Karma and racing

Posted by Mark on October 6, 2009 under racing | Be the First to Comment

After spending way too much time on Mont Ventoux in July I got back to the UK to find my fitness had moved on a bit, and I’d developed some more speed too. I figured it was time to have a bash at some racing. My annual goal for the last couple of years has always been the Etape du Tour cyclosportive in France. 2008 was my first attempt, and I got through it in one piece. This year I intended to get a silver on the Mont Ventoux stage. That, however, went horribly wrong.

With my fitness feeling ok I thought I’d have a bash at the Winter Series at Hillingdon, usually starting in December. Then a surprise race in October popped up on the radar – 4th cat only, Hillingdon. Perfect – that was my goal.

I figured my race strategy would be one of ‘get through it without being caught in any 4th cat shenanigans’ – i.e. steer clear of the inevitable crash that would occur on the final bend if you were in the rear end of the pack. Plenty of ex and current racer mates had told me what the craic should be – keep in the top third/top quarter of the pack to stay out of trouble.

And that was my plan. Stay there, and if I felt OK at the end have a bit of a go at the sprint, ‘for a laugh’. Truth be told, I figured with my current form I might be able to scrape a top ten finish.

On the morning of the race three other mates and I discussed strategy. Rich had the loony idea of just ‘going off the front’ and the four of us doing a four man team-time-trial. With a nasty south westerly wind forecast for the day of the race I had zero confidence in that working – in fact, I labelled it ‘suicide’ (Hillingdon’s longest straight stretch heads south west, right into the forecast wind) One of our other mates, recently fitted up with his first win, and having ridden Hillingdon before, thought the strategy could work.

Hmm. So, I gave up my hunch and agreed to go with the feedback of ‘experience’.

The race start was delayed after somebody had an accident on the warm up lap. So we were left waiting on the start line for a good half an hour or so. If I’d had a chance to warm up I would’ve lost it anyway, but as it happened I’d not managed to even do a lap – and I stood there freezing. The circuit was cleared and we got a couple of laps to warm up. Hmmm, I’ve been warmer on skiing trips.

Starting a couple of rows back from the line, I knew it’d be a tricky start – especially since the four of us with ‘the plan’ were now a bit spread out. Never the less, the race starts and Rich shoots off the front like a cat heading indoors from a thunderstorm. Mike follows pretty rapidly, and gets on his wheel. I struggle like hell to catch the pair of them, blowing myself to bits on the straight into the headwind. Just as I’m battering myself to catch the pair of them James comes past me like I’m standing still – he has a habit of doing that on our Sunday runs too. He’s going so quick as he passes I can’t even catch his wheel. One lap done, and I’m still hanging out there tearing myself to pieces just to catch the others.

I know this isn’t going to work  – so instead of beasting myself even more I opt to drift back to the pack for some shelter, and with a bit of luck some rest!

It happens with ease, I’m back in the shelter. I left myself drift back to around 10th place, and decide that’s exactly where I’m staying. The guys are caught just afterwards, and the pack is all together again.

And that’s the way it stays for some time. I spend the next 30 minutes desperately trying to compose myself after that ridiculous start, all I can taste in my mouth is the horrible metallic aftertaste like I’ve been bleeding. And I can’t stop coughing. At one point I’m coughing so much I nearly throw up. I’m actually wondering if I’ll be able to make it through the whole race in this state.

A few times we arrive into the headwind and it’s so strong the group speed drops from over 40kph to below 30 – a few people in the middle of the pack grumble about the lack of speed, and I’m awfully tempted to tell them to “get up here and do the work then”. I opt for silence instead.

An hour passes, and the ’5 laps to go’ board is held up at the finish line – it’s like somebody has fed the kids E numbers, it goes a bit nuts for a couple of laps. Lots of folks constantly charge towards the front, obviously trying to get that top 10 positioning. I slip back a few places, I suspect I’m somewhere around 15th by now, maybe even outside the top 20. I’m also feeling the after effects of that start – I’m just on the edge of knackered.

Before I know it the bell rings for the last lap. This is it, this is the bit where I’ve got to make sure I’m not in the thick of the pack when we hit the final corner. Through the twisty bends at the top of the circuit I pick some choice lines and keep pedaling through the bends to start pulling some places back. Just before the second to last corner my mate James comes roaring past on my left – I dive for his wheel and shout that “I’m on”.

James goofed up his license application in the week, and as a consequence didn’t have a full license to collect any points – in our discussions on the morning we’d agreed if it came to it he’d “work for me”, which is nice because we affectionately refer to him as The Human Motorbike. That takes no explanation.

Charging through the last corner we take another handful of places, I’m pretty sure we’re getting back inside the top 10 now – I can feel my legs coming up to speed, I’m ready to go for the sprint, so I dive off James’ wheel and go for it.

The next few seconds are a bit of a blur. I can distinctly remember there being a handful of guys still in front of me, and I can remember the gap down the right hand side of the circuit. I can remember dashing through that gap, and closing in on the guy I presume is currently leading the sprint for the line (that’s me on the far left, still not in the lead by this point).

I see the line approaching, and I see somebody on my left. Giving it everything I have, the line shoots under my wheel. I’m sure I passed it before the guy next to me.

Steve and I talk as we slow down, he congratulates me. I’m in a bit of a daze.

Back at the finish line I meet my wife and mate Al – both commiserate me on just missing it and getting second place.

“Second? What? Was somebody else off up the road then?”

“No, but we think you just missed the sprint”

“Eh, I don’t think I did”

A visit to the commissaire’s box and a review of the finish line camera confirm my thoughts – I’ve just taken my first win.

I’ll be honest and say it’s taken a few days to stop being excited about it. There is massive gratitude to James for his lead out, I’m not so sure I could’ve caught up with the guys already in full sprint flight without his help, but at the same time I reckon my legs worked just ok to keep the speed going.

I consider it karma for my crap Etape

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