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.

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.

On-it at Palace

I am quite thankful to have taken today off, because I feel totally wrecked; last night at Palace was very hard indeed.

It has been a while since I have raced at Palace. Despite the successes I've had since my last outing at the circuit, I was still a bit anxious before the race; Crystal Palace is a special circuit that demands respect. Add that to a restless sleep the night before and too much coffee to try to compensate, I wasn't feeling my best.

My goal for the race was simple enough: stay in the pack until the finish, the "stretch target" being to contest the sprint. I wanted to race aggressively and test myself. Having ridden 98km solo in a sportive on Sunday in 3:18 and having recovered well, I was feeling confident to try shaping the race a bit rather than just hanging on.

The race was quick right from the start with a lot of jostling for track space. It was probably the second lap when a Dynamo rider made an attack on the hill - seeing he was getting clear, I decided to join him. It was clear he was a strong rider and working together we stayed away for three laps. That said, we both soon realised we were killing ourselves with little chance of staying away, so we rolled back into the group.

I stayed pretty much at the front of the group from then on. When the E/1/2 groups came by, the front of our group splintered with a few attacks, but none came to much and despite a few breakaways (some that I got into), the group remained together for the final sprint.

I was sitting pretty at the front for the women's bell lap, two before ours, but at the start of our penultimate lap the pace increased and I found myself uncomfortably in the middle running into the sprint. Boxed-in I had nowhere to go; the riders ahead started sitting down well before the line. In all honesty through, my legs were pretty cooked by this stage so not sure how much difference this would have made.

All in all a great evening. I am thoroughly knackered through, but it was well worth it to tick the "goal achieved" box. The last race of the year is next week, I just hope the weather is as glorious as it was last night.

"Beautiful Panorama"

I don't like racing in the rain. Something about my physiology doesn't agree with the chilling effect of a soaking shower. Perhaps it is my African blood? All I know is I don't dig it. Which is why I decided that, with the possibility of a shower, arm and legwarmers would be a good idea.

At the start of the race, it was just spitting down and, if anything it stopped after the first lap or two. Initially I felt wooden, probably a result of being stuck in the car all week, but after a few minutes I was loosening up nicely. There were two Primes, the first very early on. I placed myself nicely and going up the hill it was a three horse race between (club-mate) Nick and a dude on a Cannondale. Towards the line Nick fell back and Cannon and I fought it out to the line. Near the crest he kicked; I was able to match it but not get ahead. There wasn't much in it, but for a Prime there is no prize for 2nd.

After that I still felt racy and, like last week, immediately got stuck back in at the front. Then it started to rain; initially fairly light but it built up to a fair battering. My legs started to tense up; I was thankful for the warmers. I fought off the cramps but once I'd got over it I was out of touch with the group.

I contemplated just packing it in, but knew I'd hate myself for it so decided to chase, come what may. Fortunately the rain was slowing the group a bit, so after about three hard laps I was back in it. Back in the shelter of the group I was able to get my breath back and after a lap or two got myself back to the front.

Just about at that point an attack was pulling a gap and a quickly a few riders started giving chase - I put on a spurt and got onto the back. I was happily following Nick's wheel into the first right-hander of the lower complex when my front wheel felt loose. I adjusted my line to correct it, but now I was on a trajectory that would involve foliage. From where I was sitting, it also seemed that tightening my line would have inevitably meant a face plant. I chose the former, aiming for the softest looking greenery.

I'd been carrying a lot of momentum, so found myself lodged deep in the very prickly scrub. Carefully I tried to extricate myself and the bike while avoiding further stinging from the bushes. Another rider had come off in sympathy, and so we rode back together to the start to rejoin after our lap out.

Back in the group and with four laps to go I was keen to make amends, but my rear wheel was feeling very slippy in the corners - I thought I'd picked up a puncture through my misadventure. Reluctantly, I stopped to check it out. It wasn't soft, but the edges were covered in a slick layer of mud. Too late now, I'd lost touch.

So a bit of a bummer, but the good bits felt good. My next race will probably Palace on Tuesday, I'm looking forward. Sun please!

Bagged another Prime

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.

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.

Thursday at Hog Hill

As I drove up towards Hog Hill, I could not but help notice the rather substantial increase in elevation of the road leading up to the circuit; it looked like a pig of a climb (forgive me). Once I'd got up to the clubhouse at the track, I saw the rather nasty looking climb up to the start-finish, I started to wonder what I was letting myself in for. Right then!

Hog Hill is pretty easy to get to from my office, so I'd arrived very early. This was great, and gave me a lot of time to get everything together, which included pinning the number "1" onto my jersey.

The preceding race, that from the faces of many of the competitors looked like torture, eventually came to an end and gave me a chance to do a quick recce of the full course. First off I managed to take a "wrong turn" onto the little loop that saw me back at the start finish, oops. Second time lucky, and soon I found myself at the crest of the hill with a glorious ribbon of cycling tarmac before me.

I was calm as we lined up on the start line. I was expecting to take a massive hammering over the next hour so I guess I was in a state of denial more than anything else. As we started rolling I began to feel better and better. The awful fatigue that had racked my body since Palace was receding as the effect of the endorphins grew and soon I had gone from tentatively feeling my way around to getting stuck into the bike race.

A few laps in I was feeling pretty racy and moved forward from pottering in the midfield to lurking near the front. I was definitely spurred on by the cooperation I got from my new Dulwich clubmates, but mostly I was just feeling really good. I'm told that at one point our small group at the front had put some air between us and the main group, but we were caught. Nevertheless, I was feeling very confident and was even starting to contemplate nabbing a point or two...

So you can imagine how gutting it was when my right calf decided to go into spasm after a small acceleration out of the hairpin. I slowed on the back straight and tried to massage it out. It felt much better after that and I got up the climb without hassles, but it started twitching again near the crest of the descent. I tried again to massage and stretch it down the hill, but it was in vain. I continued in this vein for the next lap and half until one last blast up the hill did me in and I was forced to stop with my calf in a horrible cramp.

My water bottle told part of the story; in all the excitement I had barely touched it, which can't have helped. So all I could do was massage my leg back to a useful state and watch the last four or so laps play out.

So bitter-sweet. I was gutted not to be able to finish, but excited to have had such a good race, especially after still feeling a bit of Tuesday's Palace outing in my legs before the race. I certainly am looking forward to my next race at The Hill.

Bonus blog inclusion: Hog Hill circuit from the saddle of the Ribble

Photo thanks to British Cycling

The circuit starts anticlockwise from opposite the clubhouse. The circuit drops off the plateau with a gentle left hander and then heads sharply into a lovely banked sharp left hander where the run back up the the crest begins. This geography gives this corner a wonderful rollercoaster feel. It can be taken pretty much as fast as you dare, with an amazing rush as you're pressed into the ground at the apex by the g-force.

The tarmac then heads over a gentle left hander over the crest of the hill and then a lovely long, gentle downhill stretch which gives you a chance to tuck in and gather your breath. Then into a gentle right hander as the circuit flattens out, another two quick right handers followed by a lovely hairpin that sometimes has you wishing that your crank arms were just 5mm shorter as the riders ahead accelerate away out of the hairpin onto the back straight. The back straight is a good opportunity to consolidate before a fast left hander and then the final run up to the hill.

At first the hill starts very as a very mild incline, but then kicks up a bit, and then a lot as it also takes in a right hander before the short run back to the start-finish line. This is easily the most characterful part of the track and it certainly can be murder when it wants to. Overall I love this circuit. It is both exciting and challenging. I'm sure it is a place you can grow into and has a lot to offer. I'll definitely be back soon.

Crystal Palace

London traffic is bad enough. Driving into London in rush hour is never a great idea if you want to get to your destination quickly. So you can imagine how much it added to my nerves when I tried to get from work (Essex) to Crystal Palace (South East London) for a Tuesday night race with a tail-back on the A13 near Tilbury due to a snarl up on the Dartford Crossing (the notorious M25) and further queuing traffic one the same road closer to town due to a broken down car in the Blackwall Tunnel. After a few more hold-ups due to accidents and several wrong turns I was ready to pack it in for a bad job and head home.

But I figured that it would make sense to at least get a flavour for the circuit as a spectator, and familiarise myself with the route there, so I plodded on. On arriving in the car park at nearly 19:00 on the dot I noticed that the Juniors were still racing - perhaps I could still make it.

I got dressed as quickly as possible, and got the bike together while keeping an eye on the Juniors who thankfully kept circulating at race pace. Excellent. A friendly marshall directed me to the sign on desk and soon I was hurriedly pinning my number on with nervous hands.

I barely had time for a quick leak before rolling out onto the track for the first time to suss it out. I was hoping for a few laps to get a feel for it, but basically I got two circuits in before we all stopped at the line. I'd had enough time to work out that the corner at the bottom of the hill would take some learning, but otherwise thought it would be a nice, if demanding, circuit.

The pace was quite quick right from the get-go. Wanting to keep out of trouble while I got used to the track I decided to hang back; in retrospect a bad idea on such a narrow and technical track.

The Cat 3/4 group rapidly became quite strung out, and I found that I was battling through the corner at the bottom of the hill (originally Fisherman's Corner of the pre-war race track) and, to a lesser extent, the hairpin at the end of the start-finish straight. Fisherman's corner is a blind double apex with a huge bush/hedge at the apex which effectively makes the exit completely unsighted. I found approaching the corner at 50+km/h can be quite unnerving, especially as I was unsure of the appropriate entry speed or correct line. These will come with time, but last night it meant I lost ground every time through the corner which I had to make up on the climb back up to the start-finish straight.

The climb, previous known as The Glade, is mean. It is long and steep enough for you to know about it, and you need more than momentum to get up it. So playing catch-up on every lap up this drag really didn't help at all.

After a few laps I was dropped, but I kept the hammer down knowing that some of the weaker climbers would succumb and I'd have a few riders to work with. And so they did, but one of the guys seemed more intent on making pointless attacks to hurt the rest of us rather than working together. Eventually he attacked too hard and dropped himself. The rest of us never really got to cooperating properly and so splinted until eventually I was solo for the last few laps.

So overall, a hard outing on a wonderfully demanding circuit. This is the criterium racing that I've dreamed of since I was a teenager with a silly tan. I'm sure my racing will improve; I just need to learn the circuit, and work on my bike handling. A bit more proper time on the bike, like the hill hunting ride my mate Paul and I did on the Bank Holiday, can't hurt either.

I can't wait for next Tuesday, hopefully with less travel chaos so I arrive calmer, and some get return on the saddle time I plan to put in over the next few days. Of course, it should also set me up nicely for the Smithfield Nocturne which is now a week and a half off.

Onward!

Bonus blog inclusion: Crystal Palace, from the saddle of the Ribble

In the Pre-War period, Crystal Palace Park was also a motor racing circuit. Motor racing ceased in the late 1960's, but much of the original circuit remains. The cycle circuit uses part of the original Pre-War infield track that loops around the fishing lake.

On a bicycle, the lap starts easily enough on the straight on Terrace Straight (top right of the map) roughly level with Pond Hairpin in what is the wrong direction for the original track. The tarmac of this straight must be pretty old because it is quite broken, but is perfectly rideable and adds character.

The Link is now configured the other way around from the original and is fairly quick, but also fairly straightforward once you've sussed it out; only a little bit of broken tarmac at the entry makes it more interesting.

Out of The Link, it is a fast run to Pond Hairpin, which is fairly sharp but drops off viciously at the apex making line choice important - thankfully it is smooth. Because we are going the wrong way, Fisherman's Rise is a fast, full speed, meandering descent which leads down to the blind, double apex corner called Fisherman's Bend.

At the bottom of the hill Fisherman's Bend kinks and then disappears left behind a big fat bush/hedge that completely blocks the view of the exit as well as the large tree and grassy drop-off that wait to punish. This corner spooked me, but I'm sure will become easier as I learn it. I think it is much like T1 at Zwartkops in that sense.

Next up is Fisherman's Bend, a lovely double apex, decreasing radius which drops away to start with, but then lifts up, and can be taken pretty much as fast as you can arrive at it - which is great because it leads onto The Glade - a hard climb back up to the start-finish straight.