italiafirenze
World's Greatest Spy
- Location
- Blackpool
It's an often over-used cliché that bike racing is all about suffering. The pained expression on the faces of our cycling heroes as they climb Mont Ventoux or the Muur says everything about that suffering and from the comfort of the sofa or even whilst out riding my favourite climbs, it was easy to think I understood it.
A very warm sunny afternoon at Lancaster's Salt Ayre saw the highlight of the day of racing; the 4th Cat race. Having watched a few closed circuit races before I had half an idea of what to expect and was relieved there would be no Elite or 1st and 2nd Cat riders there to intimidate me. I had been planning this for weeks, this race would be my perfect introduction, a springboard to a season full of races.
So as I arrived I was signed on and was invited to test the track in a shared warm-up session with the para-cyclists who would be racing immediately before us. I covered a quick 5 miles or so before retiring back to the car for a drink and a snack, there was an hour to go now. I prepared all my kit and made double sure I was ready for what was going to come.
A delay in the para-cycling event (injury, air ambulance, much drama, don't know enough detail to explain) meant that we were called onto the track 30 minutes later than our race was due to start and offered ten minutes to warm up. Because of the time delay it was fair to say I was very much cooled down by now and I usually take 30 minutes to really hit my stride but at the time I was too nervous to think about it.
As I rounded my final half lap I saw the group assembled on the start line and knew that this was it. I joined the back of the group and listened as the commissaire explained the bells, the timing and the laps, it was to be 45 minutes and 5 laps. The first lap was neutralised so gave everyone the chance to find a comfortable position.
At this stage all the advice and information I'd read was whirring through my brain. Stay in the middle of the bunch, don't get caught at the back, don't overtake on the inside, shout your intentions to those around you. I was also desperately trying to size up those immediately around me at the back. There was a girl just in front of me as well as a couple of fellows who didn't look very strong (I know, imagine me deciding who is strong or not) so I was being very concious not to end up stuck behind anyone who might lose a wheel.
I jostled my way to the back of the main group as we passed the start/finish line and the pace immediately kicked up, the shock was amazing. Almost immediately my heart rate jumped to what felt like it's maximum and my legs burned ferociously as I spun what felt like an enormous gear at 95-100rpm.
It was immediately hard and I was doing all I could to keep a wheel, all the while taking care not to get caught in a split. And then within two or three laps (it really is hard to count whilst you're out there) the split occurred. Three riders were caught out the back (including the girl who had started near me) and I was not one of them. I felt good since a little bit of me was worried I'd be so far off the pace as to be shelled immediately.
I was still with the group, but the pace was intense. All the advice I had read was to stay near the middle, but getting there wasn't easy and I was a little worried about ending up exposed and not able to ride fast enough. I was right at the back and the elastic effect coming out of the corners was punishing me, I wasn't getting enough acceleration and was losing the wheel a little every time, then fighting twice as hard to get it back.
A couple of laps further in and a big dig at the front pulled the whole group out of a corner very fast, I could no longer maintain it and I lost the wheel.
Looking back now, I didn't fight hard enough to get it back; at the time, I didn't feel I could have given any more. Mentally, I had ceded that the pace of the whole race was just too great for me. I had all but given up. I was doubting I could continue even one more lap.
The only thing that kept me going was two of my friends had come to support me and I didn't want them to see me quit. The strangers I might be able to cope with, but not my friends. So I just pushed on as hard as I could manage. Before I knew it, probably another 3 or 4 laps, the three riders who were dropped first had caught up with me.
My heart sank at first as I realised I might end up dead last if they cruised past me; but with another burst of acceleration I jumped their wheel and panted my way around another 10 laps or so. The three of them worked well together; I just sat on. The truth is; I couldn't have worked if I'd have wanted to, I was hanging on by a thread.
Eventually, the inevitable happened and on the straight we were caught by group. They didn't fly past us, just a couple of extra MPH, not being sure of the rules or etiquette I hesitated to tag onto the group. When I saw another of the lapped party jump onto a wheel though I wasted no more time and gave every bit of energy I had recovered to staying with the group; I would not be dropped a second time.
At this point I started to actually enjoy the race, the recovery of sitting on the group was refreshing and I found myself not only keeping up with the surges, but learning to read them on the corners by watching the main guys exit first, something I had not done earlier. If they were piling it on as the exited, I could give it more through the corner, where some were coasting and get ahead of the surge, instead of strung out of the back.
I knew I shouldn't contest the sprint but was keen to drop the other riders who had been lapped on the run to the line, and managed to finish ahead of all three, for a final position of "not last". I can be no more specific than that. I would guess about twentieth of those that finished.
I was immediately disappointed that I had been dropped at first as I felt that had I not, I would have been able to finish with the group. Perhaps a better warm up would have allowed me to survive that initial pace a little better? Maybe better positioning in the group? I have learned, and next time will be different, though I can only imagine I will suffer just as much.
For all the advice, information and tactics I had been given or ingested from web sources; I am grateful. But not a single one could have prepared me for the lung and leg burning intensity of just trying to keep up.
Perhaps I don't go hard enough the rest of the time but it was the hardest thing I have done and I can't wait to do it again.
A very warm sunny afternoon at Lancaster's Salt Ayre saw the highlight of the day of racing; the 4th Cat race. Having watched a few closed circuit races before I had half an idea of what to expect and was relieved there would be no Elite or 1st and 2nd Cat riders there to intimidate me. I had been planning this for weeks, this race would be my perfect introduction, a springboard to a season full of races.
So as I arrived I was signed on and was invited to test the track in a shared warm-up session with the para-cyclists who would be racing immediately before us. I covered a quick 5 miles or so before retiring back to the car for a drink and a snack, there was an hour to go now. I prepared all my kit and made double sure I was ready for what was going to come.
A delay in the para-cycling event (injury, air ambulance, much drama, don't know enough detail to explain) meant that we were called onto the track 30 minutes later than our race was due to start and offered ten minutes to warm up. Because of the time delay it was fair to say I was very much cooled down by now and I usually take 30 minutes to really hit my stride but at the time I was too nervous to think about it.
As I rounded my final half lap I saw the group assembled on the start line and knew that this was it. I joined the back of the group and listened as the commissaire explained the bells, the timing and the laps, it was to be 45 minutes and 5 laps. The first lap was neutralised so gave everyone the chance to find a comfortable position.
At this stage all the advice and information I'd read was whirring through my brain. Stay in the middle of the bunch, don't get caught at the back, don't overtake on the inside, shout your intentions to those around you. I was also desperately trying to size up those immediately around me at the back. There was a girl just in front of me as well as a couple of fellows who didn't look very strong (I know, imagine me deciding who is strong or not) so I was being very concious not to end up stuck behind anyone who might lose a wheel.
I jostled my way to the back of the main group as we passed the start/finish line and the pace immediately kicked up, the shock was amazing. Almost immediately my heart rate jumped to what felt like it's maximum and my legs burned ferociously as I spun what felt like an enormous gear at 95-100rpm.
It was immediately hard and I was doing all I could to keep a wheel, all the while taking care not to get caught in a split. And then within two or three laps (it really is hard to count whilst you're out there) the split occurred. Three riders were caught out the back (including the girl who had started near me) and I was not one of them. I felt good since a little bit of me was worried I'd be so far off the pace as to be shelled immediately.
I was still with the group, but the pace was intense. All the advice I had read was to stay near the middle, but getting there wasn't easy and I was a little worried about ending up exposed and not able to ride fast enough. I was right at the back and the elastic effect coming out of the corners was punishing me, I wasn't getting enough acceleration and was losing the wheel a little every time, then fighting twice as hard to get it back.
A couple of laps further in and a big dig at the front pulled the whole group out of a corner very fast, I could no longer maintain it and I lost the wheel.
Looking back now, I didn't fight hard enough to get it back; at the time, I didn't feel I could have given any more. Mentally, I had ceded that the pace of the whole race was just too great for me. I had all but given up. I was doubting I could continue even one more lap.
The only thing that kept me going was two of my friends had come to support me and I didn't want them to see me quit. The strangers I might be able to cope with, but not my friends. So I just pushed on as hard as I could manage. Before I knew it, probably another 3 or 4 laps, the three riders who were dropped first had caught up with me.
My heart sank at first as I realised I might end up dead last if they cruised past me; but with another burst of acceleration I jumped their wheel and panted my way around another 10 laps or so. The three of them worked well together; I just sat on. The truth is; I couldn't have worked if I'd have wanted to, I was hanging on by a thread.
Eventually, the inevitable happened and on the straight we were caught by group. They didn't fly past us, just a couple of extra MPH, not being sure of the rules or etiquette I hesitated to tag onto the group. When I saw another of the lapped party jump onto a wheel though I wasted no more time and gave every bit of energy I had recovered to staying with the group; I would not be dropped a second time.
At this point I started to actually enjoy the race, the recovery of sitting on the group was refreshing and I found myself not only keeping up with the surges, but learning to read them on the corners by watching the main guys exit first, something I had not done earlier. If they were piling it on as the exited, I could give it more through the corner, where some were coasting and get ahead of the surge, instead of strung out of the back.
I knew I shouldn't contest the sprint but was keen to drop the other riders who had been lapped on the run to the line, and managed to finish ahead of all three, for a final position of "not last". I can be no more specific than that. I would guess about twentieth of those that finished.
I was immediately disappointed that I had been dropped at first as I felt that had I not, I would have been able to finish with the group. Perhaps a better warm up would have allowed me to survive that initial pace a little better? Maybe better positioning in the group? I have learned, and next time will be different, though I can only imagine I will suffer just as much.
For all the advice, information and tactics I had been given or ingested from web sources; I am grateful. But not a single one could have prepared me for the lung and leg burning intensity of just trying to keep up.
Perhaps I don't go hard enough the rest of the time but it was the hardest thing I have done and I can't wait to do it again.
