Neath, a place on the list of trains stops

I had been all fired up for the Castle Combe Summer Series race, but being at Aberthaw (in South Wales) for the week and the 2 hour drive to Chippenham for the race meant I had to find a local event to ride instead. I found a the President's Trophy Handicap Road Race, a 67km event, run by Port Talbot Wheelers in Neath just up the road that looked to be perfect.

Until now, all I knew about Neath was that it was one of the stops on the Swansea train from Paddington – a train that typically I’d hop on at Reading and off at Swindon on my way to work. It would be quite exciting to put a face to this name that is monotonously read out after every stop!

I packed all my gear into the car in the morning, and inevitably spent much of the day fretting about the one item (my bike computer) that I realised I’d left in the hotel. I really do need a checklist! Fortunately the hotel was on the way to Neath, so no serious problems.

Another unexpected bonus came with the afternoon’s tests going pear shaped, giving me a good reason to leave the station early to get ready or the race. I got back to the hotel, packed and made sure I had everything I needed, and then had a short half hour nap.

I woke feeling incredibly calm, so I hopped into the car and put on some Mark Knopfler to help get me into the racing frame of mind. I was really amazed with how calm I was feeling. Even the days before, I was feeling absolutely no anxiety which is unusual. Not bad, should be a doddle then.

The signing-up table was in a sports hall – when I arrived I was one of the first competitors there, and we had to wait a little while for the organisers to get ready for us. The usual suspects were there; the young stallions, cocky as hell and too cool for their carbon wheels. I had to smile, the poses and banter were all too familiar – it could so easily have been Ryan and I apart from the modern trend of poking the shades into the helmet holes.

Entry fee handed over and number in hand I was suddenly overwhelmed by a massive wave of anxiety. Huge. I stumbled over the car and started unpacking the bike. I was a mess; it was like the minor anxiousness that I should have felt in the week before was hitting me all at once. All unpacked, pinned, dressed and bike test ridden, I took a few minutes to gaze into space and feel more nervous before hopping on my bike to warm up.

From there on time flew. Before I knew it we were listening to the completely unintelligible starter’s orders and we were off after the lead car. The clouds were looking evil, but most of my competitors were in shorts and short sleeves. I’d opted for warm tights and arm warmers; was this the right choice? I didn’t have too much time to ponder this, the pace was crazy and my heart rate went through the roof. We were heading up a gentle uphill at well over 40km/h and this was the first few km! I was now starting to wonder if I had possibly bitten off much more than I could chew. No problem, I’d stick to my plan which was effectively to do as little work as possible until the finish.

The first lap went by quickly, and to be honest I have no idea how many laps of the course we did. I did get validation of my clothing choice when we got lambasted from the heavens. There really is something special about being in a peloton with the spray of the bike in front in your face! And even with this, the pace hardly let up. To make matters worse, every time I checked the Heart Rate Monitor, it was 170+ which made me a) think I was soon to be in trouble and b) decide not to look at the HRM anymore.

A few times there were breakaways that looked like they may be dangerous; I chased two down and tried to make sure the bunch didn’t split. I knew I didn’t have the legs to work with a breakaway group, but that I’d stand a chance in a bunch sprint. The new bike was just perfect for these fast accelerations, responsive, stiff and almost weightless. It was a joy!

There were a few exciting moments in the corners. In the first a rider in front braked unexpectedly which had me locking up the rear and sliding sideways into the corner. The second was a slick drain cover that caused me a huge slide that I somehow managed to survive; I put it to the hours spent tearing around on my BMX.

Before I knew it, now joined by the E/1/2/3s, we were headed at ridiculous speed to the finish. I knew there was a short climb not long before the finish line, so I decided to have a go there and give it stick up the hill I came flying over the crest, but it was too early as there were still a few hundred metres to the finish. The bunch surged but my legs were cooked and there was no way I could get into a position for the sprint. I found myself spinning my 53x12 (+60km/h) but making no headway at all.

Apart from the mistimed surge at the end, it was an awesome race. The stats from my computer say it all: average speed – 42.7km/h, maximum speed – 62.6km/h, distance 67.5km, time 1:34.

I felt strong and my legs felt loose and smooth. I could keep my cadence high and even. It all felt efficient and steady. Looking back at the HRM data, my heart rate wasn’t quite as bad as I’d thought; I think I’d probably glanced at it after every hard session rather than when I was relaxed, so not too much to worry about there.

And as a first outing for the race bike it was great, it felt perfect, rode fast and reliably and fit like a glove. I have been cured of bike lust. Well temporarily anyways.