ALERT ALERT NON CYCLING CONTENT #parkrun

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I opted not to ride today’s super fast mega-race in Tring. I have been ill and tired all week and didn’t know if i’d be able to really compete, so i put in an early DNS. My Mum came to visit and thought it was probably better to spend the afternoon with family, as opposed to chasing the fastest of fast times on a strip of road east of Oxford. Now that the 19s are rolling in left, right and centre, I’m not so sure, but that’s time trialling. Well done to Billy Oliver who went straight from a short 21 to a long 19. That’s quite a PB. I’m going to visit the course in August when hopefully I’ll be feeling right again and en forme. With any luck it will be hot and floaty.

My mum is quite the runner. In fact, she’s one of the keenest runners I’ve ever known. She has done the London Marathon twice. Apart from the endurance stuff, Mum is an eager participant in Park Run, a weekly shindig that takes place in a municipal park somewhere near you, every Saturday, rain or shine. The first one was in Bushy Park or Wimbledon in about 2007 or thereabouts. The Leeds event followed not long after. I think my Mum has done about 86 Park Runs. She has all sorts of special singlets to recognise her achievements. Today she wanted to do the Ashton Court Park Run, so I thought it might be fun to go along, and maybe even jog around the course. I ignored the fact that I haven’t so much as even run away from a bully in the past 20 years, I mean, what’s the worst that might happen? We rode there and back, and I even took a shower afterwards. All of which comes perilously close to some kind of vile urban triathlon.  At the very least, it’s a duathlon, the sickly brother of the triathlon for people who can’t really swim (unlike triathlon, which is for those can’t swim, run or ride).

I don’t mind running, it’s quite a noble sport and has echoes with the solipsism of cycling, as well as the social aspects of club life. It’s also a remarkably cheap sport. I like the Park Run; it’s free to all. The volunteers record the results and do all of the hard graft – often it’s university students and local clubs. They crunch the stats and provide lots of information. Park Run is also really democratic. it’s a Saturday morning blast round a park and welcomes absolutely all abilities. There were people with dogs and babies in strollers. In some ways it’s not dissimilar to a sportive; it’s a mass participation event with the emphasis on getting round and self-improvement. It doesn’t have a precipitous line between success and failure, unlike a road race or hill climb. I can see why this appeals to people. There is also no real equipment anxiety. if you have a set of trainers, shorts and a t shirt, you can run. not only that, it’s unlikely to really impede your progress. For an investment of about £100 you can probably take part in much more comfort. £100 in bike terms might get you a new bottle cage.

Despite all of this, I have one caveat. Running is unbearably hard. The course at Ashton Court is uphill for 2.5km and then straight back down for 2.5km. i was fine with the uphill bit, the downhill near enough killed me. My muscles were being torn apart with each heavy step on the tarmac; the feeling of pain on impact was unable to ignore. I got passed by about 7 people on the way back down. That was fine, my biggest fear was picking up a vanity injury that scuppered the next 3-6 months of bike racing. I backed off a little bit and tried to relax, without much success. For the rest of the day my tendons and ligaments felt taut and stretched. It’s not pleasant.

the loneliness of the short distance cyclist-turned-runner

I have no idea what constitutes a good time on this 5km circuit. I do know it was windy as chuff all the way out and the tailwind down the hill made things worse. I also know that I have the anaerobic capacity to run all day, but not the muscular capacity. I managed 20.39 and came 14th out of about 250 or something silly. If I’d been able to run downhill like I ran uphill then I might have bagged a top 7 place. I enjoyed it. My Mum did a 29.30 or thereabouts. She is a running machine.

I think I may go back and do another Park Run one day. Maybe when my injuries have healed. Currently I can’t even walk up the stairs; it’s disgusting.

Dauphiné Libéré, Froome: L’Araignée Fragile

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This week I’ve been mostly watching the Dauphiné Libéré, or as it’s more recently known, Critérium du Dauphiné. Like many stage races in France, it was started by a regional newspaper, before recently handing over responsibility to the ASO. The Dauphiné is considered as the last proving ground for the Tour contenders; an opportunity to fine-tune the form and gain a last-minute psychological boost ahead of the greatest show on earth. It usually echoes aspects of the Tour route in a compressed form, perhaps using the same stage as the time trial or incorporating climbs from the Queen stage. You also get to hear the dulcet tones of Daniel Mangeas echoing out across the mountain passes, a welcome harbinger of the return of Le Grand Boucle.

It’s been grand to see Chris Froome warm-up for a tilt at the Tour this year. He’s very much the flag-bearer for Kenyan British hopes in the absence of Sir Wiggo of Wiggins. His team are an impressive bunch, with lieutenant Richie Porte a GC contender in his own right, assisted by the monstrously strong Ian Stannard and the ferocious Geraint Thomas.

Ian Stannard is one of my favourite cyclists. He’s a complete beast on the bike and looks like he’s about to tear the handlebars away from the stem with each pedal stroke, such is his latent power and force. Froome is antithetical; a willowy and elongated sapling, each arm and leg seems to be working at odds with the other limbs and his head shakes and dips with the syncopated cadence. The bike seems almost unable to contain the narrow proportions of his 6″1 frame and his feet move at odds to his lower limbs. His elbows point outwards; the acute angles resemble the spindly and fragile joints of a spider.

Froome off the bike

He lacks the effortless charisma and bonhomie of Sir Wiggerton of Wiggston, but this is balanced by a willingness to attack and countenance the unpredictable when racing. His effort to overhaul Contador was similar to Dan Martin’s ride in Liege-Bastogne-Liege; a beautifully timed attack and paean to cycling in its purest form. His determination to lead the team around France this summer is also telling and appropriate. Everything he’s done over the past two seasons points to rider full of self-belief, fitness and form.

Sick to the power of not rad

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I haven’t had any races for a little while. It’s a natural hiatus and allows me a bit of time to do some other stuff. Racing less and training more is generally seen as a good thing; on occasion racing can get in the way of making progress. This week was intended to be a week of intensity with several slices of hill repetitions. It was scuppered by a 6 hours of vomiting on Monday morning. Even though i recovered quickly, i was unable to pedal in anger until Friday. I now feel slightly off-form which is disappointing considering I have a target event next Saturday. It’s always the way; something usually comes along to derail a purple patch of good form. Just ask Wiggo.

Saturday’s event is a 10 mile time trial near Tring. it’s reputedly got the strongest field ever assembled in an open 10, anywhere. The 150th rider in a massively oversubscribed race has a personal best of 21.24. That means the SLOWEST rider in the race can do 10 miles at 28mph. There are 40 riders in the race who have carded a 19 minute ride and 6 riders with an18 minute time to their name. 

The reason it’s so popular is because the most recent events on the course have been quick quick quick. As a result people are chasing fast times and hoping for nice weather. I somehow doubt i’ll be nudging the top ten in this one.

Dawn of the Replicants

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The sun has made a welcome reappearance of late. This has also led to the reappearance of hordes of cyclists on our otherwise quiet and uninvaded roads. They are a peculiar species, the summer cyclist, akin to the cicada or some other organism with an innate biological or seasonal trigger point. I went out yesterday (started early — took my bike) and even at 8am the presence of susbtantially more cyclists than usual was apparent. Several of them were in various combinations of team kit. Not many were in club kit. I bumped into Nick Pilborough from Spin Rotor Primal and we chatted about the Tour Series. He still had his race number on his bicycle. Tom Stockdale had a really unpleasant crash in the Colchester event, I’d watched it on catch-up that morning and it looked very hard indeed, so it was nice to hear from a team-mate that he was going to be OK. The racing at the Tour Series looks incredibly hard – short technical circuits with sharp hairpins and an elite field – not nice. It’s also usually raining which doesn’t help.

The sunny weather at the moment means short-sleeve order and it’s a rare treat to able to head out the door without giving it too much thought or having that nagging interior monologue rattling around the brain – am I going to be too cold? too hot? should i swap rain jackets? mitts or defeet dura-gloves? leg-warmers or knee-warmers?

I headed up clarken coombe, it’s one of my favourite climbs, and I was going well until i unshipped my chain. I couldn’t do the old flick back on, so had to stop and get oily. I was annoyed. My annoyance lasted until I got to the end of beggar’s bush lane and saw this chap:

some chopper out strava-bombing in replica team kit

A first glance told me it was the mighty JTL. Confirmation came in the absence of a helmet: as any fule kno the professionals never wear helmets. I chased him down – lucky for my he was on a recovery ride, soft pedalling and generally chilling out, and asked if i could take his photo. He was really friendly and obliging and stopped at the side of the road for a chat. I got a bit over excited and tried to control myself. Our conversation was fairly typical of any conversation between two keen cyclists, he asked me where I was heading, i mentioned two mile hill – ‘the one with the switch backs heading up to horserace lane’ said JTL. He was tired after a very heavy week, I asked what he had been doing, he said ‘everything’. JTL’s planned ride was a gentle jaunt out to Wraxall and towards Clevedon. He even asked what races I had planned… I said I was keeping my powder dry until the hill climb season and doing a lot of hilly time trials with quite a bit of climbing in them, sometimes even as much as 2000ft. I asked him what races he had lined up, he said “I’m racing at the Tour De Suisse in a week’s time. Some of the climbs are over 3,000 metres”. It’s not quite the BSCC/Dursley hardrider, but I’ll allow him bragging rights on that one.

It was quite an encounter. I took the opportunity to congratulate him on an amazing season last year when he won the Tour of Britain. Tour of the Mediterrean, Tour of Alsace, Tour De Haut Var, and finished second at the Tour of Murcia. Jon’s description of this season is ‘different’ on account of his role in the team and the level at which he is now riding; essentially acting as a mountain domestique to riders like Froome, Henao, Uran and others. It’s an apprenticeship and a new learning curve. 

The rest of my ride was suffused with a glow on account of the serendipitous meeting. This lasted for quite a while, or precisely, it lasted until I got to the furthest point away from home. This happened:

asymmetrical lacing on neutron ultra

Usually I can fix mechanical issues when out on the move. This one proved to be a bit of a humdinger. The wheel went badly out of true and wouldn’t go through the seat stays. It required a call to Belle to bring out the Voiture Balai.

Swept up

Whilst waiting for the sag wagon to arrive I enjoyed the sunshine and looked at the view.

light and colours

C+CCC Music Factory

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Today I rode the C+CCC open hilly time trial. it takes place in and around the scenic and beautifully named villages of Temple Guiting and Lower and Upper Slaughter, collectively known as the Slaughters, which is appropriate for an unseemly and particularly nasty race.

It’s a 12 mile loop, done twice, with two violent climbs. The first one is steep and short, coming at the end of a quick descent which makes it much worse. I hit the bottom each time at about 35mph, riding into it and crashing down through the gears, trying to find some semblance of rhythm and shape with no success. The second climb is a very long drag up to the finish line. It’s punitive and unnecessary, killing the average speed, the legs, the heart and the mind.

The field was fast, with Dean Robson, Tavis Walker, Derek Smetham and Dave Kiddell all chasing the win. I resolved to ride as hard as I could, as per usual, and hope i didn’t run out of energy or suffer from a slow, painful, lactic death. As a strategy it seemed to work, I managed to squeak in at 57.59, about 40 seconds quicker than last year. The weather was kind and I beat the next fastest rider by about 12 seconds. This isn’t very much, but it’s slightly more than last week. Tavis was third at about 18 seconds or so. I pinned his number on and he complained that I sabotaged his race by leaving it flapping in the breeze. He wanted me to pin the sides, roadie style, but i refused because I didn’t want to annoy the organiser with extra pinholes in their shiny numbers, and I’m afraid of authority. As a strategy, this also worked, the air resistance clearly impeded his otherwise serene progress.

Post-ride recovery fuel for Tav. He has a small naked man growing out of his shoulder.

In the immediate aftermath of the race and for much of the day I felt a bit sick. It’s one of those sorts of races, the constantly changing gradient is a challenge and it hurts to ride. All told, it clocks in at 2000 feet of climbing in the 24 miles. This is quite a lot, especially when ridden at a 24mph average speed. It was much harder than the Westbury event last weekend.

On a side note, I usually have an energy gel before a race. I am partial to the zipvit cola caffeinated ones, they taste vlle but are like rocket fuel. It’s part of the pre-race ritual, along with not warming up properly and urinating in a hedge about 24 times. Zipvit have changed the flavour from Cola to ‘smooth espresso’, so I gave it a punt. It’s absolutely disgusting; a wretched and horrible tasting item. In some small way, I can understand why ‘Cola’ might be a suitable flavour for an energy gel. It’s sugary and best consumed cold. It’s been used for sweets like ‘cola bottles’. I quite like the idea of an Espresso supped civilly in an Italian piazza with a jazzy little biscuit. However, when replaced with a lukewarm, slippery, glutinous, overly sugared packet stuffed up the leg and necked prior to a race and you have one of the worst energy gels every made. Here’s hoping the rhubarb and custard (really) and bakewell tart (also really) flavoured gels are slightly less repulsive. In the meantime I shall attempt to make my secret stash of the remaining stock of cola gels last for the rest of the season.

A rogue’s gallery of confusing flavours

I have no races for a few weeks now. I shall be mostly training on hills and enjoying a short break. I may even get to finishing a longstanding project. Hopefully I’ll still have some form when it comes round to racing again on the speedfest F11/10 course.

Low low low low low

New TT weaponry

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I’m thinking of taking a leaf out of this chap’s book:

“François Gissy set a new world speed record in the rocket-powered bicycle category, reaching 263 kilometres per hour on a disused runway in Munchhouse in the Alsace. “

Should be good enough to take a few KOMs on strava.

Westbury Wheelers 24 Mile Hilly TT

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It was a busy weekend. Generally this season I’ve done one race a weekend, if that. This weekend i pencilled in two. It was the same double header as last year when I somehow contrived to win both the BSCC 10 and the Westbury Hilly.

The Westbury event starts on the edge of Warminster before heading off on a loop out and around the edges of the military bits of Salisbury Plain, via Chitterne, Lavington and other such places. there’s a long section that has frequent ‘tank crossings’. The road is reinforced with concrete and there’s a warning sign. It would be quite something to be ‘baulked’ by a hulking great weapon of war. I think i’d slow down if that were the case and not try any flash-harry TT moves to slip through or round the side.

The minor road up and out of Chitterne; tank post thing on the right

It finishes beneath the White Horse after 24 miles  of undulating roads.

There’s always a degree of anxiety following a race the previous day, but it’s not often a problem if you’ve tapered a bit in the run up to both events. At times like this it’s worth remembering that the Giro D’Italia is currently serving up 150+ miles per day, for 21 days, through some of the highest mountain passes of the Alps and Dolomites. 34 miles ridden at pace over 2 days isn’t all that bad, or strenuous, no matter how much effort you think you’ve put it. It’s arguably about the recovery, but even then, a 20 minute effort shouldn’t compromise another effort the next morning. And so it proved.

I was in ‘have it’ mode this weekend. It’s that weird alignment where you have a sense of form and the ability to ride ridiculously hard, almost at full pelt, and for some strange reason it feels right and proper and vaguely exciting. It happened at Falfield on Saturday and the same again on Sunday. The course starts quickly with a slight descent and I got straight into the big ring and smallest cog. I reined it in ever so slightly on the climbs, barely though, and absolutely thrashed it on the descents, hitting a maximum at one point of 49mph. I think i was probably still on the poles at that point, the road surface was good and there was no traffic. I had the usual conversation with people back at the HQ afterwards, a club member was saying how he used the 39:25 heading up Chitterne. I don’t know what i used but it was definitely the 54, it was a big ring course for the duration, i might have cross-chained it a bit in the 20 or something, but i just sat back and gave it some welly. He looked a bit horrified. Power to weight is a glorious thing when you’re riding up hill at speed and weigh 67kg. I think I averaged 21mph on the drag up Anstey Hill. It was fun.

taken on Saturday, accelerating out of the roundabout

There were some classy riders on the startsheet, including Tavis Walker and Derek Smetham. Tavis has mostly been installing large farm machinery and working, taking time out to take a kicking from the other Elite roadmen at Castle Combe from time to time. Derek seems to be on a hot streak of form and he owed me 6 seconds from the Dursley mega-hilly a few weeks back. I got back to the HQ and Derek had done a 53.35, Tav a 53.40. My garmin was telling me i’d done a 53.34 but I kept it to myself. I normally start it a bit early and it’s about 10 seconds slower that the official time, which was confirmed after an agonising wait as being 53.28. It was a close contest, the best sort. It’s great to bag a win this year, I feel as though the pressure has lifted a little bit and I didn’t fancy another second place.

I also think, pending confirmation, that i nabbed the course record. It was previously set by Rob Lyne and I sliced about 10 seconds from his time. I’m quite pleased about this, Rob Lyne is super quick and I very much looked up to him in my first few seasons as the kind of chap I would never ever get anywhere near. A few years back he was a professional roadman who rode the Tour of Britain and won the Severn Bridge road race. It’s a vicarious encounter with greater glory. I’ll take it.

Rob in Amore & Vita colours