martinlawless

[martinlawless]

Tour of Malta 2022

Master Stage 3 Crit race Sunday 17 April 2022

Tour of Malta, Masters Stage 3. The final stage this year: the crit race. Or, as I like to think of it, teammate Dave’s favourite race in the world. There aren’t enough circuits like this in the UK. The Zeebug-Bypass circuit is a super simple dual carriageway between two roundabouts. Perhaps a mile each way. I recall this as a flat stage. But in fact it’s not. It nestles beneath the beautiful ancient city of Mdina, on the south-facing lower slopes of Malta. It rises gently from the flat first-third of the road. It’s quite exposed and the wind plays some part here.

I think Dave likes the uncomplicated nature of this circuit. And I agree. The simplicity ups the need for tactics and gamesmanship from the bunch. No one will escape on a climb or technical feature. It’s raw crit action. Hey, it’s also loads of fun tapping your way to the top of the circuit, then turning to go full-gas on the mile-long descent, looking down on Valletta and the sun glinting off the sea. I bet this is the visceral vibe you get from the sorts of crits you see in the US on YouTube.

When I arrive at the circuit, the sun is out and the wind has dropped for the first time this week. It feels like a different country from the last two stages. Spring flowers are in bloom. I feel the colour of the place. It will be a good day to finish the Tour. The organisers have the trophies laid out, teasingly, next to the podium. I dare not look at the 3rd place GC Masters Cup in case I jinx the position I’m in.

I tootle up and down the circuit a couple of times to loosen the legs from yesterday’s tough hilly stage and to scope the surface. I catch up with Nick who I met in the local bike shop. He rides for Team Greens. He tells me the local elections were recently held – that’s why the road has been recently resurfaced. It’s beautiful. Super smooth. Lethal if it were wet. Fortunately, it’s bone-dry. There are a few things to note: the obligatory collapsed manhole, the spiky road debris and loose gravel at the roundabout turns, and the cactus needles from the prickly pears edging the roadside here and there. I think to myself that cactus needles are a race hazard you don’t get back in the UK.

My plan is simple: defend my 3rd place in GC. After Stage 2, I have upped my time gap to over 20 seconds from 4th place. For Mark in 4th to breakaway and leave me behind feels unlikely. But there will be no gifts and I psyche up to be alert to any moves. My secondary aims is not to miss a break if Mitchy and Etienne get away. I would want to be on that bus out of the bunch. Plus, it would be terrible if Mark in 4th place were in the break and I missed it. So, I know I need to be always at the front of the bunch and cannot afford to ever be dawdling at the back.

We take to the start line. I find out that Dave has suffered a triple puncture situation and is just amazed to get to the line in time. He hit the sunken manhole when recceing the course. The low morning Sun playing havoc. He’d blown both tyres and then pinched one of the new inner tubes. But with help from Jenny and José, he was all right. Kindly, Dave lets me know he’d like to domestique for me, to help my GC chances. I’m truly honoured.

Then, with moments to go before our start, Dave’s pedal snaps in half. What are the chances? The day before, while arriving back at the hotel, Dave had clipped the pavement and suffered a ‘chute sans gravité’. He was fine but, on reflection, his pedal that had taken the brunt of the impact had cracked. It’s just fallen off. There’s no time for anything. Dave will pedal with one foot unclipped. Hero. This simplifies his domestique role. He cannot now sprint: he can only apply steady time-trial power. He will work to push off the front and keep the pace high to mitigate against breaks, while I simply hide a few wheels back.

Off we go, on the steady climb of the first of 12 laps. It’s be around 26 miles in total today. Almost immediately, Mark in 4th place jumps off the front. I’m on to it like a gun. I’m reminded of all the Welwyn winter road race coaching sessions. We will often do individual efforts on the whistle around the open-air tarmacked velodrome there on our road bikes: short times like 20 to 40 seconds. Perfect simulation of many road race situations where there are sudden moves. Zero to a zillion watts in a snap. Here I am putting this into practice. At Welwyn, sometimes you’ll catch a rider of similar pace and get onto their back wheel. The drop in power requirement to keep high pace is startling. This is exactly what is happening here. Mark is full wallop but, super close to his wheel, I’m in no danger at all. My heart rate isn’t moving. He eases back, I ease back. He surges, I surge. But I never take the front. I do not need to.

Eventually, that game feels futile and a new dynamic takes over. Greens Team riders ping off the front, dangling out there for Mitchy to chase down and Etienne to follow. The idea is to wear Mitchy down. But… José is working for Mitchy, and Dave is working for me. Greens are in a difficult place with two other teams not wanting their plan to work. The riders are hauled back, or unable to break off with Dave putting in the watts. I can see him gurning as he is, effectively, time-trialling. In between, I’m sticking near the front but never the front. A couple of times Mitchy takes off, taking Etienne with him. I feel compelled to take their wheel and repeat a similar situation I’d had at a circuit race in Darley Moor a few weeks back – a breakaway trio. I get to feel their astonishing raw power and it’s hard for me to initially get on Etienne’s wheel. I fear that the effort is unsustainable if it stays like this for long. But the rushes don’t last. Mitchy only neds to peg Etienne to win the GC, and fancies his chances in a bunch sprint in the end. For some reason, Etienne chooses not to counter-punch Mitchy’s sprints. So there are no double-bubbles of effort. I’m thankful! I figure Etienne is looking to have his team grind down Mitchy and go for the stage win instead.

And so, this dynamic continues towards the end of the race. At times, we go super slowly uphill, breathe deep and then hurtle down the lap absolutely zooming. At one point, we see there has been a nasty looking crash in the Elites. At least two Maltese riders are hurt, with bandages on their head and sides. We hear later one rider had a suspected leg fracture and was taken to hospital. We tell each other in our Masters race to be extra careful and do nothing silly. This is the first proper tumble I have seen in 14 stages of the Tour of Malta, and it’s ironic it comes from an innocent bit of road. I expect it was from relaxing too much and not paying attention bringing on a touch of wheels. I work to get more space in my bunch. My 3rd place does not want to be thrown away over something silly.

Then near the end there is a weird situation. All three races merge: Ladies, Masters, Elites. There are maybe 60-70 riders all together. We Masters decide to sit up, and let the Elites move away. The Ladies is a smaller bunch and is navigable on the dual carriageway. But there are many Elites and we do not want to meet at the finish. The organisers also throw in a couple more laps to help split things up. Eventually, things separate and the final lap heats things up.

We are all together. GC is assured as long as I remain upright in the final few hundred metres. All the same, I’m feeling strong – so want to give it a sprint. It goes off with Mitchy leading from the front. It’s not his preferred launch strategy, ideally he jumps off a wheel – but he’s safer this way from wild wheels behind. This is the situation I find myself in: boxed in behind two riders leaping around. I find myself touching my brakes and moving around to find a clean line – but by now I’m well behind the first three riders. I find myself in a super close battle with a strong Maltese Greens rider I’d noted yesterday. He takes the line a half-wheel over me. I’m 5th. I’ve sealed 3rd place GC and that nice trophy on the table is mine!

We recover. I realise José is third in the stage and I’m delighted for all the work he’d put in today and yesterday. Mitchy wins over Etienne, with the Greens Team unable to do enough damage to his fast-twitch quads.

We congratulate each other for a safe, enjoyable race and turn to see the Ladies finish. We are delighted to see Jenny grab third place, and then suddenly realise young Ellie Mitchinson, just turned 15, has grabbed 2nd place over Mathilde in 1st. It’s wonderful way to finish the Tour.

The sun is out. We are on the warm tarmac of a dual carriageway in the Mediterrean. The pumping music is on. There is laughter from all the Maltese team gazebos. In between the Open GC, there is the National Maltese GC being fought. I hadn’t been following this until now. It’s nice to see the different local teams celebrating. The mood is good as we await the awards presentations.

Eventually, I hear my name for 3rd place and step on the podium. Something I was not expecting. It’s a lovely reward for the effort I’ve put in to peak in mid-April.

The crew head to the beach. I end up in the big waves of the sea in just my underpants. I couldn’t care less. I’m on a high. We all talk about what’s next and coming back here. I can’t do better than this. I find myself not too bothered by that. I have relished my 2017 13th place in GC. And feel really proud of my 2019 10th place on the San Martin circuit stage. Success is not defined by position, really. It’s something deeper. The friends and memories made etc. I would definitely come back. Maybe be more a domestique, and or do more to encourage people to come over and race here. And to write about the exploits and adventure. And to get on Malta TV and watch it live, drunk in a Maltese pub on a mobile phone, drinking Belgian beer…

Cheers!

[martinlawless]

Tour of Malta 2022

Masters Stage 2 Road Race Saturday 16 April 2022

Stage 2… The big one. The San Martin circuit on the west coast. A triangle: starting on the tip of a climb, then a super-fast descent, followed by a flat battle in the headwind, then a 1.5 mile-long climb to complete the lap. For a small island, Malta has found itself a great circuit.

Another early 5.30am start. Breakfast 6am. Over to the start line around 7am. It’s still very windy, but not as bad as yesterday. By British standards, it’s quite warm. But the Maltese riders are in winter gear, buffs and arm warmers. Conscious of the climbing, I choose to go with one bottle and look to get a bottle-pass around half-way. We’ll be doing the hill six times. I practice the catch a few times with my dad. It goes OK though the speed and conditions will be tougher in the actual race.

I set out to defend my 3rd place in GC. Anything else is a bonus. I’ve no idea how things will go, but I’ve worked on my fitness more than ever, in part having been ruined by this course before, I’ve also whittled my weight down to where I’d got to in 2015 when I went for it for the Tour of Flanders sportive.

We are off. I get off to a terrible start. It’s very difficult to start on a climb. I eventually fumble into my pedals and whip on to the bunch. In the muddle, I must have pressed pause on my Wahoo, so miss most of the first lap data. Soon we are on the first big descent. The surface has been relaid – it’s a gorgeous, fast drop towards the nearby sea. With a tailwind it’s extra fast. We are on guard to avoid the sunken section near the bottom. It kinks and turns to a flat headwind. It’s a tricky turn to do at speed. I’m not impressed by any of my angles – but am able to power on and remove any gaps.

We are all being sensible. I’m with teammate Dave. And Mitchy is in the GC leader’s Red Jersey with his teammate José for Contour-Saddle Drunk CC. It’s a much reduced field this year. It appears the rest of the field is made from the Maltese Greens-Garmin team. They are high quality and led by the phenomenal Etienne who is 2nd in GC.

The first lap climb is pretty steady. Beforehand, we all discussed doing it in the big ring. But as we ascend, I see Etienne is in the small ring, and figure he’d know what to do. I switch and spin in the small ring and we steadily climb, watching each other and working things out. Etienne needs to do damage to Mitchy’s GC advantage. Mitchy simply needs to not let Etienne go. A GC competition within a stage competition creates a brilliant chess dynamic.

There are several Greens riders. They send riders off the front to try and stress the bunch. Mostly on the flat. Lap 2’s climb and I stay at pace with the Greens rider on the front. It’s naturally tough, but I’m feeling fine. I keep an eye on Poole CC’s Mark who is in 4th on GC. I have a dozen seconds on him – so cannot risk him escaping.

On lap 3 there is an interesting move. A Greens rider goes off with José. That's the two top teams away from the bunch. No one will chase that down. So I clip off the front and join them. I’ve nothing to lose – they’ll be let go, or slowly ease back. As we end the flat section I look back to see we’ve been allowed a sizeable gap. I know what will happen next. Mid-climb, Mitchy and Etienne come racing up, having jumped off the bunch. This gives me an opportunity to make a front break. As they both pass, I take their wheels. We all apply pressure as we reach the top of the climb.

Reaching the peak, the pace levels off. I think the two top riders don’t really fancy destroying themselves. The bunch regroups but some riders are dropped or have burned matches. Laps 4 and 5 are largely tame. I manage a bottle-pass and feel pleased to have saved so much liquid weight. Every little helps.

As we start of lap 5, I hit an unseen loose rock. There are many on Maltese roads! The bike flicks all over the place, but somehow I keep upright. Close-call.

It’s the final climb. We are all still together. I feel my GC defence is complete and wonder about the stage result. Surprisingly, there is no sprint until a few hundred metres to go. Inevitably, Etienne and Mitchy light it up. I immediately respond and give it full beans in the small ring. I’m spinning – but it’s working. The bunch slits into pieces. The two front riders are away, but I can see I’ve got the edge on the Maltese rider behind me. I’m in the red – but confident, yelled on by my soigneur dad by the side of the road. 3rd.

I’m delighted by how I felt overall. Yes – it was hard. And yes – it was overall slower with fewer attacks against previous editions. But I can feel I was in a good place, and won’t have the scary thoughts about this climb if I tackle it again. As long as I stay fit. I hope I can.

The crew regroup. José did a sacrificial job in many ways on the flat – and then would wallop the climb well enough. Impressive. Dave is not far behind. Impressive when he soloed much of the race. We see Jenny, Ellie and Mathilde do well.

It won’t get better than this – behind two impassable riders. I’m taking it all in. As time goes by, this story will get taller and taller. I’m glad to write it down now whilst it’s authentic. It was great fun. Tactical, edgy, even a few laughs along the way. I might have got on to Malta TV evening news too. The camera was on our bunch when I was on the front. We shall see.

[martinlawless]

Tour of Malta 2022

Masters Stage Race Stage 1 TT Friday 15 April 2022

Tour of Malta 2022… It’s a great focus. It brings on a winter of training, be that at Welwyn on their brilliant road race training sessions, with clubmates on Zwift, and some early season circuit races. It brings on a peak at the very start of Spring and a fuzzy dip as the Summer comes on. But that’s all fine.

Not a great start as my bike box came out of the oversized-baggage doors. It was immediately apparent the box had clearly been whacked, or opened and closed recklessly. Inside, the bike’s hanger dropout was snapped. I had a spare, (always carry a spare. Or two.) but there is something wrong in the mix in my gears and I knew I’d had to go to a bike shop the next day to get things right. The amazing Magri bike shop patched things up and restored some confidence. Though I still have a clicking mid gear.

There are just three stages this year. And numbers are decimated by the reluctance to travel and the timing of this race – over the Easter weekend. There is just one Italian here this year apparently. And the Maltese are thin on the ground too. That’s Catholicism and family hols for you. Make an effort to get to Malta in 2023 and race a true International stage race in the Elites, Masters or Ladies GC.

Fewer numbers will mean a tougher wattage time: nowhere to hide. I’m familiar with this. It is what it is.

Stage 1. TT. Roughly 9 miles. 3 laps of the beautiful closed coast road. A newish EU funded twisting line that hugs the seafront. The surface is perfect. It’s quite hilly, considering. And a bit technical: dead-turns at each end, two roundabouts and a fast arcing line to negotiate. It’s also really, really windy today. Overcast and not warm. It’s a grey day in the UK vibes. The waves are crashing against the rocks in dramatic style.

We arrive. It’s great to mingle together: teammate Dave, Jenny racing for 1904 CC, Mitchy for SaddleDrunk CC, his daughter Ellie – 15 years old and in the Ladies race. Wow. José, Columbian and teammate of Mitchy. Mathilde, friend and ex-teammate of Jenny. My dad is here as soigneur, photographer and Chief Room Snorer. I’ve got earplugs.

I tootle up and down the side road to keep warm. I sign in. Dave pins a loose safety pin on my brand-new race suit. Aero bars are on. Rubber socks. The bike is OK. But the mid-gear clicks annoyingly.

On the ramp. Three, two, one. Go. The trick in the start is not to overcook things. But that’s hard given the start is uphill and you feel the urge to attack it. Going out is a tailwind. I’m whipping along and arrive at the first roundabout too fast, I have to come up and use my brakes and remember to pace it better on the next two laps. The course twists gently. I try and regulate my breathing but it’s hard. I hit the top too fast and again have to come out of the aero position for the fast bend at something well above 40mph. It’s then a fast gentle downhill to the turn. With my new power-meter I can see it’s hard to get above 300w. Spinning out. I get to the dead-turn too fast and it’s an awkward slow turn and many precious seconds flushed down the toilet.

The return leg is understandably hard. I keep glancing at the power to ensure I’m pushing things and ignore speed. As I approach the climbing turn, I have to go into my ‘bad’ clicking gear. I make it work to my favour and tell myself to get to the top ASAP and change into the smoother, harder gear. With speed a lot lower, the bends and roundabouts are easy to manage. I hug the crash barriers in the middle of the road to escape some of the wind. The lap ends with a fast dip. I manage to get into better gears here, turn and start lap 2 a little refreshed for the last downhill bit. I hear cheers and encouragement from my dad and Jo. But I can’t acknowledge them. I’m in my wattage bubble.

Laps 2 and 3 – I have a better line and reduced speed. I’m more able to be consistent. I can see teammates on the opposing side, but I’m unable to process concepts like distance gain and loss. At times, I think I’d struggle to remember my name. This is all about going hard and telling the body ‘no’ when it wants to dial things down.

It’s over all very soon compared to the longer TTs I’d been practicing with back home. I cross the line and double-back with Mitchy who reckons the results will be in – coming in real-time from our transponders. As he asks the timekeeper about the results, I can see my name in biro pen ringed as third-place. I need him to confirm it though. I’m delighted. Meanwhile, Mitchy finds out he’s won. I tootle down to where we are camped out and let the others know. Jenny is 3rd. Mathilde wins. Dave 10th, José 7th.

Onto the podium we get. It’s a nice feeling of satisfaction. We loiter a little, but it’s cold on the coast and the salty sea air really hurt our throats. In need of a coffee, my dad and I drive off and stumble into Bugibba where we see ‘The Podium’ café. It was meant to be. In a smoky bar, with cool Maltese sipping espressos, I sit in my lycra, skimming the incoming pics on WhatsApp.

We meet up with the others and grab lunch. On the way back a reoccurring issue with my bike comes back: when getting it out of the car and wheeling it around, it has a habit of throwing the chain off the front and onto the frame where it gets stuck. Really frustrating and at a loss as to what’s going on. Anyway, I put it right and vow to treat the thing with cotton gloves for the next two stages. Hilly San Martin tomorrow… six times for us Masters. Ouch.

[martinlawless]

Velo Schils Bank Holiday BMCR circuit race

Colchester Northern Gateway Sunday 29 August 2021 BMCR (Category B, 45-49) 90 minutes of the Colchester circuit? Let’s go. This race was a Velo Schils 40+ BMCR Masters race on a warmish August bank holiday weekend. There’s a strong northerly wind. It’s dry and the drive over is easy. I decided to go last minute and entered on the line in the morning.

There are over 30 riders on the line. I know a few names and faces. I figured it was unlikely to be full-gas from the start given the length of time and sure enough, the pace is super gentle. This is good as I wanted to remind myself of the corners again on this nice, flat 1-mile loop.

I’m finding it pretty easy to keep near the front. And to get my most preferred side of the peloton for the wind direction, most of the time. Half an hour or so in and the race picks up. I don’t see one guy escape: which is amazing really when the course has such visibility.

Nor do I see a small group of three get away some time later. To be honest, even if I did, I wouldn’t have put my faith in these riders that they could stick. But their teammates in the pack were doing a great sandbagging job – and it was proving very hard to hustle the speed and effort for any period of time. I make it over to an emerging sizeable break at one point, but it’s all chased down and neutralised.

I take a gel at the start, and another after 40 mins. I don’t feel exhausted near the end though and feel sprightly going into the final three laps. I want to make it a fast finish. I have to play my endurance advantage. But I’m too boxed in by riders surging forward. I eventually break free on the final straight before the turn for the line. I can tell I’m able to move up as the others are tired. All the same, I’m among good riders and can only climb up the ranks so far before the line. 10th in the sprint after the four ahead, for 14th overall.

Epilogue/note to self: Hindsight is a wonderful thing. I should have given it beans after 1hr and tried to jump the sandbaggers. They may have let a solo go and I reckon for a while the riders ahead only had about 30-40 seconds on us. I could have buried myself and used my time-trial to find 10 seconds a lap. I can do a pretty good 10-minute/4-lap effort I'm sure. If it would fail, I'd still have time to recover for a back-up sprint option at the end. Ah well.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/5871725110

[martinlawless]

British Cycling National Masters Road Race Championship 2021

Category D, 45-49 year olds, E1234 Garstang, Lancashire 7 August 2021

The British Cycling National Masters Road Race, like the circuit race equivalent, is an annual championship that has races in five-year categories. I’m in the 45-49 band, or ‘Category D’ class, for this one.

It’s on the Oakenclough road race circuit near Garstang, that goes into the Forest of Bowland, an official Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, in Lancashire. I don’t know it at all and drive the loop twice the evening before. I find out it’s brutal and look again at the maths I did to understand how hard it would be. I had the numbers wrong by some way. It’s a 10-mile lap with about 1,000ft of climbing each time, pan flat initially, that then turns north and climbs. And climbs. And climbs. For 5 miles in total. Then it turns one more time and climbs silly to the top. I will guess at near 20%. It then rockets downwards for 4 miles, more steeply than the ascent, twisting sharply here and there.

That’s not all. The road surface, in parts, is awful. Worn down and ragged through neglect and harsh winters. It’s beautiful all around, but the tarmac is ugly. You’re sheltered quite well on the ascent. On the descent you look west and can clearly make out Blackpool Tower, the Irish Sea and Morecombe Bay in the distance on a clear day – lovely – but you also face the fierce prevailing wind fresh from the sea. It’s a difficult course. And, for me I know it won’t offer the ‘traditional’ benefits of a road race. As I reflect the night before, the ups and downs I reckon will split the pack and it will be attrition for all individually.

Race day. The weather, as forecast, is abominable. It’s quite warm… around 15 degrees, but it’s very wet. Steady rain, low cloud and very often intense, heavy storms coming and going, bringing dark skies and low visibility. The sort of astonishing weather you take videos on your phone with and post online. Remarkably, as we take the briefing and get behind the car to the start, the rain stops and there’s even a hint of sun. We’d go on to do much of the first lap in the dry. But then it all came back with a vengeance.

I was pleased with how I’d dressed. Race suit. Thin, string wicking vest. Good rain resistant arm warmers. Aero-socks, utterly glued to the legs with spray glue. Neoprene full-finger gloves. Ashwell cap with a good visor. This worked well on the day. I knew it would not get that cold even though I was thinly attired. And I wouldn’t get heavy through soaked clothes. The fingers would be fine in the neoprene ‘wet suit’ gloves. I packed four gels and a chewy bar. I took one bottle, as my dad was in the feed zone at the top of the lap to pass new bottles. Every gram would count on this climbing-fest.

We’re off. We are mixed in with the 40-44 year olds race. There’s a good few DNSs – but there’s plenty about as we head off. The flag goes down from the car and we’re off. A mixed bag of riders from all over the country. There’s gravity towards local clubs but they really are from all over the place. Initially, it’s all good. I’m just surfing the wheels and settling in. Then it turns upwards. I can’t tell whether it’s nervousness or exertion, but I am finding it hard to get a rhythm on the ascent. I’m OK, but just can’t seem to get on top of my breathing. It’s surging and whirling a bit as everyone is releasing adrenaline and finding their way into the race. Maybe towards the latter of the ascent, I feel the pace is too hot and dig in and start to burn a match. Ordinarily in this situation, I might hide in the bunch here. The issue is that we’re not really going fast enough for the drafting effect of the bunch to make a massive difference. There isn’t really anywhere to hide. I figure we are already losing riders as we turn for the big bit. All credit to anyone who turns up to race, has a go, dies a death almost instantly and then comes back for more another day.

The big hill is cruel. I am well in the red and sliding back. By the time we crest it, I’m with four others and the bunch is several bike lengths away. But there’s no panic – from any of us. We know what to do. Without going deep, we hustle into a quintet and begin a chaingang. Our race is not over, it’s just a different way to do well.

Lap 2 is largely consolidation and finding rhythm. Cleveland Wheelers chap is a fantastic descender, and it turns out he used to race downhill. He just needs a bit of help on the climbs. Horwich CC fella is happy to do long turns and give us all a break. Chester CC rider is keeping spirits high with his jokes, and the shop team fella is quite quiet, I think hanging in there a bit, but helping on the front like the rest of us.

The rain gets really bad. No, like really bad. I can feel it spilling out of the top of my shoes. My cap is doing well to give me a clear line through my glasses. But it’s limited. It’s so thick and intense, it’s hurting on the downhill and I wonder if it’s hail. But it’s just walloping big rain. Potholes and loose gravel everywhere. This is very technical in parts. Too often the chosen line is the better of many holey evils. I take a turn badly and an oncoming Range Rover slides by too close for comfort. It’s rough. We put a lot of faith in bikes, hurtling around these lanes and over tight bridges.

We carry on though. My gloves are brilliant to fight off cold although dexterity plummets with them on. I attempt three bottle catches but only make one. I can’t feel much too well. That’s fine. I’m not too thirsty in this weather. I’m drinking from the road spray, as it were.

The turning point in my mind is late on. Earlier in the race, I’d expected we’d hoover up dropped riders into our gang. Those who would be spat out from the front. But we’d seen none. OK, through time checks, we knew we were losing around 3 minutes a lap on the bunch, but all the same, a solo rider would soon be caught. But, nothing. Then, in the latter part of the race, we pass one rider. He’s absolutely blasted. We urge him to get on our train, but he’s busted and twiddling to the end of the lap or something. This starts to make me think that the bunch is chewing up riders and they’re not dropping back, they’re quitting. I start to wonder how many dropouts it would take for us to place. National races have points down to 15th place. We could be in with a shout?

I’m galvanized. Of the five in our group, just me and Cleveland are in the 45-49 category. I think all we need to do is stick it out, not get lapped and get over the line.

My feet begin to hurt. I realise I’ve lost all sensation and have tightened and tightened the BOA dials until it’s restricting bloodflow. I loosen the shoes and feel instant relief, eat a bar to avoid cramp from too many gels and sugar, and navigate the climb once more.

As we take on the daft steep bit again, to start the last lap, out of the blue, the chequered flag is dropped. With just around 20 metres, the five of us realise our finish is suddenly in front of us and we break out a sprint. I’m caught out and I’m third of our five over the line. More precisely, Cleveland in my race category is in front of me. The commissaires decide to pull us out and shorten the race, given the conditions, with one lap to go – in part as mercy for racers and organisers stuck on the wet hill. I politely ask if we will still place despite this and not be classed as a DNF – and the judges reassure me this is the case. Suddenly, our race is done. I am relieved. It’s stopped raining. I’m in among the throng at the line and I now get to see the front of the race finish.

It’s amazing how in pieces the front of the race is. The soloist winner has a massive gap over the next few riders, who have minutes over the next solo rider, etc. I’m counting the riders, and their category, to get an idea of who is in race C and D. Eventually a very depleted bunch comes through. I count around 27 finishers in total for both races, with most being in the other ‘yoof’ race. I’m getting excited. Top 15 surely?

Back at HQ, I have a brief chat with Chris, the winner, and watch him get his National jersey. Amazing. Then I go to the results page. There I am 12th place out of just 12 finishers in our D race. Less than one-third the total. That’s 4 BC points.

On a bit of a high, me and my dad do a mini driving tour of the Trough of Bowland and I get a coffee at the Inn at Whitewell, widely regarded as one of the best pubs in the UK. This was a race where it paid off to stay in your comfort zone, keep a match or two, and keep your head down while others suffered greater. This way, you can, over time, survive when the pace and conditions are brutal – to climb the ranks over those who blow up.

It’s not the race I wanted through. I was quite a way off in power for the front. I resolve if I do it next year, I will focus on losing 4-5kgs. I’ll also be in the 50-54 band. That should all balance the ratio out a bit. It would be a nice summer aim.

I also can tell you now, if I do it next year, it will be raining reet hard in Lancashire on that Summer’s day.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/5755327593

[martinlawless]

National Masters Circuit Race Championship 2021. Age Category 45-49 Race.

British Cycling, National A Race E1234 Leicester Cycle Circuit Sunday 4 July 2021

The National Masters Circuit Race Championships… a chance to win a proper National jersey for the year as recognition by British Cycling. There are separate category races in 5-year bands from 30+. Men and Women.

This year is my last in the 45-49 year band. Everyone’s UCI birthday is 1st Jan, so I’ll be 50 next year on the final bong from Big Ben. I did this race two years ago and really enjoyed the event and scene. So I made it a priority to sign up to this one early on and focus in on it.

The race would be on the Leicester Cycle Circuit. I’d never been there before. Turns out to be a very good 1km loop. Tarmac quality excellent and good safe run-offs onto grass (take note Colchester). It’s not technical, really. Though racing makes things technical. A simple circuit means more speed. More speed means more reaction times required on challenges and opportunities that appear in the bunch. And, as ever, the wind and weather makes a virtual hill - turning a stretch into a danger zone that can challenge riders and generate a split. The course is dumbbell shaped, with the northern loop being tighter than the southern one. The northern one rises a bit too.

I set off in the car in very good time. I didn’t have anything to hold back for and get there to see teammate Chris in his 40-44 category race. His field is smaller than ours. Maybe 25 riders. It’s a tough race. Chris goes heroic and into the first break of four from the gun. Hauled in and blitzed, he finds it hard to stick at the back recovering while fresh breaks occur. It’s a reminder to me that in my 75 mins race there will be several attacks. If I find myself in a break, it has to be decisive - or I’m bailing out back to the bunch. I’ll burn up easily otherwise.

I’ve got my crit wheels on. New second-hand Dura-Ace C35 tubular wheels. Ramped up to 110psi just to feel extra bad-ass. Super quick and nippy. I sign in. Pin up. I nearly forget to put on the transponder, which would be a disaster. There’s a good chance of a heavy shower, but it’s warm. So race suit only. Becoming less racy with every wash. Factor 50 suncream. I love my Koo eyewear, but for close-quarters crit stuff, I prefer my “100%” wraparounds that give me brilliant peripheral vision and eyes in the back of my head. I feel like a bit of a doofus Daft Punk wannabe. But - hey, safety first. I do a regular back garden workout. I always add in stretching around the neck and shoulders in simulation of the constant need to look around you in a tight race. I should do pilates and yoga as I get older too.

I have a good little chat with James from Cinnamon-Contour. He’s bandaged up like Roglic having had a crash in the sprint at Hillingdon in one of the rehearsal races last week. I’m impressed he’s back. I also bump into Chris from Verulam. I’m confident he’ll do well. The course suits his atomic finishing sprint power. He finished 3rd in one of the rehearsal races. Other than that, I don’t really know anyone - jut a few of the usual faces and backsides. It’s a good thing: it means the race is bringing in people from all regions - not just the south and east. I hear all sorts of accents. I’m concerned by how fit looking some of these old boys appear!

Our race is the most popular. I’m unsure why, but I have a theory it’s because mid-life crisis is peaking as people get to 50. One last chance to pretend to be Sam Bennett, Cav or Caleb.

This is a proper British Cycling event. The briefing is more stringent than the usual “rock-up with a banana and go” race. This adds nicely to the drama ahead. It feels significant. Points go down to 15th place. The top-third will score today. I am in a bit of a downward points spiral from my current 2nd Cat licence. The points started late this season - early races were zero-points post-COVID. And now I can’t see where I’ll get them from. I simply can’t find the time or BC events. To be honest though: a gentle relegation into 3rd Category doesn’t bother me at all. I’ll have more options to race.

There’s always something to forget or nearly forget. It’s a gel at the start this time. But I remember in time on the start line. I will have another halfway I reckon. I put my finger on my Wahoo to ensure I don’t forget to start the all-important Strava. We have two neutralised laps behind the car to get used to the bends and we’re released.

It’s a steady start. I expect we are all mostly unfamiliar with the course and each other and just want to walk into this one. Eventually, there’s a break and the peloton cranks up.

In a rather unconventional prep, I’d ridden a Hilly TT the Sunday before, a Zwift crit Monday, a tired chaingang Tuesday. Then did the Fred Whitton loop in the Lake District on Thursday with three friends. I’m unsure 110 miles featuring the toughest ascents in England, three sleeps before a short high energy effort, is in any training manual. After the Fred, I did not turn a pedal. I was unsure where my legs would be. In the first few laps I’m relieved to feel they are fine. A sports massage helped. In fact, I feel good. The Fred had raised my pain threshold it felt. When asked to dig deep, it was no problem.

I’m pleased to be lolling around the top third or so in the bunch. The first break gets a third of a lap gap. But the bunch aren’t really bothered. All the same, there’s always a rider or two getting frustrated about the lack of coherence in hauling them in. The laws of physics prevail, and the first break fizzles out eventually.

I can hear Chris cheer me on each lap which is motivating. I concentrate on my line, holding it, seizing gaps where possible and generally keeping my nose clean. As expected, I don’t feel I can be in a small break. I just need to watch out for a big split. I can feel this isn’t going to happen though after a while.

The wind is a bit tasty. As much as it’s valuable to look at those big flags you get at events for the direction, you can’t beat throwing a bit of grass up in the air before a race for the truth.

It gets tight at times. This Leicester doesn’t feel that wide. I go onto the grass on one lap to avoid a clash. In these situations you don’t panic, just glide back on and everything is all right. I get a good backside push on another lap. No problem. ‘On your left’, ‘On your right’. All the good calls you want in a race. No daft riding here which was appreciated.

A second break is brought in. Then on 37 minutes, the decisive break from Ian, who everyone seemed to fear, was made. He would take another rider with him and the bunch would let him go pretty easily.

The last laps approach and the race dynamic changes. The bunch gets top heavy as people prepare for the sprint. The last few laps are very twitchy. We are wide across the lane and very tight as everyone jostles for the sprint. I find myself in the middle of the bunch at times and hate it: locked in shoulder to shoulder. There’s few oohs and aaahs as riders barge each other. I see one rider barged and he has to unclip to save himself. He skips along the road on foot at 30mph+ and re-clips without losing too much momentum. It’s impressive control regained. I can see Verulam Chris inching forward. I want to keep on his wheel but the way through is blocked. It’s always remarkable how you might have a few laps to make a simple move up a few bike lengths - yet it’s just not doable. Stuck.

Into the final lap and final bend, it’s high speed but I’ve got something extra in the tank to give. I am forced wide if I’m to apply any sprint. This puts me out of the draught, and I lose momentum, but I gain a clean run. My sprint is OK. I can hold a decent effort for 10 seconds, albeit I won’t be strong enough to gain ground. The front of the tight sprint pulls away while I come in just off the back of it but ahead of the string of others behind.

I replay the last moments over and over. It’s hard to see what else I could have done except to maybe find more confidence in my endurance to move up and hold a premium position early on. I eventually scan the data. I’m 21st and ahead of me are many names I know to be strong. I’m happy with that.

I return to the car park and change. I have a good post-race chat with Chris. He has crazy high power and he’ll smash a race soon, with a bit of luck, choosing the right break. I decide to have a peep at the Cat 3-4 race going on after ours. As I rock up, there’s a crash at the most basic point of the course. Four riders down. Three get back up gingerly, one a lot slower. I’m thankful our race ended safe and well. Take out the neutralised laps and our race is well over 27mph average. Dynamic and speedchess-like reactions required at all times.

Tired of sugary things, I crave salt, so stop off at the nearby McDonalds on the way back. The most biblical thunderstorm kicks off in the drive-thru. I wonder what would have happened to our race in such conditions. As I carefully navigate the motorway with Lance Armstrong’s ‘The Move’ on Spotify, I wonder if they black flag circuit races for lightning as we all go around a big open field sat on quite metallic things.

I think about next year’s Masters and take a look at the results for this year’s 50-54 category. I’m slightly disappointed to see names of strong riders I know struggle to reach the points. It’s a useful reminder that it never gets easier - we just get older.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/5574763935

[martinlawless]

Bovingdon Bomber

BC Category 2/3 circuit race Bovingdon, Hemel Hempstead Wednesday 16 June 2021 First time at Bovingdon. A bit of a mad location. An old runway, with a twisting circuit that’s under two-thirds of a mile, in amongst a Mad-Max style drift racing organisation that post-apocalyptic car fumes, burning rubber and petrol in the air.

I signed up some time ago for this race. I knew it was going to be tough - but what the heck. I had lots of cards against me. Firstly, it’s a Category 2/3. Though I know it’s mostly Cat 2 standard. Secondly, the course does not suit me at all. It has two tight turns and like Gravesend Cyclopark in some respects. I do not suit these technical courses.

Prep is made hard with very firm guidelines on entry. We’re allowed in to park with just 35 minutes before the race start. I park in the adjacent McDonalds and get into my race suit and sort my stuff out. Once inside, I get my number. Jenny is racing after me and kindly pins my number on. I’m with Dave on this race. Everything goes smoothly and I get a good 3-4 laps of the course in to suss things out.

The circuit has a tight turn at the top and a similar one at the bottom. The bottom turn is trickier as it comes after a chicane and a downhill, so you take it at speed.

I regret doing one to many laps in practice and as I get ot the start line I find myself way at the back. Not good. I know getting through the pack will be important - but also very hard when this race will go. It will be narrow and there’ll be little opportunity to weave up the field.

We’re off. It’s frantic as we all wish to move up the ranks. I cannot see the edges o the track and some riders knock the safety cones over on the edges. But, we’re all upright and as we turn the first big bend, it’s alley strung out into a long thin line. I’m virtually lost here and not seeing a way up the field. I can see Dave halfway down the pack. The first lap is forgiving as I suspect everyone is settling in. Then the pace ramps up. I can hold it but can tell straightaway that I’m burning up too fast. What to do? Working up the field is nigh on impossible. I’d need extreme power to climb four or five bike lengths, but this course offers little in the way of space or air to manoeuvre.

I try and sit in and hope the bunch relaxes a bit. It almost does but the line of riders becomes a wall and there’s no way through. I see Dave is falling back towards me. The speed lurches forward and I’m really going deep to hold on. I know I’m in a bad way: my pace comes down to a crawl on the tight bends and I have to sustain 35mph+ to settle back in. This is not sustainable. We lose Dave and then a few minutes later I slowly become detached.

I don’t panic. The gameplan simply changes. It’s now TT mode. I recover a steady heart rate and settle in for doing my best to mitigate the gap while hoping others will get dropped and the gruppetto can grow.

There’s a FullGas CC rider ahead of me. He concedes his chance of latching back on and slides back to group with me. We’re now a 2-up and swapping turns on the front every lap. Eventually we lap teammate Dave and a Beds Road RT rider. The two guys latch on and share the front efforts now as a 4-up.

As we close in on the race finish the bunch laps us twice. Stats show they are over 2.5mph faster than us - average. As they go past, I really get the feeling I’d have had no chance of meeting their power to overcome my technical weaknesses.

It’s a stress-free workout. TTing on a road bike - as that’s basically what we’re doing - is hard on the back. There’s not much variety to positioning. I ache and feel the need to stretch out a few times. That’s hurting more than the legs.

With 3 laps to go, we are called in to make way for the finish. We get a prime view of things as the bunch sprint into the Strava top 10 for the finishing segment. It’s an impressive display of power on the front.

All done. I walk away feeling like I’ve had a good session. I’ve met my limits and I’m cool with that.

Strava link:

https://www.strava.com/activities/5481547285

[martinlawless]

Velo-Schils TLI Hare & Hounds race

Northern Gateway circuit, Colchester 25 May 2021

Third time racing down at the new Colchester circuit. In a word: ‘wallop’. That’s probably the only kind of race that can go on here. It’s fast all the way. Things that will make for a creative race here are team numbers, primes, the wind and length of race. For me, there is no such thing as a boring circuit. I never understand it when people say that. It’s the conditions around the tarmac that make for a race. And even in the most nominally eventful of races, what’s boring about travelling along at 26mph? Racing of any kind makes you feel very alive.

I love an evening race in the summer. The light, the ambience. Even the journey. Colchester is a bit far. But comparable to my daily commute to London. The Northern Gateway facility is very good and I hope it becomes a key part of getting the area active.

This is my first TLI federation event. This race format is a new one on me too. A Hare & Hounds format. Three groups set off in intervals. Basically, the first group get almost a full 1 mile start behind the third group which I’m in. All categories and ages. One big bun fight - but people placed by their age category at the end. It’s a bit mad, and unfortunately for me as badly colour blind, a difficult game to play as I can’t tell the difference of the number colours.

None of this matters. It’s just racing. We’re off. In about 3-4 laps, we’ve caught group 2. we’re tanking along at 28mph+. I scanned the riders beforehand. I know I’m in top quality company. My goal is not to get dropped.

We merge and chase down the first group. By now though, across a 1 mile circuit, riders of every kind are getting dropped and grouping up. It’s pretty hard to work out what’s going on. What I do notice though is that my effort feels unsustainable. I’m not burning matches so much as I’m just boiling over the pan a little bit. I see a split with about 10 riders in. I know these are the top riders and I’m not to be concerned about these guys. However, they do seem to ease up a bit after a while and I figure bridging is not out of the question. However, there is zero appetite to make the catch and team mates from other teams are making it clear there’d be no cooperation. So, I ease back in to the bunch and get into the rhythm of things in my group.

Along the way, there are attempts to make our group more efficient and chaingang our way to the front. What I don’t realise through colour blindness is that we are eating up the front group as their pace drops riders and our large group holds a decent lick. I’m getting more comfortable on this circuit. I know where I want to be on every turn - and where not to be - although you have to fight for your line. This circuit is very fast and I am looking further down the line on this circuit more than any circuit I’ve raced. Planning my line 15 bike lengths or so away.

Into the final laps. By now, I get the feeling we have hauled in many fo the front. It turns out we’d brought all but 5 riders in. In the last half o fat last lap I absolutely know I want to be on the right side of the long straight. I should probably have begun this positioning at the start of this lap. But I’m boxed in on the left. I’m aching to go long and hold a high speed. But it’s not possible. Instead I have to wait for the others to pull the trigger and follow the surge. It’s not what I want. I’m useless at the short burst sprint. As we approach the final big bend I’m already maybe 8 lengths down and it’s all about a position in the teens. Despite this fate, a young riders squeezes past me where the space isn’t really there. We lock together and I’m wobbling at 30mph as he gets past. Luckily the speed works the wobble out, but I’ve lost more places. We turn and I am clear on the right and able to hold my position down the pack, 17th in the bunch and 22nd overall. I’ve no idea on my age category position.

I will return here and I will go long to the line. Maybe long-long. Sandbag for me and give a veteran a break.

I pack up and have a good chat with the Velo Schils team who are hosting the event. We talk about how it was nice to race where the weather isn’t battering us in some way. 10 minutes later driving home, the rain comes down biblically. We were lucky.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/5357422787

[martinlawless]

Ashwell Grass Track Spring Open 2021

Veteran's Omnium Smallgains field, Ashwell, Herts 15 May 2021

It’s grey and kind of raining. So, it must be the first national grass track open event of the year. Home turf: Ashwell grass track. A 333m lap, with a steady climb on the opening bend and drop on the other. The grass has been well maintained over the winter and it’s good to go.

Turnout is strong. People have been chomping at the bit for this day. I’m in the Veteran’s Omnium. My target is to podium. A tall order with strong riders - some I have no idea about - but that’s the aim anyway.

I’ve spent the winter on Zwift, just doing the races. I enjoy the ‘game’ of them. Zwift racing does not simulate road racing at all. But it does mirror time-trialling and longer distance grass-track racing with its instant full-tilt application of power that doesn’t really relent. Grass track racing is different though in as much as it’s just like pedalling though treacle to turn a pedal.

Talking of pedals, I’ve adapted the bike a little. In a search for better tyre grip and lower pressure, I’ve don’t the ‘ball bearing trick’ in the dropouts of the bike. Gluing in a small bearing in the dropouts and then putting the front wheel in, to push the wheel and tyre away from the tight clearance of the forks. Doing this means I can now get more knobbly tyres on - 32mm Kenda Block Eights - at 30psi today. I’d like some Vittoria CX Pro tyres, the grips on the edges of the tyres give confidence on the downward slope of Ashwell’s track. But they’ve been deleted.

I arrive in good time and pin up me and the two boys. They’re racing in the U12 and U10 omnium. The forecast suggests a gap in the clouds will keep the worst weather away from us for the 3-4 hours we’ll need to get through the programme. Sure enough, the weather holds off and in the whole event there is only one slip, from a rider on skinny Kenda Karvs. Take note.

My omnium will consist of:

Devil

Reverse Win & Out

Unknown Distance

8km

There is also a Handicap race. I don’t think that’s part of the omnium. Anyway, I came mid pack there, having been given a rotten starting point.

Before everything, there is also the National Short Distance Champs. We are privileged to have the current National champ with us. I do nothing in my heat and reperchage and I’m out. I’m really under geared for short distance stuff - but I would struggle to push a bigger gear. I suppose I should faff around and change gears in between races. But I’m not that bothered.

The omnium events…

I have struggled in my last couple of Devil races by being a bit asleep at the start and getting boxed in. So, this time, I go wide at the start and ensure I’m not going to get caught out. This burst of effort pays off and I get into a good groove near the front. Eventually the large field whittles down and I’m happy to make it to near the bell lap for I think 7th overall. Mugged by Ian H on the line. I didn’t see him.

I do like the Reverse Win & Out. 12 laps. 6th place for first place with 5 laps to go, and you’re ‘out’ and leave the field. 5th place for 4 laps to go. 4th place for 3 laps etc. The gamble the strong riders take while aiming for top points means some will lose and get nothing, while more conservative riders will sweep up the smaller points.

I gamble that the strong guys will let 5th place go. That’s the strategy as we set off. Early on it’s clear some want 6th place. I have to be canny, as they could swamp my desired 5th place. So I work with the front end of the bunch to ensure not too many get away from the bunch. This works. I know I do well going long and the very moment the 6th place claim is made I go full wallop for 5th. At the top o the lap I dare a glance back and am delighted to see I’m 4-5 bike lengths clear. It’s a nice feeling to bag a good place and pull out to spectate the rest of the race. Interestingly there is almost an amazing moment where the from riders hesitate for 4th place - as they want the top three. This means the bunch nearly catch them and there’s almost a great snatch from one of the back markers. But, not to be and the from tend accelerate to finish off the race.

The Unknown Distance turns out to be 7 laps. Vince shoots off after 3 laps. Hey - it’s worth a gamble. But it’s too soon. I stick with the front end and hold on when the Bell is rang for 6th or 7th overall. I’ve no idea of my place in the Vets category. But figure I’m doing OK for a podium at this rate as we end on the 24 lap 8km race.

The 8km is relatively stress free as it turns out. The field eventually thins out after a burst of power a few laps in. I can work out I’m on for 6-7th as things string out. Midway and I can no longer hold on with the front end. It’s a bit frustrating, every lap the front would ease and almost let me back on. Then they’d accelerate and I’d be chasing them down again. I go into TT mode and it’s nice to get motivating messages to push on from my fellow Ashwell riders and from the spectators. I think to myself that this is a familiar Zwift/TT feeling and tick off the laps til the end.

The sun comes out for a bit and I find out I’m joint 2nd in the Vets! Though this seems to be corrected to 3rd place on official British Cycling results eventually. I don’t care. Podium achieved at a national open event that has brought people from as far as County Durham. I get a really good cash prize - noticeably all even across Seniors, Vets and Women. My two boys make their podiums too and do mum and dad proud.

Grass track racing is easily overlooked and somehow seen as a poorer cousin to hard track racing. But, all the effort is there - it’s just slower and quirkier looking when it’s on a field and track bikes have knobbly tyres. It’s very friendly and inclusive too.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/5302316289

[martinlawless]

Velo-Schils BMCR Double Circuit Races

2 x Cat ABCD races 9 May 2021 Northern Gateway Sports Park, Colchester

The Northern Gateway Sports Park is a rubbish name for a really good brand new facility on the edge of Colchester. It features a one-mile cycle circuit loop. The Velo-Schils BMCR races there caught my eye as it was a chance to check it out.

This would be my first BMCR race and partly a plan to focus more and more on veteran’s racing, with a view to having a good go at some of the Vet 50+ races next year. The 30 spaces filled up pretty fast and I scanned the start list beforehand and did a crude calculation of who I might be able to get the best of, and who was better than me. My slide rule suggested I would be 14th.

I packed well in advance. It’s nice to feel prepared. However, with 48 hrs to go, my rear wheel decided to fail. It is on its last legs. Or maybe even finished. Luckily, a word out through Strava and I had several offers of a spare wheel. I also found time to see Richard in Ashwell for some TLC on the wheel to patch it up as best as could be done.

The drive over is quite long, but it’s very easy and I’m there without fuss. The facility is really new. It reminds me of Lee Valley Velodrome in some ways: layout and general buzz. The circuit has a similar vibe too.

The loop is really quite straightforward, making it fast. The bends are mostly gentle, it’s as good as flat, so every corner is attacked at speed. It is a flatter version of the Lee Valley circuit, without the dead-ish corner at the far end. An MK Bowl-Lee Valley lovechild. It does have an oddly sketchy chicane - near the finish line too. In itself not a bad challenge, but the run off is into chunky gravel and pretty certain disaster if you need to ride into it. I would recommend they fringe it with some safer rideable edges. Like they have at Lee Valley.

I arrive in good time, register and pin up and get a good 20 minutes easy rollering in. Mostly to wake the driving legs up. It’s warm with a light breeze for the first race. This would be a double race event. Each half-hour race, half an hour apart. I have brief chats with CC Luton’s Matt who I met at the Ashwell chaingang a few weeks ago. And I get to congratulate Valentino on his great 6th place at last weekend’s Hog Hill race. I twiddle away in the car park whilst watching the 60+ age category race and hope I’ll be as fit and fast as those guys one day in the future.

We set off on a neutralised lap. We’re going clockwise. I hear later that British Cycling won’t approve the course to go anti-clockwise. But can’t work out why. Going clockwise means hitting the chicane hard near the finish line and adds considerable drama.

We glide over the start line, the flag goes and we’re off and full gas. As I’ve literally never raced a millimetre of the nice tarmac, I choose to tuck inside the bunch for the first few laps to try and figure out the best lines. It’s a northerly wind and I get into a gliding rhythm of drifting from one side of the bunch line to the other in search of shade from the breeze. At times, the bunch seem indifferent to the optimal protection from the wind, which is good news to me. I find out that the first left bend is too tricky to try and jump on the inside. It’s too tight and you lose all your speed. The far bend that brings on the return leg is gentle and swooping and quite easy to find the right line except for when you get over the rise where you need to be careful not to clip off the left edge of the track. There’s a significant drop in height to the left. If you come off the track here, it would be interesting to see if you could claw back on OK.

The return leg of the lap is gentle in curve. This will most often be a headwind and possibly where a break would most commonly be made or consolidated.

Then, turning to the lap start/finish, there’s a chicane. If you’re not being observant, it will catch you out and you’re off into the heavy gravel stuff. Past here and it’s a dash to the line. Really short.

After a short while I’m conscious of the burn I’m making being at the back. Too much braking and surging. Wasted watts. I try and climb higher into the bunch and have an easier time. I notice many riders are not carrying a bottle but I do - to keep the airways clear and cool and to swig and signal when you want to communicate you’re not going to push hard on the front.

There are some great riders in the mix and I am aware my chances of any success lies in keeping it a bunch and going long at the end. There are some brave moves at a breakaway. But everyone is too fresh to let anything go. Having said that, in to the last lap and one rider has a certain gap while we others chase down the rest of the places. I have a good go at things with half a lap to go and find myself in a decent position where there’s good momentum. It seems it won’t be a slow - then manic surging - finish. My least favourite race finish. We swoop the final corner and everyone is pretty locked into their position. I have a clean run in and am happy to come in 10th, 4th in Age Category (B, 45-49).

We clear the course, there’s a bit of banter and I make my way back to the rollers for 10 minutes to keep the legs turning ahead of race 2. It’s now hotter. The bike computer is saying 26 degrees, with heat bouncing off the tarmac. It’s also significantly windier.

Fresh energy drink. Another gel. A little chewy bar. An apple. We’re off into race 2. I can feel the lack of freshness this time but also know that others will feel it too. It’s a relaxed start and one guy goes rogue over the chicane and cuts across the course, to prove his cyclo-cross skills and maybe to make a point on this pokey-out bit. Laughter over, it dials up. Soon, it’s hot wattage again. I feel like I’m in the Ashwell chaingang, “lap 3”, where it’s biting but doable. I can feel we’re dropping riders here and soon start to see some on the opposing part of the track. But I’m doing OK and enjoying learning the curves. At one point I see Valentino and a few others consolidate a break and think that looks good. I breathe in a make a burst over to them. I’m pleased to have made the leap. Unfortunately, my effort wasn’t quite a clean break and I pull the bunch with me too much. But, I’m pleased to have been able to apply this effort without too much trouble.

Fresh legs. My strategy to get to today with fresh legs looked like this:

Sunday, hard short Zwift crit, full beans for 22 mins.

Monday, easy 2.5hrs road ride

Tuesday, hard Ashwell chaingang, 1 hr 15 mins

Wednesday, hard Ashwell 10m TT, 23 mins 40 secs.

Thursday, nothing really. Home-made 40 mins HIT gym session, + 5k light run.

Friday, 20 miles easy morning tailwind ride. Was thinking about a Zwift crit too, but exhausted by a stressful day at work.

Saturday, nothing. Sports physio in the afternoon.

Sunday, racin’. 48hrs of fresh legs.

I enjoy the level-headedness of my co-riders. No stoopid moves. Though one rider does lurch to the left and I have to be evasive to avoid getting chopped. A Rapha CC rider observes this and raises his eyebrows at me and laughs, while I roll my eyes invisibly from behind my fancy new shades. Drama - but no drama - sort of thing. Grown ups.

OK. Last few laps. I don’t quite know how, but I read the lap counter wrong. On reflection, I may have read “3 laps to go” as the sign was being put out - not to announce it was actually “3 laps to go”. Anyway, for whatever reason, when I see the Colourtech rider, followed by the nippy Stow CC rider ping off the front with what I think is the final lap, I go with. I cross the line and hear the bell and don’t see the chequered flag. Oops. Racing is planning and opportunism. What to do now? Without much thought, I figure, I may as well give it full beans and see what happens. There are no points to score this season. Colourtech chap is significantly ahead and not interested in teaming up. Stow CC fella is burning up fast and I’m catching him. But I’m frazzling quickly too. The bunch are around 8-10 bike lengths behind. Into the headwind and I can see and feel this is a desperate attempt to beat the bunch. They are not relenting and I am dipping below 25mph. This is hopeless.

Stow elbows me to take the front but my help is feeble. Into the final big bend and I can hear the wheels of the bunch. I’m pedalling squares in the final short sprint and swamped. 11th, 4th in Age Category again (B, 45-49). Ah well. I had a go. This might have worked if I had been allowed to escape with half a lap to go. Something to think about for another time. It was good to pressure the bunch and I will think about such a move again in the future. I need to use my TT more in races.

Race over. We’re all done. I say bye to Mark, Valentino and several other of my competitors for the day and get home without fuss. I think about a celebratory McDonalds from the one opposite the park, but the 40 car queue puts me right off an it’s a bobbins Wild Bean Cafe BP garage americano and a banana and clementine from my food bag instead.

I look forward to more adventures here and more BMCR racing too.

Strava links: https://www.strava.com/activities/5266417763 https://www.strava.com/activities/5266971821

[martinlawless]

Team LDN - Brother UK, Crit Series 1

‘Hog Hill’ Redbridge Cycle Centre Ilford, Essex Saturday 1 May 2021

First crit in well over a year. In my last crit, I got a puncture from a rogue safety pin and crashed out. I’ve been keen since to rebuild confidence. Here we are at Hog Hill in this Team LDN multi-crit event. It was a carnival-like atmosphere with a lot of young (or am I just getting old?) strong looking riders who all seem up for a good time.

Something seems to have changed in the shortish time since I’ve been to something like this. Everyone is looks very fit and cool. There also seems to be a strong ladies presence and I’d say more diversity than ever. This is a really good sign for cycling and racing.

In preparation, I dug up my old race bag. I found lots of kit I thought I’d lost as it was buried under the bed for over a year. It was a good opportunity to clear it out and refresh everything. What’s in my kitbag? Basically, everything but the kitchen sink. I would have put the kitchen sink in, but the sharp edges would cut the bag…

• Raceday kit (race suit)

• Helmet

• Shades, mitts, HRM - all placed inside the helmet.

• Shoes

• Spare jersey, bibs, shoes, socks, gloves, mitts, shades, bidon - in case of forgetting something.

• Spare helmet and a track pump stay in the car permanently.

• Baby wipes, gels, energy powder mix, chamois cream, ibuprofen gel, haribo, Deep Heat, Start Oil, loo roll.

• Safety pins, cash, cable ties, spare hanger, spare bar end plugs (no bar end plugs: no race).

• Hex keys, pliers, wrench, torque key set, spare tyre, spare inner tubes, small pump.

• Phone energy bank, phone cables, identity card, deodorant.

It’s a big bag. Though that’s good: not the sort of thing some low-life is going to quietly stuff up their jumper and walk off with.

The bike is race ready. The Cervelo S2 now into its 12th year. It’s a racing machine. Battered and bruised, but all in all in fantastic condition. The gears are suffering and don’t seem to stay true for long. I find out in warming up that there’s a rubbing sound when in the top gears. But I won’t fettle now. Last minute fettling is a very dangerous game to play. Along with pumping up your tyres just before the race. Pump your tyres up way in advance.

I rate my wheels super highly for racing: Mavic Cosmic Carbone SLs. Aluminium wheels with carbon flanges. Absolutely bombproof and fast and will take a battering. These are 12 years old too. Straight as a die.

I go into the race at 100psi on brand new GP5000s. Dave is at 80psi. Read all the data and debates on the interweb about tyre pressure - and then go with your hunch.

What to eat when racing near 4pm? Tricky. I say go light all day. Muesli for breakfast. One of those ‘City Kitchen’ Tesco microwave meals for lunch and I’ll be on the side hungry til near the start when a petrol station americano, half a banana, half a blueberry muffin and a few strawberry Fruitella sweets will get you to the line. It’s short race - you won’t bonk. Caffeine gel a few minutes before the start too, of course.

The drive over to Hog Hill is awful. There’s no great way to there from where I live. But I get the radio on and zone out. I arrive and see Jenny beaming having just finished her race. She has to ride the E123 which includes a rider fresh from Liege-Bastogne-Liege that indicates the standard. I park up and get my number. I get there just in time to see Brendan set off in the 4th Cat race. It’s his first crit. On reflection, not the best one to recommend as it’s a hard course and the field is looking like a group of thoroughbred hipsters. Sure enough, super strong Brendan becomes detached from the bunch on the second climb of the Hoggenberg. But he digs in and plays to his TT strength to keep the others off his back. Rolling in 20th. I’d say that’s mission accomplished for a first crit. Well done.

The view to central London from Hog Hill is amazing. Meanwhile down the side to where the course is looks lush. I feel old again, as I remember when you could see the entire circuit from the cafe at the top. Now it’s all trees!

I kit up and pin up. The CC Ashwell pro race suit is superb, but if it lasts a year I’ll be surprised. It’s very delicate. Worth it though. I feel fast in it. Lucozade Sport in the bottle. Wahoo Elemnt Bolt on. I’d buy a new one as the battery is fading. But they’ve sold out around the world.

I’m parked on a slope and warming up on the rollers is too tough. They are not allowing rollers near the cafe/HQ, so I mooch up and down the main road and adjacent cemetery. But that’s all a bit horrible so I simply loll around the HQ until we’re allowed on the course for 15 minutes before the race start. It’s a bit fresh, and windy, but not too bad.

It’s a 30 rider race, but there a few last-minute no-shows. Our Chris is nearly one of them, having been stuck in traffic. He makes it - just. There are three Ashwell in the mix, with Dave here too. I predict Craig from Nuun Sigma will win. In the mix with Simon from Beds Road RT and friend Daryl from CC London. As it turns out: I correctly predict the top three.

We’re off. Dave is a bullet and takes the front beautifully. The Hog Hill circuit is fast, hard and technical in different measures at different times. We go around the ‘classic’ way to hit the hill hard. The first corner is very technical. It drops, swoops and kicks up. It would be good to come here again and again until finding the perfect line. Then it soon drops massively for a gentle than a tight right turn. When the bunch wasn’t close to me, I found it hard to find the right line and pace here. We’re skittling along at 40mph. You have to plan your line way, way ahead. Along the flat it’s soon a gentle right and a tight left turn. This is sort of OK as the pace is deadened from the previous bend. But there’s a chance of pedal striking. Then it’s a gentle saunter to the base of the climb.

The Hoggenberg begins easily enough, then tilts for I’ll guess 30 metres, then is a sharp lift on its bend before continuing steadily for the end of the lap.

This race would see us face the hill nine times. I am OK in the bunch, but can feel I’m going to find most of the course tough on the technical sections. I decide I’ll settle in nearer the back while I suss out the course at speed. At the bottom, the bunch feel it important to hug the right side of the lap. But it’s only a gentle cross wind here and I happily take the left position here all the way up the hill, where I actually get shade from the northerly.

I find the hill OK as compared with the others. I am just off the front of the best guys as we crest the hill. I then fall back a bit more on the technical twists. But I make up ground on the descent and flat sections. I repeat this every time. Around half way I feel a bit sick and like I’ve burned all my matches. But I sort of get over that. I think the body is remembering the shock of real life road racing. But also, the undulating intensity of the effort is unsettling. I hear the cheers of Jenny and Brendan by the side and it motivates me to push on.

I suddenly notice the 2 laps to go board and am reminded this is a short race. Chris goes for it and pings off the front. It’s early, but he’s got amazing power and you never know. It’s sort of stretching out at the front with Craig, Simon and Daryl working smartly with his CC London buddies. Daryl moans that the race is over too soon. I half-disagree as I’m in the red, but can also feel the longer this is going on, I get the feeling my competition is suffering more than me.

It’s the last climb to the finish. I don’t really know how to play my full-tilt to be optimal but am keen not to blow up beforehand. It’s fairly steady at first then full-gas. I keep a clean line slightly out of the main thrust. Chris blows up having taken too many watts in the wind for too long. Chapeau though: as it was a podium move and on another day could have been very different. We get past and I dig in. We’re spread out and I can see I have clear space on the guy behind me, so I’m steady over the line. I’m 11th and happy with that. Chris and Dave just behind. I saw one ‘near miss��� between two riders and heard one coming-together group “Woah!” moment. But other than that, we’re all safe and well.

It’s a good vibe afterwards. I take my time packing up and grab a coffee and cake. I see the end of the last E12 Men’s race which looks really tough and then set off. I try Apple iPhone directions home and it takes me back a much nicer way through Epping Forest and back to lasagne and Tour of Romandie highlights at home.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/5224672022

Some images © trixstix photography

[martinlawless]

Ashwell Grass Track, 1hr TT

Ashwell Grass Track Smallgains, Ashwell, Hertfordshire 24 June 2020

There’s been no official racing for some time now. So unofficial racing it is! And to that, the only viable racing are TTs - as it’s easy to maintain social distance and all that.

Iain in the club had the idea to identify different races on the club’s pretty unique and special grass track that could be done CV19-friendly. The obvious ones that caught my eye were the longer distance endurance ones. The one-hour TT being the doozy. I will have a pop at the shorter distance ones too: though I’ll fare badly as I’ve no big power, and secondly my bike is geared for longer distance slogs rather than short distance power. so, even if I’m up for it, I’ll spin out - as I always do at grass track omniums. If I was being really keen, I’d change gears in between disciplines on an omnium, as I have witnessed Andrew Leverton do. But, I’m too cack-handed and not too fussed to do that.

It’s the hottest day of the year. My legs are in bits after the previous evening’s chaingang session: a fun 27 miles of hell that last night saw me link up with Adam Swan on the first lap and Mat Porter on the third lap. Both great, strong riders. I was wiped out leading or hiding in a 2-up with them. However, what I have fathomed out over recent regular riding day after day is that the body is unfathomable. It won’t tell you if it’s able or not. Sometimes, your legs feel tired, but they can give it top welly. And vice versa. So, I thought I’d have a crack at the one hour grass track TT in the evening, hopefully clipping into the cooler temperatures as the time went on.

I prepped beforehand. Banana on bagel a couple of hours before to keep energy up there. A gel, creams and balms. I didn’t put on an aero helmet or tri-bars. I’m not really sure, but there is something about the purity of a normal bike and equipment that felt right for this attempt. Having said that: I do have a top-end track bike. A Giant Omnium - that they no longer manufacture. A shame. It’s true class.

Over to the track I go. There already are Dan, Dan, Dave and the Ayers family. Is it helpful to be watched on as you bury yourself knee deep in watts? I think so. I told Dan not to allez allez me early on as I was fearful of popping near the end. How to pace this effort - I’d no idea. It definitely is an Art to work out how to map out your body’s energy over such a long time to a Goldilocks level: not too hot, not too easy - just right.

A bit of twiddling on the pedals, but not too much - as I know as an endurance race I don’t need to warm-up the short twitch muscles and want to preserve my longer ones. Away I go.

I figured to start I’d definitely stay under threshold and settle in. Grass track riding is hard - even with my easy ratio 46:16. The first several minutes pass slowly and my brain is frantic to find a system to keep focused. Do I count down every three laps? Do I look to trundle over a certain bump of grass every time? Do I sing a pop song in my head?

The wind is unfortunately a headwind on the uphill. But after 10-20 minutes, I no longer notice it as it dies off for the evening. With a brief word or two of encouragement heard every lap by the lads on the finish line, time cracks on. Constantly just under threshold.

Something odd occurs about 20 minutes in. A weird euphoria takes over me. I unusually feel a bit giddy. Like a caffeine hit. I don’t know how or why - though Daniel offers the idea that by now I have got into a rhythm and together with the undoubtedly pure zen-like nature of fixed-wheel riding, there may be some kind of serotonin release or whatever (I ain’t no medical professional). Anyway, the following 20 minutes sail by quite blissfully. Sure, I eat a few flies, but it’s all good.

On reflection, as serene as this section was mentally, I see my effort does dip ever so slightly. Going again, I ought to find more aggression.

Then, 40 minutes in, the end is in sight. Now is about trying to burn the reserves. I do step it up a bit, but the body is a little bit in denial by now and not responding as well as I’d like it to. I figured if I get out of the saddle for the climb, it would be a bad sign of unequal power application. Once or twice I nearly do. But rein myself in. Steady as she goes.

10 minutes to go and my loose chain rattles on the downhill. I wonder what I’d do if I suffered a mechanical now. I decide I’d grab any bike and crack on in a heroic failure styley. Fortunately, the chain stays good. I was taking it easy on each downhill to prep for the uphill, I decide to apply a bit of pressure each lap here on in.

Into the final minutes. I open up the afterburners. I can feel I have plenty in reserve and regret not finding a dark place earlier on - but at the same time - relieved I am in this place, than spent and into the Pop! zone. The final minutes pass quickly as I try for every last centimetre. And without much fanfare: I’m finished.

I expected everyone to have gone home by now. But the others all remained to which I was grateful. We share fizzy drinks and talk about hooking up with the grass track in Kansas as the sun sinks, and the flying hummingbird bee things swarm.

The backs of my hamstrings go off the charts in weird pain and stiffness. I guess it’s all the effort and bumpy pummelling they receive. I can’t bend over or walk very well for the rest of the evening.

I eventually work out my hour comes in at 19.0mph. Very happy considering my only other recorded effort was 17.0mph at Guilden Morden recreation ground. The difference? Grass length and desire. The Ashwell track is in good running condition - though the track line is patchy as its not that worn in and it was easy to stray into the long, slower grass.

Next time? I should have a go with aero-bars and pointy helmet. It is something of a goal now to break 20.0mph - though that feels quite a task. It may seem a small percentage, but over distance that gap is Herculean.

For now, I’m delighted with a speed that would be admirable on a road bike. I’ve done a lot of mindless mile munching over the last three months and I’m a little surprised by how I’ve missed any kind of competitive goal. This really helped deal with that - and hope to find good conditions to have another go at it soon.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/3666187489

[martinlawless]

The ‘Ike Saul’ Road Race 2020

Cambridge CC Road Race, Regional A, Cat 2-3-4 Toft, Cambridgeshire 15 March 2020

That ill feeling. You know, that one you get the day/night before a race. Yeh that one. Well, you’re not ill at all. Your body is just suggesting that traveling over Orwell hill at 45.2mph on a bit of carbon is something it would like to avoid and you should take up cribbage instead. I’ve learned to recognise and ignore that feeling: expect it and sort get over it. These are the sorts of tips a budding bike racer needs that are as important as racing tactics and training. Fretting the day before will only make for bad sleep and rest. I suggest an evening bath and good book in bed.

Talking of preparation, I prepped two days in advance. This is another thing you cannot underestimate in racing. Having everything good-to-go way in advance. Bag prepped, (shiny new season) kit sorted, gels and food ready and in pockets, licence, shoes, helmet, a look at the weather forecast: decide now on arm warmers, mitts, socks. Back off from big efforts a few days before. Get a sports physio beforehand. Google the journey time. Suss the parking. I test the bike out the day before and pump up the tyres then - not on the day itself when all sorts of things can happen. I check for flints in the tyres. I decide what I’ll be drinking. I take a big bottle of water. I eat well the day before. All this applies less to young riders, but veterans need to be more diligent.

The Ike Saul is Cambridge CC’s Regional A road race. It’s a Cat 2, 3, 4. I see the majority of riders are Cat 2, along with me, though I feel a bit of a fraud as my Cat 2 road status is enhanced by Grass Track points. It’s the closest road race to my house. Just a 20 minute drive to Toft for a circuit I know well: west through Bourn, south on the A1198, east at the Arrington roundabout on the A603, through Orwell and then north through Eversden and Kingston village to start the 11 or so miles again four more times. This was to be a bit of a rehearsal for the Tour of Malta at the end of the month. But the Corona virus lockdown stopped that.

A short drive to a race I think makes a big difference. I arrive alert and get busy. I sign in and pin my numbers on. Say hello to Alison and Dan who are commisairing (made-up word?), catch up with young Thom who was CCA road champ and now races for a ‘proper team’. I do my stretches on the floor of the village hall - stretching, another veteran’s tip. And then I spend 10 minutes on the rollers next to my car. They do little to prep the legs, but it’s a very effective way of removing pent up adrenaline. We get our briefing and we are off.

It’s really windy. Warm enough, with just a vest, arm warmers and light gloves, but really windy. I study weather forecasts more than anyone else I know. So, on this circuit, knowing it well, I had an acutely vivid idea of where to be in the bunch at all times to shelter and save watts. The one thing I will remember on this race is, for some reason, I had a very comfortable time finding shelter. I don’t know why riders were generally indifferent to the wind direction. Maybe because they’re strong and largely don’t care?

Lap 1 is zippy, but very comfortable with a massive field of 60 riders. My goal was to finish in the bunch. I doubt I spent more than 10 seconds on the top 10 of this race. There is an early break of two riders. I have no idea which teams they’re from or what tactics they have with their team mates. I don’t care. Through Eversden and Kingston village, things get tight and turny. As we turn to leave Kingston, I see the two breakaway riders sprawled on the floor. They’ve overcooked it and slid out. The sight of this seems to cool the engines of the riders up front a bit and things ease a bit.

We are really swinging out wide on the road, echeloning all we can to deal with the wind. Near the back, where I’m happiest, there is little else to do but swing with the stretched out peloton as it snakes all over the place. I think this is pretty sketchy and wish I had the power to be more in control of my destiny. But any move out of the slipstream ramps up the power demands massively out of the shade from such a big peloton, and you are buffeted back into the vacuum of the slipstream. I spend much time on Daryl’s wheel. He’s a tall guy and very in control on the bike, trust and shelter are everything in the bunch.

I like the relative simplicity of the course. The section from Arrington roundabout all the way to the turn for Eversden is fast. Two laps in and we’ve averaged 25.4mph. I am pleased to find the climb relatively easy, as compared to my co-riders. But, the descent and turn at the bottom asks for power which I lack. But I tuck in and draft just fine. I keep peering back and can tell that my mission to get around in the bunch will work out just fine. We’ve shelled a few riders. Others are gurning. I’ll be fine.

There are sketchy moments. It’s tight at times in the wind. Wheels get close. I’m glad everyone seems well experienced. At one point, I don’t see a marshal in the middle of the road until the last second. Concentration must never drop. My cornering confidence has dropped since a race spill back in January. It will take time to come back.

Halfway through the race, we are neutralised and stopped. The lead commissaire gives us a rollicking for poor road awareness. We set off again and things are tidier for the rest of the race. The next lap or so would see a small breakaway build and build. Eventually it masses 14 riders. They work well together and make it a proper split. You would expect the bunch to ease back. It does a bit but not much: there’s 15th place and 1 point to fight for!

Last half lap and I can tell a lot of riders are tired. Along with the neutralised-not-neutralised roll out at the start, it may be the longest road race I’ve done. My back is sore from tension and I’m not easing out of the saddle enough, but I wonder if this race was even longer I’d start to enjoy myself more over the younger and power-driven legs around. I’ve spent a lot of time around the wheel of a young Eastern Region rider, another rider Verulam George and CC London Daryl, Masters Tour of Malta winner 2019. I wondered how the run-in would be and whether I’d get spat out. But as we pass the ‘flamme rouge’ 1k-to-go sign, I can sense that riders are quite cooked. I mark myself to Daryl’s wheel. George gives it full beans and sprints clear for 15th. Weirdly the rest of the peloton hug the windy side of the road and I have a lovely clear aero-assisted go for the line for pride’s sake. Daryl is 20th and I’m 21st.

I loll back to HQ. I get a chance to chat and thank Stef for marshalling and chat to Dan a bit more. I chat with Thom who punctured: bad luck. I opt for a chocolate brownie and cup of tea recovery from the well-stocked pop-up cafe. I unpin and reflect on the race. I’m made-up to get within a sniff of points in a Regional A race full of so much talent. It didn’t rain, as forecast. It’s a good morning.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/3185230760

[martinlawless]

Full Gas Winter Series Masters E1234

Lee Valley Velopark Saturday 4 January 2020

It’s my first race in three months and my first in 2020. In the run up to the day I wonder how my form has fared. I hadn’t been able to ride as much as I’d have liked. But I had cranked up the gym work: 50%. I have a theory that general fitness can get you quite far in bike racing. Though pedalling is best. In the last few weeks, I’d found a watt bike hiding in the corner of the gym. I have created my own little crit routine for it that I have enjoyed the last few weeks. I think it could actually help develop a bit of power. Most winter rides I’ve simply tried to smash and beat myself up a bit. Chasing make-believe breaks and hiding in invisible bunches. It’s been a bit lonely but it’s always good to get into fresh air. My winter bike is being repaired. I’ve done in my race bike as a result, but as the race approached, I gave it a good clean and it’s still quite the machine despite its 10 years of age. It’s a Cervelo from its independent, Gerard Vroomen days.

There’s loads out at Lee Valley. It’s the first race back for many. And the weather is fine. 6 degrees and sunny. Windy – it’s always windy around open air Stratford. I opt for three-quarter leg warmers and arm warmers. A light vest. Fingerless gloves for better grip. I have played around with a few different sets of eyewear. Eventually, I opt to go back to what I was using a lot last year: big, wide lens ones that offer good wind block on dry eyes, and have no lower frame – to give maximum visibility to the sides and behind. This is a great asset in crits in particular, where it’s a good move to have eyes in the back of your head at all times.

Signing on and pinning up takes longer than planned and I don’t really get a good go at it to warm up. It’s a bit fresh and to do it properly, I’d love to spin for 20 minutes. I get more like 8 minutes. Never mind. It’s a big bunch. I figure no one is going to attempt an early break and I’ll get a few laps to warm up properly in this 45 minutes race.

Sure enough, this is exactly what happens. It’s a serene start. Everyone seems to be happy to crawl out of off-season slumber and I’d say the first 5-6 laps are the easiest racing I can remember. Maybe because of this, Dave is inspired, and lights the race up with a massive effort to solo off the front. I’m way back and in a great position to laugh and cheer him on. Well done Dave: you never know. However, the bunch galvanises and eventually hauls him in. It was a nice moment of fame for Ashwell in front of the spectators watching in the chill of the north-facing Velopark.

I feel fine lolling in the middle of the bunch. I have no intention of crawling into the top 10 for more than a few pedal strokes. I can see that this is going to end up in a bunch sprint as there are too many very good riders from too many teams to allow for anything else. As we approach the final third of the race, I feel a slight tinge of fatigue. But, really, I could have gone on for much longer. As it was, the five laps to go board goes up and we steel ourselves for the run-in. I notice that Jess is hugging Mitchy’s wheel – clearly certain that where Mitchy goes, points down the line will follow. So, in turn, I decide to hold Jess’s wheel. My only hope of success in this race is something like 10th. It’s remarkable how fluid crits can be though, and despite dogged determination to keep the tractor beam on these guys, the dynamics of the bunch make it impossible to keep a latch. It doesn’t help that Mitchy can turn on the nitro blast at will and leap up a few bike lengths in a blink of the eye.

We close in on the finish. Dave goes off again. It’s heroic and doomed. He’s holding a good speed though and he leads the way into the final lap. It has been a bit jumpy and tight at times. I get a polite shoulder from Tony Gibb to know he’s near. We’re a bit sardines. I see Valentino push his way through a too tight gap. It rattles the two riders either side of him. I admire his fighting spirit. I’m around 15th wheel as we weave along the last half lap. I know exactly what to do, but have to execute it all the same. I’m urged from behind to push hard when there’s a gap to go to the tip. But it’s too soon, and it’s a slight bluff in an attempt to get some free speed from me. I don’t bite. The last quarter lap and at last the time is right to go down the furthest left side of the lane. I make some good progress. I can see Mitchy and Jess are further up and in a good shout for the top 10. I will have to work harder. It’s the tight-ish turn after the Pringle next. I will have to repeat my left side sneak here. It almost works, but it’s too tight. ‘Hold your line’ gets called out by the rider in front who is not yielding his ground. I touch my brake and probably lose 3-4mph. We are now less than 30 seconds form the finish and it’s going to be super hard to dent the top of this race from here.

I have probably the best line position for the sprint, with the wind blocked by other riders. I recall my watt bike full wellies I’ve been doing at the gym as I give it the 15 seconds it takes to cross the line. I can see I’m holding my ground, which is pleasing. But none of us are really changing position. We move en-masse as one over the line and the race is done. I’m 17th. I’d say about 3-4 bike lengths off 10th. Lightyears in bike sprinting.

Mitchy gets third. Dave, fully spent from his solo at the end, is at the back of the bunch. I feel quite pepped and pleased with how I feel. I sort of wished I’d signed up to the 2/3/4 race that follows. But find solace in a flat white and choc chip muffin from the velodrome café whilst watching the race from inside instead.

Strave link: https://www.strava.com/activities/2981290749

[martinlawless]

Arkesden Hill Climb Championship 2019

Col du Long Lane, Arkesden, Essex Sunday 3 November 2019

I ride up a hill five days a week on my commute to the train station. It’s long, shallow, steady. Made steadier with a heavy backpack, laptop, work clothes, knackered bike. This sort of daily challenge I think proves useful for a steady climb like Col du Long Lane, at Arkesden, one of the pretty villages that are dotted around the Essex-Hertfordshire borders.

I did well - by my expectations on the day. 100 had registered and at least 85 had turned up. I grabbed 10th place and was less than a second away from Charlie Passfield, which possibly suggests Charlie is enjoying his off-season more than how smart I was on this climb. Of course, I had riders just behind me, a second or two, on the results board. When you reflect on that, you consider all the marginal gains made in the 0.7 miles race.

The biggest marginal gain was probably made a week before the race. I rode over to the hill to recce it. In six attempts, I had pretty much sussed it out. The beginning bit, the first quarter or more, is virtually flat. It made me consider sticking tai-bars on. The woods clear and it turns up for the climb proper. There’s a moment of respite, another moment of upward tilt, and eventually it turns sharply into a wooded vertical final section to the line. Vertical by Essex standards, and certainly this is no Rammy Rake, but gradients are relative, you just up your speed until you’re in the red and begging for mercy.

In my practice I wanted to see how hard a gear I could take the bottom section. Turns out, in the big ring, I’m in the sixth ring on the back. I start like a track cyclist, heavy and awkward, but get going quickly and save time not faffing through gear changes. Plus, I like a hard gear. I found I could build a lot of momentum on the flat section and get a fair bit of the rise out of the woods ‘for free’ that way, before conceding one gear for the middle bit. It’s tempting to shift to an even easier gear as this section grinds on, but I know that would be a mistake as the legs will suffer from the wide change in rhythm and concede too much for the end bit. I knew I’d have to take the middle bit in this ring, no matter the pain.

The end bit is cruel with the nastiest ascent at the end. But it’s mercifully short. It’s defeated mentally. I worked out it was 20 hard breaths to the line. Forget about the pain, forget about the gear you’re in, ignore the distance to go: simply count 20 breaths and do the thinking later. On the day, the crowd are cheering and whooping and you need to take that adrenaline rush in: to give you a boost that everyone else is taking too.

I’d worked out the climb could be done well in just the one gear, taking away the slightly harder gear at the start. It means the climb could be done with a fixed gear a specific gear ratio. Though that’s dedication beyond my means. Instead, I used my race bike. I couldn’t be bothered removing the bottle cages that I needed to ride over (the 18 mile ride ‘warm up’ itself being another marginal gain). I didn’t remove my bike computer or any other part of the bike. I stripped down to summer bibs and shorts and socks. Socks to grip the shoes better. Mitts to grip the bars better on the haul up the nasty bit. I forgot to take my head buff off, hidden beneath the helmet that was compulsory.

This was the inaugural event. And it was very slickly done. The road was closed. We had an MC. The build-up beforehand had got the excitement going. Registration was faultless. You get a small number for your arm. I do like those. It felt like a good community event and many locals seemed to have joined. The junior race was well attended, especially good to see several girls having a go. It was tricky to keep warm. There was no realistic place to do so at the bottom of the climb. Rollers would be an excellent idea. If the weather was poor, it would have been a wipeout. That’s the dice you roll though when having a race in November. And to a large degree, turning up or bailing out when weather is rubbish is, I think, part of the race itself. Who’s bravest/stupidest? Well, they deserve a medal.

The race was followed by a handicapped paired challenge. For fun. I was squared up against teammate Matt. It was interesting to repeat the challenge - this time with a hare that had a 15 second head start. Instinctively, I over-revved to catch his wheel. To win this challenge convincingly, I should have tailed him til the end and pounced. But, adrenaline had the final say and made me push on through at speed, only to then blow-up and let Matt on to my back wheel. This then made the final bit an exciting head-to head duel. But I had the high-ground and could (just!) hold him off and counter his attempts to break me in the final metres. I went one second faster on this go than on my individual attempt. Interesting.

All done and it was time to cycle to the pub, for marginal losses. In the end, I’d do about 35 miles in the morning, but felt wasted. A combination of daft early start, cold temperatures, managing adrenaline and the effects of very short but intense effort had worn me down. My lingering cough and cold came back a bit. But went away again the next day. 10th place, and 4th 40+ veteran. I was pleased with that.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/2838042600

[martinlawless]

Interclub Championship 2019 TT, Round 5, Hill-Climb

Sharpenhoe Clappers Sunday 29 September 2019

This is really a bit of a ‘note to self’. It was two years since I last tackled Sharpenhoe Clappers. And, albeit I had a stinking hangover on this attempt and wasn’t going to threaten my PB, I made a right pig’s ear of this climb to make things worse.

Despite all of this: what a great morning. Ashwell won. We had a great time at the car park near the top - cheering on all the riders - with our hooters and bells. It cemented our overall victory to take the regional Interclub Championship 2019.

I just hope in 2020 I can do a better job of things on the ascent of this good, nasty, sub-three minute ascent…

Start in quite a hard gear. Big ring. You can do a lot on the flattish start.

In the middle - where all the trees disappear - submit to the small ring.

Recognise that the slight turn, just before the applauding onlookers, is the steepest bit. It is easier from here.

You need to do all you can to refind the big ring as you approach the car park and cheering club mates. You must get out of the small ring if you can.

I made a hash of it today. Uncontrolled, sprawling, messy, and very lucky the fumbling for gears didn’t lose the chain.

But… We won. I’m glad to have added some good points to the mix and feel part of the success.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/2748920105

[martinlawless]

VC Equipe-Flix Oral Hygiene-Propulse Autumn Cup #2

Masters 40+ E1234 Hillingdon Cycle Circuit Saturday 28 September 2019

The second and final round of this series. Last time, it was very hard. Too hard for me to be competitive. Attacksville. Breaksville. I finished at the back of a depleted bunch. I was doing this one to help bridge fitness and race readiness as racing for me will be hard to do in the Autumn. I may find an event or two til things pick up next Spring. But, this is kind of the end of the road season for me and most people.

The weather was typical for September with a threat of rain, but quite warm. It was windy. There were around 25 of us on the line. I’d got there in good time and so had no stress prepping. This seems to make a lot of difference to my racing. I think it might simply be I have a chance to warm up properly.

We are off and it’s fairly pacy from the start. Within I think three laps, three guys go off the front and are not reeled in. They’re strong and confident to go off this early. We would hold them to thirty seconds for a while. But would eventually pull away as the bunch dithered. This is an impressive effort for three people to lose the bunch so early on - regardless of bunch dithering. There are some seriously strong riders taking on the Masters racing scene in the south east of the UK.

Meanwhile, back in the bunch… I’m settling in. I vow to stay much nearer the back this time than last - where I found it pretty tough. I figured getting dropped was unlikely. Instead, I stayed beady eyed for the formation of a break, where I planned to lunge forward.

I found this cannier positioning made a huge difference to my energy outputs. But I was rolling the dice on missing the break. Sure enough, when Nick from HNCC and Simon from BRCC team up to repeat their trick from the previous edition, I’m about eight wheels back and in no position to join them.

The bunch consolidates for the rest of the race. Into the last two laps, and it gets quite interesting. John McClelland had been consistently applying beans throughout the race, but to no avail. The, while hanging out there yet again on his own, he is joined by another rider. This then lures two more, including Valentino. Suddenly, the bunch have a last minute lap threat, with a strong break in front of them. All credit to John for manufacturing this opportunity.

There’s a little bit of tiredness mixed with resignation on this last break. But the bunch eventually muster themselves and we work hard to chase it down and kill off this last break. We accelerate to attack speed in the last few turns. I am not well positioned in the last bend and exposed to the wind. An Islington rider looks sideways to me - he can see I’m huffing out of the slipstream where he is gliding. But, I’ve no way into the slipstream. We turn for the line and it’s full gas. I’m relatively free to apply power and am please to pick off a few riders. All the same, the riders to the right are a good three bike lengths ahead. I make it an aim to catch the Rapha guy, for the hell of it, and come in 15th, so I think 10th in the bunch sprint. Not bad.

I drive back thinking if this is my last race of 2019, I’m pretty pleased. The field was tough and 15th is respectable. Against a big feeling that breaking into the higher ranks is impossible, the more you race, the luckier you get.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/2746487956