@Norry1
How about a race report?
One of the guys often writes a report and having read his, I thought you might like to read it....
Race Report - Dave Astles Memorial Race
In the self imposed urgency of signing on the brief conversations held were mostly limited to have ‘Have you ridden here before?’
I had but that was a few years back though I could remember the bottom bends and not much else. Being a short circuit at just 1 km there isn’t a lot to remember. The surface is near perfect though today mainly due to the high winds of late we had more than a smattering of leaf litter cum blossom, twigs and nature’s detritus to go crunch under the rubber.
A cold wind blew despite the generous sunshine that welcomed us to Shrewsbury and a few riders braved it in need of a warm up. On time we were called to the line by whistle. Just over a century ago the same thing meant you were going over the top in to ‘no man’s land’ and a hail of machine gun bullets.
A man seeking to strike a deadly blow of his own today was Carl Dee; Welsh, like the river but he flows much faster. He wasn’t for hanging around when a mere twenty minutes in he set off as if late for Choir Practice. Like an arrow he flew from us and there was no reaction in the bunch.
This was a bunch that had shown its intention from the start with a fast pace that put some riders in difficulty.
Respect where it’s due and a battling Ken Bradbury, G Cat, fought hard to stay on the wheel but his slippage was inevitable. He wasn’t alone off the back. Three surely was company today and Roland Elsdon, F Cat, too was adrift. Their companion, when they finally found each other in the same way that Burton, another son of Wales, re-united with Taylor, was a Man in Black. He’ll be using the Neuralizer on himself as today was a race he’ll want to forget. This was a threesome that was together in the later stages of the Race before it split again with Elsdon this time hanging on to a speeding peloton’s shirt tails.
Dee, for all that lightning speed, clean pair of heels and Garbo’s attitude, didn’t stay away. He was captured, settled in the bunch as gently as snow black soot settles on the roof tops and in the lungs, and spent the rest of the Race recovering.
Meanwhile at the ever changing sharp end attack after attack was launched.
One stealth missile launched long. Lacking speed it was held in view and reeled in but there had been a gap.
Others operated from a different play book before Science in Sport came along and told us all what we should be doing. Glaringly obvious, one back side after another was stuck up in the air, and the legs set spinning. This was as successful as Anne Widdecombe on Strictly but less entertaining. After all, she’s got better legs.
This tactic sent a ripple of copy cats down the line until in the most threatening case we were briefly lined out in the chase. Lined but not gapped.
And so it unfolded in this spasmodic, occasionally explosive, slow into the bends, fast out style that became as familiar as the snot, sweat and salt stains that marked our sleeves, but a tad less attractive.
From the faltering efforts as we began to labour and the fast men who’d been trying to get away finally conceded and conserved their energies for the sprint bust up, it was clear this was going to be a charge for the line. Oddly enough no one baulked at the prospect.
Our riding had been safe throughout. No chopping or undercutting or dive bombing into corners. The sprint held no fears or doubts of staying up.
I had seen a rider slip onto the grass in the bottom bends; a self inflicted error. In the final passage through there one rider did an Alan Titchmarsh and later complained about someone introducing him to the local flora and fauna but that was a racing incident and we were racing.
Some one had a race to win and today that one was Paul Thursfield.
About 10 riders contested the sprint though the fight for the place that mattered saw only the strongest in the mix. We were good but not good enough. We had a good day’s racing and that was good enough.
It is an excellent venue. You can expect this from a purpose built facility. Ample near by on site parking, modern building, clean toilets and a cafeteria.
The organisation of today’s racing matched that excellence. Friendly, informative and on time. Thanks go to Mark Astles and Chris Quinn and those who volunteered help on the day in a myriad of roles. Apologies if any names have been omitted.
A fitting Race in Memory of Dave Astles where sportsmanship won the day and a few picked up the prizes.