shrink the field, I'm pretty sure that if I can stay on, the bunch will break then steady up. But I can't, I can't keep on a wheel as I'm so far down the line doing so would mean staying in the opposite carriageway. I slip off.
I'm now alone with a small group just dots behind me. I settle into a steady pace and soon I'm caught by the group behind. It's easier to recover in the small group, and after a few hundred metres I'm ready to tow the group. We work together and pick up shelled out riders as we continue around the circuit.
By lap four I feel strong again. I do a long stint on the front and no one comes to help. I make the assumption that they are tiring, after all we have agreed to work together. I tow for most of the fourth lap so it comes as a bit of a surprise when two of them attack on the climb just after I've pulled all through the headwind. There's no way I can respond.
By now I'm riding for honour, sorry racing for honour. Quite a few encourage me on from the roadside including Dave Brown, but I can't help thinking if there's a lantern Rouge prize?
But the last lap throws me a challenge, A dot up the road becomes a target, a place to be gained. I have about two kilometres to make the catch. The dot turns left out of sight, when I turn left the dot has become a rider clad in light blue. We approach the tight slippery left hander with the busy marshal. I ignore the gestures to slow down and cut in tight right across the mud and stones thanking the Gods of cyclo cross.
Now the rider in light blue has a face and he keeps looking back at me. One kilometre to go and I'm close. He gets out of the saddle pushing to the start of the main climb and the finish line, but I'm on him. I go wide and don't take an easy option gear wise so push out of the saddle to the line. There's no response so I roll over the line to finish my first race in well over a year.
It's not a blinding result, but I'm more than happy. It gives me confidence and a base to work on to be ready for the crits that start in May.
Virgin Active RR next.
I've had a good warm up and find my place in the bunch. Don Parry gives us a brief talk and I take care to listen. He points out the fact that the worst pot holes are on the right, so staying left will be the safest thing to do, okay.
The lead car sets off and we follow, after a short roll we turn left and the hammer goes down, I mean Jesus it really goes down. Don't panic, yeah I'm not in form, nowhere near, but my race craft is pretty damn good. So then why am I stuck over on the right when the wise money is single file in the left lane?
I've only gone a few miles and I'm gasping into this headwind, I really need a wheel before I go out the back. As it isn't a Sunday run no one is going to let me in so my only option is to ease off and get on the last man. I'm on, but now I'm clinging onto the dragons tail. This is not good.
To make maters worst I notice the back half of the group (the bit I'm in) is becoming detached. Think think, sod everyone else just survive, but then some brave rider breaks to bridge the gap, I'm on his wheel in a nano second. We bridge the gap and a quick glance under my arms sees me leaving a small group behind. I'm on and trying to recover.
Though all too soon we turn left onto the first climb, so I'm not out of trouble yet. I couldn't recoup on the headwind incline and this climb marks the start of another attack. It's so fast that climbing in 53t is the only option. Finally it levels out and the wind is on my shoulder and I start to feel my legs coming back.
But then! we dive into a tight muddy left hander where the marshal is frantically waving at us to slow down. It turns in single file to start a furious descent, the downside is that the narrow lane doesn't allow for any passing so I'm near the back of a large single file express train that's about to hit the biggest climb on the circuit. My only chance for survival is to pass on the climb and get in the bunch, which I do manage.
However lap two is more like round two, I've been well and truly hammered and now the lead group is about to deliver the knock out blow. We're on the incline fighting a full on headwind and it's here the pace goes up a notch. I know what's going on, the lead bunch is working to shrink the field, I'm pretty sure that if I can stay on, the bunch will break then steady up. But I can't, I can't keep on a wheel as I'm so far down the line doing so would mean staying in the opposite carriageway. I slip off.
I'm now alone with a small group just dots behind me. I settle into a steady pace and soon I'm caught by the group behind. It's easier to recover in the small group, and after a few hundred metres I'm ready to tow the group. We work together and pick up shelled out riders as we continue around the circuit.
By lap four I feel strong again. I do a long stint on the front and no one comes to help. I make the assumption that they are tiring, after all we have agreed to work together. I tow for most of the fourth lap so it comes as a bit of a surprise when two of them attack on the climb just after I've pulled all through the headwind. There's no way I can respond.
By now I'm riding for honour, sorry racing for honour. Quite a few encourage me on from the roadside including Dave Brown, but I can't help thinking if there's a lantern Rouge prize?
But the last lap throws me a challenge, A dot up the road becomes a target, a place to be gained. I have about two kilometres to make the catch. The dot turns left out of sight, when I turn left the dot has become a rider clad in light blue. We approach the tight slippery left hander with the busy marshal. I ignore the gestures to slow down and cut in tight right across the mud and stones thanking the Gods of cyclo cross.
Now the rider in light blue has a face and he keeps looking back at me. One kilometre to go and I'm close. He gets out of the saddle pushing to the start of the main climb and the finish line, but I'm on him. I go wide and don't take an easy option gear wise so push out of the saddle to the line. There's no response so I roll over the line to finish my first race in well over a year.
It's not a blinding result, but I'm more than happy. It gives me confidence and a base to work on to be ready for the crits that start in May.
Virgin Active RR next.
Thursday, 19 February 2015
Tuesday, 3 February 2015
LBRCC 2014/15 Awards Dinner
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| K Tilbrook. G Mimrams. M Walker. R A Gallacher. T Duprez. C Wren. J Barlow. A Martin. N Green. D Winfield. C Keen. V Barron. E J bacon. S Bland. |
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