Central CXL Round 11 Stanborough

So that's that, it's all over. No more cross until next winter.
So how was the last round at Stanborough park? Well I arrived there a little nervous. I had missed rounds 9 and 10 due to illness, so my form was in doubt. However once at the Park my form was the least of my worries. The circuit seemed to just plopped right onto a hillside, a proper off camber'fest, and on top of this I was freezing. I then spent as long as possible in my warm kit wandering up and down worrying, but it soon came time to strip off and get out there. After donning a jacket, wool gloves and warming oil I slipped under the tape for a practice. Just as I was about to go on course the commissaire came up to me just to let me know the Masters World and Masters National Champions were in my race; oh goody.
Now as it happens once on the course my mood changed, the reason being is I could ride this circuit, whilst many others seemed to be floundering, I was glad for the few hours off road the day before and the 25psi I had pumped into my tyres. I rode several practice laps to get my line and then rolled into the start a lot happier.
Next was gridding, please God don't let them forget me this week, I only want to stick close to Tony to keep my overall position and not drop any further down.
First and second on the grid were the two champions, followed by the three front runners then me. Me called out 6th for a front row gridding with the Rainbow Jersey.
The gun goes and the front runners are off, I won't see them again until the end. Tony is right ahead of me, we slip and slide our way around before coming to a section were you can put your foot down, Tony isn't speeding up? I reluctantly pass him and press on. I have to race now, it's the last one and I can rest after this. I curse my bad lines and remember the good ones, don't forget to pedal around the bends to keep traction I tell myself. I'm going quite well it seems, but I feel I shouldn't be. I get a chance to see Tony and Keith and they're a few sectors behind me. I press on hard but I'm nervous, looking over my shoulder expecting them to be on my wheel at any moment.
When I arrive at the sector where previously I'd seen the Trisports duo a few turns behind, I find to my surprise they're not even in sight this time around.
I keep going hard as I can, I want to please my team mates Julian and Andrew who are cheering me on. I think about Julian going next in the seniors as the course seems to be drying, well in places.
The race is nearly over, I know I could probably run the rest if I puncture, but there's one more small race to be run. Mick another Trisports rider has caught me, but as it's the last lap of the last race and nothing is going to change we have some banter. We battle for the best lines shouting AH HAAA like a pair of dueling musketeers as we beat each other into the turns, but Micks superior cornering on the last turn to the flag gives him the advantage and he beats me to the flag.
So there you go. How well have I done? I don't know as the final results haven't been posted as yet. However the final overall standings have? and I finished 6th overall in my category. A glance of the standings show me to have collected 110 points from the Stanborough race, so that would make me 5th on the day.
Perhaps the forced rest and the few gentle club runs did me good?
I'm now looking forward to a few steady months finding my mileage legs. I've got a few mountain bike enduro's booked as well as three Audax rides. Then it's back to road racing, though it'll be a steadier year, at 54 I'm in the final year of my age band. The plan is to go harder next year when I'm 55 and the youngest in the next age band.
Lots of happy miles ahead.

Start line with the Champions

With the National Champion jersey

Cog Café Mini8 Sportive

Never mind rule #5 or remaining a die hard Flahute, Sunday 29th December at 7.45am wasn't the best time to be setting out on a road bike. The roads were covered in ice and the sun was still behind the rooftops. If it wasn't for the fact that I was to meet ten of my fellow club mates at the Cog café in Tring, I'd have probably taken the mountain bike out on a massive XC loop or a session on the cyclo crosser followed by a session on the turbos. However as a man of my word I set off to meet them. The roads were un-gritted and treacherous and the twelve mile ride became a scary epic mince. The cars on their roofs and the one that had gone over the edge of Ivinghoe Beacon were a reminder to go easy.
So I was pleased to arrive safely at the Cog, and even more pleased to see a full contingent of club mates had made it.
Due to the conditions I was in no hurry to set off, it was clear that the sun would eventually come up and work it's magic on the roads, but my club mates had other ideas and were already up the road whilst I was still figuring out my newly acquired Garmin, my first ever computer!
I followed, quickly catching up with Iain and Chris. The others were way ahead setting a high pace. I said to Iain 'I suppose you're wondering why I'm staying back'  Well I'll tell you. First I'm still getting over Bronchitis, and I don't fancy sucking up frozen Sunday morning air. Second, I've got one more race this season and I don't want to jeopardise my overall standings because of bumps and bruises. And thirdly I'm two and half teeth down already due to 1970's Winter rides before we all wore helmets. So steady Eddie.
Less than ten miles down the road we came across our first fall, it was our group. I said we need to spread out, we need time and space to react in these conditions. I pressed on.
At about fifteen miles I was alone and wondering what had happened to my club mates, I felt a little guilty about pressing on, though I felt safer to be alone and that over rode the guilt. It was then that two Tring Velo riders came by, they looked far more comfortable than me on the ice and I was happy to see them ride off into the distance.
By now the roads were very unpredictable some were wet, some were dry and some were still ice. I was however getting my mojo back by now, that is until Winslow. The slow moving traffic in the towns back streets had turned the place into an ice rink. So taking a page from racing in Belgium I hopped onto the pavement to avoid the hazzard, job done and back onto the main road. I left Winslow knowing I had to turn off to head towards Stewkley, but I couldn't see a sign. I knew I had to turn here, but went straight on down the busy main road. At this rate I would end up back in Whitchurch. Finally I found a left turn and doubled back to were I should have been. In the end it only proved to have been another two and a half miles added.
I was now on familiar ground, and ground that was drying out. I fell into the drops and gave it the berries to Wing. I was feeling pretty happy, only six months ago this was the road were I had been dropped in the National Road Race Championships, I hadn't felt so happy then.
In Wing I came across another rider! who hadn't been able to spot the next sign. I didn't need route markers from here on and pointed out the way. We were just about to hit Mentmore when we came across a very icy bend, my fellow rider seemed to speed up before he quite literally hit Mentmore. I couldn't stop, but I yelled out to check he was okay, he was so I pressed on up the hill. I saw the photographer on the bend at the top, but I forgot to tidy myself up; I have the most bandy legged riding position you'll ever see, and it looks dreadful in pictures. Round the corner to the cake stop.
At the stop the two Tring Velo riders were just getting ready to leave. It's funny how you can get so far ahead, but when you stop it only seems like seconds before the slower riders you left behind miles back soon appear? As I was scoffing a couple of lovely Magdelena cakes Miles came into view with another Tring Velo rider in tow. It was going to be nice to have company for the remaining twenty miles. However it seems I got ahead at the lights on the bridge at Cheddington and I never saw Miles and the TV rider again.
Things were now about to get all pointy. First we had Ivinghoe Beacon to contend with, the tougher way up from Ivinghoe Aston. Up the first part of the climb, past the rescue of the motorist that had gone over the edge, and then a left turn up to the summit. That was followed by the fast run from the top all the way to Toms Hill, which thankfully was free of ice and allowed for a fast descent into Aldbury.
From Aldbury you had a further flat run to the next climb that would take you up to Wiggington. By this point, thanks to my newly acquired Garmin thingy I realised that I was on my slowest ride of the year. Slower than my mountain bike 100km and half an hour slower at nearly fifty miles than I would do a 100km on my road bike. With that hitting home I just whacked it into the easiest gear I had and pootled to the top.
At the top in Wiggington I was glad to get back into the big ring and head for the finish. Down towards Champneys, past the lad on the BMX and left turn towards Hastoe? In all my years I'd never ridden this road, certainly not in this direction, and it seemed bloody heavy. I actually looked back over my shoulder convinced the BMX lad would be on my wheel. I pressed on as I knew this would lead to a downhill finish. Even with that in my mind the road was tough going, and I'm sure I wasn't climbing as it looked so flat. Finally I recognised the fork in the road that marked the downhill to the Cog....Yeehaaaa.
That was a great little ride, thank you.
Back at the Cog my club mates were waiting after cutting it short in favour of bacon sarnies at another well know cafe. We sat around the table catching up on what had happened whilst we waited for Miles who was still on the road. I think under the circumstances anyone who braved the conditions to ride no matter how far they rode are true Flahutes.
Miles arrived soon after and we both congratulated each other over a gratis coffee and a slice of bakewell tart, classic.
By now I was warmed and feeling slightly stewed and the last thing I fancied was another ride home. Thankfully Miles had driven over and was able to offer me a lift home. I can't tell you how nice it was being chauffeured back home past all the pink waymarker signs.
It was ironic that after all these years I finally bought a computer, and the first time it was used was to record the slowest ride of the year. A shame it can't record the fun I had.

Mentmore. Thanks to Simon Gill.

Miles

Twelve months on two wheels

Okay there are a few days left...so shoot me. Actually the way I've felt these last three weeks I wish some one would. Sadly a bout of Bronchitis has robbed me of my last few weeks of riding and racing in 2013, but I've got a fair bit to look back over.
To summarise. 29 races started. 3 races I didn't get to. 3 races where I got a great big DNF. I had one win, three 3rd's and a shed load of top tens. Five reliability trials. Four sportives and one Audax. I rode in three other countries. I went to see the pros race on the Continent. I pedaled over the pavé and I pedaled over the Pyrenees. And I pedaled up and down this green and pleasant  land. I rode through wind, rain, snow and sunshine, I even rode for hours in my garage! I raced my road bike, I raced my cyclo cross bike and I raced my mountain bike. I cemented old friendships as well as making new ones. I smiled, I grimaced, I felt euphoria, I felt pain, I lost sweat and I lost blood. And all fueled  by coffee cake and beer.
The highlights of the year? The win has to be up there, even if it was a depleted field in the pouring rain, I still had to battle for it.
Then the Pavé. Surprisingly in the four decades I've been racing I'd never been there. I can recall that upon seeing the sign for the Arenberg I got a shiver down my spine. I conjured up  images of Eddy, Roger, Bernard and Greg, the sense of being 'on' cycling history is immense. The surrounding areas are perhaps best appreciated only by the cyclists, not one for the family.
The most memorable trip was the one to the Pyrenees with Fraser and Philip. Trips away are always great, but this one was made better by staying at Frasers second home in Luchon. Quite simply a riders heaven. Wake, coffee, Patisserie, ride, thermes and walk to the cafés, arrange chairs to admire the mademoiselles drink, eat and repeat.

Perhaps the downside of the year was the National Road race Championships. The race itself was second to none, but I was training hard for half the season for something that was out of my league. I did my best, I obeyed the rules, but in the end I didn't have the legs or the attitude. I remember getting angry at all the riders I'd drop eventually catching me up by riding over the white lines all the time despite the commissaires constant warnings, I couldn't bring myself to what is effectively cheating, could I have stayed in longer if I had? After the race I had a long hard think and decided I didn't have the time or desire to work any harder to reach the levels I'd need to be at to compete at that level. In a way it was a weight off my shoulders, and it'll free up a lot of time in 2014. Perhaps the 3 Peaks or another mountain bike 24 hour solo?

So back to the end of 2013. And a season of (as yet unfinished)  cyclo cross has gone pretty well, I managed to cling onto 3rd overall in age for the first nine races, illness probably means a final standing nearer 6th?
I haven't let this get me down too much though, and decided to marshal when I could. Wrapped up like Scott of the Antarctic I marshaled the local round of the National Trophy. Field was amazing, watch out you Belges.  And I had a chat with Roger Hammond, which was nice! and it sort of took things full circle as I remember going to Leeds in 1992 to see him take the World Junior title, and now here he was managing a team.of his own.

So there we have it, just a few words, but it doesn't go anywhere near capturing the entire joy riding and all it entails brings to me, wrapping handlebars, fitting tyres, hitting the buy button, getting lost, cutting rides short, training, racing, talking bollocks, beasting your mates, getting dropped, getting in a crafty one after work, the wind on your back, just everything, good times or bad times without one the experience isn't complete.

On the Arenbergs pavé

Summiting the Tourmalet 

cyclo cross action

Criteriums at the MK Bowl

In readiness for 3 hours of XC racing

Audax with Fraser and Keith

Riding for the hell of it

Central CXL Round 8 Harlington

Seven rounds to count, seven rounds have taken place and seven rounds have been raced. The hard work has been done, leaving three more remaining rounds left to improve your overall standings. So today is round eight, a brand new venue and possibly a chance to do well.
I have arrived at the new Harlington circuit feeling like I've shaken off the bad cold I've had. i take a walk up to the circuit and I'm delighted with what I see, well clipped grassy off camber banks, a long hill... longest I've seen in a cross race actually and two Somme like run sections. I walk back down to registration feeling pretty good.
However looking at the sign on sheet I see what is the biggest field of the year so far. darn. Number in hand I  go to get ready. I huddle behind the car quickly putting on my kit, I don woolen gloves and rain jacket and apply warming oil to my legs to fend off the freezing wind before making my way back for a practice lap or two. On my way to the circuit I meet Neil and Alan from my old club the LBRCC, they've just completed the novices race. I'm in a hurry and all I can say is 'Hi' and 'it looks grippy' All I hear in reply is hmmmm.
I dip under the tape and set off.  Feels okay, a little windy perhaps, but my tyre pressure feels spot on. Around what is the trickiest bend on the circuit and onto a long stretch of off camber zig zags, awkward but okay. Along a fast flat and into some very 'mountain bikey' ups and downs. Out of those and into a series of muddy drops followed by muddy climbs that call for a running dismount. Another drop into a waterlogged field. I can't help think of the 'fast Shows' 'bottom field' then a final dash to the long climb before hitting the finishing area. Phew, not easy going.
In trying to force out my cold I did a max heart rate session on the turbos the day before and my legs feel dreadful. Double darn.

We just all LOL'd

Nothing left now but to race. I get gridded which gets a round of applause after being left at the back the previous week. We get held up at the start waiting for the electronic timing system to sort itself out. We're freezing and soon the race faces disappear, and we start to fool about to keep warm. the Commissaire gets some stick and Chris slopes off to join the Juniors race. We talk about the start, is it a gentlemen's start?   are we having drinks pre or post race before Christmas? All to soon we're given the thumbs up, then we get the ten seconds to go, lips have gone dry and chests are heavy with pent up energy.
The whistle goes.
It's fast and single file right away. I hit the first and trickiest bend in fourth and come out fourth. There's chaos behind me at the corner with riders on their feet. If I was a good rider I'd have a great lead, but I'm not and all too soon better riders are on me. My legs are heavy and a group of seven are pulling away on lap one, but I'm still ahead of a few of my peers. I haven't got the legs to go hard, and by the second lap Tony is on me. I have to race a canny race from now on.

Run Oldgit run

During  a race isn't the time to think about ifs and buts, am I still carrying a cold, am I loosing fitness, are the others getting stronger? they've certainly turned the tables on me these last two races.All I can do is the best I can, which I know isn't the best I can do. Get every corner right. Get into the drops on every straight. Run like hell on every run section. Doing my best stabilizes my position roughly halfway  through the race, though with vets now on the course I have no idea where I lay.

I see a bunch of fellow V50 riders behind me, and I vow to stay ahead of them. Over the last lap the pressure of holding them off causes me to flap and I put in my most messiest lap of all. My Mojo has gone and I rely on brute force to keep ahead. I trail in to finish towing ten metres of barrier tape behind me.
I think I've done a lot better than the final results will eventually show. New riders caused me to get a little confused. Peers like Tony who beat me last week were just ahead. Chris I last saw in trouble sat on the track side, and multiple series winner Steve has just come in ten minutes later carrying his bike. Pete has won his first race fresh from  breaking his ribs and puncturing his lung at the 3 Peaks, staggering.
The results later show I was 15th, the worst finish ever. I now have three weeks to sort myself out, sort of make or break time. Looking back I was far too cautious, too worried about staying upright when less P.S.I and more risks would have paid dividends. Three weeks time we'll know when we are back in London.

Central CXL Round 7 Icknield Cross

Icknield my favorite cross course, and race number seven. Here in the Central league your best seven races count for your overall standing, so completing this round gives you your seven, it also gives you a chance to look back over your performances and maybe do something about it in the final four rounds.
So it's my favorite course, why? well it's super fast, it's well cut firm turf. The technical sections just call for good timing and old fashioned cyclo cross skills, rather than 'skilz', but today was a bit different. The main technical feature was a series of grassed over air raid shelters, sadly these weren't in use today. I actually thought I'd arrived on the wrong day as the familiar sight of the taped shelters was missing. Instead we had a very hard series of switchbacks which involved descending wet grass and turning sharply on greasy paving slabs before climbing back up again. The whole speedy aspect of the course had also been changed slightly by a very slippery surface, it was wet but not wet enough to cut up.
I had a good warm up, most of the course was the same old version so I spent a bit of time mastering the new technical section. Once happy I went off to warm up some more.
Now it was time to race. I waited eagerly to be called up, but nothing. This was the second time I was put right at the back despite my laying third overall. At the last race the commissaire had apologized  afterwards for the previous oversight, so I was surprised it happened again. hey ho.
The whistle went and so did I, in fact I burnt most of my matches in those first few yards taking myself from last to fifth before the first turn. the race was very quickly single file so I settled in where I was.
Before I go on I need to lay my excuses down!
I hadn't ridden for two weeks. First of all my Nan died not quite making 100, so that called for a lot of family  commitment. Then I came down with a heavy cold that floored me. Basically I couldn't ride for two weeks. Did I mention I hadn't ridden for two weeks?
So anyway I'm riding along, and the inevitable happens. I get passed, I go down to 6th then 7th then 8th then 9th then 10th. Then I think 'okay I'm not on form' but this is taking the piss. I decide enough is enough. The rider in front of me has clearly overcooked it to get ahead and is flapping on the bends. I bide my time and pass on one of the tightest corners and pull away 9th. The next rider is more savvy and we become locked in battle the entire race. He can corner far quicker than me, but I can pass him on the straights and we exchange leads all race. The key will be riding perfect laps, pace and timing. Then on the penultimate lap, just after the technical section he goes down. I pass and I dig deep to get a good gap. I'm holding the gap, but sweating like a pig with nervous energy. I'm racing to the technicals knowing that managing them well will see me to the line ahead of him. I clean the section and grab 8th.

Bitch slapped by a sapling 

It was another good race, a few were pleased to beat me for the first time, but I'll be back for vengeance  next week. I shake hands with the man I've been racing and we analyze the race 'bloke in the pub style' we were so caught up in our own in race that we didn't think about working together. Only seconds separated us from higher positions, we probably could have grabbed another place at least.
Still a great race, a superb course and a great crowd. Roll on next weeks new venue.

Central CXL Round 6 A5 Rangers Northampton

I wasn't sure how I'd go this Saturday after last weekends mauling. It had been a poor race and a painful fast club run the day after so the following day I decided.....risked taking a whole week off from any cycling.
Come the day  I certainly felt rested, and a quick practice on the course confirmed that at least I was no worst.
So the course? well we had off camber wet grass, more off camber ups and downs than you could shake a stick at, some mud 'steps', gravel, tarmac and a fine selection of half buried barge board that would have to be taken at a jaunty angle to enter various sections. Our initial thoughts would call this a slow course....errr!
We were called up for gridding, I was called up fourth man, which was good because the course just about took five men shoulder to shoulder. However I'd decided not to bolt for it this week, and I was going to fall back and watch the competition. When the gun went though I didn't have to make that conscious decision, the pack went off like an explosion. Just keep calm, keep an eye on those that matter. Sam, Chris, Tony forget Steve he is way up the league. Chris's Palmer Park yellow kit was the only one I could see, so upon hitting the first straight I floored it to gain my place behind them. Even though we hadn't completed a single lap we soon fell into the weekly race pattern. Sam had gone. Steve looked like he was having issues, but still kept ahead. Chris was just moving away steadily. That left Tony with a Long Eton interloper in front of me.
I should say that because this was a Saturday race we had a lot of class riders from other leagues among us, either training or building points, regardless of that they were lifting the pace. Because of this everyone's game was raised.
This race felt like a race, sounds daft but the course called for your best riding and the open sections  meant that tactics could come into play. At one point the Long Eton rider went down leaving Tony in my sights and in check. sadly I didn't have the strength to open the advantage on the fallen rider, and he went on to pass not only me but several other riders.
As the laps went by the course changed, clever riders  would take new lines to avoid the greasy cambers. And if you could bunny hop or wheelie even better otherwise the barge board marking the exit/entrance to sections must have seemed daunting?
I was having a good ride even if the days stronger riders had now since long passed me. I was upright and quite pleased with my efforts.
Then the bell which seemed to have come very early....how time passes when you're having fun. And with the bell another surprise. I'd been chasing Tony but was now right on his wheel with less that a lap to go. And I mean right on his wheel, all I had to do was draught him and pop out for the points. Proper racing.

However someone else had other plans. A rider from the vets race came through on a bend and tried to get into a gap that wasn't there. I braked hard and the gatecrasher rode straight into Tony's rear wheel. We all kept upright. I wasn't happy, yes it's all racing but I wouldn't deliberately take out other riders, I certainly wouldn't arrive unannounced. Now I had the man in yellow blocking a potential finish line sprint out. Then our man in yellow slowed down too much for the final techy section, and without enough speed he went down taking us with him. Tony escaped the tangle first and what was only a few seconds back a few inches separating us had now become a hundred yards. It was game over Tony was heading for the flag while I was still running with my bike.
Regardless of the last minute debacle this race was the best so far, an opinion universally shared. The course bought out the best riding (in most of us) The Saturday interlopers brought class and pace to the proceedings  and in doing so gave us a race to remember.
I didn't fare well overall compared to my fellow V50 racers, but as far as the central league riders were placed I was where I should be. My overall placing slipped from 3rd to 4th last week, but even that flatters me. 6th would be a fair final standing, unless I can pull something out of the hat on my favourite course when we resume racing in two weeks time.

Central CXL Round 5 Alpha RC/Luton CC MK Bowl

You're going to have one! a race where it all goes wrong even before the whistle goes. Even before Saturdays race at the MK Bowl I was in trouble. During Thursday nights mountain bike ride I'd hit a tree and my arm was killing me, no amount of pain killers could ease it. So my heads already starting to wobble.
I decide to go anyway, after all it's right on my doorstep. As I enter the venue I can see the course, quite literally. You could see the whole course from any standpoint. Still it didn't look too bad.
I pootle about the course before prepping the bike. It's a mix of ultra bumpy turf and greasy climbs. I pick my tyre pressure and set off for practice. Then my head wobbles some more. I had ordered some brand new Eggbeaters prior to the season starting, but had yet to collect them. Now I was being paid back as the bumps were ejecting my feet from the worn pedals mechanism. Bad arm, faulty pedals.
Opting for a bit more pressure was a mistake as I couldn't make the climbs, so out went 10 PSI and suddenly all the climbs were doable.
So to the start line. At least my 3rd place overall standing will guarantee a front row gridding, but no. My name isn't called out. Keith jumps to my rescue, but the man say's no, I'm not on the list? so much for online entry. So right to the back it is. Wobble wobble wobble.
To make matters worst the cancelled races elsewhere around the country has meant that our race has drawn in some contenders in search of points.
Wobble wobble bonk my heads come right off.
I'm done in before I start. The whistle goes and I go off hell bent for leather determined to prove a point, something that gets pick up on after the race.

getting on with it

suffering

I can't last.  The race is hell. Too slow and the bumps stop you in your tracks. Go fast and it smooths out, but going fast all race is easier said than done. The hills are okay, I can do those pretty well. The hurdles though fill me with dread as soon as they appear, each time I lift the bike the pain in my arm makes me want to vomit. Lap after lap of pure agony. This one I want to end. Which after what seems the longest race eventually does. I'm 9th, the worst result of the year so far. It's some little relief to find a fair few of my fellow racers looking a little broken.
This race has to be my worst one of the eleven I'm racing this year. All I can do is chalk it up and prepare for the next one. The first step being to collect the new pedals and bin the 'self ejecting' ones I have at the moment. And perhaps rest all week and gain back some of the 9lbs I've lost this weekend.