Putting down some markers for 2010

Ok, 2010 looms. Goal setting time:
- 2nd Cat
- A race win

How hard can it be?

That's why I race

photo by Lesley

The results for this past weekends race are up.

84 guys were slower than me, but 33 weren't. It is the 33 that egg me on to go faster still.

Crossing into Autumn

Photo courtesy londoncyclesport.com

Sunday was a beautiful autumnal day. Too warm and sunny to be autumn proper, but with that light crispness in the air that hints at the seasons changing. Having a terrible sense for judging temperature, I'd packed all my cold weather gear but as I was getting ready to roll out onto the course, I realised that normal summer fare would do.

After a bit of confusion while on a recce of the circuit, and even more at the start, I felt myself "blipping the throttle" at the line waiting for the Go! As soon as we were off I gave it horns to get to the front of the field; from my limited cross experience I know that working your way through the field can be difficult and burns a lot of energy. There was a lot of room running to the first real corner so I was able to make up a lot of ground blasting down the left and keeping a lot of momentum onto the little grassy climb.

From there it was a blur. I got stuck in with a charging group that felt a little too fast for me and I started to worry that if I put the effort in I may burn out later; even with the benefit of hindsight I have no idea if this was a good idea or not. I did pass one of the group a bit later, and he was completely spent, so perhaps I did make the right call.

After being dropped from the fast group I found myself in an oddly quiet no-mans land. No-one behind me to stay away from, and the group ahead having pulled enough of a gap not to always be in sight. Later in the race I started reeling in the riders ahead of me but, given how the field was strung out, it was difficult to work out which were for position and which were simply backmarkers.

But it didn't matter, I kept at chasing the rider ahead, chipping away and getting past. It was hurting and all I could think of was breathing, putting the front wheel in the right place and choosing the right gear. No counting laps, watching the group or thinking of strategy.

At one point I came across the same Kuota rider I'd battled with at the Gunpowder Park race, and I was reeling him in steadily. I passed him, and I guess there must have been recognition, because he responded by turning up the wick and making his way past again. I was hurting but there was no way I was rolling over - it was a simple decision; I dug deep and wound up the pace. I was determined to break him. I was determined to make sure he knew I would beat him. A solid gap opened up and soon I was watching him heading into the hairpins I was charging out of. It was the last I saw of him.

Reflecting on this has made me realise something about cyclocross. It is a very simple sport. You have to mark your goal decide you can achieve it. Mishaps and equipment failure aside, the guy in front is stronger and the guy behind is weaker. There is no further complication. For sure the strength is not only physical, but certainly a combination of physical and mental strength, but it is about strength. It is also very lonely. It is pure.

I don't think I let up from there - I pulled away from that group and, with the 3 lap board out, settled into chipping away at the gap to a Mosquito rider ahead. The gap was simply too great for me, and I couldn't make up the ground, but I still felt great. I hadn't been lapped and I felt I'd done myself proud.

The full results have not yet been posted, but I'm expecting I did get a pretty decent result. This coming weekend is the Halloween Cross at Herne Hill, and I'm nursing myself back to full strength to make sure I can race it hard. It will be interesting!

Rocketing at Gunpowder Park

Image by John Mullineaux
londoncyclesport.com

We left in good time to get up to Gunpower Park in Waltham Abbey for Round 3 of the London Cross League. It started going pear shaped when I lost my way on the route I'd chosen. No problem, I had a backup route... Which was all well and good until our progress was halted by a police road closure. Cue 45 mins of confusion and traffic hell through parts of North London that I won't mind not having to pass through again.

Of course, all this meant arriving at the race very late. I signed on at 12:59 by my watch, and was rolling onto the grassy field, about 150m away from the start just as the tail end of the field was easing out of the start area.

I tried to stay as calm as I could, but it was difficult. If I wanted to be vaguely competitive I'd have put in a lot of effort to get myself back into contention. Writing this now, I can see parallels between this and Warwick a month or so back, but at the time all I could think was getting through the field as quickly as possible.

As you'd imagine, I made up a bunch of places very quickly, but then my progress slowed and I found each pass was a lot more effort. One rider made me chuckle, in a good way; I was passing a girl on the run up to the technical bit at the far side of the course. Heading to the corner, she wasn't going to give me an inch. With each pedal stroke she accelerated, forcing me to push harder to get by. We were all but sprinting as the corner loomed. I'd pulled barely ahead of her going into the corner, but she made me work hard for it!

From there on, I had a few spats, including an ongoing battle with a dude on a Kuota Kross. We passed and re-passed each other a few times, and during the last few laps, he pulled a small lead. At the 3 lap board I turned up the wick and started reeling him in. We charged through the last lap, but on the run to the line I took him, and another two riders ahead.

All in all a really great experience. The bike was 100%, and all the small adjustments I made after the last outing paid dividends. Despite the circuit being insanely bumpy in places, I could trust leaving the chain on the little ring when I needed to. My arms took a big beating, but the sheer intensity of it is something very new - there really is nowhere to hide. It is much like XC running, but on a bike.

I'm hooked.

ps. Thanks to London Phoenix for hosting this event.

Eating dust at Deers Leap

Cross is a very strange, but oddly natural undertaking. It reminds me so much of my childhood - trying to ride bikes over crazy terrain, sometimes at unfeasible speeds.

The conditions were perfect; it was a lovely, warm, sunny day. We arrived nice and early which gave me a great opportunity to calmly get the bike together and suss things out.

Just as I was about to head out for a familiarisation lap, I met a fellow Dulwich rider, Kevin, who gave me tips. We rode around together for a lap, realised we still had a little time, so went out for a second. I was getting the hang of it, and starting to feel very confident when very suddenly I felt that all to familiar sensation through the bars. The front tyre was flat.

It wasn't hard to find the cause, a great big fat thorn was stuck through sidewall. Fiddlesticks!

There was less than 5 minutes to go before the start of the race and I was headed up to the car to pack and feel sorry for myself when I spotted Alex, or Mark as I thought his name was. Alex, another Dulwich Paragon, had arrived late and was feverishly trying to get his number on. We had a case of broken telephone, first with me trying to call him Mark, and then trying to explain my predicament coherently. He offered me a spare wheel to use (for which I was extremely grateful) - all I had to do was run up to the car park, locate his car, grab the wheel, then run back down and get it on my bike.

After a mad sprint (on foot, from which I am still a little stiff), I got back to the start with Alex's wheel and just enough time to fit the wheel and get my breath back before the actual start.

It was like rush hour, loads of riders trying to squeeze through the narrow trail. Early on, probably from too much adrenaline, I crashed into another rider; no harm done, but I did feel like a twerp! A few spurts saw me clear the mess and for the last half of the lap I was in a nice zone of clear track and gaining on those ahead.

Into the last tricky bit I was just lining up to take a smooth line when suddenly the seat gave way. On getting off, I discovered that the seat post had snapped clean off. Fruitcake!

There was no point in even throwing a tantrum, but it was absolutely gutting. Another race where I didn't even complete the first lap! A silly technical failure - one that, with 20:20 hindsight, could have been avoided - but silly nonetheless

Fortunately the London Cyclocross League continues with Round 3 this weekend, so I have a chance to make amends. The weather outlook looks good.

Rock on.

Tough lessons at Warwick

Today I traveled up to Warwick for the annual criterium held in the town centre. This has a hardcore crit feel with all sorts of street furniture to make the circuit difficult and interesting.

I'd got to the car park with loads of time to spare and so took my time getting ready. When time to race came around, I went up to the start area (with 7 mins to spare), and then ended up waiting around for the best part of twenty minutes. The kids race ended, so a number of us rolled onto the circuit only to be pulled off again for the unicycle race to run. This is where it went a bit wonky. I'd consulted with a marshall and worked out that the program was running around 30 mins late, so I figured I'd head back to the car to get my leg warmers as the the sun had since disappeared and the wind was picking up and getting a bit chilly.

When I got back about 15 mins later (leaving 15mins for hanging about as I do) I saw, to my horror, the 3/4 field lined up at the start. To make matters worse the countdown to start had begun.

For whatever reason, call it confidence, I saw the best option being getting onto the circuit and chasing to catch the back of the group. Except the joining point where I was was probably no more than 75m from the start.

So I rode as hard as I could for 8 laps, consistently hitting 1:20 per lap, an average of around 36/37km/h. I was feeling very confident and found I was able to nail the corners really hard. I was having a ball. My name was being called over the PA system, the crowd was cheering.

6 laps in I caught up with the backmarkers and decided to latch onto their wheels for a rest (in retrospect a bad move, because I didn't really need to). I rested for a lap and a bit, but that was too long, the leaders caught up and came past. Being in an awkward position not being able to unlap myself nor want to interfere with their race, I dropped out.

In retrospect, I made a few howling errors. Firstly it probably would have been prudent to rather have just let the field pass at the start, hop onto the back, and then rely on the commissaire's mercy for letting me get away with this minor infringement (which, chatting to him later, I found would have been OK). Secondly I shouldn't have broken my rhythm by taking a break behind the painfully slow backmarkers. Thirdly, when I got caught by the group, I should have rather just stopped to ask the commissarie if I could take a lap. Unfortunately none of these things occurred to me at the time.

All that said, I had a ball. I'd made a big splash. It was even great to hear my withdrawal from the race being announced on such positive terms, at very least my ride had been a crowd-pleaser! My chosen plan, though suicidal, was aggressive and would have been awesome if I managed to pull it off. I also surprised myself with just how hard I could ride, and the experience will certainly add another weapon to my arsenal come next season.

So, possibly one last road race left this season (in Surrey) - but a lot more cyclocross. Speed awaits.

Addiction takes the smallest taste

This morning I was a bundle of nerves waiting for my cyclocross tyres to arrive in the post. At around 12:00 I visited the mailroom (for the 3rd time) and there they were in their blue wrapped box. I scoffed my lunch down then rushed back to my office to fit them to the rims.

The race at Herne Hill was set to start at 18:50 - 25 minutes earlier than the Palace races, so getting there was going to be tight. This wasn't helped by missing the relatively nondescript entrance twice and having a torturous drive around the block in rush hour.

I managed to get to the start line with moments to spare, but I desperately needed a pee. My plan was to wait until we were in the woods, hop off for a quick leak, and then chase my way back in. While formulating this plan, the whistle went off. I hadn't seen the course before, so I had no idea what to expect, but the race instinct kicked in and pretty soon all I cared about was making my way up through the field.

I was picking off the riders ahead quite quickly, using whatever overtaking opportunities were available, and attacking the tricky bits of the circuit with verve, when suddenly, towards the end of the first lap, the back end of the bike started to feel wonky, and very harsh over the bumps. A quick look down confirmed my suspicion - a flat.

Not much to do but pull out. Sad really, because I was running pretty well and having an absolute ball. This cross thing is like a drug, I'm hooked!

In the end, I think it was just bad luck - a sharp object slashed through the middle of the tyre. Oh well, next stop, the British Cycling calendar to plan my Cross season!

On-it at Palace

I am quite thankful to have taken today off, because I feel totally wrecked; last night at Palace was very hard indeed.

It has been a while since I have raced at Palace. Despite the successes I've had since my last outing at the circuit, I was still a bit anxious before the race; Crystal Palace is a special circuit that demands respect. Add that to a restless sleep the night before and too much coffee to try to compensate, I wasn't feeling my best.

My goal for the race was simple enough: stay in the pack until the finish, the "stretch target" being to contest the sprint. I wanted to race aggressively and test myself. Having ridden 98km solo in a sportive on Sunday in 3:18 and having recovered well, I was feeling confident to try shaping the race a bit rather than just hanging on.

The race was quick right from the start with a lot of jostling for track space. It was probably the second lap when a Dynamo rider made an attack on the hill - seeing he was getting clear, I decided to join him. It was clear he was a strong rider and working together we stayed away for three laps. That said, we both soon realised we were killing ourselves with little chance of staying away, so we rolled back into the group.

I stayed pretty much at the front of the group from then on. When the E/1/2 groups came by, the front of our group splintered with a few attacks, but none came to much and despite a few breakaways (some that I got into), the group remained together for the final sprint.

I was sitting pretty at the front for the women's bell lap, two before ours, but at the start of our penultimate lap the pace increased and I found myself uncomfortably in the middle running into the sprint. Boxed-in I had nowhere to go; the riders ahead started sitting down well before the line. In all honesty through, my legs were pretty cooked by this stage so not sure how much difference this would have made.

All in all a great evening. I am thoroughly knackered through, but it was well worth it to tick the "goal achieved" box. The last race of the year is next week, I just hope the weather is as glorious as it was last night.

"Beautiful Panorama"

I don't like racing in the rain. Something about my physiology doesn't agree with the chilling effect of a soaking shower. Perhaps it is my African blood? All I know is I don't dig it. Which is why I decided that, with the possibility of a shower, arm and legwarmers would be a good idea.

At the start of the race, it was just spitting down and, if anything it stopped after the first lap or two. Initially I felt wooden, probably a result of being stuck in the car all week, but after a few minutes I was loosening up nicely. There were two Primes, the first very early on. I placed myself nicely and going up the hill it was a three horse race between (club-mate) Nick and a dude on a Cannondale. Towards the line Nick fell back and Cannon and I fought it out to the line. Near the crest he kicked; I was able to match it but not get ahead. There wasn't much in it, but for a Prime there is no prize for 2nd.

After that I still felt racy and, like last week, immediately got stuck back in at the front. Then it started to rain; initially fairly light but it built up to a fair battering. My legs started to tense up; I was thankful for the warmers. I fought off the cramps but once I'd got over it I was out of touch with the group.

I contemplated just packing it in, but knew I'd hate myself for it so decided to chase, come what may. Fortunately the rain was slowing the group a bit, so after about three hard laps I was back in it. Back in the shelter of the group I was able to get my breath back and after a lap or two got myself back to the front.

Just about at that point an attack was pulling a gap and a quickly a few riders started giving chase - I put on a spurt and got onto the back. I was happily following Nick's wheel into the first right-hander of the lower complex when my front wheel felt loose. I adjusted my line to correct it, but now I was on a trajectory that would involve foliage. From where I was sitting, it also seemed that tightening my line would have inevitably meant a face plant. I chose the former, aiming for the softest looking greenery.

I'd been carrying a lot of momentum, so found myself lodged deep in the very prickly scrub. Carefully I tried to extricate myself and the bike while avoiding further stinging from the bushes. Another rider had come off in sympathy, and so we rode back together to the start to rejoin after our lap out.

Back in the group and with four laps to go I was keen to make amends, but my rear wheel was feeling very slippy in the corners - I thought I'd picked up a puncture through my misadventure. Reluctantly, I stopped to check it out. It wasn't soft, but the edges were covered in a slick layer of mud. Too late now, I'd lost touch.

So a bit of a bummer, but the good bits felt good. My next race will probably Palace on Tuesday, I'm looking forward. Sun please!

Bagged another Prime

Thursday nights race at Hog Hill was the most fun I've had on a bicycle in ages. Having won the points needed for promotion to 3rd Cat at Thruxton, and consequently my goal for the season, the pressure was off and I was happy to just enjoy riding hard and racing.

At the start the Commissaire mentioned that there would be a Prime at some point in the race. I was feeling lazy, and hardly motivated for sprinting shenanigans, so I thought I'd give it a miss - leave all that crazy stuff for the other guys.

But as soon as we started rolling my perspective changed, and I felt up for some racing. I kept near the front, conserving energy but staying in the thick of it. After a few laps the signal for the Prime was given. At first I was happy to stick with my assertion of taking it easy, but I couldn't. I'd been contemplating a charge up the left and was feeling pretty handy, so on the run up to the hill I watched and waited.

Another rider jumped quite early, near the foot of the climb. It was earlier than I'd wanted to go, but given it would be a great lead out, I jumped on. Close to where the hill starts to rise up, and nearly level with the front of the group, I made my move. The riders at the front were already starting to accelerate; I kicked hard. Clear of the group, and just cresting the hill, I spotted a wheel just off my rear. Somehow I managed to find a little bit extra and accelerated hard to the line and didn't let up until it was mine.

From then on, I got right on back with proceedings. I was surprised how quickly I recovered and how I was able to get stuck right in; although I did take it a bit easier for a few laps.

All too soon it was the final lap. To be brutally honest with myself, I'd lost concentration and ended up badly positioned in the group so wasn't able to contest the final sprint. Pity, because I think I had the legs for it.

Next week will be the final race of the Hog Hill Summer Series. I will miss racing at Redbridge, it is a fantastic circuit.

3rds

Photo used with the kind permission of Graham Robins

After Hog Hill I was angry. Angry and depressed. I knew I could do so much more than all my recent race results implied, so to have yet another "nearly" result sucked. I had a lot to prove to myself to keep my motivation up. And I would have to prove it soon.

So all in all I went to Thruxton pretty angry indeed. I knew exactly what I wanted to do. The scars of my mistakes were fresh in my memory and I was determined not to repeat them. I was also determined not to succumb to the excuses. Despite my darling wife's best vicious massaging efforts substantially reducing the knot in my right calf (following the cramp), I still had a small and painful residual knot deep in the muscle. I'd also had a bad sleep the night before and woke up feeling rubbish, but I was determined not to take the easy way out and not race.

Running about 15 minutes late, I was soon rolling along the M4 headed west with my best motivational tunes playing. But I was nervous. I had big expectations - this was crunch time. I wanted a win.

My usual pre-race routine went like clockwork, and before long I was waiting with the rest of the field for the race to start. As soon as we were let off, two riders made a jump. I considered chasing, but thought that they'd probably burn and it would be too big a risk to take.

Of course, that was the only move of the day that stayed away until the finish, go figure. Even with the benefit of hindsight, I don't regret not following it; even if it meant I couldn't take the win.

My race was great. I raced hard. I chased attacks. I made my own attacks. Most were pointless, but two had half a chance. Most importantly, my later attacks softened up the opposition. All those mistakes I'd made in the last few races made me stronger, more wily. I felt like a cat amongst the pigeons. I felt confident. It felt good.

Fast forward to the start of the last lap: I opened the taps and put on the pressure. There was a rider out from a jump on the hill, I quickly bridged the gap and put the pressure on. Inevitably the group caught up, but they'd had to chase. Up the hill I took shelter in the group, and then roughly at the last brake-marker sign I kicked and didn't look back until just before the line.

Every rider dreams of winning a bunch sprint, crossing the line with no-one ahead and the group chasing behind in vain. I was so happy I screamed and then managed to hit myself on the head. I not sure what made me happier, winning the sprint or ending my streak of poor races.

Whatever it was it didn't matter. Nor did it matter that I actually only came 3rd. It mattered that I'd done what I set out to do - almost as if I'd scripted it.

So what next? This finish secures my promotion to 3rd Cat, so my racing moves to "the next level". And I reckon it's time to shave my legs again.

There are other great pics of the race on Graham Robins' website.

Disappointment at The Hill

Image (c) Sport in Pictures/Gary Bowden

I arrived at Hog Hill on last night to clear skies in the distance, but a large grey mass overhead. The wind was fairly strong and I hoped it would blow the angry skies away.

As I walked up to sign-on, I noticed that the circuit direction sign was reversed - we would be racing the "wrong way", and this would also include the in-field at the top of the circuit. This put me off; I'd spent a lot of time thinking of how I wanted the race to play out only to discover I would racing on a completely different circuit!

After signing-on, I got on with my routine; pinned my number and got my kit ready. Halfway through getting the bike out, the heavens opened. Already being "past the point of no return", I hurriedly got the bike "assembled", and then clambered back into the shelter of the car to get dressed and wait out the rain.

Soon enough the shower was past, but it was heavy and it left a good deal of water on the ground. I sorted the bike properly (I had done a bit of a hash in my rush), pumped up the tyres and headed up to loosen up a bit. The circuit was very wet, and in places where mud had washed onto the circuit, very slippery too. I very nearly came off on my recce on a wash, which made me all the more nervous.

The skies seemed to be clearing and I was feeling good as we lined up for the start. My club was well represented, and it felt good to be one of the Dulwich crew. As we rolled off the line, it all started to feel really good. My club-mates were keen on driving the pace and I was feeling pretty racey.

There were a few accelerations up the hill, and at first these were OK, but eventually one hard run up the hill following an attack by a Southend Wheelers rider had me red-lined which it took me half a lap to recover from, which was a positive as I have been recovering quicker than before.

I'd dropped to near the rear of the pack, and so once my heart rate was back in the useful range, I worked my way forward again. I'd got a nice run up the hill and surprisingly found myself riding right to the front of the group. A group of four or five had just broken away, so accelerating over the crest, I found myself slightly ahead of the main group. My team-mates were right behind me, so time to do my bit and put the hammer down a little; or at least as much as I dared on the slippery track.

The run up the hill was good, but going down the other side I felt my rear wheel make a big step sideways. I was regretting not having reduced my tyre pressures and I was really struggling for grip. I chose my line carefully through the following corners and caressed the bike as gently as I could. It still felt precarious, but I managed to maintain momentum before letting someone else finish off the chase.

I was close to the red, but it was the climb that nudged me a bit too far, and I fell back through the group like a lead weight. I became detached from the rear of the group, but given how quickly I'd come back previously, I wasn't too worried. And it was much the same, I quickly got my breath back and was visibly closing the gap and getting back in touch with the group. The race was now about 40 minutes in; all I needed to do was get back in touch, have a bit of a rest until and then get back up for the closing laps. Not ideal, but doable.

But then the heavens opened. A monsoon-like deluge came down. In itself it was fine, I don't mind the rain too much, but worse was that the cold water on my legs chilled them and triggered a cramp. I rode with it for a lap and a bit, but soon realised it was pointless and pulled out.

I don't understand this cramping that I've had. Both times it has been my right calf, and only at the last two races at Hog Hill. Oddly I haven't had it racing anywhere else; not even Palace which is much harder than The Hill. I suspect my susceptibility may have something to do with race day nutrition; the work canteen is not the best and perhaps it is best to take my own lunch on race days. I certainly will give that a bash.

So, overall a big disappointment. My form isn't where I'd like it to be, but I know I had it in me to do a lot better. Still, I learned a few more lessons. I learned more about my limits and I learned that I really should drop my tyre pressures when it is soaking.

Back to base

No, I haven't been slack in posting race reports; since Thruxton I'd taken a bit of a break from racing to pull myself from furiously trying to chip at my points balance and rather search for some from.

Step one has been trying to get in some long distance miles in on the weekends. As with so many things, easier said than done; there have been storage units to clear, rooms to rearrange post builders, furniture to reassemble and all the other unplanned chores that take time. But all those excuses made, I've got out a few times and put in some quality mileage.

The easiest way of getting good training in would be combining it with my commute; it is regular and far easier to work up the discipline to make the extra time for. My trip to work has typically comprised 20 mins hard across to Fenchurch Street Station, 40 mins on the train and finally 10-15 mins gentle spin to the office. Fortuntately the train stops at a few places along the way, opening up the opportunity for trading some of the train journey for saddle time.

For my "long ride" option, I started by turning off my trip to the railway station at the work side, and heading for Upminster, roughly halfway on the usual train trip home. It is a smidge over 20km and takes roughly 40-45 mins (depending on the training objective of the ride), so only adds a net 20 mins to the journey - which is pretty tolerable. Partly because it is such a handy time cost, I can also tag it onto the beginning of my trip giving me a sum total of about an hour an half a day good training time. I had to ease into the first week of doing this, and it left me knackered, but last week I was able to hit it quite a bit harder without feeling wrecked.

I'm planning to take a bit more time off from racing Palace, but I'll be at Hog Hill Thursday. It will be interesting to see how the work I've put in has improved my form. If how I feel now is a reasonable indication, it should be a lot of fun.

Riding around a field in Hampshire

Thruxton motor racing circuit is a place that has always represented the BTCC (British Touring Car Championship) to me; good close racing and spectacular farming. Somehow I'd always expected that I'd someday attack it from behind the wheel of a classic mk1 Ford Escort RS1600 rather than the saddle of an aluminium crit bike.

From a bike racing point of view, the circuit is fairly straightforward. No particularly technical sections, and the uphill towards the end of the lap being short and gentle enough to make it less likely to split the group.

I'd gone to Thruxton with high hopes of nailing the last few points to reach Cat 3; I was hoping that the Cat 4 only race would follow the pattern so typical of Hillingdon where there is typically a group finish and, provided you've positioned yourself well, a placing is in the offing. Quite soon I realised this would not be the cace. The Cat 4 field was significantly larger, and was pretty racey.

Although I had planned to stay out of trouble and save it all for the end, a few strong attacks up the hill that looked like they had the potential to split the group had me getting stuck in at the front. I felt good and was coping easily with the accelerations, but better sense told me to rather drop back into the shelter of the group and recover so I'd have something left for later in the race when it would count.

On the 3rd last lap there was another strong attack that gained a gap, but I was able to bridge the gap with another rider to pull myself back into contention. On the penultimate lap I was feeling the pace of the previous lap a little, but was otherwise still good and positioned myself nicely in the first 10 or so wheels of the group. At the start of the last lap, another strong attack which I worked hard to chase but managed to make contact with half a lap in. My plan from here was to find shelter until the final hill and then to surge up to the line.

But this is where it all went to pot. The main field caught up. I rolled to the front to position myself well, but just as I did this, the pace slackened and I found myself 2nd wheel. The dude in front was toast and pulled off. It was the last Hillingdon race all over again. I didn't know what to do, and as all this was happening, I was now driving into the wind and, rather than get the recovery I had hoped for, found myself leading the group up the first part of the hill.

Inevitably someone behind accelerated off. I kicked to try to stick with it, and then tried to kick again when I realised I was still losing ground and losing positions. But the group had the jump, and in a flash more than 10 riders were past. I tried to accelerate again up to the chicane, but it was all in vain. Dejected I sat up and rolled in to the line.

So, I made the same mistake twice. Certainly I do need to work on my high intensity riding so that I can recover faster, but I also need to learn to read what is going on around me a bit better. I'm sure after sleeping on it, I'll realise where I went wrong, but I can't help but feel disappointed.

But there is still a lot of racing left this summer, and I know I am getting better and better each time.

Thursday at Hog Hill

As I drove up towards Hog Hill, I could not but help notice the rather substantial increase in elevation of the road leading up to the circuit; it looked like a pig of a climb (forgive me). Once I'd got up to the clubhouse at the track, I saw the rather nasty looking climb up to the start-finish, I started to wonder what I was letting myself in for. Right then!

Hog Hill is pretty easy to get to from my office, so I'd arrived very early. This was great, and gave me a lot of time to get everything together, which included pinning the number "1" onto my jersey.

The preceding race, that from the faces of many of the competitors looked like torture, eventually came to an end and gave me a chance to do a quick recce of the full course. First off I managed to take a "wrong turn" onto the little loop that saw me back at the start finish, oops. Second time lucky, and soon I found myself at the crest of the hill with a glorious ribbon of cycling tarmac before me.

I was calm as we lined up on the start line. I was expecting to take a massive hammering over the next hour so I guess I was in a state of denial more than anything else. As we started rolling I began to feel better and better. The awful fatigue that had racked my body since Palace was receding as the effect of the endorphins grew and soon I had gone from tentatively feeling my way around to getting stuck into the bike race.

A few laps in I was feeling pretty racy and moved forward from pottering in the midfield to lurking near the front. I was definitely spurred on by the cooperation I got from my new Dulwich clubmates, but mostly I was just feeling really good. I'm told that at one point our small group at the front had put some air between us and the main group, but we were caught. Nevertheless, I was feeling very confident and was even starting to contemplate nabbing a point or two...

So you can imagine how gutting it was when my right calf decided to go into spasm after a small acceleration out of the hairpin. I slowed on the back straight and tried to massage it out. It felt much better after that and I got up the climb without hassles, but it started twitching again near the crest of the descent. I tried again to massage and stretch it down the hill, but it was in vain. I continued in this vein for the next lap and half until one last blast up the hill did me in and I was forced to stop with my calf in a horrible cramp.

My water bottle told part of the story; in all the excitement I had barely touched it, which can't have helped. So all I could do was massage my leg back to a useful state and watch the last four or so laps play out.

So bitter-sweet. I was gutted not to be able to finish, but excited to have had such a good race, especially after still feeling a bit of Tuesday's Palace outing in my legs before the race. I certainly am looking forward to my next race at The Hill.

Bonus blog inclusion: Hog Hill circuit from the saddle of the Ribble

Photo thanks to British Cycling

The circuit starts anticlockwise from opposite the clubhouse. The circuit drops off the plateau with a gentle left hander and then heads sharply into a lovely banked sharp left hander where the run back up the the crest begins. This geography gives this corner a wonderful rollercoaster feel. It can be taken pretty much as fast as you dare, with an amazing rush as you're pressed into the ground at the apex by the g-force.

The tarmac then heads over a gentle left hander over the crest of the hill and then a lovely long, gentle downhill stretch which gives you a chance to tuck in and gather your breath. Then into a gentle right hander as the circuit flattens out, another two quick right handers followed by a lovely hairpin that sometimes has you wishing that your crank arms were just 5mm shorter as the riders ahead accelerate away out of the hairpin onto the back straight. The back straight is a good opportunity to consolidate before a fast left hander and then the final run up to the hill.

At first the hill starts very as a very mild incline, but then kicks up a bit, and then a lot as it also takes in a right hander before the short run back to the start-finish line. This is easily the most characterful part of the track and it certainly can be murder when it wants to. Overall I love this circuit. It is both exciting and challenging. I'm sure it is a place you can grow into and has a lot to offer. I'll definitely be back soon.

Getting into the Palace groove

I feel really good.

Racing is funny sometimes. It usually takes you to great highs or monumental lows, but rarely does it leave you feeling quietly satisfied. Today is one of those rare occasions.

Don't get me wrong - I don't do this for quiet satisfaction. I do this for the extremes - but still, a day like to today is rewarding and is far preferable to a kick in the teeth.

Following my friend Andrew's advice, I got myself a nice spot at the front for the start - got off quickly enough and found myself lapping fairly comfortably within sight of the front of the group - spot on! All previous nervousness with the corners was replaced by an easy flow, if a bit of frustration with other riders slowing up too much. In those opening laps, this meant bursts out of the corners to stay in touch that nudged up my heart rate. This would have been OK if it were not for the rapid increase in pace, and one particular acceleration up the hill that had me hitting the red.

Within a lap I went from comfortably riding near the front to hanging on at the rear. I hung on for a few laps in this way, but the concertina effect of only being able to take the corners as fast as those ahead of me meant that the repeated accelerations were kept bumping me back into the red and I was battling to hang on. Inevitably one fast run up the hill unhooked me, leaving me in no mans' land.

Alone I was making good, smooth progress, and surprisingly not losing too much to the group, but it was hard work. Our 3/4 race had split fairly early on, and the second group was quite far down the road - waiting for them wasn't an option. Trying to get back in was. A lap later, another Dulwich rider fell off the back. I caught him and we worked together for a while until gradually a group formed with others who had suffered the same fate as us.

From there on it was a fairly easy race - the pace wasn't too hard, but it was nice and quick. But importantly it was more all important track time, and I felt like I was starting to get Palace under my skin.

Overall, it felt like a good test. The legs were good, but I know where I need to do some work. Everything felt like it was coming together.

Thursday I plan to race at Hog Hill - it sounds like it should be a lot of fun but, more importantly, good training.

Thanks for reading my blog - and watch this space for news on The Hill.

A bit more cross training

I worked fairly late this evening, so missed the race at Palace. Annoying because it really was a stunning evening. Oh well.

To console myself, I went across to to run through Battersea Park. As soon as I got there, I had this crazy idea to do some intervals. After Hillingdon I've come to realise that I need to spend a bit more time getting my body used to the idea of a sprint to the line.

I have no idea how long the sprints were, but they were all out and hard. I managed 2.75. It may not sound like much, but it sure did hurt. I'll be working out a more structured training program over the next few days and I look forward to hopefully putting something together that a) I can stick to and b) will make me faster.

Scraping my knees

Today I disappointed myself greatly. It was a 4th Cat race at Hillingdon and all I needed to do was come 6th or better to secure the remaining points required to be promoted to 4th Cat.

The race was much as I expected and generally went according to plan. The riding was "cynical", with no breakaway attempts amounting to anything and the smallish field of about 24 staying pretty much intact for the whole race. I'd intended to just take it easy and loiter near the front, out of the wind for most of the race but inevitably I got stuck into chasing down the more dangerous looking attacks. I felt great - pretty strong with good acceleration. I was feeling pretty confident for the finish.

So when it came around, one of the more aggressive racers made a move and I covered it - then, just before the back straight when I was about to come though, he sat up. As he did this I looked back - a moment of hesitation that had the group pretty much back. Suddenly I found myself on the front no-one in the group interested in coming forward.

I will readily admit that this caught me completely off guard and settling into the back straight I missed the tiny window of opportunity to do something decisive to rescue the situation. Instead I dug the hole deeper and tried to do a quick charge to the line. Inevitably this served merely as a lead out, and in the blink of an eye, four riders were by then a small gap before I counted more than six.

I was caught with my pants down, the speed differential was just too great and I didn't have a second acceleration left in me to do anything about it. Perhaps a true schoolboy mistake; definitely another notch down to experience. But I still can't help feeling great annoyance at "what might have been".

I'm sure after a good sleep and some time to reflect, I'll get over it. Oh well.

Edit (Sun 14 AM):
After sleeping on it, I realise that I missed the first four coming by because I wasn't ready for it. I wasn't in the right gear to kick and I hadn't "cocked" myself. Deer in the headlights. I won't be doing that again.

Back up and running

Last night after battling traffic for just and hour and 40, and about 5 mins off from Crystal Palace, I got a text from my friend Andrew letting me know the race has been called off. Too much rain, track too treacherous.

I must admit a twinge of relief. It had been bucketing down, and I was dreading Fishermans' in the wet. That said, it also seemed to be drying out and I was keen to race.

To make the best of the evening, as soon as I got home I pulled on my running shoes for my second attempt at running this year. It went well, and my knee felt 100%. I'll keep gradually upping my running mileage; running is great cross training for building cardio fitness and it would be great to hit the end of the year running fit for the XC season (which is only a few months off in reality).

I felt good after the run, but overall I still have this horrid all over tightness that stretching doesn't seem to be helping much. Apart from taking it relatively easy to spin the tightness out of my legs I have a plan that I'll report on once I've tried it. Let's just say it includes a certain Pineapple.

Second attack on The Palace

At about 2pm the butterflies woke up and started fluttering madly, trying to escape from my torso. Last week I became enthralled with Crystal Palace. It is such a beautiful place to be. So calm, quiet and beautiful. Perhaps it is just the racing driver in me; I feel the history of the tarmac like a warm glow. But it is brutal.

I'd done a lot of thinking and visualising the difficult corners, and I'd ridden hard over the remainder of the week in preparation. I was feeling strong and mentally prepared - and this time the nervous energy wasn't anxiety but rather excitement.

I arrived at the track about 15 minutes earlier than the previous week, but in taking my time getting everything together, I found myself running a bit late and toward the tail end of a long queue at the signing up desk. Probably because of the amazing weather, the turnout was huge, and I think we (the queue stragglers) were lucky to all get to the start line.

My darling wife had made the trip out to watch, worth at least 5km/h - but in the rush there wasn't even time for, "Hello!" Instead I barely had time to pin my number on before rolling up to the start line.

I felt so much better than the week before, and managed to hang onto the back of the group for much longer than the previous week - but starting at the rear didn't help at all, and I found myself battling to hang on until one hard run up the hill got me unstuck.

I battled for a few laps trying to find someone to work with. I still don't understand Cat 3/4 riders who are unwilling to ride together with around 2/3 of the race still to run. I eventually caught up with two Cat 1/2 riders who, at first, I just sat with to get a breather, but then worked with. One of those riders blew and dropped off, leaving the other and myself to work together well for a good few laps, me pulling up the hill, him dragging us along the flat bits.

It was a great education to ride on the wheel of a quick rider through the technical bits of the circuit. I certainly gained a lot of confidence and managed to increase my entry speed quite substantially at both the hairpin as well as Fisherman's Corner to the point where I was hardly braking for Fisherman's, and felt the rear tyre scrabble a little through the hairpin. Have I mentioned that I love this circuit?

I began to flag on the hill and let the Cat 1/2 rider go (rather than hold him up) and so found myself in no mans land again until a few of us managed to cluster back together and consolidate a good pace. Sadly we were lapped, and a lap or two later and, with the final sprint imminent, we were pulled. A bit of a bummer, but good to get a chance to watch the final sprint.

So overall, fairly uneventful ride, but crucially a few more rungs scaled on Crystal Palace's steep learning curve.

Sticking with the pack next week? I certainly intend to.

Crystal Palace

London traffic is bad enough. Driving into London in rush hour is never a great idea if you want to get to your destination quickly. So you can imagine how much it added to my nerves when I tried to get from work (Essex) to Crystal Palace (South East London) for a Tuesday night race with a tail-back on the A13 near Tilbury due to a snarl up on the Dartford Crossing (the notorious M25) and further queuing traffic one the same road closer to town due to a broken down car in the Blackwall Tunnel. After a few more hold-ups due to accidents and several wrong turns I was ready to pack it in for a bad job and head home.

But I figured that it would make sense to at least get a flavour for the circuit as a spectator, and familiarise myself with the route there, so I plodded on. On arriving in the car park at nearly 19:00 on the dot I noticed that the Juniors were still racing - perhaps I could still make it.

I got dressed as quickly as possible, and got the bike together while keeping an eye on the Juniors who thankfully kept circulating at race pace. Excellent. A friendly marshall directed me to the sign on desk and soon I was hurriedly pinning my number on with nervous hands.

I barely had time for a quick leak before rolling out onto the track for the first time to suss it out. I was hoping for a few laps to get a feel for it, but basically I got two circuits in before we all stopped at the line. I'd had enough time to work out that the corner at the bottom of the hill would take some learning, but otherwise thought it would be a nice, if demanding, circuit.

The pace was quite quick right from the get-go. Wanting to keep out of trouble while I got used to the track I decided to hang back; in retrospect a bad idea on such a narrow and technical track.

The Cat 3/4 group rapidly became quite strung out, and I found that I was battling through the corner at the bottom of the hill (originally Fisherman's Corner of the pre-war race track) and, to a lesser extent, the hairpin at the end of the start-finish straight. Fisherman's corner is a blind double apex with a huge bush/hedge at the apex which effectively makes the exit completely unsighted. I found approaching the corner at 50+km/h can be quite unnerving, especially as I was unsure of the appropriate entry speed or correct line. These will come with time, but last night it meant I lost ground every time through the corner which I had to make up on the climb back up to the start-finish straight.

The climb, previous known as The Glade, is mean. It is long and steep enough for you to know about it, and you need more than momentum to get up it. So playing catch-up on every lap up this drag really didn't help at all.

After a few laps I was dropped, but I kept the hammer down knowing that some of the weaker climbers would succumb and I'd have a few riders to work with. And so they did, but one of the guys seemed more intent on making pointless attacks to hurt the rest of us rather than working together. Eventually he attacked too hard and dropped himself. The rest of us never really got to cooperating properly and so splinted until eventually I was solo for the last few laps.

So overall, a hard outing on a wonderfully demanding circuit. This is the criterium racing that I've dreamed of since I was a teenager with a silly tan. I'm sure my racing will improve; I just need to learn the circuit, and work on my bike handling. A bit more proper time on the bike, like the hill hunting ride my mate Paul and I did on the Bank Holiday, can't hurt either.

I can't wait for next Tuesday, hopefully with less travel chaos so I arrive calmer, and some get return on the saddle time I plan to put in over the next few days. Of course, it should also set me up nicely for the Smithfield Nocturne which is now a week and a half off.

Onward!

Bonus blog inclusion: Crystal Palace, from the saddle of the Ribble

In the Pre-War period, Crystal Palace Park was also a motor racing circuit. Motor racing ceased in the late 1960's, but much of the original circuit remains. The cycle circuit uses part of the original Pre-War infield track that loops around the fishing lake.

On a bicycle, the lap starts easily enough on the straight on Terrace Straight (top right of the map) roughly level with Pond Hairpin in what is the wrong direction for the original track. The tarmac of this straight must be pretty old because it is quite broken, but is perfectly rideable and adds character.

The Link is now configured the other way around from the original and is fairly quick, but also fairly straightforward once you've sussed it out; only a little bit of broken tarmac at the entry makes it more interesting.

Out of The Link, it is a fast run to Pond Hairpin, which is fairly sharp but drops off viciously at the apex making line choice important - thankfully it is smooth. Because we are going the wrong way, Fisherman's Rise is a fast, full speed, meandering descent which leads down to the blind, double apex corner called Fisherman's Bend.

At the bottom of the hill Fisherman's Bend kinks and then disappears left behind a big fat bush/hedge that completely blocks the view of the exit as well as the large tree and grassy drop-off that wait to punish. This corner spooked me, but I'm sure will become easier as I learn it. I think it is much like T1 at Zwartkops in that sense.

Next up is Fisherman's Bend, a lovely double apex, decreasing radius which drops away to start with, but then lifts up, and can be taken pretty much as fast as you can arrive at it - which is great because it leads onto The Glade - a hard climb back up to the start-finish straight.

Back in action

Thankfully my health has returned, and I've been back on the bike since Thursday. The first day back was mega - the well rested legs felt so powerful and my acceleration was just crazy. The only problem is that I have lost a bit of cardio fitness.

I have two weeks until the Nocturne, so this Bank Holiday, and next week I'll be training carefully and intensively to try to get my form back. It should be do-able - I'm feeling very positive about it.

Of Mice and Men

Good news: I am getting better, even if my GP is still a bit baffled with what is wrong with me.

Bad news: I won't make the Hillingdon GP.

As I mentioned in my last post, I was on course of kick-ass antibiotics that worked well to sort out the flu-like symptoms and the pain in my lungs, but a good deal of tightness and the annoying cough remains. The doctor suspected a viral infection, so that puts be out of athletic action for at least a week or two; which means the Hillingdon GP is pretty much completely out of the question.

What this means is that my plans for the run up to the Smithfield Nocturne are quite thoroughly scuppered. I haven't worked out what I'll be doing in the time I have available, suffice to say that I'll be taking it very easy over the next few days to make sure I have no relapse and that I am at least healthy on the run up to the Smithfield.

Now, where did I leave those vitamins...

All those years ago...

My darling wife found this picture while unpacking after our move - and it has been on the dresser waiting to be scanned in since...


It was summer 1992 and I was still a Junior. I was completely nowhere and none the wiser. I dreamt of winning mountain top stages on a Bianchi crafted from Columbus SLX tubing. And Paulina Porizkova.

The race was the Milky Lane from Durban to Scottburgh - 60km and with a tail wind. As usual, my Dad was there to lend support and help with all the logistics. It was practically sprint race, especially with the usual tail wind. On this day, I'd done something terribly daft like leave my helmet or gloves at home. I can't remember how this got sorted, but my Dad probably went home to fetch them (after kakking me out) - I am eternally grateful.

The race was perfect, I felt brilliant. Ryan and I were both quick that day, sticking close to the front of the bunch. At the mid distance hotspot (was it 'Toti?), I tried to contest the sprint, but inexperience had me forced into the gutter.

Towards the end of the race, about 2 or 3 km out, one of the fast riders attacked, I managed to hop onto the break for what was one of the most thrilling finishes I've had.

As we came up the final hill, the group began to splinter. I've always been good at sharp climbs, and so I started picking off riders on the run in. I saw my Dad looking down the road, trying to find the best vantage point for a run in photo. By the time he'd realised I was in amongst the leading riders it was too late - the lens cap was still on.

The result was great, 9th overall, and if I recall correctly, 2nd Junior. Total race time? About 1 hour 10. Absolutely brilliant. What a day!

The Drugs Don't Work

A few days after writing my last post, I read that Davide Rebellin tested positive for using CERA at the Olympics - something that made me quite sad. I am tired of riders I enjoy being identified as cheats, the new order in cycling can't come soon enough.

Which leads to my drug taking; you'll be assured to know not of the performance enhancing genre. After the Reading race, the head cold came back with a vengence and then developed into a full blown, super nasty chest infection that has kept me largely out of action for the last two weeks.

To make matters worse out of desperation to get well quick, I succumbed to the doctor and a course of weak antibiotics that appear to have served to simply strengthen the offending infection making me worse rather than any better.

Having started down this route, I guess I have no choice but to ride it out to its conclusion. So back to the doctor (a different one) yielded a course of kick-ass antibiotics that should kick this infection into touch.

I'm not sure how this will affect my racing; I have an entry to the Hillingdon GP which I am loathe to let go to waste but, given that my goal is a good outing at the Smithfiled Nocturne, if I'm not substantially better by Monday, I'll have to consider if competing at Hillingdon makes sense.

There are a few other races in the calendar that I can use to warm up for Smithfield, so the situation isn't dire - just not as I'd hoped.

It's in the head: Reading Spring Race 2009

When Davide Rebellin crossed the line to take his 3rd Fleche Wallonne on Wednesday, he pointed at his head. The 37-year-old rider proved once again that experience is as important as having the legs taking wins in difficult races. Ok, by no stretch of the imagination am I trying to compare myself to Davide Rebellin, but today I once again learned an important lesson about myself and bike racing.

I woke up this morning feeling pretty good. The night before, I'd stuffed myself full of every synthetic and natural cold therapy I could get my hands on, the combined effect of which seemed to have nipped my annoying head-cold in the bud. I didn't sleep that well through; I think the excitement of the race as well as trying to devise strategies kept me restless. But it looked like a perfect day for riding, so I hardly even considered my tiredness, and simply couldn't wait to get out.

The format for the day saw the E/1/2 race run separately from the 3rd/4th Cat race I'd be racing in. Our race would be over 4 laps of a 15km circuit (6 laps for the elite race). After the elite group started we would wait for them to complete one lap before our start. I was feeling really calm, just itching to get out and turn the cranks.

Before long it was our turn and we were being blown by a South Easter along the A4074 at silly speeds. In the middle of the peloton there was a strong smell of frizzed plastic, so I wasn't surprised that on the longer gentle downhill stretches I was brushing the brake almost constantly. All good things come to an end, and soon we were climbing what really is a short hard climb, but in the middle of the peloton it felt more like a minor bump as we pummeled it at +40km/h.

A rather hairy left turn took us heading south on the B4009. Now the wind was malicious, whacking us across from the left. On much of the stretch I found myself jammed on the left with no shelter to be found. The pace was still high and I was hurting a little, and now we were turning left onto a small lane back up to Woodcote.

To be honest, it really isn't such a bad climb, with a little lump before the main feature. It gave me a nice chance to catch a breather and check out the finish line, which would also be the line for the Prime on the next lap.

The second lap was more of the same, just faster. My computer recorded a max speed of 67.5km/h on the first lap, on the second this was 73.6km/h. I'm really glad I didn't read any of these numbers while I was actually riding, because the idea of riding centimetres off a wheel, with similarly small margins between handlebars and the like, is faintly insane. But well and truly a lot of fun.

Just before the climb I was in trouble. I'd found myself pushed to the left again and was suffering a bit from bludgeoning my way through the wind. Fortunately then, there was some sort of traffic issue and we had a forced stop for a few minutes.

Getting away from the stop I had a terribly embarrassing fumble for my pedal with meant I was once again towards the back end of the group, rather than at the front where I could keep an eye on what was going on. Largely buoyed by my prime sprinting success at Hillingdon, I was very keen to win this prime so it was critical for me to make sure I wouldn't miss the move or be boxed in.

One rider went for it, but it seemed too early - then a Junior who looked pretty quick gave chase, this was it. I hopped out of my seat and glued myself to his wheel. When it got to the point that seemed about right to me, I started to give it beans, but we rounded a corner and I realised it was still a way off. I sat up and hoped I could catch a wheel to ease onto for a bit before going again. It didn't seem that anyone else was giving chase, so it was just the three of us. I'm not entirely sure of what happened next, but I remember that I decided to go again, but then became confused about where the finish line was. Then I made the crucial mistake of slowing again, and then going again when it really was way too late. All these accelerations burned me, and after the last one I was toast. Suddenly I was going backwards - rapidly. I started accelerating slowly to get back in, but I couldn't accelerate fast enough and was spat out the back.

Back onto the A4074 I was starting to feel a bit better but even giving it all I could, my feeble 60-something km/h simply wasn't enough to pull back the peloton, and so I watched them wander off into the distance.

Two guys came past me, also chasing, I grabbed the wheel of one of the guys and caught a small breather - but then he accelerated and left me and the other guy in the dust. I had little choice but to let him go; so I settled back to a comfortable pace so I could recover a little before putting the hammer down on the climbs. To my surprise come the first climb on the A-road I not only soon found a rhythm but also started reeling in the faster guy (but unfortunately dropped the other guy). I caught him on the climb, but as soon as we were heading back into the wind, he didn't seem keen on working together, and pulled away from me.

Feeling all shades of misery, I trudged into the wind, keeping good pace for a solo run, but still painfully slow in context. Next thing a Zipp 808 suddenly appeared on my rear wheel. Bonus! The dude took a breather and then moved to pass - but I was recovering and was able to grab his wheel. Soon we were up with the guy who'd dropped me before, the three of us working together and so now making a much better job of dealing with the wind.

Turning onto the hill, the full effect of the wind became apparent, climbs plus head-winds are no fun. Unfortunately Zipp 808 and I dropped our third rider - from there we made a pact to work together for the last lap. Or at least until 100m from the line.

And so from there it was pretty uneventful. It was good to have someone to work with, and we certainly went fairly quickly. I was keen to sprint, but Zipp wasn't, so it was just me charging up to the line. Well down, but it was a blast.

So, my verdict? Perhaps surprisingly I think it was a pretty good day in the saddle. I am happy with my speed and acceleration (racing scooters and busses on the commute will do that). My legs felt good the whole way through. Perhaps I was let down a bit my my lack of pure head-down solo speed, but more importantly I let myself down by a grossly miscalculated series of moves that left me vulnerable and split me from the group and ultimately cost me being able to contest the race.

But lesson learned, another mark down to experience. Roll on the rest of the season!

I'm in!

I was feeling quite despondent today. After being in touch with the organiser of the Reading Spring Race, it seemed unlikely I'd get a place. This weighed heavily on my spirits; simply put, missing this race for a 3rd time in succession would suck.

So imagine my excitement ... nay, jubilation when I fired up my computer read the email from the organiser confirming my place on the start line for Sunday.

The mind is a strange thing. I was feeling pretty rotten today. Head-coldish, a little tight chested. Generally feeling sorry for myself. I rode home really slowly from Fenchurch today; letting some of the quicker commuters ride away from me while I religiously followed a self imposed heart rate restriction. Not like me at all! But already, after reading the mail, I'm feeling so much better.

But certainly I do have a little bug - nothing more serious than a head-cold I suspect. So I'll be taking it very easy tomorrow and Saturday, but I absolutely can't wait for Sunday. Yesterday my legs felt great and I feel loose and strong, which bodes well!

Onwards to Sunday!

Loose, limbered ... and still on the reserve list

I've been taking care of myself the last few days. Cooling down properly. Stretching every 2nd day (I am lazy, it really should be a daily ritual!). I even had a lovely fast commute home today - fast along Embankment I felt very loose and speed came easily.

So it is totally frustrating that I am still on the reserve list for Sunday's race! Still, I won't give up hope just yet. Hold thumbs!

p.s. Check out my new 2nd blog site (click here). It is all about my passion for bikes rather than my athletic endeavours.

Gaining in the shortlist race

I've moved up from 5th to 2nd on the Spring Races reserve list; so all I need is for two more of the 80 listed entrants to bail out to assure myself a place - with a whole week ahead of us, I think I've got a pretty good chance of getting myself a spot on the start line.

Which brings me to my idiotic pulled muscle. I wanted to nip past a lorry that was parked in the filter lane. So I did a cyclocross dismount and shouldered my bike across a section of pavement before hopping back on again. Somehow I got the dismount wrong, and my left calf feels like its been clouted with a hot iron.

That said, the ride back from town felt pretty good tonight, and my legs responded well to accelerations and spinning. The only problem is out of the saddle - where it feels a bit nasty.

Roll on Sunday!

"Reserve list"

Procrastination is a very bad thing. And in this case, just a bit silly. The day after entries opened for the Reading CC Spring Race I'd printed off the entry form and filled it in. All that was needed was attaching a cheque for the entry fee and that would be it. Except that meant I'd have to locate my chequebook (post house-move this was a daunting task, as I couldn't remember exactly which box I'd stuffed it into), so I procrastinated.

Over last weekend, with my daring wife doing her thing running a quick 42 in Paris, I figured I'd better get off my rear and send off the entry, which I did.

And all week I hadn't heard anything from the organisers, and I'd assumed no news was good news. Sadly this morning an email came through saying that the race was full, and that I was shortlisted awaiting a withdrawal. I have been assured that withdrawals are common and that, given I am 5th on the list, I have a good chance at a place on the start line. That said, it doesn't make it any less annoying.

In the meantime I will be positive and try to get my mind back into the racing frame of mind. My legs are pretty strong at the moment from my daily commute (which is pretty much a daily interval session), good for explosive speed and hard spurts. I'm less sure about their tolerance for endurance - but I think I'll be just fine.

My biggest worry at the moment is the state of my back. I had a fall a while ago and literally landed on my arse. As a consequence, my back hasn't been at all happy lately. Last week it was so bad that I battled to get any power to the pedals without sending my back into excruciating spasms. So I'll be doing as much stretching as I can to ease it up and to get ready for Reading.

Anyway, just holding thumbs that I get a race entry and that I manage to ease my back out. Hold thumbs.

Silly Commuter Racing

My training has been getting on pretty well lately. Apart from a short interruption from having a one-day bug, it has been nice and steady. My training is made up entirely of commuting.

This consists of a blast over to Fenchurch Street every morning followed by a short two-and-a-bit mile loosening up to the Station. The morning rides are generally very quiet and, with less traffic, are at a far more steady and controlled pace, interrupted only by (multitudinous) traffic lights. The evening ride is far more crazy; and the traffic coming out of the vicinity of The City is probably best described a Battle. A low speed jostling between bikes, motorbikes, cars, cabs, buses...

The bicycles generally win, because we can get through the smallest gaps. And, given the amount of cycle traffic on my route, there is a lot of impromptu racing which is where it all gets fun. It's probably not the best way to warm up, as effectively it is usually game-on from London Bridge, but it certainly makes for a great interval session.

On the Bikeradar forum, this is known as SCR - Silly Commuter Racing - and the forumites enjoy posting stories of their latest scalps. There is also a cute ranking system (based on position in the food chain, my ranking being 7). I don't know if I've met one of the 'Radars, but I certainly have had a lot of fun chasing down whoever might be around.

My personal bugbear is red light jumpers (RLJ'ers). So I make it a goal to chase these guys down so I can give them The Eye, and then leave them for dead. This is the goal anyways. Usually I catch them only to reach another red, so being forced to repeat the whole process. Or they simply get away as I'm stopped by successive reds. Whichever way it works (and high horses aside), it is a hard interval session and has helped in acceleration hugely.

After Elephant and Castle, the nature of my ride (and prey) changes. From the fast sprints light to light, the route is less interrupted and so becomes about trying to keep pace with the cars - which is usually about 40-45km/h. The bike traffic seems to mostly continue straight ahead where I turn right to head to Vauxhall, so this bit is a bit lonely in terms of SCR. So it is time to dig in, keep the cadence smooth and let the legs burn.

Vauxhall gives me a bit of a breather as lights provide rest time, traffic density slows things down (together with the need to be a bit more alert to traffic hazards!), but here I also pick up a few more cyclists. Onto Nine Elms Road I'm usually quite stuffed, but this is prime SCR territory. Not as much by the quantity of contenders, but rather the quality of battles possible; there are few lights, the Red Route bus lane provides a nice free flowing highway and the fast guys I've met along here have been pretty quick indeed. This section has been great for getting in some nice long, high intensity efforts in as I'm usually chasing a flashing tail light in the distance, or doing my darndest to stay away from a white flashing LED behind me. Or just racing buses.

From Battersea Park, I do try to slow it down to get a nice cool down and make sure I haven't got piles of lactic acid in my legs, but inevitably I get myself in to chasing down an RLJ'er on the run to The Latchmere.

Inevitably you meet the same cyclists on a regular basis; there is a guy on a black Bianchi 1885 who I have yet to get the better of, and another notable is a Specialized Roubaix pilot who is quite a rouleur but sadly also an RLJ'er - which makes my life doubly difficult.

But hey, it wouldn't be a challenge otherwise.

The end of Winter?

I woke up feeling grotty. The week had been a long one, and Friday in particular was miserable and draining. Not that I was feeling anything like what I'd classify as "poorly", but certainly not 100%.

In my fuzzed state, I missed wandering around the corner to my favourite local café for my Saturday morning hit (but I did get a bunch of laundry done - how's that for messed up priorities!). I got the bike, race bag and other racing essentials into the car on time, but misjudged the traffic and ended up being stressing about missing the race. I still fail to understand how it is possible that it was quicker to get from our previous home in Reading than it is from Battersea, but that is how it is, go figure. Anyhow, thanks to deft navigation (thanks Garmin), we arrived with enough time to sign on, unpack and get onto the circuit. Perhaps it was the adrenaline of trying to get to the track on time, but as soon as I was on the bike the fuzzy head was forgotten and I was feeling ready for action.

The first few laps of the race were quick; though probably felt faster than they were due to my lack of a warm-up. The Imperial trio were turning up the wick at the front which strung the group out a little. I moved up and got stuck in a little.

Thinking back to the first race of the Winter Series, it is amazing just how much the racing has evolved. Previously the racing was fairly cynical, a collection of random, ill-conceived attacks that, combined with little co-operation, would inevitably lead to nothing. Yesterday's race was a lot more interesting so that now the 4th Cat race is no longer seems to be mostly about riding around for half an hour and then hoping to finish in a reasonable place to get some points.

Back to the race: after staying right at the front in the early stages I decided to drop a but further back into the shelter of the group but keep an eye on what was going on. I was feeling great and was looking forward to the final lap. I got myself into two break attempts that looked like they had at least half a chance. The second was unfortunately ill-timed. For some reason I thought there would be just a lap to go when it started, but there were still two. I was gutted to head up the finish line to see the "2" board. Argh! A lap at full bore would be OK, but not two.

So I settled back in to catch my breath. I still felt great and was really looking forward to putting everything into a final surge to the line; I was ready to do something special. Unfortunately my run up to the line didn't go at all according to plan. I got boxed in and passed on the back straight and so ended up further back than I wanted to be heading into the 2nd last corner. Then that sickening sound of bike hitting the deck.

Being on the right edge of the track, I had nowhere to go but the grass, my momentum taking me right into the (thankfully flat) field. I've always wanted to do cyclo-cross, but this wasn't how I'd envisioned my debut on the rough stuff. And so ended my ambitions of a great finish. The guys who went down were OK, so I turned my cranks up toward the line to complete the duty of the lantern rouge. But despite the disappointing finish, this was possibly the best race so far - or at least the second best (last week was particularly enjoyable!). I felt great and I believe a good finish was definitely on the cards.

As with so many things, my experience of the Imperial Winter Series was completely not what I expected and all the better for it. Naively I has wanted to get stuck in, grab some points so I could start the season as a 3rd Cat.

I missed that target, being four points shy. But I have ended up gaining far more from the racing. I've learned a lot and my race craft is certainly sharper. I've also grown a lot more confident as a racer.

For now I'm looking forward to the rest of 2009, certainly a lot more racing. Firstly I'm going to have a lot more fun. And secondly I'm going to chase those points down; there are still a few races around in the coming weeks, so perhaps I'll drag myself over to Redbridge to see what that all this talk of the big hill is all about.

Prime Spot

January 2009 has been crazy. With trying to find a new flat, then moving in on the 24th and afterward trying to settle in, my blogging has been a bit poor.

Getting back into bike racing has been going pretty well in spite of the upheval, I've improved my finishes, learned many lessons about how and when to chase and most critically where to position myself.

Race 7 on the 3rd Jan saw me getting another 9th on a relatively warm and beautifully sunny day. There wasn't much wind and I was feeling pretty strong. I was a little disappointed with the position as I managed to get horribly boxed in at the end and found myself on the back foot heading up the hill to the line.

Race 8 on the 10th was in some of the hardest conditions I've ever ridden a bike in, biting cold with a dusting of snow on the track. I suffered a lot, and the cold took it out of me badly. I found it difficult to concentrate and to make matters worse I found operating the basic controls on the bike difficult as I'd lost feeling in my fingers. I guess us Saffers aren't built for these sort of conditions; winter in my home town of Durban rarely getting below 10°C in winter!

Race 9 was good fun. Despite very nearly getting caught up in an incident on the run up to the line, I managed to keep a bit of momentum and secure a 7th. The race was good start to finish, I rode with my head and I was feeling strong from being on my bike a bit during the week hunting for a new home. Things were starting to come together.

Race 10 I missed as we were moving. What a pain.

Race 11 - what a disastrous weekend! We were in the throes of unpacking, and so I ended up being a bit late getting to the race. I also wasn't feeling great from a hard week at work and a fairly hard new daily commute across London. Whatever the excuses, it was a culmination of things going wrong (I'd also I forgotten my track pump, my gears weren't shifting quite right ... it was just one of those). Enough said.

Race 12 - I woke up feeling positive, I'd got the bike 100% the night before and I was ready to race. I was up for doing something today; trying something new and maybe a bit interesting. There was a sprint prize at 20 mins which I thought would be cool to get stuck in for, but it wasn't my focus. I was keen to stretch myself in some way and learn more about what I could do.

After 20 mins the bell went I and I was feeling nice and loose from a few pulls at the front, so I thought, "Why not?" Heading onto the back straight I rolled up to the front. The pace was surprisingly slow with the tension only just starting to form, "This was my opportunity!"

So hopped out of the saddle and gave it everything. I was convinced someone would be on my wheel so I decided to keep the hammer down all the way - accelerating and not letting up until I crossed the line. Even then, it took a few seconds for it to sink in. I was so surprised when I looked back and saw the huge gap I'd pulled on the group - it felt pretty cool indeed.

Of course, as that excitement ebbed, the flaw in my plan emerged. I had put everything into that sprint, and now I was battling to recover; as one of my mates put it, "Now you've just got to do the same in about 15 minutes."

I tried to find refuge in the group but the pace was going up and shelter from the wind was in short supply. In all honesty I'd run out of juice and just didn't have enough for another all out run up to the line.

So a rather anoymous finish after my moments of glory, but I reckon it was worth it. I really enjoyed charging up to the flag for the Prime, and I know far better what I am capable of. I'm really looking forward to the last race next weekend, but also the 2009 season. I reckon it is going to be a good one!

Speed catches ...

What would you say is a perfect way to mark the New Year? This year (my darling wife) Tasha did a 10k trail run at Bodmin Moor.

When we got there, I looked at the route map and thought, "hey, the elevations must be in feet" and when we looked across at the "tor" we assumed the run can't be heading up that thing. Was I wrong.

Bang on 11am the group trundled off, and I watched them traverse the valley, and head up the mountain. Eish! At this point I realised that the 1 hour target I'd chatted to Tasha about might have been a bit optimistic. Nevertheless I knew she was having fun, so I dragged my cold body (+ sore knee and Life in the UK study notes) into the warm bowels of the Jamaica Inn.

I wandered back out at around 45 mins past - expecting that most of the fastest runners would already have got in, only to get there in time to witness the first man in. OK. This was clearly a hard run.

Tasha made it in 30 mins later, looking pretty good. By all accounts she had a great time and did a solid run. It was odd for me to sit on the sidelines, but I am very proud indeed.

But I'm now preparing myself for tomorrow. I think my head is where it should be, but my knee is still quite uncomfortable. I'll try to save it all for the finish. Looking forward.