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!?!

38th Bleugh

Lydiard Park, Swindon - 26th Sept.

I was horribly out of shape, but decided to give it a shot anyways. At worst it would be a really hard training ride, at best I'd feel some glory.

Within the first 100m it became painfully clear that it would be the former rather than the latter. In true cyclocross style, by lap two I was well into the red trying to think of excuses for giving up. Four laps in I started to wonder what the hell I was doing in Swindon on a cold and windy Sunday afternoon when I could otherwise have been in bed reading Arthur Miller's short stories.

Then the riders who had passed me earlier in the race (I started near the back of the pack, so by this stage was was just about last) started coming back. The bumpy stretch up the hill started feeling easier. The lines through the forest started feeling more natural and I found I was eating tens of metres into my opponents through the forest alone. I started getting into a good tuck into the wind, but keeping an easy spin, and so started picking off the riders ahead one at a time.

There were some moments to savour; passing a stubbornly fast dude through the forest, then power-sliding out of the only muddy corner (yes, on a bicycle), taking a dude through the running section over the gates and out sprinting a challenge at the finish line.

But then again, it was pretty dismal. 38th of 46 is pretty rubbish and I will certainly need to up my game dramatically. I don't enjoy being so far off the pace, let alone being lapped. Yep, some concerted training will be required.


Watch this space!

Just want to get cross

Middle of summer. It has been a mess with my marriage and so my life falling to pieces all around me. It sucks but things like this either kill you or make you stronger. I'm still here so I guess I'll be stronger.

I haven't raced at all, but my form isn't too awful. I will be doing the opposite of all roadies and trying to get my base in over the summer in order to hit late September fresh and fast. We're contemplating a production cross frame - so I might have something special to race in later in the season.

Annoyingly I missed the entry for the 3-Peaks - but I have ambitions of doing well this season in cross. I just need to keep my health in check and keep my chest clear. If i can do that, I'll be able to keep my form and kick ass. Perhaps it doesn't bode well that I have a chest infection as I type this, but it is exceptionally mild and I'm kicking it.

Roll on Autumn.

Farewell London League

Image courtesy londoncyclesport.com

For the 2009/2010 London Cyclocross season anyhow.

What a classic course for the send off. It was a muddy, technical treat at Herne Hill. The course included the ramps, hurdy gurdys, hurdles and mud. Lots of it.

The race itself was very sore. The slippery surface was difficult for everyone; it certainly helped me to the deck a few times. Plus it was hard racing. I was determined to beat my regular competition, and maybe get a bit higher in the order.

A lap into the race my lungs felt ready to burst, after two laps my back started to ache; and then it just got harder. With two laps to go my entire body was hurting - by the end the pain was irrelevant, all I cared about was not being passed.

Which I am proud to say I managed. I got ahead of my rivals and used my pace through the tricky outfield to put air between us. Then I knuckled down hard through the infield to maintain the gap. This was pretty much the pattern of the entire race - the only developments being increased fatigue and the bike getting heavier and heavier from gathering more mud.

I was nervous to see the results, so I was quite chuffed they were published very promptly. In the end I came 24th. Of 82 finishers.

Yeah, happy with that. Very happy.

So that wraps the 2009/10 'cross season, nearly. In two weeks we have the Team Champs, which should be a lot of fun and a nice way to end the season. Then it will be looking forward to criteriums in the road season for the summer.

Yeah, I'm really looking forward to those long evenings of Speed! Bring on Summer!

A lot of speed

The last few days have been pretty busy. Sunday was London League cyclocross at Wilmington in Kent, and then Tuesday I ran in our company running club month-end race.

The cross race was mad as usual. It wasn't too wet, but the mud was very slick and traction was very poor; with even moderate inclines being unrideable. There was also a very tricky section through the woods that was very narrow and felt more like what I'd expect of an MTB course rather than Cross.

The race itself was hard. On the first lap I was trying to think of how I could bail out but still retain my dignity. Realising that was impossible, I then started wondering how I was going to survive the next hour. And it seemed to take forever. The dismounting, running and remounting took their toll, as did the very frustrating slippy near running-on-the-spot sections up the hills. I had a few silly falls too, the "best" being riding straight into a tree on the last lap at near walking pace (I blame fatigue).

As usual, afterward it felt great. I had a fun ding-dong with a club mate, Kevin Ball and also managed to keep a few riders that I recognised from previous races at bay. I'm really enjoying this cyclocross lark - it is just such a pity that the season is so short.

Then to running; my new commute means that it simply is not fiscally possible for me to take the train (and so include a ride in my commute), so I've returned to running to try to keep fast and in shape. My first run was last week, and frankly I battled and was broken afterward. I really wasn't expecting much for the lunch time race.

The organiser, Zoe, stuck me into the fastest group despite my protestations. I really thought she was having a laugh and roundly expected to be the slowest of the group and jog into the finish dead last (it is run on a handicap, so the slowest runners would be well down the road before the fast group starts).

So after lots of waiting we set off. I start gingerly (for the first 20m or so), then realise I feel pretty good, so ratchet up the pace. Probably a bit too quickly because up the long hill to the park I'm starting to feel it. Into the park I'm staying with the leading group (bar one) of fast runners, but hurting already - only about 1.5km in! Then I notice my shoe lace is loose. PREPARATION! I have to stop to tie it up and so immediately loose touch with the group.

I try to close the gap after that but they pull away steadily. I keep up a good pace but am really hurting. I wind up the pace on the way in, purely out of pride and not wanting to be overtaken; I manage to be passed only by the fastest runner (Ian Mc' for those who've followed this blog for a while) who gave himself a further, self imposed handicap of a few minutes! My time is a smidge over 25 mins. Not too bad, but I do have quite a bit of work to do.

I was broken totally by the run, and had to drag myself to the local Tesco to grab a For Goodness Shakes (my new favourite). It helped a bit but honestly I was too stuffed to be useful to anyone.

A day later I am still sore. My legs from the run, but my shoulders and core still have traces of tightness from the Cross race. All good stuff. And to be repeated this weekend with another Cross race at Herne Hill.

Rock on!

Chapeau Madam!

So, I'm blasting back home from work along Victoria Embankment. Whizzing past the usual train of commuters (not everyone thinks it's a race I guess...) I notice a flashing red light ahead that is making short work of the bike traffic (not to mention the car traffic, but that goes without saying). I'm hardly making up any ground, so I dig a bit deeper and start giving chase.

A few hundred metres passes, and I'm not making as much of a dent in the gap as I would for a typical "quick commuter" - clearly this guys is giving it some beans, so if I'm to catch up before Parliament Square, I'd better light them burners.

And so I do, we're now on the stretch to Big Ben and I'm getting close. We both dispatch a guy on a carbon superbike, but I have bigger fish to fry. Or should I say smaller. This rider is diminutive! And it is a her. Her legs are pumping relentlessly and her speed isn't letting up.

I keep the taps open and pass - eventually. As I pass, she looks back. Now, I know people in good shape who take good care of themselves can easily look 10 years younger than they really are - this lady looks to be in her mid-fifties, your guess is as good as mine. I was amazed.

I hope that I'm still riding that quickly on the commute when I'm in my fifties!

Herne Hill Results

Image courtesy Londoncyclesport.com

Crazy crazy crazy! I am beaming ear to ear. 27th. Of 93 finishers. Rock on!

Sloppy Herne Hill

On my first (recce) lap of the circuit I realised that the 'cross races so far were just a taster of the real thing.

I was a little nervous this morning; it has been a long time since I'd raced; I'd been kept off the bike first by a bruised hand from a fall on icy, moss-covered paving in early-Jan and then from a battle with a nasty cold that ended up taking out pretty much most of the family that was staying over. The good news is that I didn't get the customary chest infection, so my asthma meds are doing the trick!

Back to today - it was very cold (around 2°C), but sunny. Rain and snow from previous days had made the ground well soaked and bit of the course I could see looked pretty squishy indeed. There had also been a New Years Day madison event on two days before, so the circuit was quite cut up. I'd arrived with good time, so I was able to sign on and get my kit sorted without a rush before heading out for an easy recce; this is very important for me.

The mud was very slippery indeed, and some off camber sections needed good line picking, but also solid pedaling to get through. Some of the faster corners were a little daunting, but later proved a treat (provided the bike was set-up nicely into the corner). A bit of ice, and frozen, furrowed mud was quite scary and, after very nearly stacking it on the recce, I decided it was best avoided. What struck me most about the course was the crazy climbs and near drop-offs and the number of obstacles that demanded a dismount. The bits through the trees also offered up many technical challenges that initially made me feel completely inept.

So I felt pretty daunted as I took up my place on the start line. Soon enough the whistle went and it was the usual charge to the first corner. I wasn't feeling that strong, so I didn't go all out, but I found myself around some familiar faces to I guess it must have been a reasonable start. The first foray into the tricky wooded section was crazy; I found myself getting into all sorts of trouble by making the same mistake that I had previously made in the cockpit of my Class C Fiat - following the guy in front, and in so doing effectively having him ride my bike. I forced myself to focus on the trail, looking past the rider ahead and picking my own line.

Into the second lap it was feeling a lot easier and into the third riding in the mud felt like second nature. I found that, in the group I was in (roughly 6-7 riders), I was being held up quite a bit through the technical wooded section, but onto the flatter open stadium section I was losing ground - my lack of fitness from the time off the bike telling. But the problem was, sitting at the back of the group I was being held up where I had the advantage, then burning up through the infield to stay in touch. Time to make a move then. With a few bold moves, including an outbrake into a steep downhill, I got ahead. I had to work hard though, so into the infield I felt like puking and was repassed.

Next lap our group was split by a fall and I attacked to try to get a bigger advantage. It almost worked, and I left the infield section only having conceded a place or two to the group. On the next lap, I made my move. I charged hard up the the steep climb, with the bike on my shoulder I sprinted as hard as I could up the muddy slope and did my best impression of a running remount (which, I must admit, needs a lot of work). Apart from a few metres gap, crucially I'd got "track position" on the group with a fair proportion of the twisty wooded section to go. I rode it as hard as I could, even came off once (but managed to save it with a quick remount). Then, into the infield I tucked down and rode as hard as I could. It paid off. Coming out of the stadium exit corner, I saw the group still a distance from the corner. Spot on.

The rest of the race was a fight against fatigue and the lack of a rear brake. Not sure what happened (my guess at the moment is a cable that I hadn't tightened properly), but my rear brake stopped working in the second lap which left me with only the front - quite a liability, especially with all the sharp corners at the bottom of descents. As I became more tired, mistakes crept in and I would lose my advantage through the woods.

So the 2 laps go couldn't come soon enough. The pace started to escalate, and I knew the riders behind would be chasing. Summoning up all the energy I could, I tried to ride as neatly as I could, only to tumble over the bars on a descent. I needed to stay calm and keep it smooth, but it was difficult. I was also starting to encounter a few back-markers which made things even trickier. I couldn't afford to lose time through the twisty sections but this was exactly where passing was difficult. Fortunately the etiquette of most riders was exemplary and it was generally easy to find a way through as long as you weren't too impatient.

Heading through the stadium section for the last time I took a peek back and saw mostly empty track. One of the riders from the pack, a Mosquito rider, had caught and repassed me on the last lap but I'd managed to hold off the remainder. Still, no time for taking it easy. Big ring all the way to the finish (well, almost).

Not sure where I finished, but I had an absolute ball. The bike was caked in mud and felt a good 2kg heavier after the race, crazy.

So, I think now I get 'cross. Fact: It is the most fun you can have on a bike.

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.