Racing Myself Back to Fitness

Last week was Castle Combe, this week Odd Down.

I am tired, sore and my stomach is churning from the exertion.  This is such a cool feeling.

So, Wednesday last week I had a good session on the rollers and spurred on my the graphic designer I'm working with on Engineered (that is not his work on the current site!) having had a great run last week at Odd Down, I wasn't going to bugger around anymore - it was time to get racing again.

Cue most of Thursday spent with a swarm of angry butterflies in my abdomen and much of my time spent checking the weather report.  It was a terrible day, but the forecast showed it would clear in the evening - just how early seemed to oscillate back and forth during the day; I just love British weather!

Come race time it was lovely.  Cool and clear.  The pre-race routine still felt normal after what must be nearly 3 years since I have done any meaningful crit racing.  My warm-up in the car park was a bit pointless - I'd neglected to take a skull cap so I was just getting colder.  Never mind, this would be fine come race time.

The format of the Castle Combe races has changed since I last raced there.  Before it was a handicap race with the E/1/2s chasing down the 3/4 pack from a lap back.  Now the two races run concurrently and they are supposed to stay separate.  Personally I preferred the old format, as it didn't lead to the two races tripping each other up.  But then again, it is probably safer for the Elites so maybe isn't a bad thing.

In the race I was a bit over-ambitious to say the least - getting involved in a breakaway very early on.  I managed to recover from that and stay in the group, but then a few laps (at about 1/2 distance) later the cramps in my right calf called end of play.  I was annoyed, but happy at the same time.  In all fairness I didn't expect much given my total lack of form, so overall the result (or non-result as it was) was not such a bad thing.

After Castle Combe, a fairly long race at over an hour, I thought that Odd Down today would be comparatively easy.  Only 35 mins plus a lap should play into my unfit hands, I was quietly optimistic.

It was great to arrive at the circuit and meet up with 4 fellow Bristol South CC clubmates.  Despite having been a member for over a year now, my knee injury last year meant I did hardly any cycling so haven't met many people from the club; so it was good to put faces to some of the names I'd seen on lists or heard about in club ride conversations.  It was fun rolling onto the circuit in a group in what must be the best looking kit on the block.  I was feeling confident.

Race time!  My warm up laps were a little too hot and I ramped my heart rate up too quickly.  The start of the race was a little odd.  The first lap was "neutralised" so we only started racing from lap 2.  At first I felt really good, very racy.  I was happy with my legs and I was matching the accelerations out of the hairpins.  I started wondering if I'd have legs left for the sprint ... yeah, I probably would - after all, it is only 35mins + 1 lap ...

But the pace just seemed to be ramping up and up.  And then I just blew up.  I'd redlined and now I was going backwards.  From keeping a good eye on things and staying out of trouble at the front I was now battling to hang onto a small splinter group.  I stayed with them to the end, then bridged the gap to another smaller group up ahead that had also been dropped.  And so it ended.  Certainly no fireworks, but not too bad given poor form and near zero training.

But I feel much stronger than last week and the week before; this is the great thing about being unfit, the gains are massive.

I'll probably skip Castle Combe this week, and then maybe try the double next week if my legs are up to it.  I'm getting addicted again.  It is so good to be racing.

Severn Bridge Road Race Pt. 2

When I posted my blog yesterday, I had not yet heard of the tragic accident that occurred later in the day during the Elite race when the promising 23 year old rider, Junior Heffernan, was sadly killed in an accident with an oncoming car.

This event has shocked and saddened me, I can only imagine the impact it will be having on his family and loved ones.  To them go my sincerest condolences.  May he rest in peace.

Severn Bridge Road Race

I have been looking forward to this season opener for quite a few weeks now.  It feels like ages since I submitted my entry and somehow, despite my best intentions, the date arrived with my form nowhere near where I'd like to have got it. 

My excuses?  This has been a particularly horrid winter.  I had a run of colds (better than usual mind you) that kept me out of the saddle.  The day job and my new bike co. venture have kept me quite busy.  Whatever the excuses, I haven't spend near as much time as I'd hoped to have either on the rollers or actually on the road.

That said, in context, I've been pretty happy with my recent form.  The rollers have helped me develop a nice, smooth style over the winter and I feel far more comfortable keeping a smooth rhythm at a high heart rate.

Last night, while packing my race bag for today, I checked the weather forecast to see that it was supposed to be more or less about 0C at the time of the race start.  This filled me with a degree of trepidation; I don't function well in the cold.  Arriving at the race start this morning the display in the car indicated 3C, hardly balmy, but a good deal better than zero.  It felt chilly but not extreme.

Come the start of the race I was wrapped up reasonably warmly in a few layers and was feeling optimistic.  There was a 3rd lap KOM - I fancied my chances in sprinting for that.  The start was a slightly nervous affair; clearly it wasn't just me that was feeling a bit rusty after a long time off the road bike!  Soon we were at a fair lick and I started to work my way forwards to get into a good position before the climb.

But my chest had other plans.  The huge gulps of cold air caused my lungs to go into an asthmatic spasm and I was battling to get enough oxygen in.  This was less of a problem in the shelter of the group, so I hunched down hoping that I'd warm through and it would go away.

By the start of the climb it became clear that it wasn't going away, if anything it was just getting worse.  Wheezing, I was dropped horribly on the first run up the climb and was unceremoniously spat out of the back of the group.  At this point there was little point in continuing; my lungs were just not enjoying the cold.

So after a few hundred metres of suffering I decided to turn back to HQ.  It felt miserable, but I was happy to recover my breath in the warmth of the Sports Club building.

So, a rather disappointing start to the season, but a long way to go still.  And I'm very happy that I managed to get racing again.  Next time will be better!

Underestimating XC

Let me start with an admission. I had grossly underestimated (MTB) Cross Country. I guess as a roadie and crosser at heart, I'd arrogantly assumed a bit of "been-there-..." attitude so figured that, apart from a bit of bike handling adaptation, this MTB thing would be pretty easy.

So I arrived at Crowthorne for a round of the Gorrick MTB Autumn Series feeling fairly optimistic, if a little apprehensive about the weather. It was peeing down, and had been for much of the week before, so I knew it was going to be slippy, but it was also exceptionally cold. But how much harder could it be than a cross race? The race start was delayed by about ten minutes which meant standing around in the cold drizzle, not good. Eventually our the small group of 15, the "Sport Male" (4-lap Seniors) category, were sent off.

I was careful not to ride too hard from the off, but on the first open section of the lap through fire roads I found I'd got into a nice rhythm and was starting to easily pass other competitors, good I thought.

But then came the first sharp corner that took me a bit by surprise, cue full use of the 180mm disc on the front, a really bad line and not flicking to a smaller ring before losing a lot of momentum. Then the single track.

On the first lap, I was exceptionally clumsy through the single track section. I nipped the handlebars on trees, clipped roots all wrong and generally made a hash of it. Worse, I used loads of energy doing it and come the start of the second lap I was feeling it. This was odd for me - usually the technical sections in cyclo-cross are where I pull an advantage. Now I had to try to pull myself back into contention on the fire road sections. According to the PA announcement I was running 7th, so I started thinking that 5th would be my target - and so I slid back on the saddle and spun up some pain on the big ring.

The second run through the single track was much better, and I started to feel far more at home. This was also hugely helped by the 1.5 section Conti Cross Country mud race tyres I'd been given by Andy L. The cornering grip levels were otherworldly in the mud and, even up the mushiest climbs, the rear wheel traction was solid. So into lap 3 I'd picked up a position and was about to grab another two, but then into the single track the cramps hit and I was hurting. I lost my hard earned 5th.

And then, on the final lap, it hit me. The bonk. I hadn't eaten enough before (technically with a, 14:15 start, I'd skipped lunch) and I had no gels with me. Daft. There it was, the dreaded wall. I hit it full on. Suddenly I just had nothing in me, I could barely muster keeping moving. And the cramps kept hitting my calves. "How could it all be going so wrong?" was all I could think.

6th slipped away, then 7th. Then I stopped caring because simply getting to the finish would have been a result. In the end I managed 10th, which I'm still not sure how I managed given the state I was in at the end. It does annoy me, but mostly because my form wasn't bad and with proper preparation a better result was in the offing.

So I look forward to taking another shot at XC racing, though I might wait for better weather and rather spend the rest of the winter concentrating on cyclo-cross. I think (just) an hour of pain, and not changing brake pads after every event, sounds like a far better proposition.

Afan Raid

My road racing friends Andrew and Stu invited me to join on a mountain biking weekend in the valley. I couldn't wait and was counting the days - but little did I know that it would so massively exceed my expectations.

Firstly off, I could not have asked for a better group of guys - and, apart from battling a little with names, I felt at home from the start. Then the trails, just totally sick. I don't know if I've ever used that term before but it just makes sense here.

Despite leaving Bath to glorious sunny skies, Saturday morning in South Wales was bleak; heavy showers threatening to make a misery of any riding. So we procrastinated. And it paid off - the rain abated and so at least we didn't get rained on. But the trail was extremely wet - brilliant conditions for me to become reacquainted with this whole mountain biking lark!

So we set off up White's Level, a great up and down course. The climb gains 525m through nice single track - a few little technical sections but mostly just straightforward, flowing trail with a few hairpins - the MTB feels like a tanker compared to the crosser! Then from the top the trail cascades back down the hill to the trail centre; the Energy section being particularly brilliant with the table tops and some rocky banked turns.

I need to grow bigger balls - I found it difficult to resist confidence braking into corners, only to realise I could have carried a load more speed! I'm sure it will come with time, but I still feel a little out of sorts come the descents.

So I wasn't too surprised when I managed to clip a rock the next morning and then put my wheel off the edge of the trail. I emerged bruised, still not entirely sure how I did that, but learning that perhaps over-thinking is my enemy. Later I got happier to just let it flow; not that I quite got the knack, but thanks Steve for constantly nagging me to leave the brakes!

Speaking of brakes - goodness - the Welsh mud is vicious! One set of pads (front and rear) after two circuits of White's on Saturday! Madness.

And apart from the crash (and the annoyingly stiffening knee that resulted), Sunday we hit W2 - a combination of White's and a trail ominously named The Wall. It was a good day on the bike, but hard. Not that I could complain: Simon, who had done zero exercise in the last 6 months, let alone having ever ridden an MTB, gamely took it on and finished it. The dude was simply mega.

So overall, a totally awesome weekend. What I've described of the riding is just the tip of the iceberg. More so, I've hardly talked about the group - suffice to say that they are just stellar bunch. I couldn't have asked for a better crew to ride & hang out with, talk bike-geek stuff, stretching techniques and ponder 21-year-olds.

Ace! Thanks guys!

The Hotel Gym

I hate gyms. Passionately.

Being outside and getting exercise is fun, liberating, exciting. Gyms are just boring. The only diversions are good looking women who tend to look back at you like a sad loser if you're caught appreciating.

So I don't usually do gyms, but my sub-standard performance in recent races, and stupid schedule have driven me to using the most dreaded of all gyms; the sad, deserted confines of the hotel gym.

But all in all it was actually quite a good experience. A good half hour each of running and cycling, looking at flashing lines on the screen, managed to feel particularly good today. I was training! A rare occurrence, I know.

So, hopefully I'll be able to keep up this good habit. Bring on the weekend!

Purdown - Western League #3

I'd been dreading the possibility of "heavy rain" as forecast on all weather sites. I don't mind getting muddy, and I don't mind getting a little wet, but drenched sucks. So I was massively relieved that it was warm (if overcast and windy) and not raining when I signed up.

Probably because of the forecast, it was a fairly small field. The venue at Purdown is like a park, but with a big garage in it that looks like it might have once been a fire station or something. And the hill disappears up on the west side. Ominous!

So, a lap of the course: It starts on a grassy field just before the big garage, heading past the long west wall, then turning right to briefly skirt the north wall before plunging down the slope, around a slippery, open hairpin, and then back up the hill. Near a little cluster of trees was a nasty little transverse groove in the hill that was just enough to mess up your momentum before kicking up a little on the run up to the really nasty bit between the bushes. This bit was pretty much unrideable, slick mud and really steep.

After "The Hill" as I called it, the slope gradually levelled off and became grassy again, providing some traction - time to remount. Then a short stretch to a hairpin and a gentle downhill run (into the evil southerly); then doubling back at a hairpin to climb the gentle slope again. The course then turned left again to skirt the field; an interesting little left-right-left - a short blast across another little grassy field, a nice fast, slippery left hander, then a deceptively hard and bumpy climb up out of the little field, then a steep left hander into an all-too-brief stretch of single track before a tight right, then left-left back to the start.

Altogether it was a very hard circuit for me; certainly not suited to me - there weren't many properly technical sections where I could get some advantage back and I am simply in bad shape. And "The Hill" simply murdered me every time; I'd battle to walk up it, let alone jog. It was awful. Second lap up it I was nailed by everyone. I couldn't believe my form was so bad, but hey.

Of course, that was briefly followed by trying to think of good excuses to abandon, but I kept on. Slowly the mud started getting more and more churned, and I found that I was starting to find more of an advantage in the tricky sections - as sparse as they were! Plus I found that I was catching riders ahead even on the hard pulls into the wind. So I slowly started picking riders off and making up places. And I started having a ball; drifting the bike completely sideways into the increasingly slick corners as riders ahead were tip-toeing with one foot out for security - it felt great. Sure, the mud-specific tyres and disc brakes helped, but it still felt great.

I was slowly pulling in a Dynamo - the London Dynamos were Dulwich Paragon's arch rivals (Dulwich being my London club) - and I was becoming increasingly determined to pass him. Bell lap came and I had 50m to make up. Up "The Hill" I was lapped, a good opportunity to grab a wheel into the wind. I took it, made up the deficit and then made my move and caned it for the last 500-odd metres - putting a huge slide into the steep left hander into the single track but taking a lot more conservatively to the line once I'd worked that I'd put in a good gap.

Afterwards I felt pretty good. The legs were good but my lungs were a bit shot, being a fairly fast circuit it was big-time cardio.

Yeah, I need a lot more training to get anywhere near the form where I feel I should be - but the racing certainly is doing me good - if nothing other than helping me learn the limits of my body and honing my bike handling.

Next week is Stroud. Lets hope for a nice, seriously muddy race!

Cowbell - where is the cowbell!?!