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!