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.

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.