The title of my post summarises how life has felt since i last wrote here nearly two months ago! Since then, i have done the Scottish champs off the back of my first conference as a condensed matter theorist, followed by eight days in the Hebrides, and then my most & least favourite race of the year, the 3 Peaks Cyclocross. Since then, it's been all-go, i've been trying to fix all the bikes i have incapacitated over the course of the season, glue tubs on cyclocross wheelsets, and clean, tidy and pack the house in anticipation of my second move in a year at the end of the month. Just the thought of all this is leaving me a little tired, and perhaps no wonder! So, let's begin at the beginning.
Up first, the Scottish Champs. I spent the week before the race in my old home town of Cambridge at a conference which involved days spent in seminar rooms, and several lates nights discussing physics (and maybe a few beers). I had initially hoped that i might be able to do the Kielder 100 for the third year on the trot, but the logistics just didn't work out - there was physically no way i could get to the event in time for the start! So my consolation prize was to be the scottish xc champs the day after at Drumlanrig Castle. And what a consolation - i love the venue at Drumlanrig, it's a beautiful setting for a race, and the trails are absolutely superb (even if the last time Rachel and I came here, we had some car-related issues!). The course was pretty familiar from the NPS there in 2008, with many of the same sections (the best bits) laced together in a different order. My only slight complaint would be that the chicken line for one of the tech sections was actually faster than the drop - surely the wrong way around!
Having watched as Rachel raced to a bronze medal in the elite women's race, being beaten by two Commonwealth Games athletes (albeit roadies, pah pah), i started my race with pretty low expectations. The lap was a long one, so it was just my hope to just finish the full race distance before a flying GT rider lapped me (although i didn't know which one...). I felt pitifully slow on the climbs, but was enjoying letting go with the anthem on the rough stuff, and aside from a particularly rude masters rider who spent a while shouting abuse behind me before shoulder-barging me into a tree, my race passed without much company and without much incident. The faster sport riders came storming past, politely i hasten to add, and i just avoided Dave H catching me for a lap to complete the full race distance, albeit in a maratho 2.5hrs! On the plus side, i did break my duck at a scottish race, i finished without mechanical incident, and without getting lapped. A result of sorts!
A fantastic holiday of walking, cycling and generally enjoying the great outdoors in the Outer Hebrides was next on the menu, and is probably the reason i'm not totally insane now. We were unfortunately spared the beautiful views from the top of the only Corbett in the Hebrides by the diabolical weather, but climbing An Clisham sounded like a good plan to prepare for the 3 peaks. Some fantastic sunny days followed, including one spent cycling around the isle of Harris (and buying Harris Tweed...), and getting caught up in a sheep-based traffic jam ensued, and whilst it might not have been perfect preparation, i felt like i was at least able to stomp uphills a little better for what waited next.
The 3 Peaks has been my traditional season-closer - by august, i'm usually sick of XC racing and yearn for something a bit different, which makes it relatively easy to choose between a long trip to Newnham (as great as the course is) and a shorter one to do what is almost certainly the most wacky bike race in the UK! This year was no exception, and as soon as the last round of the scottish xc series was out of the way in July, i told myself that i would concentrate on preparing solely for this race. Rachel and I had a go at hiking up hills with bikes on our shoulders in the Lomonds, and perhaps more importantly tried out our new mini-v brakes coming back down the steep sheep tracks, and through August things seemed to be going pretty well. I intended to start running again, but never really found the time with trying to get some serious work done in my research life, and Rachel's job with Fife council it never really came together. Somewhere in the midst of this i also discovered i was going to move again, this time to London. I'm not sure quite where my enthusiasm for riding my bike went, but certainly the fun in intervals and training hard seemed to have more or less totally evaporated by the beginning of September, and maybe i should have left it there!
Instead, i decided that i had taken an entry for the race, the least i could do (since the organisers returned 150 entries this year!) was to race as best i could so i didn't take the spot of someone more deserving! After a night spent in the field next to the Helwith Bridge pub, race morning dawned grey and overcast. I wasn't worried, both the 3 peaks races i have done previously have been grey and overcast mornings, and have turned into beautiful days out on dry, fast ground. A bit of rain saw us away from the start, and made the sketchy 6 miles on the road a little more nervy with a pack of 600 riders. In spite of much tinkering with my cross bike, i'd had to make a last minute switch of wheels to a spare set with less than appropriate 32mm challenge tubs on (my rear tufo t34 having inexplicably sprung a leak when i was cleaning the bike on saturday morning!). On top of that, the longer chain i had fitted to cope with the 50T front ring, and a 32T rear sprocket decided that the wet was reason enough to fall off. Repeatedly. Before the off road had even begun. Cue a few maternally disapproving comments from Isla Rowntree about the quality of my bike maintenance.
Once we hit the first offroad section at Gill Garth, it was clear that this year was not going to be like the previous times i had done the race. The ground was sodden, and the going very tough. It set the tone for the whole race really, and as fun as it was riding a hugely inappropriate bike through the tough terrain of the yorkshire dales, i just didn't have the drive i had two years ago. My lack of running fitness really hit home as i came across fellow twitterer Dave Haygarth on the descent off Pen-y-Gent; the final one of the three peaks and more of a "riders" climb. He had had an off on the slippery top section, and broken his collarbone, and in spite of spending a lot of time grimacing by the side of the track (you would hope, or he just wouldn't be human!) and then making his way gingerly down the rest of the offroad, he still came in at the same time as me - 4h10m.
Nick Craig made the most of the absence of Rob Jebb to take a runaway victory from Neal Crampton who bettered his previous best with second place. Within a couple of days, the soreness had subsided, and i found myself thinking ahead to next year, when i'll be a bit more settled, and it'll mark the beginning of my first ever "proper" cross season (as opposed to the odd race here and there...).
So time is ticking by, it's less than a month until i move south to start all over again, and it seems like there's an awful lot to do. Better get packing...
Tuesday, 4 October 2011
Thursday, 4 August 2011
Highs and Lows
Mountain bike racing, it is often said, usually pun-intended, is a sport of highs and lows. It makes the high all the sweeter that the lows can be gutting. Racing is always hard, but it so much harder when you feel like you are fighting the course, other riders or even just your own body. From the last few years of racing the BMBS, I know how all of these things feel, but in the last 12 months i've learned a lot more about the humble mechanical than i ever wanted to know. Mechanicals are perhaps the most upsetting experience, if you're less fit or technically able than other riders, and suffer as a result, then at least you can go away, regroup and improve. With equipment failure, it doesn't matter how well prepared you are and how good you feel, it can be snatched away, and there is little you can do beyond careful, regular maintenance to ameliorate things. Shit happens.
My first experience of the Scottish XC series at Kirroughtree told me that i would have an exciting year to look forward to, the course was ace, the competition was pretty fierce with Expert and Elite riders mixed together, and the atmosphere was so friendly. Unfortunately, my race ended after two and a half laps when i picked up a second puncture on a rocky section of trail - my own fault entirely for running too little pressure to try to find some traction in the mud. Fast forward to the end of July, and the last round at Perth and i was feeling pretty confident. Four months more riding and racing in my legs, some record power numbers in the weeks running up to the race, and the fact that the course was not dissimilar to one of my favourite Fife riding venues, Pitmedden, made me think i was on for a good result here.
In the morning, i did my duty and fed Rachel as she cruised to another podium spot (2nd) behind Ciara McManus and in the process won the series. A national series elite win, not bad eh? For my race start, it became clear that there wasn't going to be a great strength in depth; there were three of us on the start line. I have to admit to feeling a bit conflicted about this, on the one hand, i would be guaranteed a podium finish, on the down side it felt like abit of an empty achievement. The predicament was probably even worse for friend Doug Shearer, who has been racing the scottish series the last 7years, and had never yet been on the Elite podium!
Rachel on her way to the series title. Note the warning about "Dangerous Cliffs" behind - this was a seriously picturesque course!
We got off to a gentle start, with Rab Wardell leading our intrepid trio through the downhill fireroad section at the beginning of the course, and then turning on the turbos when we hit the first climb. Showing my characteristic diesel nature, i didn't have the change of pace to follow, and tried not to get in Dougal's way as i grunted my way upwards. From the top of the first climb, it was pretty clear that Rab wasn't going to suffer too much from high grass track highland games exploits the day before, and he rode away to take a fine win. Things were a little closer between Douglas and I, in no small part because of his knee issues that have hampered his training over the last weeks. For a lap and a half, he sat ~15s ahead, the gap closing and opening a little as we reached sections of course that suited on or other of us. As the gap was closing again, disaster. Riding along a flat section of i heard a ping, and looked down to see my chain in my spokes - d'oh. I managed to coax the chain back out, and was about to pedal away when i noticed that the chain had escaped the mech. Unfortunately, the carbon cage plate had snapped - game over.
Feeling utterly dejected i had one last go at getting the whole drivetrain to work for me, in the hope that i could just ride around and finish to claim my spot on the podium having foregone any hopes of catching Douglas for second. It lasted 300 yards of gentle pedalling before falling apart again, and i gave up and ran to the start finish, with thoughts of whether or not it was feasible to run the whole course another 3 times going through my brain.
Rachel reiterated what the sensible side of my brain was saying, that running around with a bike there was no chance of staying on the lap, and that i might as well accept my poor luck and cheer my friends who were still riding. She was right, and it was good to see the front runners and riders in the masters and vets races blasting through for their final laps. A nice chat with friends, and we headed home for me to take my frustration out on the turbo trainer, where another PB 20m power suggested that my form is there - and i broke the "Magic 300" that Steve James and i have spoken about at previous races!
Looking dangerously as though i know what i'm doing. Normal service will no doubt be resumed soon...
In a way the whole experience epitomises what i love and hate about mountain bike racing. It's a different sport to time trialling, or even some road races, where you could measure people's physiological condition before the race and have a good idea of who will win. With MTB racing and 'cross, there is an element of equipment selection and maintaining it on and off the course, and of course the small matter of riding technically well and efficiently that pose less of a problem to our skinny-tyred bretheren. But with more variables come more ingenious and annoying ways for the bike Gods to end your race, and therein lies the rub. It is precisely this capriciousness in mtb racing that caused Cadel Evans to switch to the road. He's weak! I intend to continue with not knowing what the next 2hrs will hold when i start a race...
My first experience of the Scottish XC series at Kirroughtree told me that i would have an exciting year to look forward to, the course was ace, the competition was pretty fierce with Expert and Elite riders mixed together, and the atmosphere was so friendly. Unfortunately, my race ended after two and a half laps when i picked up a second puncture on a rocky section of trail - my own fault entirely for running too little pressure to try to find some traction in the mud. Fast forward to the end of July, and the last round at Perth and i was feeling pretty confident. Four months more riding and racing in my legs, some record power numbers in the weeks running up to the race, and the fact that the course was not dissimilar to one of my favourite Fife riding venues, Pitmedden, made me think i was on for a good result here.
In the morning, i did my duty and fed Rachel as she cruised to another podium spot (2nd) behind Ciara McManus and in the process won the series. A national series elite win, not bad eh? For my race start, it became clear that there wasn't going to be a great strength in depth; there were three of us on the start line. I have to admit to feeling a bit conflicted about this, on the one hand, i would be guaranteed a podium finish, on the down side it felt like abit of an empty achievement. The predicament was probably even worse for friend Doug Shearer, who has been racing the scottish series the last 7years, and had never yet been on the Elite podium!
Rachel on her way to the series title. Note the warning about "Dangerous Cliffs" behind - this was a seriously picturesque course!
We got off to a gentle start, with Rab Wardell leading our intrepid trio through the downhill fireroad section at the beginning of the course, and then turning on the turbos when we hit the first climb. Showing my characteristic diesel nature, i didn't have the change of pace to follow, and tried not to get in Dougal's way as i grunted my way upwards. From the top of the first climb, it was pretty clear that Rab wasn't going to suffer too much from high grass track highland games exploits the day before, and he rode away to take a fine win. Things were a little closer between Douglas and I, in no small part because of his knee issues that have hampered his training over the last weeks. For a lap and a half, he sat ~15s ahead, the gap closing and opening a little as we reached sections of course that suited on or other of us. As the gap was closing again, disaster. Riding along a flat section of i heard a ping, and looked down to see my chain in my spokes - d'oh. I managed to coax the chain back out, and was about to pedal away when i noticed that the chain had escaped the mech. Unfortunately, the carbon cage plate had snapped - game over.
Feeling utterly dejected i had one last go at getting the whole drivetrain to work for me, in the hope that i could just ride around and finish to claim my spot on the podium having foregone any hopes of catching Douglas for second. It lasted 300 yards of gentle pedalling before falling apart again, and i gave up and ran to the start finish, with thoughts of whether or not it was feasible to run the whole course another 3 times going through my brain.
Rachel reiterated what the sensible side of my brain was saying, that running around with a bike there was no chance of staying on the lap, and that i might as well accept my poor luck and cheer my friends who were still riding. She was right, and it was good to see the front runners and riders in the masters and vets races blasting through for their final laps. A nice chat with friends, and we headed home for me to take my frustration out on the turbo trainer, where another PB 20m power suggested that my form is there - and i broke the "Magic 300" that Steve James and i have spoken about at previous races!
Looking dangerously as though i know what i'm doing. Normal service will no doubt be resumed soon...
In a way the whole experience epitomises what i love and hate about mountain bike racing. It's a different sport to time trialling, or even some road races, where you could measure people's physiological condition before the race and have a good idea of who will win. With MTB racing and 'cross, there is an element of equipment selection and maintaining it on and off the course, and of course the small matter of riding technically well and efficiently that pose less of a problem to our skinny-tyred bretheren. But with more variables come more ingenious and annoying ways for the bike Gods to end your race, and therein lies the rub. It is precisely this capriciousness in mtb racing that caused Cadel Evans to switch to the road. He's weak! I intend to continue with not knowing what the next 2hrs will hold when i start a race...
Friday, 22 July 2011
National Champs
So, already around to the national champs weekend. Traditionally (in the last couple of years at least), this has marked the beginning of the end of the season - generally four of the five rounds of the BMBS have already been raced, the podium spots are all worked out, and everyone's pretty much ready for a rest. It has also traditionally marked the switch from XC races to more endurance-based events for me, landing just before the August/September flood of Bontrager 24/12, Torq in your sleep, Kielder and the 3 Peaks CX. Pleasingly, things up north are a little different (a change is as good as a rest), and the Scottish XC races continue through July with the Scottish Champs in early september. Anyway, these are all things to come, instead let's talk about what has already happened!
So, the championships themselves. The venue had been set for some months at the Aske Estate near the pretty North Yorkshire town of Richmond, which had already hosted a round of the Nutcracker series last year. From what i had heard, last year's course was a little lacking in interest, and the organisers had been put under pressure to do something with the venue after their regional round in May was met with similar disapproval by seasoned XC racers (the Scottish contingent were particularly scathing, incidentally, perhaps because we're so spoiled with tricky, technical courses up here!). So, with the understanding that we were probably not going to be treated to a tech-fest, Rachel and I started our leisurely trip down to Richmond on Saturday morning, in what can only be described as biblical rain in Fife.
As we headed south down the A1, the rain briefly abated, and then returned with renewed vigour as we got into my old childhood stomping grounds on the north east coast of Northumbria. We stopped for lunch at a pub in Bamburgh, and went for an extremely soggy walk on the beach in the imposing shadow of Bamburgh castle, where i instantly regressed 20 years and started running up and down the dunes. Rachel wisely pointed out that all this activity and dampness wasn't great preparation for an XC race, so we headed back to the car and put the heaters on full for the rest of the trip to Richmond. We arrived to find our prayers had been answered, it had been raining heavily at the estate, which would make for a more interesting race, but it was dry enough to put the tent up without too much trouble!
Portable home put up across the thoroughfare from the Salsa/Hope enclave, it was time to go and have a look at the course. A possible slightly optimistic choice of a ron/ralph tyre combo made for a rather sketchy pair of laps around the course, punctuated by standing in long queues to look at the "technical sections" early in the lap, which consisted of a steepish mud-over-rock descent through some trees, and then an open, muddy drop through some bracken that required a combination of nerve and relaxation to negotiate in one piece. The remainder of the lap was reasonably flat, with interest provided by an up-and-down-and-up-again traverse along a ridge through the trees, which reminded me a lot of the loamy southern courses like Crow Hill, and had held up amazingly well in spite of the deluge. Throughout the second half of the lap, the key would be to stay smooth rather than trying to ride fast, the latter tactic inevitably seemed to end with a squeak of brakes, a giggle and a loamy landing! Suitably prepared for what lay ahead, and happy to sacrifice a bit of grip to the Gods of rolling resistance, we gave our bikes a quick wash and settled down for our first night in a tent in rather a long time.
The dawn chorus that i usually rely on to wake me when camping never happened. It seems that birds don't like to sing when it's pouring with rain, perhaps they're worried that if they open their beaks, they'll drown when there's as much water coming from the sky as there was on Sunday morning. Rachel and I had a leisurely breakfast of bread, jam and crunchy nut cornflakes, truely the diet of champions. We were in a bit of a pickle as to who would bottle for us - we're usually quite a good little self-sufficient unit, but both racing at the same time had put paid to this. Thankfully, Joanna (Steve's wife) very kindly stepped into the breach and between her and Mel we were sorted! A bit of last-minute tyre swapping to fill the time, and we were ready to race. Well, almost. Thankfully, Mel and Si came to our rescue with lunch, as we'd forgotten to pack any. Start time rolled around surprisingly slowly, giving the weather plenty of time to threaten us, only to improve and ultimately dry the course quite a bit.
Being a lowly expert, with no UCI points to my name, and little chance of earning any this year with the change in UCI regs, i was gridded on the 6th row, so got a somewhat back-seat view of the runners and riders hitting the start of the first climb. My aim, much as last year, was to try to get around the course and not get lapped by Liam to finish the race, so i was keen to set a brisk, but not unsustainable pace - fast starts seem to hurt me a lot more than everyone else! I settled into a group with two guys from the RAF, being ably soigneured by Lou Robbins, Andy Howett and Christian Aucote. Not bad company, i though, perhaps i was having that rarest of things, a good day. The first half of the course consisted of two short, but brutally steep climbs, and two slippy descents that required a certain amount of committment to ride well, before leading across a section of open moorland and into a twisty section not dissimilar in style to Crow Hill. Definitely a course of two halves. I had Andy for company for the first half of the lap, but managed to escape him after he had a painful-looking altercation with a tree. Unlike many, he was good enough to cede the line whilst still upside down so i could keep riding and not join him in the undergrowth! I picked up Christian into the second lap, he was struggling more (if that is possible!) than me on the climbs, but was taking back time on the descents so that we stayed pretty well together. We worked well together for most of the race, and were annoyingly caught by Liam at the beginning of the fourth lap, with Annie on his wheel adding further insult! Unlike last year, when the commissaires allowed lapped riders to continue, Christian obviously believed that we would be pulled, and attacked into the last section of singletrack. Simultaneously, to add a bit of natural gravitas to our battle for the minor minor minor placings, the heavens opened. He got stuck behind a backmarker, and then nearly flattened all of us by trying to go on the other side, keeping a small margin all the way to the finish.
At the end of the race, i stood in the actually rather refreshing rain chatting to friends, and waiting for the AW boys to come in. First to cross the line was Steve James, who managed an amazing 11th place, shortly followed by Tim and Si in 14th and 15th - what a day! A few minutes later, and Rachel came in just behing Natasha Barry to claim 10th place, shortly followed by Ruth Owen-Evans; all to play for mid-field in the women's race!
So, still yet to finish a national champs without being lapped - it still has to be an aim for next year. I was 7th expert, but unlike last year when i got expert ranking points, i seem to have made a rather paltry haul from my trip to Richmond - oh well! Thanks to the Nutcracker guys for putting on a great event, with disappointingly little support from British Cycling, and as always to AW cycles for supporting me and providing my wonderful Giant Anthem.
So, the championships themselves. The venue had been set for some months at the Aske Estate near the pretty North Yorkshire town of Richmond, which had already hosted a round of the Nutcracker series last year. From what i had heard, last year's course was a little lacking in interest, and the organisers had been put under pressure to do something with the venue after their regional round in May was met with similar disapproval by seasoned XC racers (the Scottish contingent were particularly scathing, incidentally, perhaps because we're so spoiled with tricky, technical courses up here!). So, with the understanding that we were probably not going to be treated to a tech-fest, Rachel and I started our leisurely trip down to Richmond on Saturday morning, in what can only be described as biblical rain in Fife.
As we headed south down the A1, the rain briefly abated, and then returned with renewed vigour as we got into my old childhood stomping grounds on the north east coast of Northumbria. We stopped for lunch at a pub in Bamburgh, and went for an extremely soggy walk on the beach in the imposing shadow of Bamburgh castle, where i instantly regressed 20 years and started running up and down the dunes. Rachel wisely pointed out that all this activity and dampness wasn't great preparation for an XC race, so we headed back to the car and put the heaters on full for the rest of the trip to Richmond. We arrived to find our prayers had been answered, it had been raining heavily at the estate, which would make for a more interesting race, but it was dry enough to put the tent up without too much trouble!
Portable home put up across the thoroughfare from the Salsa/Hope enclave, it was time to go and have a look at the course. A possible slightly optimistic choice of a ron/ralph tyre combo made for a rather sketchy pair of laps around the course, punctuated by standing in long queues to look at the "technical sections" early in the lap, which consisted of a steepish mud-over-rock descent through some trees, and then an open, muddy drop through some bracken that required a combination of nerve and relaxation to negotiate in one piece. The remainder of the lap was reasonably flat, with interest provided by an up-and-down-and-up-again traverse along a ridge through the trees, which reminded me a lot of the loamy southern courses like Crow Hill, and had held up amazingly well in spite of the deluge. Throughout the second half of the lap, the key would be to stay smooth rather than trying to ride fast, the latter tactic inevitably seemed to end with a squeak of brakes, a giggle and a loamy landing! Suitably prepared for what lay ahead, and happy to sacrifice a bit of grip to the Gods of rolling resistance, we gave our bikes a quick wash and settled down for our first night in a tent in rather a long time.
The dawn chorus that i usually rely on to wake me when camping never happened. It seems that birds don't like to sing when it's pouring with rain, perhaps they're worried that if they open their beaks, they'll drown when there's as much water coming from the sky as there was on Sunday morning. Rachel and I had a leisurely breakfast of bread, jam and crunchy nut cornflakes, truely the diet of champions. We were in a bit of a pickle as to who would bottle for us - we're usually quite a good little self-sufficient unit, but both racing at the same time had put paid to this. Thankfully, Joanna (Steve's wife) very kindly stepped into the breach and between her and Mel we were sorted! A bit of last-minute tyre swapping to fill the time, and we were ready to race. Well, almost. Thankfully, Mel and Si came to our rescue with lunch, as we'd forgotten to pack any. Start time rolled around surprisingly slowly, giving the weather plenty of time to threaten us, only to improve and ultimately dry the course quite a bit.
Being a lowly expert, with no UCI points to my name, and little chance of earning any this year with the change in UCI regs, i was gridded on the 6th row, so got a somewhat back-seat view of the runners and riders hitting the start of the first climb. My aim, much as last year, was to try to get around the course and not get lapped by Liam to finish the race, so i was keen to set a brisk, but not unsustainable pace - fast starts seem to hurt me a lot more than everyone else! I settled into a group with two guys from the RAF, being ably soigneured by Lou Robbins, Andy Howett and Christian Aucote. Not bad company, i though, perhaps i was having that rarest of things, a good day. The first half of the course consisted of two short, but brutally steep climbs, and two slippy descents that required a certain amount of committment to ride well, before leading across a section of open moorland and into a twisty section not dissimilar in style to Crow Hill. Definitely a course of two halves. I had Andy for company for the first half of the lap, but managed to escape him after he had a painful-looking altercation with a tree. Unlike many, he was good enough to cede the line whilst still upside down so i could keep riding and not join him in the undergrowth! I picked up Christian into the second lap, he was struggling more (if that is possible!) than me on the climbs, but was taking back time on the descents so that we stayed pretty well together. We worked well together for most of the race, and were annoyingly caught by Liam at the beginning of the fourth lap, with Annie on his wheel adding further insult! Unlike last year, when the commissaires allowed lapped riders to continue, Christian obviously believed that we would be pulled, and attacked into the last section of singletrack. Simultaneously, to add a bit of natural gravitas to our battle for the minor minor minor placings, the heavens opened. He got stuck behind a backmarker, and then nearly flattened all of us by trying to go on the other side, keeping a small margin all the way to the finish.
At the end of the race, i stood in the actually rather refreshing rain chatting to friends, and waiting for the AW boys to come in. First to cross the line was Steve James, who managed an amazing 11th place, shortly followed by Tim and Si in 14th and 15th - what a day! A few minutes later, and Rachel came in just behing Natasha Barry to claim 10th place, shortly followed by Ruth Owen-Evans; all to play for mid-field in the women's race!
So, still yet to finish a national champs without being lapped - it still has to be an aim for next year. I was 7th expert, but unlike last year when i got expert ranking points, i seem to have made a rather paltry haul from my trip to Richmond - oh well! Thanks to the Nutcracker guys for putting on a great event, with disappointingly little support from British Cycling, and as always to AW cycles for supporting me and providing my wonderful Giant Anthem.
Friday, 8 July 2011
The list
Rachel has pointed out that i frequently refer to races and events as "that's going on the list", when in reality there is no list, just my half-remembered attempt at keeping a mental record of what i want to do "one day". So, here is the list, with a rough attempt at prioritisation (given by the fact that i'm more likely to remember the ones i really want to do first!):
TransAlp Challenge (done it once, but it felt like a waymarked holiday, would love to do it again and feel like i actually did a race)
BC Bike Race - it's on at the moment, it looks like amazing singletrack riding of the sort that is so often lacking from big marathon events and stage races, and it's in BC!
Grand Raid Cristalp - just an amazing, classic race. Don't understand why there's a nasty hike-a-bike right at the end, apart from because the organisers are sadists, but apparently the final downhill makes up for it.
Gunn Rita Marathon, Montello - any excuse to go to Italy, purely for the food. Course sounds a bit different from the usual big-ups, big downs...
Scuol Swiss National Park Marathon - falls the week before the Cristalp, and goes through some of my favourite bits of transalp territory from years gone by. Starts in a town that even loan out their nuclear shelter to house sweaty grimy participants...
Alpentour trophy - purely because i enjoyed reading Mike Blewitt and Ben Thomas' reports, and seeing headcam from Josh Ibbett that shows i'm not the only brit that gets euro singletrack rage!
I'm sure there are more, but this seems like enough to bankrupt me for at least the next five years. So next time i say "it's on the list", at least i'll have somewhere to put it!
TransAlp Challenge (done it once, but it felt like a waymarked holiday, would love to do it again and feel like i actually did a race)
BC Bike Race - it's on at the moment, it looks like amazing singletrack riding of the sort that is so often lacking from big marathon events and stage races, and it's in BC!
Grand Raid Cristalp - just an amazing, classic race. Don't understand why there's a nasty hike-a-bike right at the end, apart from because the organisers are sadists, but apparently the final downhill makes up for it.
Gunn Rita Marathon, Montello - any excuse to go to Italy, purely for the food. Course sounds a bit different from the usual big-ups, big downs...
Scuol Swiss National Park Marathon - falls the week before the Cristalp, and goes through some of my favourite bits of transalp territory from years gone by. Starts in a town that even loan out their nuclear shelter to house sweaty grimy participants...
Alpentour trophy - purely because i enjoyed reading Mike Blewitt and Ben Thomas' reports, and seeing headcam from Josh Ibbett that shows i'm not the only brit that gets euro singletrack rage!
I'm sure there are more, but this seems like enough to bankrupt me for at least the next five years. So next time i say "it's on the list", at least i'll have somewhere to put it!
Saturday, 11 June 2011
TransGermany Day 4 - the home straight (and flat!).
Having bitched relentlessly to Hamish about the profile and surface for this stage (flat, and a lot of tarmac), I find myself in the embarrassing situation of having to admit I rather enjoyed it! The initial section of tarmac that took us out of Garmisch was, as is always the case in these events, nothing short of terrifying – it never ceases to amaze me the carnage that braking waves in such a large group can cause, and I had an unfortunately front-row seat for no less than four separate crashes! More amusingly, we were told by the organisers that the start of the stage would be delayed due to a train crossing being closed, only to find the crossing closing as we got there! The train must have decided to wait for us as well!!
Once we hit the first section of gravel road (schotterstrasse auf Deutsch), things calmed down a little, and I managed to work my way forward slightly, only to find a massive bottleneck waiting for me at a gated bridge further down the course. I was left queuing in a long line of elbowy people, and kicking myself for not wading through the knee-deep stream when I had the chance. This impromptu pause was doubly vexing because of the nature of the stage – it was split into two timed sections divided by an untimed “transition” ride of around 35km. My plan had been to treat to the two timed sections like time trials, and to chill out, refuel and catch up with Hamish on the neutralised transfer in between.
After the timing point I grabbed a banana and some watermelon (both staple foods at the feed stations on these events), and sat down in the sunshine to wait for Hamish. Just as I was settling down, he arrived, and we grabbed a bit more food to sustain us over the flat 35km to the next clock start point. We rolled along the valley road in a group with some wonderfully exuberant Italians, and A German dude who was so into the music on his iPod he couldn’t hold a line, and kept trying to run me and Hamish off the road (either that, or it was something we said!!).
Once we got to the second feed, and the clock restarted, I took a gel and got going on the big climb of the stage (things had to be re-routed last minute, and thankfully included a 600m climb for me, unlike the route profile above). I decided to use all my remaining energy on the ascent – it’s day four and it’s not like I need to do much tomorrow apart from get home, in an attempt to make up for time lost earlier in the stage. I crested the top after 45m, with the ego-boosting experience of passing all the riders around me on the way up, all that was left between me and a weissbier was a final schotter descent, and then a flat drag on the tarmac bike path around the Achensee. The descent was littered with fallen riders, including one guy who was hauling himself out of the river at the side of the path (it was hot, but not THAT hot), but by the time we got to the tarmac, I found myself in a good working group. The sign on the edge of the village told us we were going 34kph, not bad I thought, and we worked well for the last few km, dragging weary bodies to the finish line in Maurach. United by our mutual working experience, we all shook hands, then had an awkward moment where we realised we couldn’t really communicate further! I grabbed a finisher’s jersey, and was given my finisher’s medal (which only just fitted over the peak on my lazer helmet!) – job done! I finished 163rd on GC, 3h13m behind Christoph Sauser who took his second victory in the event, in spite of Alban Lakata throwing everything (including the kitchen sink) at him over the 4 days.
To me, there is a nice symmetry about coming back to stage racing. The transalp in 2006, where I raced with Hamish for the first time was what got me hooked on racing for multiple days through fantastic scenery, and ultimately caused me to give XC a go. To say that first race was anything much more than a waymarked holiday would be a fib, whereas the TransGermany felt more like a genuine race to me. I’m now plotting my return next year, but I can’t decide which one to go for. Only 6 months to decide before entries open for 2012!!
Thanks as ever to AWCycles.co.uk for supporting me, building me a front wheel at short notice and for the fantastic Giant bike that got many admiring glances. Thanks to Plan B racing - the organisers – for organising a fantastic, safe and enjoyable race once again and to Spotograf.de for the excellent photos.
TransGermany Day 3 - the migrating knee pain
The day with the best weather to date also coincided with the hardest route profile for me. Most people look at the stages and fear the days that look like a woodsman’s saw, by contrast I find that I flat-line on the flat lines. Needless to say, I seem to have totally failed to acquire any of the characteristics of the flatland time-triallists in whose lands I spent my formative cycling years.
A similar-distance route to yesterday, today was equipped with around 500m less climbing, and with almost all the uphill confined to the first half of the stage. These two 500m ascents saw me feeling strong, although I was suffering a bit with knee pains that didn’t quite know which knee to settle in. Initially it was the right, then on the second ascent, it abated only to come back on the other side, and by the top of the climb I saw suffering with both knees. It didn’t bother me unduly however, a chap at the top of the second ascent counted me through in ~200th place overall, which by my reckoning would have put me in about 130th in the senior men. All I had to do was hang on down the other side, ready for a 250m climb to the finish.
On the following 35km of gentle downhill, I found myself being passed by groups of 20-25 riders which I simply couldn’t hold onto. Ordinarily it wouldn’t have bothered me, as I would have been able to make the places back on the next ascent, but with only a short climb to the finish, they were gone for good. 183rd on the stage, both knees are killing me, my right ankle has got it in for me, and i’ve had the black eyed peas’ “I gotta feeling” rattling around in my head all day. It’s enough to make a chap quite, quite vexed! I’m now dreading tomorrow, which is longer and even flatter...
Post-stage finish, there was a nice little descent on open roads (and therefore untimed) to get to the main finish area in town, where the rather poorly-explained Scott sprint was happening; apparently you could win scott goodies, but it was far from clear how. Hamish, ever the serious one of our stage-race duo suggested that it might be judged on the “erotic content” of our sprint in an X-factor style. We struggled conceptually with how best to use this information to win bike bling, and decided (wisely I feel) that whatever it took, we probably didn’t have! We were determined not to get sucked into wasting energy, but with crowds of several hundred people cheering, we ended up drag racing one another down the main street – oops!
It took us a little while to find our hotel in Garmisch, but it was worth the hunting around; it looked like a good choice, and the fact that quite a lot of the organisation (including the legendary Uli) were staying there too only sweetened the deal. When we went to check in, however, we were told that there was no room at the inn – we would have to transfer to the 4.5* sister hotel across town; what a hardship. We got an interesting insight into how the other half live when we arrived at the Grand Hotel Atlas, seeing the Multivan-Merida mechanics prepping bikes in the courtyard definitely gave us a pause for “what if...?”.
Last stage tomorrow – Rachel’s sage advice by text message is to smash it. After all, how long can 100km take? Let’s see what, if anything, I have left...
TransGermany Day 2 - what goes up...
So, in spite of the apparent respite offered by the more gentle route profile as compared with yesterday’s “Queen” stage, today was definitely tougher! I slept okay, but the town bells in Pfronten woke me at 3am, and the organisers very kindly organised for them to be tolled continuously at 6am, just in case we’d forgotten we had a race to ride! The day broke very much in the spirit of the previous one, damp and overcast. I said goodbye to almost all of my luggage at 7am (apart from a well-travelled pot of chammy cream that hitched a ride in my back pocket for the duration of the stage), having elected to ride with arm and knee-warmers again, and stumbled down to breakfast. My stomach was (is!) a bit iffy, so I didn’t manage to force down quite as much heavy rye bread as Hamish, but it was actually quite nice to start the stage not feeling too full of stodge.
We got to the start line in the centre of Pfronten at 8am, and joined the assembled riders near the front of the B-pen, where our respective finishes of 150th and 180th had us gridded. After much standing around in more German spray, we were given a briefing on the stage ahead, which included a tantalising warning about the tricky and technical nature of the first descent, and before we knew it we were off the line to the dulcet tones of AC-DC’s “Highway to Hell”. The timing of the organisers was almost impeccable, as the clock ticked over to 9am, the first repeat of the chorus started! The fastest amateurs and pros in the A-group got a nice head start, whilst we sat at the start watching them go, ready to chase after them when our turn came. I made sure I got a decent kick off the line in anticipation of the first descent, and was rewarded with a manageably small number of technically inept riders! The descent itself was rather reminiscent of the Peak District on a wet day, complete with a muddy, rooty section that provided a momentary resting-place for four stricken riders!
The remainder of the stage is something of a blur – I remember that the mist lifted and the sun came out, and that I never really got into my stride – i’m pretty sure I lost some time on my early running , but it was more than made up for by the “freeride” descent in Lermoos. I managed to stay with a working group early on which saved me from losing too much time, but everyone is racing hard around me, even for 200th place, making every little loss of legs or enthusiasm costly!
Hamish came in around half an hour behind today, after going off-course and then having to call the emergency recovery crew to a woman who had crashed and landed on her head. At the time, he hadn’t a clue where he was, but thankfully the alpine walkers were better prepared with maps! I think I would have placed 12th or 13th in the women’s field, which i’m pleased with given how awful I felt for most of the day. My knees are feeling it, however; in the past two days they have done more riding than they would normally see in a week, so they are entitled to complain a little. As an example of how much the weather improved, I am now a little sunburned, and sporting two-tone arms which go white – pink – brown; I am an accidental Neapolitan! Aside from that, I don’t feel too bad, and have just reminded myself that there’s a gelateria on the main street...
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