It's one of those things about being a cyclist. Like always having awful tan lines come September (actually i think mine are now permanent), finding occasional oily chainring marks on your legs, and having strong opinions about the state of Britain's road surfaces. Late night bike fixing, often on a friday evening, is a feature of life. It can be a blessing, sometimes, when you've had a crap day where nothing seems to have gone right, there can be something terribly satisfying about doing a simple task that takes your bike from clunky wreck to showroom performance. Recabling is a personal favourite of mine, it's one of those things that's sufficiently mindless you can just tune out and do it. Wheel-truing in front of an old episode of "Spaced" is another, a nice repetitive task that can help you unwind from a busy week.
At the diametric end of the scale to me, who likes to do bike maintenance to unwind, we find my other half, partner in most things two wheeled, Rachel. Whereas i like to fix things before they are broken, as much for something to do as anything else, given the option Rachel will always ride her bike as opposed to looking after it. This has made for a rather, ahem, uneven division of labour between the two of us over the years, and though that might sound like a complaint, it's really not as i quite enjoy tinkering. It does mean however that when she has to do things herself, it's even more stressful than it might otherwise be, and far from being the relaxing task i find it. So here i am, sitting in our living room, with Rachel removing an exploded tektro cross-top lever from her bike and fitting a new brake cable, with mutterings of "measure twice, cut once, measure twice..." as a background muse.
Perhaps the most interesting thing about the experience to me is watching her do things slightly differently to me, like the different ways we have of tying our shoelaces (i'm reliably informed by everyone i know that i do it a weird way, but it works for me). They're not better, they're just a little alien, and i have to quash the little voice in the back of my head that says "stop her, she's doing it wrongly". If you never watch someone else, you will never understand the true variety of human beings, give a person a bicycle to maintain and see them lay bare their mechanical soul...
Friday, 4 May 2012
Thursday, 26 April 2012
Commuter Racing
Okay, so maybe i'm missing some fundamental point in life here, and if you feel i am, please comment on my blog and let me know, but i often find myself on the outside looking in when it comes to life in London. Maybe it's the contrast with village life in rural Scotland, maybe it's simply that i haven't had enough time to become a "naturalised" Londoner, i don't know, but there are many things about this city that i just find odd. They're not bad, they're not good, they're just remarkably strange.
The classic example, one that i face most days in fact (except when the weather's bad, or my legs are sore, or i wonder why i have an oyster card at all - i.e. when i get the bus!) is commuter racing. There's something peculiar about the bicycle as a mode of transport that makes people very very competitive. I remember this when i first started cycling to lectures in Cambridge many moons ago; i used to see how late i could leave my college and still get to lectures on time, bonus points for passing lots of slower people on the way! And you still see it now, grown men on bromptons pedalling furiously to overtake other grown men in suits on Boris bikes. Personally, i'm something of a plodder when i'm on the way to work - i'm in no rush to get there, and cycling in (at least when not avoiding the ever-present danger posed by Addison-Lee cabs) gives me time to mull my day's tasks more abstractly. This seems to make me something of a bunch-engine for the races that rage around me through the mean streets of Elephant and Castle, as personal scores are settled between people who've never actually spoken to one another.
I'm honestly not sure where i stand on this. On the one hand, i have a naive hope that some of these people may understand the errors of their ways, and one day enter a proper race, where the competition is more tangible, more fierce, but so much more rewarding. On the other, i worry that it gives a thread of competition to that most mundane of tasks, getting to work - and that once this attitude has settled, it may not lift when the same person gets in a car.
Perhaps there is the rub. It's largely okay if people become competitive on bicycles, it might seem a little petty, and occasionally people go too far in trying to cut ahead, or think that it's okay to go beyond the lights for a head start, when really all it does is force faster people behind into the main flow of the traffic, but by and large it's safe enough, and noone gets hurt. The people who really scare me on my commute are the competitive car and truck drivers, the ones who have to be ahead "just because". At the end of the day, it's probably worth remembering that in the commuter race, if you win, you lose - you're the one at your desk first!
The classic example, one that i face most days in fact (except when the weather's bad, or my legs are sore, or i wonder why i have an oyster card at all - i.e. when i get the bus!) is commuter racing. There's something peculiar about the bicycle as a mode of transport that makes people very very competitive. I remember this when i first started cycling to lectures in Cambridge many moons ago; i used to see how late i could leave my college and still get to lectures on time, bonus points for passing lots of slower people on the way! And you still see it now, grown men on bromptons pedalling furiously to overtake other grown men in suits on Boris bikes. Personally, i'm something of a plodder when i'm on the way to work - i'm in no rush to get there, and cycling in (at least when not avoiding the ever-present danger posed by Addison-Lee cabs) gives me time to mull my day's tasks more abstractly. This seems to make me something of a bunch-engine for the races that rage around me through the mean streets of Elephant and Castle, as personal scores are settled between people who've never actually spoken to one another.
I'm honestly not sure where i stand on this. On the one hand, i have a naive hope that some of these people may understand the errors of their ways, and one day enter a proper race, where the competition is more tangible, more fierce, but so much more rewarding. On the other, i worry that it gives a thread of competition to that most mundane of tasks, getting to work - and that once this attitude has settled, it may not lift when the same person gets in a car.
Perhaps there is the rub. It's largely okay if people become competitive on bicycles, it might seem a little petty, and occasionally people go too far in trying to cut ahead, or think that it's okay to go beyond the lights for a head start, when really all it does is force faster people behind into the main flow of the traffic, but by and large it's safe enough, and noone gets hurt. The people who really scare me on my commute are the competitive car and truck drivers, the ones who have to be ahead "just because". At the end of the day, it's probably worth remembering that in the commuter race, if you win, you lose - you're the one at your desk first!
Southern XC Rd2
Fast forward to the weekend after my fantastic riding- and eating-based holiday in the south of France with Rachel and Tim Dunford. I had no idea how the legs were working, i'd done a quick ride into work and that was about it! I had absolutely no idea how i was going to fare, but i didn't really worry all that much about it, i knew i loved the course and that i couldn't ride there any other time, so it was a no-brainer to enter. We arrived nice and early, with Pippingford now being a little over an hour's drive away through the suburban metropolis of Croydon ("the Cronx") ready for the women's race (please organisers, i understand why you put the women all together in the morning, but it would be so much easier for us racing couples to get everything over and done with in less than 7hrs!). Rachel slipped a pedal at the start, taking me back to two years ago where she seemed to start at the back of every elite race and go slower from there. Thankfully it wasn't to be, and she came through the arena a minute clear of second place after the first lap, building to lead by 8mins from Natasha Barry (WXC World Racing) by the finish, even managing to lift one arm (but not both) from the bars through the "field of tea cups" that surrounded the finish arch. No pressure for me then....
There was a pretty decent field for both the elite and expert fields, the experts in particular swelled by a contingent from Guernsey, over for the Easter jaunt on the mainland. Tim was racing the elite race, mainly he admits to hold onto his license, as this year is similarly all about the marathons for him too. The gun went, i got my usual poor start, but then unusually found myself moving forward as the laps progressed. The usual Pippingford sections of quarry and the fast, bermy descent were in, albeit in a different and confusing order, but it was rendered a totally different, and actually rather fun experience by the fact that traction was less than assured! The only part of the course i could happily have left out was the "fast return to the finish" which was anything but, the track wide and gloopy by the time we were racing. I felt okay as the race wore on, i was a aware that i still hadn't fully recovered from my 24hr week, but it didn't seem to be affecting me too badly. By the penultimate lap, i had worked my way up to, and past, one of the Guernsey riders when he made a mistake on a piece of muddy rutted doubletrack. He put in an effort to get back to me, and then stuck to my wheel like glue, more than once even buzzing my back tyre. I rode my own pace, trying to ignore the irritation of having someone 2mm off my rear end, and with the intention of upping the pace through the final section into the arena. Sadly, my plan went awry when shifting down to pick up speed on the climb, i got chainsuck, at which point my roadie friend nipped ahead and gave me a masterclass in how not to ride the final sections of singletrack! It was just like chaingate i tell you! I rolled across the line muddied and tired in 10th place, i think my best placing in a southern xc expert race. Once again, Jason Boutell showed a (muddy) pair of heels to the rest of the race, putting nearly 8mins into second place, and finishing up in 4th place in the elite field - he's fast!
I now find myself in 6th place in the league, with the next round my least favourite at Wasing. Can i face racing there again, dear readers? Only time will tell...
Monday, 23 April 2012
Roc Laissagais
When the UCI announced the death of the world marathon
series back in 2008, it left a lot of the world’s best long-distance racers
apparently bereft of a series to target with their respective seasons. The end
result was that marathon racing again became a more provincial concern, with
some racers choosing to concentrate their efforts on races in their “back
yard”, and a renewed focus for many on mtb stage racing. For three seasons, the
world has been without a marathon series, so many racers, both professional and
amateur eyed the new “UCI World Marathon Series” announced late last year, and
the associated world marathon champs qualification criteria with intrigue. The
criteria make it less the subjective choice of your particular governing body,
and more a question of simply being good enough.
Rachel and I intended to head to the Cevennes for the second
round of the new series, held in Thomas Dietsch’s particular back yard, and
started making plans with former team mate and friend Tim Dunford (Cannondale) late
last year to abandon our respective families for the Easter break. Before we
knew it, April was upon us, and it was time to head for the Tunnel and then
south through the heart of France to the sleepy town of Severac-le-Chateau. A
couple of good days weather and riding around the town left us all feeling
positive about the location and the race; Rachel and Tim were both hoping to
get their top-20 placing, and to punch part of their ticket to the worlds, I
had the more modest aim of rolling around to finish before dark!
We were sharing our gite with four more competitors, three
of whom (Mike Blewitt, Will Hayter & Collyn Ahart – MarathonMTB.com) were
fresh from the Cape Epic, having picked up Stu Spies in London. Unfortunately with
the other half of our party arrived the rain, which settled ominously over the
region the day before the race. Much talk was of what to wear and how to stay
warm in 4 degrees and drizzle, but in the end race day dawned cold but dry.
A quick check of the grid-plan revealed that I was on the 6th
row (better try not to get in anyone’s way!), and after a brief warm up to make
sure my legs were awake, we were off! The course revealed itself to be some of
my favourite sorts of riding, a pleasant mixture of the Surrey Hills in winter
and the Peak District in summer, with some short but brutal climbs. As the day
wore on, I learned many useful things:
·
Whilst a capable summer tyre for dry, dusty
trails, a Maxxis Aspen is not a great mud tyre.
·
On the day of Paris-Roubaix, French race organisers
are likely to include an homage to the Queen of the Classics – better attach my
spare tube more securely next time.
·
A totally dry XTR chain makes a very unpleasant,
very expensive-sounding noise.
·
Closing a flip-top gel sachet on your lip really
hurts!
(Rachel adds:
·
Losing your second bottle in the first 10km is
not very clever.
·
The pro riders probably avoid the inside of the
corner for a reason so you should not be surprised when your ‘clever line’ ends
in a big wheel swallowing rut.)
I finally rolled across the line a little over an hour after
the winner, Periklis Ilias, in 57th place, Rachel managed 11th
in the women’s race, and Tim worked his way up to 12th in our race
before blowing up and having to use only his granny ring to finish 40th.
This race is not for the faint-hearted, it packs in 2,800m of climbing into a
saw-tooth profile over 85km (65km for the ladies), and has the potential to eat
bikes and riders alike on a wet day. Staying with a group of seasoned marathon
racers who have competed all over the world our post race discussions brought
out where this race differs from many others and what made it so tough. There
are lots of little climbs (one every 5km-ish of race) rather than large
extended ones, making it tough for a group to stay together and share the work.
In addition, it was run off over a real mix of trail types which made for an
interesting course, but also required a lot of concentration. Finally, add in
some of the best marathon racers in the world, including a smattering of
national champions, and it’s not surprising you get a pretty spicy race. As the
race wore on, it was nigh on impossible to measure your effort well, and almost
everyone in our group described having ‘blown’ at some point. However, the
challenge is why we all do this and this makes the Roc Lassagais an even more
alluring challenge to me. Marathon
series or not, I want to come back again next year to race in Thomas Dietsch’s
‘hood!
Saturday, 24 March 2012
Photo Blog.
While the rest of the world is apparently readying themselves for the annual test of fitness and finesse (ha ha!) that is the Sherwood round of the NPS, Rachel and I are spending, for the first time in a long time, a relaxing weekend getting used to our bums being on our saddles for 4+hrs. So for all you XC losers at Sherwood, here's what today held...
Wednesday, 21 March 2012
Size matters
So we have a new technological debate in the world of bike racing, this time sparked by a third wheel size being thrown into the ring after Nino Schurter's excellent win at the Pietermaritzburg World Cup race last weekend. There has been fierce debate on wheel sizes for racing and riding alike since Gary Fisher first started pioneering alternative sizes in the 2000s, and if anything the debate appears to be intensifying rather than settling down.
So let's be clear about a few things. Firstly, let's dispense with the impression that "big wheels" are new - they are not. The engineering argument behind the now franky ridiculous-looking "Ordinary" (what most of us think of when we hear the term "penny farthing") was that the larger wheel would provide a smoother ride for the user on the rough and cobbled roads. So big wheels have been used on rough surfaces since the 1860s.
The historical curiousity that resulted in so many modern-era bicycles having 559mm ISO wheels (what we think of as 26") was that the pioneering band who met on Marin Mountain in California in the late 1970s to ride bicycles down offroad dirt trails did so on old Schwinn clunker bikes from the 1930s. These had wide frame clearances to accommodate their larger "ballooner" tyres, and very laid-back frame angles that allowed extra stability when careening downhill on a foolishly unsuitable bike. The tracks that these guys rode down the mountain bore very little resemblance to what we would consider an mtb trail today - they are wide, open double-track with gentle turns and rough terrain. This is what we would consider perfect 29er territory today, where there is little need for acceleration and deceleration, and the larger wheels would smooth out the lumps and bumps a bit, but the opportunity to build a "better" bike was lost in simply having fun!
Cometh the hour, cometh the bike - as the sport became more and more technical, and moved away from the three hour epic hillclimbs and fast descents that were so common during the 90s (see for example http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QTdMEZkZyTI ), and became more about a shorter 1h45m sprint over much harder, more technically demanding courses (i'm thinking more of this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E1HteyJiOcs ) these 26" wheels suddenly came into their own; they are lighter and have a lower moment of inertia, and so require less force to accelerate compared to their larger-diameter cousins, perfect for twisty, tight fast-slow racing. But of course, no XC race can contain *just* technical features, and so of course there will always be fast sections where a larger wheel would win out.
The point I am trying (and possibly failing) to make, is that in terms of perceived benefits, changing wheel size is always going to be a compromise. If you can imagine the same rider is capable of winning a world cup race, where the differences are smallest between athletes, on any size of bike, it suggest the optimisation curve is very shallow indeed. As a former design engineer, i know what i would have been encouraged to do in this situation. I would have been encouraged to look for quick wins, but not waste time trying to infinitely refine because it makes little difference and costs a lot of time and money. So there are two explanations for the fact that the bike industry has pursued this apparent hiding to nowhere - either because they are led by their representative athletes (like Scott with their 650b prototype for Schurter), and are prepared to sink potentially millions of Euros to help them get the "marginal gains" to win. Or, the more cynical view would be that the industry has isolated a new way of encouraging us to buy a second bike, especially if we are easily-led racers, and with that realisation they are prepared to make an investment.
I am aware that i have been jaded by my experiences of working in industry to some degree, but it seems highly unlikely that manufacturers would expect to see a return of ~1M Euros from having their riders win world cups, it would perhaps improve their selling power a bit, but actually the top-end race models comprise a tiny component of overall sales. And most people don't buy new race bikes all the time. So it makes sense to believe that they think this is a great way to sell us a second race bike - if we all do it, and they're ahead of the curve, that's a lot of revenue!
I am prepared to believe that there are small gains to be made by particular bikes on particular courses, but i would imagine that they pale into insignificance ccompared to the effect of the riders themselves. I don't imagine that if Absalon had been on a 29er at the Dalby World Cup last year he'd have roasted Kulhavy, or even that he'd have finished in a different place in the final results. I can see the sense in bigger wheels for bigger people, but ultimately you should ride what you're comfortable with and what allows you to have a good position. For me, that's a 26er - i'm too short to get the position i like on a 29er, and the way i like to descend wouldn't suit a 9er anyway. The "its always faster" fanboys have missed a crucial point in their testing - the psychological placebo effect, that if you think something will be faster, you will sub-consciously ride to make it so. That doesn't work for me, as a physicist and engineer, i know it's not faster, it's just a compromise which puts a different emphasis on straight line and cornering speed, so i may as well stick with what i like!
So let's be clear about a few things. Firstly, let's dispense with the impression that "big wheels" are new - they are not. The engineering argument behind the now franky ridiculous-looking "Ordinary" (what most of us think of when we hear the term "penny farthing") was that the larger wheel would provide a smoother ride for the user on the rough and cobbled roads. So big wheels have been used on rough surfaces since the 1860s.
The historical curiousity that resulted in so many modern-era bicycles having 559mm ISO wheels (what we think of as 26") was that the pioneering band who met on Marin Mountain in California in the late 1970s to ride bicycles down offroad dirt trails did so on old Schwinn clunker bikes from the 1930s. These had wide frame clearances to accommodate their larger "ballooner" tyres, and very laid-back frame angles that allowed extra stability when careening downhill on a foolishly unsuitable bike. The tracks that these guys rode down the mountain bore very little resemblance to what we would consider an mtb trail today - they are wide, open double-track with gentle turns and rough terrain. This is what we would consider perfect 29er territory today, where there is little need for acceleration and deceleration, and the larger wheels would smooth out the lumps and bumps a bit, but the opportunity to build a "better" bike was lost in simply having fun!
Cometh the hour, cometh the bike - as the sport became more and more technical, and moved away from the three hour epic hillclimbs and fast descents that were so common during the 90s (see for example http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QTdMEZkZyTI ), and became more about a shorter 1h45m sprint over much harder, more technically demanding courses (i'm thinking more of this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E1HteyJiOcs ) these 26" wheels suddenly came into their own; they are lighter and have a lower moment of inertia, and so require less force to accelerate compared to their larger-diameter cousins, perfect for twisty, tight fast-slow racing. But of course, no XC race can contain *just* technical features, and so of course there will always be fast sections where a larger wheel would win out.
The point I am trying (and possibly failing) to make, is that in terms of perceived benefits, changing wheel size is always going to be a compromise. If you can imagine the same rider is capable of winning a world cup race, where the differences are smallest between athletes, on any size of bike, it suggest the optimisation curve is very shallow indeed. As a former design engineer, i know what i would have been encouraged to do in this situation. I would have been encouraged to look for quick wins, but not waste time trying to infinitely refine because it makes little difference and costs a lot of time and money. So there are two explanations for the fact that the bike industry has pursued this apparent hiding to nowhere - either because they are led by their representative athletes (like Scott with their 650b prototype for Schurter), and are prepared to sink potentially millions of Euros to help them get the "marginal gains" to win. Or, the more cynical view would be that the industry has isolated a new way of encouraging us to buy a second bike, especially if we are easily-led racers, and with that realisation they are prepared to make an investment.
I am aware that i have been jaded by my experiences of working in industry to some degree, but it seems highly unlikely that manufacturers would expect to see a return of ~1M Euros from having their riders win world cups, it would perhaps improve their selling power a bit, but actually the top-end race models comprise a tiny component of overall sales. And most people don't buy new race bikes all the time. So it makes sense to believe that they think this is a great way to sell us a second race bike - if we all do it, and they're ahead of the curve, that's a lot of revenue!
I am prepared to believe that there are small gains to be made by particular bikes on particular courses, but i would imagine that they pale into insignificance ccompared to the effect of the riders themselves. I don't imagine that if Absalon had been on a 29er at the Dalby World Cup last year he'd have roasted Kulhavy, or even that he'd have finished in a different place in the final results. I can see the sense in bigger wheels for bigger people, but ultimately you should ride what you're comfortable with and what allows you to have a good position. For me, that's a 26er - i'm too short to get the position i like on a 29er, and the way i like to descend wouldn't suit a 9er anyway. The "its always faster" fanboys have missed a crucial point in their testing - the psychological placebo effect, that if you think something will be faster, you will sub-consciously ride to make it so. That doesn't work for me, as a physicist and engineer, i know it's not faster, it's just a compromise which puts a different emphasis on straight line and cornering speed, so i may as well stick with what i like!
Southern XC Rd1
With the entire XC season packed into March-July, i have to admit that i'm sort of relieved to have made it to mid-March before hitting the trails in anger. When i first saw the racing calendar in December, i had apocalyptic visions of racing every weekend from the beginning of February through wind, hail and snow, only to see the best months of the year pass with barely a race to do! A slight shift of focus towards more marathon racing, and particularly some more European stuff involving proper mountains means that this isn't going to be the case, and i can look forward to the best (and worst) that July and August have to throw at me see through the tunnel of racing vision.
For now, I seem to have done my usual trick of tuning up the "diesel" side to my racing engine, whilst having done nothing to improve on anything beyond my TT threshold. I have only myself to blame, my weekday base training has been sitting on the turbo trainer mashing out 20m threshold pieces, whilst weekends have been spent exploring the Kent hills on-road, and the North Downs off-road. It's not a bad way to do thing, but i always find myself caught like a rabbit in the headlights come mid-February, not wanting to make the switch to shorter, harder intervals-based sessions because i'm happy in my little twenty-minute bubble. It generally takes the first XC race of the year, usual the NPS at Sherwood to make me realise that i must try harder, and that XC racing is about going over and under your threshold, and not just sitting steadily at it!
This time, i had a busy weekend of seeing friends, collecting a bike, and racing at the fantastic old-school venue of Checkendon to break me out of my early-season funk. It was great to see Sarah and Trev, and stay in their new little house, and fantastic to pick up my new Trek 9.9ssl (a hardtail and a 26er - what a luddite i am!) from AWCycles, who have once again excelled themselves in their support of me. Armed with some measurements taken off my poor, cracked Kinesis, setting the Trek up was pretty easy, and to my surprise, i found myself really rather liking the riser bars that came as stock on it. Maybe i'm starting to get this new-school XC malarkey!
Poor kinesis frame - cracked along the top of the chainstay. Here's my original blog about receiving it almost 3 years before it broke... http://overthehillracing.blogspot.co.uk/2009/03/good-things-come-in-boxes.html
Rachel and Sarah got to the venue earlier than us, a necessary evil given that Rachel's race started at 10am, by the time me, Trev and Nick arrived, she was already finished, and had come away with 2nd place behind Mel Alexander (Cardiff Jif/JRA) in the elite race. I went for a pedal around the course with team mate Simon Ernest (you can read his excellent article here: http://simonernest.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/its-not-about-bike.html), it was good to catch up with him and see what was in store for us during the race. Steve James' description of "like riding through nutella" is pretty apt, slippery, muddy, rooty, fun, a bit scottish was what i thought. I had no idea how my race would go, but i knew whatever, i'd leave smiling.
We were gridded up pretty quickly, a good thing given the chilly wind that was nipping at all of us as we stood waiting for the start, and off with a minute's gap to the elite riders. For the first time since i started racing expert, i managed to stay somewhere in the pack at the start, and even found myself moving forwards a couple of places once we got through the first few turns - perhaps all those competitive commuters at the traffic lights in London have done me some good after all! It was not to be however, and after some short battler with Tom Ward (Giant Radlett) , Ed Rose (Progression Fitness) and Richard Lewis (CC Basingstoke) i started to feel the lactate building up, and slipped backwards. With this inexorable slide came a shift of focus from riding for places to trying to ride smoothly and treating the experience as a valuable training ride, that was until i saw Richard suffering up ahead (sorry!).
I dragged my tired body across the line 16th, nearly 12m down on Jason Bouttell who tore the legs off the Sport category last year, and is showing no intention of slowing down this year either. Not a great result, but a few national ranking points and a good 1.5hrs of hard riding on my new bike to get me used to it, and most importantly i set the bar low; i can move forward from here!!
It was great to return to a course that was the scene of my first outing in sport way back in the heady days of 2006, and where i first got the bug for racing rather than riding. I wonder how i would compare to myself six years ago as a racer...
For now, I seem to have done my usual trick of tuning up the "diesel" side to my racing engine, whilst having done nothing to improve on anything beyond my TT threshold. I have only myself to blame, my weekday base training has been sitting on the turbo trainer mashing out 20m threshold pieces, whilst weekends have been spent exploring the Kent hills on-road, and the North Downs off-road. It's not a bad way to do thing, but i always find myself caught like a rabbit in the headlights come mid-February, not wanting to make the switch to shorter, harder intervals-based sessions because i'm happy in my little twenty-minute bubble. It generally takes the first XC race of the year, usual the NPS at Sherwood to make me realise that i must try harder, and that XC racing is about going over and under your threshold, and not just sitting steadily at it!
This time, i had a busy weekend of seeing friends, collecting a bike, and racing at the fantastic old-school venue of Checkendon to break me out of my early-season funk. It was great to see Sarah and Trev, and stay in their new little house, and fantastic to pick up my new Trek 9.9ssl (a hardtail and a 26er - what a luddite i am!) from AWCycles, who have once again excelled themselves in their support of me. Armed with some measurements taken off my poor, cracked Kinesis, setting the Trek up was pretty easy, and to my surprise, i found myself really rather liking the riser bars that came as stock on it. Maybe i'm starting to get this new-school XC malarkey!
Poor kinesis frame - cracked along the top of the chainstay. Here's my original blog about receiving it almost 3 years before it broke... http://overthehillracing.blogspot.co.uk/2009/03/good-things-come-in-boxes.html
Rachel and Sarah got to the venue earlier than us, a necessary evil given that Rachel's race started at 10am, by the time me, Trev and Nick arrived, she was already finished, and had come away with 2nd place behind Mel Alexander (Cardiff Jif/JRA) in the elite race. I went for a pedal around the course with team mate Simon Ernest (you can read his excellent article here: http://simonernest.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/its-not-about-bike.html), it was good to catch up with him and see what was in store for us during the race. Steve James' description of "like riding through nutella" is pretty apt, slippery, muddy, rooty, fun, a bit scottish was what i thought. I had no idea how my race would go, but i knew whatever, i'd leave smiling.
We were gridded up pretty quickly, a good thing given the chilly wind that was nipping at all of us as we stood waiting for the start, and off with a minute's gap to the elite riders. For the first time since i started racing expert, i managed to stay somewhere in the pack at the start, and even found myself moving forwards a couple of places once we got through the first few turns - perhaps all those competitive commuters at the traffic lights in London have done me some good after all! It was not to be however, and after some short battler with Tom Ward (Giant Radlett) , Ed Rose (Progression Fitness) and Richard Lewis (CC Basingstoke) i started to feel the lactate building up, and slipped backwards. With this inexorable slide came a shift of focus from riding for places to trying to ride smoothly and treating the experience as a valuable training ride, that was until i saw Richard suffering up ahead (sorry!).
I dragged my tired body across the line 16th, nearly 12m down on Jason Bouttell who tore the legs off the Sport category last year, and is showing no intention of slowing down this year either. Not a great result, but a few national ranking points and a good 1.5hrs of hard riding on my new bike to get me used to it, and most importantly i set the bar low; i can move forward from here!!
It was great to return to a course that was the scene of my first outing in sport way back in the heady days of 2006, and where i first got the bug for racing rather than riding. I wonder how i would compare to myself six years ago as a racer...
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