NCRA Rockingham Series Race 3 – not dropped

Base layers, winter gloves and leg warmers, all were on today. I wore my skinsuit just because it had long sleeves. It was cold, it was windy, but despite the Oklahoma black skies, at least the rain was holding off.

As with last week, I stayed back on the first lap then moved forward for the second. I made my presence felt, and I think did my fair share of work at the front. I didn’t feel the group worked especially well and riders in ones and twos frequently opened small gaps to the bunch. However, we continued to make good progress against the 4ths, catching them just over 20 minutes into the race.

For a while it looked a break might establish, so I kept near to the front. I felt pretty good. One Peterborough rider did manage to slip off the front for a few solo laps, but he was reeled in well before the finish. After a while the lack of cooperation did start to get frustrating. I could see there were perhaps 8-10 other riders looking strong and dominating the race. A concerted and coordinated attack by 4 or 5 of us and I think a breakaway would have established and stayed away. It felt like the rest of the bunch were being dragged around and I doubt they would have worked to pull a cooperating group back. Maybe next week…

Heading to the final bend a small split occurred. I was on the right side, but too far back going round to get a top 10 place (your position out of the final bend pretty much decides where you’ll finish). I finished 13th, a marginal improvement on the previous race. Wayne, 3rd last week came in a very respectable 5th.

Driving home along the empty A6116, the car’s thermometer was stuck stubbornly on 5°C; I had the heating on full and reflected on the race. It was not the result I had hoped for, but overall I was pleased. For a lot of the race I had worked hard at or near the front, and remained competitive to the end. Not something I could have done two weeks ago, so this race was a nice confidence booster and I was going home dry! Meanwhile, Bonnie Prince Billy on the stereo struggled to compete with the rain beating against the windscreen. The weather’s timing was a very large mercy.

Cyclists are inspiring

Cyclists can be inspiring folk. I know a lot of them and I’ve heard many tales and adventures of LEJOG’s / JOGLE’s, long distance charity rides across France and India, or even just completing a first century ride. Earlier this week I went to listen to a talk by fellow blogger and cyclist Frank Burns, and his ride probably tops the lot.

Frank rode end to end across New Zealand to raise money for Save the Children’s Syria appeal. But that distance wasn’t enough, so he tacked on another 1100km in Australia (well if you’re down that why, I suppose why not). 4000km in total. More impressive than the mileage is that he rode solo and unsupported.Frank has a very minimalist attitude to baggage; his admission that he carried a mere 10kg of clothing and equipment (including tent and sleeping bag) produced stunned silence and gasps of disbelief from the audience. He covered the distance on a venerable and much loved steel Raleigh MTB which predated ubiquitous suspension and disc brakes on such bikes. It got the job done though, and as Frank explained, did it with familiar comfort.

I am under no illusion that riding that far alone is no less psychologically demanding as it is physically, perhaps more so. You only have to imagine yourself 30miles from home bonking into a headwind to appreciate, in a small measure, the mental strength required to complete Frank’s ride. But for me, listening to Frank’s story, it wasn’t the choice of bike, the distance or the self-reliance that made this ride so inspiring, rather, it was the many acts of kindness he encountered on his journey. Whether it was strangers offering unsolicited donations on the road, a free meal or a bed or both, or just the company of other cyclists, I was left with the impression that throughout his journey Frank was never truly alone. As much as it is a story about riding a bike, it is also a story about the goodness in humanity, something we too often forget.

Anyway go and read Frank’s blog, then make a donation to Save the Children.

NCRA Rockingham Series Race 2 – looking better

For the second race the weather was kinder and, after getting dropped last week, I was on a mission for redemption; I wanted to finish in the bunch. As if that wasn’t incentive enough, this week I had three club mates with me, all 4th cats and for two of them, it was their first race. I had no intention of embarrassing myself in front of them.

I used the first lap to settle into the race. On the second lap I moved forward and took my share of turns pulling at the front. It was hard, but my legs felt good and I was comfortable (well, as much as you can be). However, as we approached the 4th’s group, a few attacks started off the front. On one, two riders broke away leaving me at the front. I pulled hard to reel them in, but with no one coming through to relieve me, I only succeeded in preventing them increasing the gap. Approaching the next bend, and onto one of the circuits ramps, two more riders tried to jump across. My legs protested and, with a Rockingham Wheelers rider, I drifted off the back.

This felt like history repeating, I was dropped with another rider, but at least this time, the gap wasn’t widening. After a lap I was feeling confident we could get back, although I was pinning my hopes on them slowing up as they caught the 4th’s group. Instead, rescue came from the 2nd’s group, who started behind ours. We jumped on their tail and hung on for a 30+mph pursuit. Within a lap I was back in my group for the final third of the race.

After the recent chases I was feeling tired, so hid in the bunch and concentrated on recovering.

For the final lap, I felt good, but not strong enough to contest the win, besides I was positioned too far back. Of course, once the adrenalin started pumping, and riders around me launched out of the saddle, nothing was going stop me from having a stab too. I passed a few riders, some more easily than others, to finish 14th or 15th.

So, I didn’t embarrass myself, but one of my club mates finished 3rd, and in his first race too. Next Thursday I want at least a top 10 finish…

NCRA Rockingham Series Race 1 – Dropped

I’ve got a stack of them lined up. Excuses that is. I’ve not been riding enough. I’ve had a cold. It was my first race of the year, I never do well in my first race. I had new shoes, hmm, well that one would be a lie as they were really very comfortable. Driving over, I should have listened to Queens of the Stone Age instead of PM.

Or more likely, 20mph winds, with stronger gusts sweeping across the exposed speedway circuit, cool temperatures and showers, coupled with a lack of race fitness and aggression on my part, is the true reason I was dropped early on.

Given the conditions, I was cautious in our group (the race being handicapped), and allowed a little too much space to develop. It was a stupid mistake and I paid for it into the wind. The gaps grew and, with my lack of fitness, getting back got harder each time, until I no longer could. I was dropped.

I wasn’t the only one though. I saw a St Ives rider ahead of me. I had a target. After a couple of laps we joined up. Whether I caught him or he eased up a fraction I wouldn’t like to say, but at least I had an ally against the wind. We worked well together and for a while it looked like we had our group pegged. Another couple of laps and 3 riders from the scratch group passed us, riding on to stir things up at the head of the race. Shortly after a Fenland Clarion rider rode by. I got on his wheel, the St Ives rider didn’t. But I couldn’t hold it for long. It was a scenario repeated twice more as remnants of the scratch group came through.

The rest of the race I spent composing this post and cataloging the excuses in my head, but I did finish and I wasn’t last. A very small victory.

 

A Bank Holiday Spin around Thetford Forest

It was my brother’s birthday over the Bank Holiday. He likes his mtb’ing, so we headed to Thetford Forest Park for a spin along the trails. Yes, that’s right, Thetford in Norfolk, on the edge of the Fens, where it’s so flat that the USAF have two massive bases at nearby Mildenhall and Lakenheath. Years ago, driving back from Norfolk with my wife (when she was still my girlfriend) I saw a pair of F-15′s take off from Lakenheath. I admit to having a macho soft spot for military jets. Distanced from their function, they look so beautiful, but that really was a stunning sight.

Anyway, this is a post on cycling, not lusting over very big boy’s toys. My brother and parents were late arriving at Thetford, so I had plenty of time to try out the basic Merida hardtail I had hired from Bike-Art. The gear shifters took a little practice for my roadie fingers, but otherwise it was a well-maintained and competent ride, and, as I soon discovered, easily capable of Thetford’s trails.

When he finally arrived, my brother and I had time for a quick ride before lunch, so we opted for the shortened Beater Trail. It’s classed as a red route and comprises many miles of single track. Most of the trail was straightforward. I’m no mtb’er, but there was nothing especially challenging. For a couple of sections (the 39 Steps stands out) the track threads through the pine plantations. It follows a gentle downhill gradient, sweeping back and forth, inches from the tree trunks. Each bend is bermed and the track flows nicely, so the skill isn’t so much in getting around them and staying upright, but getting around them at speed. And that is something that comes with practice; but if I’m honest, I found riding through the pine understory a bit, well, boring. I’m not sure I could sustain enough enthusiasm to want to get any faster.

Me badly tackling Madgett’s pit….but look at those legs!

Over lunch the morning’s sunshine gave way to showers. We allowed our food a couple of minutes to settle then rode the Lime Burner Trail. Apparently parts of this used to be black routed, so I was expecting more of a challenge. Along the way we stopped off to ride a couple of the bike pits. These are bomb holes a few metres deep. You drop down fast then power up the other side and, if you get enough momentum, pop a little air over the rim. Mind you, my first run down Madgett’s Pit earlier in the morning almost ended in disaster. I was overconfident and in way too big a gear so stalled just before the top. Still they’re good fun, but if you can handle a bike and are not stupid, I’m not sure they deserve the guide map’s severe grading.

The Lime Burner trail’s single track was more challenging and thus more enjoyable than the Beater trail, and things were to improve further as we approached The Beast. It’s a long long time since I last rode around Thetford, and I suppose The Beast was what I had in mind, but first I want to step back a bit. As teenagers, my brother and I spent hours on our mountain bikes – odd, you might think, for two Fenland lads, but then, we had the London Brick Company to fashion our playground. Weekends and holidays we would ignore the No Trespassing signs to ride around the abandoned clay pits on trails carved out by motocross bikes (which also shouldn’t have been there). Those trails had big dips, fast jumps and sweeping banks. It was great fun, and now I look back at my old, suspension free, MBK with fond respect. That is what the Beast took me back to, and I loved it. It’s a cracking rollercoaster ride and the one place I felt fully engaged with the bike and the trail. But it is over too quickly. We rode it several times, I soon got a feel for it and my fastest time was 1.06 minutes. According to Strava, plenty have gone faster.

After the Beast we rode along some sweeping beechwood trails, perhaps not as technical as the claustrophobic pine tree trails, but visually more enjoyable. I can imagine it is a spectacular ride on a crisp autumn morning.

It was an enjoyable day and Thetford Forest Park has more to offer. While my brother and I were out riding, my daughters had great fun on the Park’s adventure playgrounds, although the older was very disappointed by a “minimum 8-years-old” rule which prevented her from going on a zip wire (how about allowing some parental responsibility, Forestry Commission?). However, as a novice mtb’er, apart from one 400m section, I found the trails pretty tame. What they need are some long technical ascents and descents, but frankly with little more than 100m of climbing on an 11mile circuit, that isn’t going to happen. Yes, you could ride the trails faster to make them harder, but that would mean doing the same circuit again and again, and that sort of repetition smacks too much of a TT. When I’m riding for leisure, I prefer instead to range over distances and explore new routes.

I’m in no hurry to head back, but I will return, because once in a while a thrashing round some single track is fun, though Thetford won’t convert me to an East Anglian MTB’er. For that I would need *ahem* mountains. Perhaps for my brother’s next birthday that’s what we should look for.

3 Days of Bedford

The final leg of today’s club run took us from Kimbolton to Keysoe and Bolnhurst. Along the way I saw a few bike race signs and racked my brains trying to think what they might be for. Slogging into a headwind and up the 30m ascent of Mill Hill, through Keysoe village, the penny dropped. With long blond hair flowing in their slipstream, three riders in Team Matrix colours came flying down the hill towards us. Our tired heads turned to follow them, then questioned the powder suspended in our bidons. We avoided collapsing in a tangled heap at the roadside in astonishment but, you must understand, women in road gear, especially as professional looking as these, is a rare sight. We were on the race circuit for stage 3 of the 3 days of Bedford women’s race. I felt stupid for not realising that sooner.

Through Keysoe and into Bolnhurst we saw more riders and support cars. We passed the race HQ, forested with teardrop banners between which riders on rollers warmed down from the morning team time trial.

I knew the race was on this weekend, but I hadn’t really followed the build-up. The May Bank Holiday was planned to be a busy weekend for our household, so I had had no expectations of seeing the race. Besides, for some reason I had thought the race was mostly taking place the other side of Bedford, rather than a couple of villages away from our doorstep. So, the morning’s club run route had turned out to be a fortuitous one.

In the afternoon my family and I were off to our daughters’ friend’s birthday party. This is the main reason I hadn’t looked into the race for Sunday; if only I had, our afternoon plans might have been a bit more organised. However, as luck would have it, the race circuit was en route to the party. The race started at 1.30pm, the party, a few miles further on from the course, at 3.30pm. We may not have time to see the finish, but events were working in our favour to watch a couple of circuits at least.

We pulled into a lay-by half way up the Mill Hill climb in Keysoe. Our younger daughter was asleep, while the older seemed, if anything, a little bemused as to why we had stopped. I saw a photographer and got an update on the race situation from him. A few minutes later the first rider came struggling through. Having at first thought that this was a breakaway leader, we soon realised she was the last woman out, someway off the pace and soon to be relegated. She wasn’t yet in the lead group’s sights, but they were not far behind. The spectacle of a peloton steam-rollering up the hill certainly galvanised my daughter’s interest, and really that’s what I was after.

We then moved to the top of the climb and the finish line. There was more activity here, but sadly spectators were thin on the ground and most seemed to be associated with the race. It’s a shame, as I’m sure the hard sprint up to the finish would provide as much spectacle as any men’s race.

I did meet Jake from the club there, and I know a couple of other members been out watching, so I was pleased that St Neots CC had some representation among the spectators.

I also bumped into a rider I know from Bourne Wheelers. His daughter was racing, and at 16 she was the youngest there. She had just been pulled out, but he was still clearly a very proud, if competitive, dad. And I don’t think he was the only one there either. Annis, my wife, heard other middle-aged men shouting advice to attack or hold a wheel and, like all advice from father to daughter, I’m sure it was gratefully received. I must admit, I did imagine myself in their position a few years from now.

I want my daughters to take an interest in sport and naturally I hope it is cycling they turn to, but I think keeping girls inspired by sport is hard. Our girls loved the Olympics, especially the women’s cycling and swimming events, and the GB competitors became household names. But events such as the Olympics, and indeed cycling, athletics or swimming championships, are rare in TV schedules dominated by men playing football, golf or cricket (none of which I have much enthusiasm for). So next year I’ll pay more attention in the run-up to the 3 Days of Bedford and, as long as my girls are interested, I’ll have them cheering from the verges, while in the back of my mind will be that dream where I’m at the roadside, dispensing winning advice.

The peloton climb Mill Hill with Yellow Jersey wearer Molly Weaver tucked in the middle

Anyway, back to the race. We stayed for the penultimate lap. It looked like a small group had attacked near the bottom of the Keysoe climb gaining a 15-second advantage over the main bunch by the summit. We had to leave before the finish, but the breakaway stayed away, gaining a minute over the rest of the field. The stage was won by the appropriately named Welsh junior Amy Hill.

Amy Hill, the race winner, in the decisive break, cresting Mill Hill

Moping, frustrated and bored, bored, bored

Outside it is a cracking early summer’s evening. The sun is descending from a cloudless sky into peachy haze and the budding trees stand unruffled by any breeze. I should be out racing the club TT, but I’m not. Instead I’m moping around the house looking for stuff to do and generally feeling sorry for myself. The reason? I’m coughing up phlegm and my sinuses are a rapidly filling mucous reservoir. So I’m kicking my heels with frustration because I want to, and should be, riding my bike.

I’m being a good boy though, doing the sensible thing, I’m resting. I’m taking it easy because I really need to shift this bug. A week on Sunday I’m riding a Century, although I’m feeling a lack of recent miles banked. More pressingly, this Bank Holiday, I’m meant to be whipping (honestly, I’m not obsessed) my little brother’s arse around Thetford’s mtb trails. Hopefully the engine will be fully recovered, I can already feel my legs are getting twitchy…