Tag Archives: bradley wiggins

21 days of one day races

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The TIVO box is primed and cleared, ready to engorge on 100+ hours of bongo. It’s Giro time. Of the three grand tours it’s arguably he most anarchic, terrifying, and captivating. Things happen in the Giro that don’t happen in the Tour; epic splits, absurdly steep climbs and savage accumulations of mountains, day after day. It also has its fair share of mythology and heroism. The clichés regarding cycling are probably accurate; it’s a race that reflects the cultural background and psyche of a nation. For further reading I recommend John Foot’s Pedalare! Pedalare!

Fiorenzo Magni using bar-tape as leverage to counteract a broken collarbone. Really.

The story of the 1973 Giro is beautifully told in Jorgen Leth’s film, Stars and Their Watercarriers. It depicts the epic struggle between Eddy Merckx and the Spanish mountain goat, José Manuel Fuente.

The film is a precursor to Leth’s more famous documentary, A Sunday in Hell.

In recent years, a couple of stages stand out, but especially the Strade Bianche in 2010 when Evans emerged from the grey primordial soup of Northern Italy to take the win

Evans and Vinokourov. I think.

This year the race makes an excursion into France to tackle the Galibier, before heading back across the border. It’s very exciting when a race heads over a climb you’ve ridden yourself, it emphasises the extreme difference between the amateur dilettante and the hardened Grand Tour rider.

From an anglophone perspective, this year’s race is all about Sir Bradley of Wigginshire. I imagine that the strategy will be Indurain-esque in its simplicity: limit the losses on the really steep stuff and then absolutely muller it in the time trials and everywhere else. It should make for amazing viewing.

Quick Change

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I spent most of yesterday afternoon watching the Worlds. Phillippe Gilbert’s late attack was an act of utmost savagery and incredible to watch. It was also brilliant to see Ian Stannard doing what Ian Stannard does best, ride like a rabid monster on the front, tearing the race to pieces. According to Wiggins, or possibly Millar, i forget who, there are occasions in the peloton where the pace goes through the roof and riders start wondering what the hell is going on, and why they are completely on the lam, and the answer is almost always one word: ‘Stannard’.

One of the more impressive and speediest things happened in the junior’s race. Watch closely.

http://vimeo.com/49997914#

Tour of Britain

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The Tour of Britain starts in a couple of weeks time. It promises to be an extended lap of honour for Lord Bradders of Wigginton, not to mention Sir Mark of Cavendish. I’m really excited; it’s the first one i’ll be able to actually watch since 2006. Time flies, and I can’t quite believe it’s been 6 years.

Martin Pederson won. Famous names in the top ten included Pozzato, Nuyens, Rogers, and a young Andy Schleck in 8th.

Mark Cavendish as a stagiare for T mobile, being interviewed prior to the Bradford stage start.

Nick Nuyens, classics winner

Brian Holm and Malcolm Elliott

rogers and vandevelde hanging out in Bradford

Milling around at the start is the best way to get up close to the riders and teams. This year i’ll be watching it from the top of Merrivale Hill on Dartmoor where i’ll be competing in a team hillclimb in the morning to celebrate the race coming through. The evening before i’m doing the Barnstaple town centre crits which herald the start of the next day’s stage from the sleepy North Devon borough.

It’s a great time to be a cyclist.

 

 

Etape De La Défoncé

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Adjective

défoncé m. (f. défoncée, m. plural défoncés, f. plural défoncées)

  1. (slang) fucked, wasted, high (on drugs)

Verb

défoncé m. (f défoncée, m plural défoncés, f plural défoncées)

  1. Past participle of défoncer

Yesterday was the final stage for two of the most important stage races in living memory. The Tour De France and the Etape De La Défoncé. Unfortunately i couldn’t ride both so i opted for the latter. I came home after the stage race to watch the former, and marvelled at Wiggins performing the leadout, giving it a flick of the elbow on the last corner of the Champs-Élysées, leaving Cav to power up the straight to take his 4th win in a row. Later on the podium, Wiggo unleashed another impeccably timed one-liner; “We’re just going to draw the raffle tickets now”.

Cav and Wiggo get ready for the Etape de la Defonce

Wiggo re-enacts his fist pump for the EDD crowd.

I’ve been utterly overwhelmed by this year’s Tour. There’s not an awful lot more to say. My Mother rang me to discuss Both Wiggo’s and Cav’s victories yesterday. My Mother-in-Law cites Bradley Wiggins as her new hero. Everyone at work is talking about it. It’s on the front cover of The Times as a special wraparound poster – there is nothing else apart from the spectacular sight of the yellow jersey in full flight.

astounding

Whilst the Etape De La Défoncé may not have seared itself into the collective consicousness of a nation in quite the same way, it has left an indelible impression on the psyche of the participating peloton. It’s a terrific race, but pretty tough on the legs. I felt much stronger yesterday and rode much more conservatively at the start, despite us defending a slim lead. I rode in the bunch and did everything i could to avoid expending any energy.

John forgoes the team talk in favour of a team ‘stare’ instead.

John was in yellow and having a great race, things were getting spicy when suddenly a car came across a roundabout and he swerved onto the raised lip, knocking his gears out and ending his race. One of the amazing things about racing in Wales is that the Marshalls and NEG have the power to stop traffic. This leads to all but closed roads. Occasionally someone squeaks onto the course and causes problems. The NEG do an amazing job.

the red and gold reflected in the glorious weekend sunshine

When it got to the first major climb the race just exploded; riders started going backwards. One of the Kingston Wheelers took it on from way out for the time bonus and it just went mental. I found a tempo and rode back across. For the first time in a road race i found myself overtaking lots of riders and holding my own right at the front of the peloton. I began to bridge across to the main group, riding cautiously on the descent before tacking back across again, meeting up with Tom Ilet who was having a terrific race in the red and gold. Christian also was hurting himself recklessly and doing damage to the bunch in the process. It was exciting. I then went for the little ring to spin over the top and ride on with the break. It didn’t quite work out, the chain unshipped and wedged between the seat stay and the chainring. I couldn’t flick it back on so had to stop. It took me ages to get it back on, by which time riders had come flooding past and the break had gone. I was left in a futile chase across the valley to try to get back on, but didn’t make it. Again, i thought i must have been a long way down, but there were big groups behind me on the road. I got in with one of them, but wasn’t quite on their rhythm so succeeded only in disrupting their smooth chaingang until i managed to get in sync. Then my chain came off AGAIN. And that was it, i came home further back.

Strada Cycles holding onto yellow… by one second

It was a missed opportunity really; i wouldn’t have won or anything, but i definitely could have ridden for/with Tom and Christian and held on at the front, there were a number of big climbs to go. Tom took 5th overall and Christian bagged points to move up to 3rd cat. Sam had a tasty crash, but luckily somersaulted into a soggy and grassy ditch, rather than the unforgiving tarmac.

I’ll have to go back next year, it’s a brilliant race and is amazingly well-organised by Will Pring and his team of volunteers. I went from the euphoria of the stage win, to the slough of despond that is getting dropped, then back to the giddy heights of mixing it up on the climbs and seeing other people go backwards, then back down again, before finishing on a high because of the camaraderie and support from all the riders in the race. Riding with the Strada chaps was a blast, they are gentlemen all.

It was an amazing weekend to be riding a stage race with a rider in yellow.

Maillot Jaune (Etape De La Defonce)

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It’s been a slightly insane day. I’ll work backwards. I’ve just finished watching the Tour and I am more than slightly overwhelmed by Bradley Wiggins’ Time Trial performance. I was also left gobsmacked by his amazing interview in French where he compared Francois Hollande to a chap from Big Brother. Apparently he’d promised to breakdance with Hollande if he won Le Tour.

La maillot jaune Bradley Wiggins s’est gentiment moqué d’un journaliste qui lui indiquait la présence du président de la République, François Hollande, à l’arrivée de l’étape à Brive, vendredi.

“Ah bon ? C’était lui ? Je ne savais pas qui c’était, je croyais que c’était quelqu’un de Loft Story…... Il est où maintenant pour que je fasse du break dance avec lui ? Vive la France ! a-t-il souri.

Whilst Britain’s latest national hero was scorching his way to history across the baked tarmac of Bonneval, I was involved in stage race in South Wales. It started off with a team time trial, then a 53 mile hilly road stage. I love team trials. They are beautiful. Tomorrow is a 45 mile very hilly road stage. I’m riding for Strada Cycles Road Team, even though there is a BSCC outfit in the race. It’s a long story, but all’s fine and i haven’t yet been banished into the outer regions of the Severn Road Club for my rank turncoatery.

Bedminster’s answer to Froome and Wiggins

The plan was (John has lots of plans, this much i learnt today) to try and take the yellow jersey in the TTT and then defend it in the road race stage. John’s plan kind of worked, insofar as NOTHING went according to plan, but we managed to take the yellow jersey and defended it (in the loosest sense of the word) in the road race stage.

Le Maillot Jaune! Sacre Merde!

The TTT was about 7.3 miles. We managed 16.20. I’m not sure what the average speed was. I do know that at the turn John went the wrong way and had to do a complicated volte-face to get back and then we sat up a bit whilst he buried himself to make up the 50 metres. It was quite entertaining. We still managed to beat the next best team by 27 seconds which gave us a decent cushion for the road stage, especially considering the 20 second time bonus on one of the primes. Which brings me on to the road stage…

There was a prime at 3 miles. Immediately after this a break got away and we were left with chasing duties. I spent about ten miles on the front with Matt trying to get it back and it really hurt, and in short, it destroyed me. I started going backwards on the climbs. This happens to often to me in road races, i’ve yet to figure out why or how, it’s another post i suspect, with lots of navel-gazing and speculative nonsense, but i imagine it will throw up the incisive insight that a hillclimb is a time trial. I am good at time trials. A climb in a road race is not a hillclimb. I am not particularly good at road races. QED.

At one point we were working to chase down the break, doing a lot of through and off and really driving the pace. Whilst this hurt a lot, and i found the gaps getting steadily bigger, it was also a highlight of the race. As the wind changed direction the movement of the paceline switched and we changed on the inside. It was fascinating.

I started to yoyo off the back. It’s really hard. You can only get back on so many times. Whenever there’s a lull you plead for respite, but it soon picks up again. Eventually, after about 45 miles, and 8 miles from the finish, the elastic snapped. This wasn’t altogether unexpected, i had a feeling my endurance would let me down due to the lack of training. It’s a bum deal, but as i mentioned previously, the twin alignments of work and weather scuppered my build-up. I waved goodbye to the bunch, metaphorically, and locked into a battle for survival just to make it up the last 8 miles.

There was one chastening section; the race heads out to roundabout and then back up to the finish. I had to witness the break heading back. It was the cycling equivalent of the walk of shame. In the end, John held onto the jersey by ONE SECOND. This is great news. It’s also awful news because it means we have to go out and do the whole thing again. The only silver lining is i’m about 2 hours down on the GC so everyone will leave me alone. I don’t think my legs will be in attendance. I don’t like to compare myself to Jens Voigt, but i felt a certain empathy with his latest utterly genius pronouncement about the Tour. I don’t like to compare a 53 mile road race stage and 7 mile time trial around Cowbridge with 3000km through France either, but what the hell.

http://www.itv.com/tourdefrance/news/cult-cycling-hero-jens-voigt-talks-to-ned-boulting/

Every cell of my body was screaming at me: ‘Stop, stop, I’m tired.’ I could hear them all, millions of little cells yelling in agony: ‘Jens, stop, I can’t do it anymore!’

Bike Booms, Bradley Wiggins, British Cycling and Will Fotheringham

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In the previous post i wrote about the current high watermark in British Cycling and the exponential growth in public interest and participation. I suspect further British success will elevate cycling even higher in the collective consciousness.

Today I gave a gallery talk at MShed alongside the Easton Cowboys, a fantastically anarchic football collective. We ranged across a range of topics and the comparisons and contrasts between the two clubs were fascinating. Eventually the conversation came round to the tour and I got the odd feeling that most of the people there knew not just who Bradley Wiggins was, but also Chris Froome. It was slightly surreal. They also had developed a working knowledge of the reasons why Froome sat up when he apparently had the stage victory in his grasp.

Bradley Wiggins is emblazoned across the front page of the Guardian Weekend Sports pages, ahead of the not-racist at all John Terry. Will Fotheringham has also written an excellent article on the Guardian website looking at the rise in British Cycling in depth. It’s well worth a read. The only thing he’s missed out is the effect of the cycle to work scheme which is a key part of the resurgence in cycling. He does make this link in his concise article in Cyclopedia though.

The below-the-line comments seem to be the usual mix of militantly out-there advocacy and statistical madness. There is a common thread though, the need for some kind of change in culture in terms of both driving and town planning. Maybe this will be the next step.

Wiggins et Froome, Ooh La La, Parfait.

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I had a race today; my first open event for what seems like yonks. It was the Severn Road Club open 10 mile time trial. As such it was a close second to another race going on in somewhere in southern France. I imposed a spoiler lockdown, avoiding all tweets and inadvertent checking of any internet site that might have a banner or link to the results. At one point at the HQ a chap began talking about the stage and a couple of riders gave him a damn good shhhshing. I managed to watch the stage this evening with the wife. She was very excited by the cycling and knows her onions, commenting on Hesjedal’s untimely exit, amongst other tactical nuggets. It was brilliant to watch and genuinely exciting to see British Cycling, and Wiggins and Froome, elevated to such lofty heights. Froome’s late attack was staggering, his spindly, sinewy frame overcoming the gradient and the other riders with comparative ease. Normally i delete the stage after watching it but i’ve stored this on Tivo for repeated bongo sessions. The Tour is always exciting, but the added dimension of having a British rider at the sharp end of the race in a dominant team makes it completely engrossing. Froome is in polka dots, Wiggins in yellow. Cripes.

Meanwhile, on a main road somewhere in Gloucestershire, i got reacquainted with the Graveyard. I rode out, it’s about 22 miles or so, at a fairly brisk pace. The wind was swirling around and it was pretty damp, but it felt like a crosswind which is usually best for for the U7B (in the absence of float). I rode to the turn slower than the norm, around 27mph, and after the turn didn’t feel the sudden kick in the face from the typical headwind. After the climbs i picked up the pace and finished with a 21.15. This is a PB by about 2 seconds, which i’ll take, and it was enough for the win with the second placed rider about 30 seconds back. I then rode home. Despite the slightly hairy conditions, the most dangerous bit of the day was riding a full TT whip with aerobongo gear all the way down the Gloucester Road at 6.30pm. It garnered some funny looks. I felt a bit like i was on a stag do. Average speed for the race was 28.3mph, average speed for the whole 52 miles was 23mph.

It’s my 3rd open win of the season and i’m very pleased. Three is the magic number.

Paris Nice: Col D’Eze

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i spent most of yesterday afternoon trying to avoid spoilers, but failed spectacularly because i accessed the limitless power of the internet. anyway, if you haven’t seen it yet, Wiggins won with an awe-inspiring display of uphill time trialling, if that doesn’t sound too euphemistic. the interesting thing is that it’s a hill climb of sorts. they really should have more uphill time trials on the continent; they had one on alpe d’huez a few years back. it’s a world of short TT extensions, confusion over what to ride, and a weight limit of 6.8kg on the bikes. it’s hard to even imagine what’s going through the riders’ minds in the video below. the crowd is oppressive and overwhelming. armstrong has his cap on backwards like a true hillclimber. his speed is unreal.

On the Col D’Eze Wiggins was turning over the gear remorselessly. it’s a really astounding sight. He’s the first British winner since Tommy Simpson in 1967 and is staking a claim to being one of the greatest riders this island has ever produced.

When i first started getting into cycling i remember watching the tour and trying to see how Max Sciandri was doing, a half-italian, half british rider, or whether Robert Millar still had the legs (his powers were on the wane).  this year we’ve got one of the world’s pre-eminent stage racers, the world champion and a stack of gifted riders across several teams. it’s hard to believe just how much british cycling has changed, but if you want a point of comparison i recommend ‘wide eyed and legless’, by Jeff Connor. It describes the problems faced by the ANC Halfords team in the 1987 tour. it’s a fantastic book.

 

25.4 Miles, quickly

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my form seems to be holding over the season quite well, i’m sure it’s luck rather than judgement. yesterday was the Severn Road Club “10″ on the u7b, one of the world’s slowest “10″ courses. there were a few BSCC riders on the startsheet, it’s a trophy event for the club. I managed 2nd place, my best placing yet in an open 10, with 21.51 – which happens to be 15 seconds slower than my time for the midweek about 14 days ago, although the conditions were not that favourable. i bagged the cup though. it’s in honour of Les Cattell, who went under the hour for a 25 in 1949. probably on an 84″.

this morning i clipped a further 45 seconds from my 25 PB, with a 53.01. i would have liked to have found the extra 2 seconds somewhere to bag a 52, but can’t complain. alec managed a 52.58, which is pretty impressive, especially without a disc wheel. i noticed he has crossed to the dark side and started shaving his legs though (not that i was looking at his legs, i hasten to add), i attribute this to him dabbling in the back-stabby world of road racing, with its surreptitious double-dealing and gentleman’s handshakes, where the fastest and fittest doesn’t necessarily win, but the most cunning and the stealthiest, the one who reads the game of poker best and chooses the right moment to bluff and when to front it out. meanwhile, back in the race of truth, he went deep and put in a brilliant performance.

my approach today was to pretty much floor it all the way, apart from the nasty middle section where there is an epic long draggy bit that slaps you in the face a few times, but not with real venom. on the way back from the turn i was absolutely flying along, as quick as i’ve been in this sort of race, holding 32+mph for a good few miles. it was exhilarating. the last bit, especially the drag up the sliproad, was hideous, i thought i’d done enough to just get under the minute, but it was not to be. i take some consolation that on a regular 25 it would be well beneath, maybe even 40 seconds less. I am also pleased with the new PB.

elsewhere in the wonderful and frightening world of cycling, today has been a seriously crashy TdF stage with flecha and hoogerland totalled by a TV car. one minute hoogerland was contemplating the stage win and polka dot jersey, the next he was wrapped around a wire fence. the first week has been more like a castle combe 4th cat crit than the apotheosis of professional bike racing.

Motor-Pace Race

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the weekend’s jaunt to Manchester velodrome, and especially the derny race, got me thinking about a more esoteric form of motor-pacing; the aptly named ‘motor-pace race’, it’s a real rarity in this day and age, and needs the longer sweep of the 400 metre outdoor tracks for it to work. it’s a matter of scale, as you can see below:

traditionally it forms a showstopping part of the good friday meeting at Herne Hill. The velodrome in South London was built in 1891, and is the oldest olympic venue still in regular use; the Good Friday meeting has been taking place since 1903 and is an amazing event. Over the years it has hosted pretty much every track cyclist of any repute. Fausto Coppi rode there, as did Tommy Simpson, Reg Harris, Hugh Porter, Bradley Wiggins, Tylar Farrar, Ross Edgar. In short, everyone. I last went in 2007, which was the last genuinely clear day, it’s been beset by inclement weather ever since and has moved to manchester this year.

The staggering sight of several 750cc Tiger motorbikes powering round the bends with riders perched on the oddest looking bikes imaginable, is something to behold. it’s anachronistic, and amazing. i took these pictures at the time:

the rider steers close to the extended roller, and holds the slipstream from the motorbike rider, who is stood upright to clear the wind resistance. as a result, they can attain speeds in excess of 40 mile per hour. if he loses the roller, and the slipstream, he won’t get back on.

the bikes are pretty obscure – they are called ‘stayers’, and have some very odd foibles.

if you look carefully, it’s got a chainring the size of a cartwheel, usually around a 66 tooth, with the rear sprocket probably around a 16t. this gives a gear inch of about 110″, which is absolutely huge. the forks are reversed and the front wheel is a 24″. the saddle pushes forward and the bars extend quite far, with a thin metal support running from the fork crown. as i mentioned, it’s esoteric. and amazing. the roar of the bikes as the race unfolds challenges the notion of what bicycling is all about, in the best possible way. it’s something every keen cyclist should see at least once in their lifetime.