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.
Friday 31 July 2009
Monday 27 July 2009
3rds
Photo used with the kind permission of Graham RobinsAfter 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.
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.
Friday 24 July 2009
Disappointment at The Hill
Image (c) Sport in Pictures/Gary BowdenAs 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.
Sunday 19 July 2009
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.
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.
Sunday 5 July 2009
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.
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.
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