France encore

Well you may or may not have noticed that I didn’t write a blog last week, if you did then well done, if you didn’t then you aren’t paying enough attention. Anyway I decided to take a rest week for various reasons, mainly because there wasn’t much to write about. After my nationals race I planned to take a rest week, so what did I do? Went out training, that’s what. Mainly due to boredom and having nothing else to do, I ended up doing quite a lot when the weather was nice although nothing too intense. But on the weekend my relaxation began, first with some drinking of my favourite alcoholic beverage in the world, Bathams, with some friends. Then on the Saturday evening it was down to my auntie and uncles, who were having a big 25^th wedding anniversary party....with a free bar. The best ale on tap was Spitfire, so many a pint of this was drunk to while the night away, many awesome dances took place and much buffet food was stuffed down.

On returning home I didn’t ride much due to bad weather and getting ready to go back, although I managed to sneak in a quick couple of hours. Unfortunately on the day I returned back to France our dog, Poppy, had to be let go after a tumour was found on her liver. This hit all of us pretty hard, and so it should have as we had all grown up with her around. It made my departure even more depressing although my family knew they’d be seeing me again soon when they come to visit for a couple of weeks later on in the month. We got back without a hitch and the weather was instantly blazing, be it only for a day. The next day we went out for a leg loosener which was great for the first half, but as the ride progressed we found ourselves moving the direction of a rather large, rather dark cloud. This happily dumped its contents on us all in one go with some pretty big rain drops. Fortunately it was still pretty warm and the rain was actually rather refreshing. We then got a nice longer ride in with a nice big hill to prepare for our first race back on Bastille Day.

This race was to be a particularly hilly affair with two climbs of 5km plus. Obviously being a climber, (6’4”(possibly more now I haven’t measured myself for a while)) I didn’t mind (that’s a joke by the way, although you might not have realised because I broke the sentence up so much with other sentences in brackets.). After not having raced for two weeks, I really didn’t know what to expect. I had done that training after the nationals, but however hard you go, training isn’t racing. I also felt like I was in a bit of a trough during the rides previous, I felt fit but not fast.

But during the first part of the race I felt good, I sat in until it went uphill and was able to follow the accelerations on the smaller earlier hill closing gaps that had been left with a smile on my face. I followed a few moves and went on my own a couple of times but nothing came of it. We then got towards the first big climb of the day, it rose steadily for a long time and here a few attacks were made that caused my legs to hurt. It turned onto the main climb and I was ok and near the front although my legs were beginning to hurt. I seem to have a problem with hills where I can’t see the top while racing, I lose my will to hurt myself more as I know it will just lead to even more pain. This is something that hit me again going up the climb and I started to slip backwards, the trend continued until about 1km from the top where a group caught me and let me stay on the front. Just before the top I put in an effort to get the speed going again to try and start catching everyone else and ended jumping away, catching the lead group with some others including Tom about 5km before the chase group. Going backwards made me start to doubt what I had in the tank, I held in easily enough but things were starting to hot up and I was beginning to cool down.

We then got onto the 2^nd big climb which wasn’t too steep at all for the first few kilometres, but it was steep enough. Immediately some attacks came and I managed to hold onto the initial ones but was too far back if things really decided to kick off. When they did I realised I was too far back and was one of the last to miss the front group, but my legs thanked me for it. I was one of the best going up the climbs in the chase group which doesn’t count for anything, but I felt that with some racing in my legs I should have stayed with the front group. We ended up taking it easy to the finish, where put in an effort at the front. I wouldn’t have called it a sprint as I never got out the saddle, I just got slowly faster although I forgot where the finish was a lost a couple of even more minor placings, not that it really mattered at this point. So it turned out I couldn’t rob the French of another win on quatorze juillet, but one of the guys from the team managed to get 2^nd so my poor turnout was largely ignored, luckily.Next Friday evening we have a local crit, very local

in fact, it’s in Haguenau. So the team will be very motivated for the win, in fact I’m sure that if we don’t win they’ll be a few words for us all afterwards...good times.

Until next time,

До Встречи

Obituary to Poppy (affectionately known as “poppydog”)

So you can know why she was the greatest.

Poppy was first picked up from a rescue home back in early 2000, she was chosen because she was the only one that rolled over when my family went to stroke her. They named her while driving past a field full of poppies. For me she was a surprise as I was away on a school trip to Germany. She was a wired haired terrier and quite small.

At first all she wanted to do was run away and, as we later learned, eat other animals. It was because of this that all walks were to be taken in the dead of night or in remote locations. Despite this she had a great temperament around people with a great personality that everyone enjoyed. She liked playing tug of war with her toys, which unless were indestructible, she usually chewed up into small pieces. During these tug of war games she would hold on for all she was worth and you could lift her off the ground and swing her round she was so determined. She also enjoyed sitting on the upstairs window ledge and barking at any dog that came past in what was my brothers, then mine and what is now my younger brother’s room.

One of her less appreciated habits was relieving herself on the same piece of carpet, but her brown eyes stopped you from holding any grudges. She grew up with all four of the Carr children and was there when I decided to start cycling at the age of 16. Many of the riders in and around the west midlands will have seen her there with my dad during my races wandering round. She has done the occasional lap of Darley Moor and Castle Combe (quite a distance).

On 99.9% of her walks she was taken by my dad who occasionally complained that no one else wanted to do it, but secretly I think he enjoyed the exercise he took with poppy.

In her later life she got a bit slower and she couldn’t jump and catch birds anymore, she also appreciated sleep more especially after an epic walk and it was nice to watch her relax.

She was always there waiting for some fuss, never holding grudges and never passing judgement.

Unfortunately all great things must come to an end and on the 9/7/08 after over a week of being very ill, during intrusive surgery the vets found a huge tumour on her liver and took the decision she would be more comfortable staying asleep.

She leaves behind one very sad family, an assortment of chewed up toys and many fond memories.

Rest in Peace Poppydog, you will be sorely missed.

Pictures of poppy

The Nationals

After catching up with everyone back in the UK I was soon racing again as the days seemed to go quicker. I decided to partake in my local road race league on the Thursdays night to get myself warmed up for the weekend’s national road race. Unfortunately it was quite cold and decidedly wet when we got there but I decided to forge ahead and race. The South Staffs and Shropshire Road Race League (SSSCRRL) is great handicap race series that I’ve done all three seasons I’ve raced for and is great for beginners looking to start up racing, to seasoned pro’s who want a bit of training. On this particular evening there weren’t many of the big boys riding as they were either put off by the weather or up north doing the Otley Criterium. This suited me fine and I ended up a happy winner of the short race, taking full advantage of finishing on my own by pulling off a hardcore victory salute. The win was satisfying and gave me a little bit of confidence for the big challenge of the weekend and what a challenge it would be.

We drove down on the Friday evening and I stopped with my brother who lives York while my parents stayed in a B&B. On the Saturday I met up with Tom to ride the two circuits the race would incorporate. They were grim, constantly up and down sapping the legs with the wind always taking its toll. I had visions of riders in small groups grovelling round in the hope of finishing after riding round both the circuits and wasn’t looking forward to the next day...especially as my legs hurt and I hadn’t even started racing yet. I watched the women go through for their first lap and then headed back to rest and eat. We couldn’t decide what to eat as no one could be bothered to prepare anything, so we ended up ordering Chinese take away. Not Ideal to prepare for a 200km race the next day but certainly tasty. I ate as much fried rice and soft noodles as I could in the hope that they might at least have a few carbohydrates in them, if they didn’t, I also enjoyed the chopped chilli beef and chicken and the sample of chicken chow mein.

The next day was the race I had come back to do, the national champs, I was looking forward to riding with the well known pro’s but dreading the pain I knew I would have to experience in order to keep up with them for anything like a respectable time. I was planning to try and finish and in order to do this I would have to save as much energy as possible and sit-in to the max not showing my face at the front once. At the start it was strange seeing all the riders I had read so much about over the past few years, David Millar, Mark Cavendish, Roger Hammond and Jeremy Hunt to name a few. I felt pretty small, but caught up with a few riders I hadn’t seen for a while on the ride to Duncombe Park. The weather was initially pretty chilly but by the start wasn’t too bad and I was hoping it would hold out like this so the day wouldn’t be made any worse, if that was at all possible. We were soon off and away racing and I was happily sticking to the plan of sitting in for all I was worth. I watched small groups chip off the front that were instantly brought back by a big attack by one of the well known riders. This happened many times as we moved onto the first of the two circuits and I was well positioned to see all of it being in and around the front (one of the things I’ve learned from racing in France is how to ride in 120+ riders bunches).

The circuits seemed a lot easier sat in the large fast moving bunch and I was starting to get a little excited by being next to the big names. I started to get involved in some of the moves, following the occasionally counter but never initiating my own attack. I started to think that maybe what I was doing wasn’t going to help me in the long run but I couldn’t help myself. Then, after the first lull in pace for a while I followed a soft move by Jonny McEvoy, thinking that I might as well make the effort to go now as I would have to make it later if I didn’t...It was the start of a long day. We ended up getting something of a gap and looked at each other deciding just to take it easy as the two of us weren’t going to ride away any time soon. We kept going for a couple of miles until we got to the sharp climb lined by spectators, here Tom Southam (twice second in this very race) caught us and we started to ride a little quicker. The bunch obviously weren’t interested and we quickly opened up a 50 second gap on them. We caught and dropped Ian Wilkinson who had already been away and had a terribly pained look on his face. After a lap of freedom we were finally caught by a small group that had come across including Matt Stephens (a former winner) and Ben Greenwood (former U23 winner). This added some much needed fire power and the pace instantly lifted to something verging on painful, although we struggled to get organised. Then, a few miles later, Rob Hayles (Olympic medallist) rode past...hmmmm...where’d he come from. A few moments later, Dean Downing (Legend) rode past...oh dear. Following him was Dan Lloyd (second last year)...s*%t. As well as these were Peter Kennaugh (junior winner last year) and Kieran Page (Pezula Pro)... things just got a lot more painful.

After the initial shock of realising exactly who I was riding with we started to get down to some proper riding...this proved to be hard. The through and off we were doing was steady but fast, a pace you can just about hold on the limit of comfortable. But this was interspersed with lots of short sharp hills that made things even harder. Luckily I could cope with it and started to get time checks...we were pulling away from the bunch. By this point we moved onto the second circuit, this had two long drags that occasionally got steeper and were particularly hard, but we were still pulling away and at one point had just under four minutes on the peloton. It also had a couple of fast downhill sections that me and Tom had joked about the speed Rob Hayles would be powering along them the following day. Well now I was there on Rob Hayles’ wheel and Jesus did he go fast! I was hoping the downhill would give me a few moments of very necessary respite, but no, this wasn’t the case. He must have been powering along at near on 50 mph as I was looking for more gears to push before realising I was already in 53x11. It hurt so much; Dan Lloyd had to push me so I held the wheel. Dean Downing then rode past jovially laughing “He loves it doesn’t he!” How was he laughing?! I was nearly in tears! We continued to tap through and off round this circuit of which we were meant to do 4 laps, but things were starting to get painful. I was struggling to do my turns up the hills and going 100% at times to close small gaps, we were getting towards the 100 mile mark, the longest race distance I’ve done, I’d been away for nearly 75 miles and the turd was about to hit the fan.

The first attacks started on the flat section just before the smaller drag on the 3^rd of 4 laps, the pace was furious as I watched the front riders making it so much harder. I was holding it for a while but about 2 metres off the wheel before finally getting back. Then it went again, things got tough, a gap was left somewhere and suddenly four of us had been gapped. I knew it was going to happen sometime or other, but it’s always disappointing when it does. Three of us carried on riding a little bit but we quickly lost time and were eventually caught by the bunch being led by David Millar. I rode in here for a little bit, but I was in serious trouble. As soon as we got to the main long drag I went out the back of the front peloton, crawled my way through the feed zone probably looking like a commuter riding up Alpe d’huez, was caught by the second peloton, immediately went out the back of this group and settled riding with a few people happy to just to get to the HQ.

By this point it had started to rain and any thoughts I had of attempting to finish were literally washed away. I met my parents driving the opposite direction, got in, drove back to the HQ, showered and waited for some results. It turned out that 5 of the break had managed to stay away, with Rob Hayles taking the win. The rest of the original break had popped the next time round and apparently gone backwards in a not to dissimilar way to me.

At the finish I was pleased that I had got in the Dominating break of the day, but even though I knew I had given it 100% and couldn’t have done much, if any, more, I still felt a pang of disappointment when I heard some of the break had stayed away for the win. But there aren’t many riders that can say that they’ve held a three and a half minute gap over a peloton including David Millar, Roger Hammond, Mark Cavendish, Jeremy Hunt and Ian Stannard amongst others. I can be pleased to look back on that.

Until next time,

Hyvästi

Back in Blighty

I’m writing this to you from the sunny West Midlands back in Blighty. After four and a half months of living and racing in France I’ve returned for a break... well I say break, I’ve come back to race the National Road Race Championships which is 204km with a field of many pro’s. To me, 204km seems a little excessive for a field made up of many Espoirs; 160km would suffice even for the seniors. I’m trying to imagine getting to 100 miles and, depending on how fast I’m going, still have at least another hour to go. Oh well, at least there’s a race to do. Back in France leading up to coming back me and Tom were trying to ration the food so that we ate just enough to leave as little as possible before we came over. It involved much planning on the meal front especially meats which could go mouldy and potentially have fatal results. Luckily, using our combined wits (mostly mine) we were able to pull it off, be it with rather a small breakfast on the day of leaving.

Even though we were planning to leave, we still had a race to do on the Saturday. It was a semi-local crit and we were finally sending a strong squad to a smaller race for the first time in a while. There were six of us from the team and we were by far and away the strongest outfit there so I was looking forward to ruling the race. The course was a little under a kilometre and we were going to be doing an hour and fourty five minutes worth of racing with 10 laps after that, a bit of a merry-go-round only with panting lycra clad men rather than lavishly painted plastic horses. The start was fast and I was at the back as my own team put in the effort to initiate the initial moves. After a few laps I managed to move up though and start to think about getting involved. At about this point a spoke popped in my front wheel and I was at the start getting a roué avant. The laps were so short I had to take two laps out, well I think I had to, if I didn’t then I took two anyway. Anyway I got back into the race without much fuss and moved my way back up to the front. By this time we had a guy up the road on his own and the rest of us were sitting on any attacks that went. We did this for many a lap until the time eventually started to come down, at this point we got the word we were to attack to try and get across. After a particularly hard few laps followed by a prime lap I put in an effort and quickly got a gap which I held for a few laps off the front. Unfortunately the circuit was particularly bumpy and I struggled to get any kind of rhythm going and so after my few laps of freedom I was reeled in. The team put some counter attacks in and eventually there were six away with three of us, domination...or it should have been. Being back in the bunch the three of us shut down the race jumping anything that moved and eventually just about everyone gave up and we came into the bunch sprint finishing in about 8^th position and about 14^th overall. I rolled round on my recovery lap and got to the finish to see the DS having a go at one of the riders, it wasn’t good news. Apparently the break had split in two with only one of our guys up front, the resident none sprinter Mathieu. He had duly finished 2^nd in a race that we should have owned easily, but sometimes that’s how it goes, it was a frosty drive back anyway.

The next day we weren’t expecting to race but at 8.30 we got the call that we had a race to do. There were a few problems with this, firstly the race the day before had been a nocturne which had finished at 10 in the evening and we eventually got back at 1 in the morning, also it was the day before we were leaving to go back and certain things needed packing, also due to our rationing of food we didn’t have much food for breakfast and getting ready. So, after a short discussion, we decided it wouldn’t be practical to race. At this point in the week the weather had reached its highest temperature so far, with Strasbourg getting to 34 degrees. Consequently we didn’t wear much during the day and I took three showers in the space of twelve hours. With the excitement of going home, and early start and the excessive heat we both struggled to get to sleep that night. I just lay on my bed sweating, occasionally getting up to watch the lightening from the passing storm. With about 20 minutes worth of dozing we got up at 3.30 to begin our journey home. The drive and flight went swimmingly except for the plane being hijacked by terrorists and taking a detour to Moscow. Once we got back to England I said goodbye to Tom who I would be seeing in a week’s time and began my train journey home. This involved 2 changes and with a big bike box and large suitcase, I was lucky it wasn’t busy; also I had a painful arm by the end of it. But after a few hundred miles and a large bout of tiredness I returned home to be greeted by a large meal made by my gran, yummy.

Next weekend the Champs, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, for now I’ll just enjoy being able to completely understand the conversation and the tele.

Until the next time,

Laters.

Cathederals anyone?

Not much happened in the week last week as we took it easy leading up to another stage race the Tour d’Eure et Loir. But I thought I’d let you know about a game me and Tom play when we go shopping. When we get to the checkout we each have to guess an exact price for the shopping without adding up or anything, closest wins. It’s pretty tense for a few moments as the till lady scans through the last items and we wait nervously for the final total. Sometimes we’re miles out but other times pretty close. I’ve been the closest so far guessing just two cents from the actual price, what an achievement. Anyway, next time there’s two of you doing the shopping why not give it a try. If you’re on your own I wouldn’t as you will just luck weird, anyway on with talking about cycling.

Our journey begins on the noon of the Thursday, as eight of us gathered (six riders, one Director Sportif and one Mechanic) to begin our journey to the department of L’Eure et Loir. Here we were to partake in a three day stage race taking in all the best bits of the department in our Federal Espoirs only race. The journey was long (6 hours) and treacherous (I was awoken by a speed bump) but finally we made it to our loggings for the weekend. After a quick ride around and a hearty meal of pasta with an indistinguishable meat (it tasted something like chicken) we settled ourselves down to look forward to the next day’s upcoming stage. The time soon came for the mornings debrief, but this morning I was determined that my briefs were staying on (If you haven’t seen Garth Marenghis Dark Place, I recommend you do, hilarious). We were told the course was flat with a few little bumps but nothing major to worry about, make sure we were in every move etc etc, the usual spiel. The race was a pretty big occasion and started in what looked like the very nice city of Chartres. I didn’t get to see much of it though and we were soon lining up at the start and rolling out for the neutralised section. The date was Friday 13^th and I got my small dose of bad luck at about now. I was casually taking a sip from my bottle while the people in front suddenly slowed, I didn’t have time to put my bottle away and use my more powerful front brake so I just had to ride into the back of them. How I didn’t come off is a small miracle but I smacked my spokes into the back of some guys’ bike and slightly buckled the wheel.

The stage was 158km as well as the 9km of neutralised and fast. In fact we did about 46km in the first hour and I didn’t even notice it. I moved up to the front when it started to line out and got in the first break of the day. Unfortunately the roads where too fast for it to stay away and after about 10km we were reeled in. I moved up again after some sitting in and the roads started to go up sharply, then down, then up again. It certainly wasn’t flat. Coming into possibly the hardest hill I followed an attack by the favourite, Fabien Taillefer and he wasn’t messing about. We quickly caught a small group that was up the road but it had hurt...then we hit the hill. The pace exploded and I quickly regretted chasing the move, so much so that I decided to go to the back and watch the break of the day ride away...Oh well. Luckily we had two riders in it so we had a nice easy ride to the finish. End of stage one, eat, sleep, recover.

The second day started early as it was to contain two stages, a 90km road stage with a 16.7km time trial. This time the road stage was flat...pan flat. So flat in fact that everyone decided that they would be able to get away and ride everyone off their wheel. Because of this we didn’t go 10 seconds without an attack being made and that is no exaggeration. In fact, I think there was a small let up in pace for 20 seconds and then everyone looked at each other and started attacking again. I followed a few moves but never made one of my own, nothing was sticking, and so bunch sprint it was. This was the first time I was involved in a mass bunch sprint for the win and boy was it hairy. I decided to try and place myself up there and see what I could do but I was pretty hopeless. I always watched the races on Tele where Fassa Bortolo (now Milram) would get on the front and line it out and wondered why riders didn’t move up, surely they were strong enough...but now I know why. CC Nogent put their “train” on the front and trying to move up suddenly became very hard. Moving out into the headwind at 50kmph hurt the legs somewhat so I did it as sparingly as possibly, alas it wasn’t to be. I gave up with 500 metres to go with enough time to watch the winner give his victory salute from 40^th place; Tom managed a great 11^th with his bunch sprinting skills.

Then came the time trial, something I had been looking forward to. The team had leant me a TT bike (I say TT, it was a 10 year old road frame with TT bars) and a disk wheel to use and I was hoping to put in a good effort. What happened though wasn’t how I had foreseen it; in fact the only way to show what happened best is by using a time line:

(My start time: 16:40)
14:10: arrived at the start, pinned on numbers, relaxed.
15:35: changed into kit and went to ride my bike to test everything was in order, which it was.
15:45: relaxed for a little longer.
15:55: put my skinsuit and other additional extras I use for time trialling
16:00: waited for my turn on the turbo to warm up.
16:10: got on the turbo to warm up
16:30: got off the turbo for the mechanic to put the wheel in. (this is when things started to go wrong)
16:31: mechanic notices that my cable outer at the rear derailleur is slightly frayed and declares that it won’t work (even though I’ve just been using it for 20 minutes)
16:32: mechanic starts to panic but finds a new cable outer.
16:34: mechanic proceeds to take the cable out of the outer and tries to replace it only to find the end of the cable is frayed and he cannot thread the cable.
16:36: mechanic goes to find a new cable but then realises it will take too long to change it.
16:37: mechanic takes the disk wheel out of the TT bike and hastily puts it into my road bike...Great.
16:37.30: I leave to get to the start.
16:38.45: I arrive at the start ramp much to the distress of all the officials who shout at me to get ready immediately.
16:39.00: I get on the ramp just as my minute man is leaving.
16:40.00: c’est partie

But this wasn’t it, oh no, as soon as I went down the ramp the following car started using it’s horn to try and encourage me. Usually I wouldn’t mind such capers, but unfortunately I was already so wound up after my bike fiasco I just couldn’t take it. I started to shout as loud as I could even though I knew they couldn’t hear me, I looked around a couple of times to try and make them stop. In the end I turned right around flicked them the V’s and this shut them up, finally. Then my back wheel started to make a screeching noise, like it was rubbing against the frame. I looked down trying to find the route of the problem and even took the quick release off my brake to see if that helped. It got louder and louder and I was certain the tubular was about to explode. It didn’t and I soldiered on, but by this time the damage was done, I couldn’t even remember how slow I’d gone I was too busy concentrating on other things apart from riding. It was only when we received the results when I found this out, I was disappointed to say the least, but by the next morning I was over it. I’m not one to dwell.

The last stage was 153km with 7km of neutralised and once again fast. I sat in for the first 100km until it started to go up and down where I moved towards the front. Bizarrely we were stopped by a train at one point and I was surprised by how many people needed to stop to relieve themselves including me. Coming into the first of a series of sharp hills I followed a hard move by Fabien Taillefer and Pierre Luc-Perichon (If you don’t know these names now, give it a couple of years and I’m sure you will) and when I say hard I mean hard. Only 15 riders were able to follow him including all the favourites and me and Tom. I put in one of those efforts you only make once in a race to stay with them and at one point I was sure I was losing some vision. Fortunately I stayed with them, unfortunately, because it was all the favourites no one wanted to ride... I simply couldn’t... and we were caught after about 15km of being away. We rode to the finish 1 minute 40 behind the break; Taillefer lost the overall possibly due to the stopping by the train as the break weren’t halted.

There we have it, another stage race finish. I was bitterly disappointed by my time trial, it wrecked my race, but happy I was able to go with it when it really got tough on the last stage. Next week, two smaller races and then I am flying back to Blighty to prepare for the National Chumps... I mean Champs.

Until next time,

Do zobaczenia

Champions de Alsace, mais pas moi.

After last Sunday’s disappointment of a race I decided I needed something to look forward to. So I went down the local music shop and purchased a nice blue acoustic guitar for the meagre sum of 119€. So for the past week I’ve happily been strumming away using my limited talent on the instrument, playing for pleasure rather than to actually sound good... I was better on the clarinet (grade 5 thank you very much). Tom is trying to learn as well, so far I’ve taught him the opening 4 chords to Oasis’ Wonderwall and he’s worked out the first few (and most important) notes to Layla by Eric Clapton. But let’s bear in mind the people playing the actual songs have been playing for a long long time. Tom on the other hand has been playing for just under a week, so you can imagine the difference in playing ability, never mind, (a lot of) practise makes perfect. The week was once again sunny and we got a couple of good long rides in, one being with half the team on the Wednesday. On this ride we went up a nice big hill about half way through and the resident climber in the team, Mathieu, decided to stretch his legs. Now usually I am quite sceptical about people who label themselves as climbers, I mean, in England the races are never hilly enough to make a difference and it’s always the strong riders that ride away at the finish. These are the same riders that win the time trials and more often than not, the sprints, basically, better riders. Mathieu on the other hand, is a climber. You measure how much form you have by how much he drops you on a climb; if you can hold him for 25 metres you are going very well. On this particular hill I was going quite well as I held his wheel for the first 200 metres.... then he got out of the saddle (and started breathing). I pretty much went 100% just to see him ride away from me when it got steep, luckily it flattened out a little and I big ringed it back up to him (after he’d eased off). He’s a very strong rider and should have easily won a race this year by now, but bad tactics and his unwillingness to sprint have meant otherwise.

The weekend consisted of two races for us, one being a nocturne crit on the Friday evening and the other a race in Germany because all the French regional championships were taking place in which foreigners are not allowed to compete, darn. The Friday night crit turned out to be a “Criterium Nationale”, in other words an Elite National level criterium and the riders there were pretty crème de la crème. They included Steve (a proper French name) Chainel, local pro for Auber 93 and recent winner of the Circuit de Lorraine, Mathieu Simon, UV Aube legend and Gwenal Rouzet, winner of several of my races. I had my work cut out to say the least. The weather wasn’t particularly favourable with constant drizzle and cool air being in the heart of the Vosges Mountains and the race ended up being shortened due to the deteriorating conditions. Anyway, enough of the build up, We got under way nice and fast as you would imagine and it took me a while to move up to the front as I started right at the back. Once this was achieved I wasn’t sure where to go; I followed a few moves and even made one when I thought it was hard but nothing too serious, when would the race deciding move be made?

I found out soon enough although I struggle to remember now. Somehow Steve Chainel and another UV Aube strong guy had slipped off the front, who let that happen? Fools! What I do remember is it being particularly hard just before this point as you don’t usually let the pro in the race slip away without a reason and because of this my legs hurt as I watched them riding away. But I couldn’t just watch them, hell no, I wasn’t going to sit there watching the race winning move ride away so I attacked coming into a corner. When I looked round I had a gap, Ha! Now I’m the one riding away, suckers! In my excitement though my legs began to hurt, I had closed the gap a little, but it was 2 versus 1 and I wasn’t winning. When I reached the slight incline in the circuit through the finish the bunch put in a quick acceleration to counter my move and I was swinging. The next couple of laps were very painful, I don’t like to remember them but they involved much lactic acid, sprinting out of corners and gritting of teeth. I was close to going out the back, but thankfully didn’t, instead I recovered and waited for the next move. A few attacks went and were chased down, then Tom made a strong one that stretched the field but everyone jumped on so he couldn’t get a gap. It was then I saw my opportunity, I went full gas down the right hand side of the road and kept the effort going for another 200 metres before I looked round to see Simon and another guy on my wheel with a gap to the peloton. We quickly got our act together and began to work at a pretty steady pace, there were primes every ten laps for each group but for the first one I wasn’t sure what was going on and for the second I didn’t know when to open up the sprint so lost out on both. But we kept working, although behind they were working as well and coming into the final few laps I was starting to worry that we’d be caught. In fact afterwards I found out the group behind were only 10 seconds down at one point but thankfully we nailed it to the finish where Simon just edged me in the sprint.

Afterwards I found out Toms group had also had primes both of which he had won, my group of three had the same amount of primes on the line. This meant Tom ended up winning 100€ and I thought I had won nothing despite being ahead all race. Luckily the primes were for the first three so, to my surprise, I won 40€ although it was still a bit of a slap in the face but I was happy with how the race went. (I finished 5^th by the way got sidetracked thinking about those primes)

Sunday was our race in Germany and the conditions couldn’t have been any more different. The sun was shining and the roads were too hot to stand on while we were getting changed. My high school German was faultless signing on, asking where the toilet was and buying a couple of cokes, I surprised even myself. The set-up was superb, they had a food and drinks tent with a crack team of workers cooking steak and chips amongst several other things for the hungry spectators. Just next to this tent were several benches for enjoying said refreshments, all of this overlooking the main climb of the race to watch the riders suffer. The roads were completely closed to all cars, which although isn’t uncommon in France, is still something to be admired. Unfortunately the same couldn’t be said about the race, it was awful. It was completely negative, a bit like a 3^rd and 4^th cat race in England (I have nothing against 3^rd and 4^th cats everyone has to start (and finish) somewhere), with any attacks being quickly jumped on and then everyone sitting up. I got so fed up that I missed it when a move was actually allowed to get away, although I spent most of the race thinking it would come back like it usually does in a 3^rd and 4^th cat race. Unfortunately all the riders were a little stronger than this and the break stayed away. I even missed the second move that tried to get across to them, it was horrendous. The group I ended up in was coming in for 20^th, but it felt like we were sprinting it out for 50^th the way the guys were racing. I ended up 23^rd and highly disappointed with how the race had gone. The rider who ended up winning was a pro for Wiesenhof last year, if only I’d known, I would have followed him. Sometimes though, that’s how it goes, now I must recover regroup and get ready for next weekend. Thankfully we drove back nice and quick to watch our team mates finish first and second in the Alsace champs, the first win for the team and a great win at that. Hopefully now the floodgates will open and the wins will begin to pour in.

The upcoming weekend should be exciting with another Elite Nationale stage race, but this time only for Espoirs. The Tour d’Eure et Loire is run off over 3 days and 4 stages including a time trial, It should be nice to see how I can do in the big races when I actually have some legs to get round...or not. Who knows? I’m hoping it goes well, aren’t we all.

Until next time,

Hejdå

Good legs, nowhere to go.

The temperature finally hit the big 30 (that’s degrees, not Fahrenheit or Kelvin) and in most ways it was much appreciated. It’s nice to ride around in the sun, very enjoyable indeed, much better than riding around in the snow. The problem is living in such temperatures. As we are situated in a roof space apartment, the sun shines in all day heating the place up like an oven with me and Tom being a couple of turkeys in for a roast, all be it skinny ones with not much meat (well I know I’m built like a train but Toms more like a stick). This means we spend most of time our walking around wearing as little clothing as possible and breaking a sweat under the lightest of exercise, quite an image I know but don’t get too overwhelmed. It also makes sleeping rather difficult, sheets definitely aren’t necessary, a fan would be more appropriate. You wake up at some ungodly hour with your pillow and sheets soaked, peel yourself off, roll over and try to get to sleep again. This is one of the few downsides to the weather being good and if it stays like this, I’m willing to put up with it. In other news my resting heart rate finally dropped below 40 to 38 for the first time ever, be it after much deep breathing and only for a couple of seconds. But it was the first time I’ve ever seen my heart rate in the thirties so I considered it quite an achievement.

The legs felt great riding this week and I was really looking forward to the racing knowing I had something there. Some form usually comes after about 3 weeks of a stage race for me and it had been 3 weeks since the Essor Breton. The first was a local crit of about 80km run off as a points race, the second a short rolling road race at 120km. Me and Tom were determined to do well in at least one of these races as we both felt ok and so coming into the weekend we were both “mega psyched”. On the Saturday the crit was just under and hours ride away and because of this, we decided to ride there... On the way we passed a temperature gauge that told us it was 30 degrees, 20 minutes later we passed another that told us it was 22 degrees. The temperature had dropped 8 degrees and it was getting windier, in the distance we could see a dirty great cloud that was obviously spilling out rain in the direction we were going. I started to see flashes of lightening in the distance and it began to get darker. Perfect. It hadn’t started raining when we arrived; it only started doing that 10 minutes before the depart and boy did it rain...and thunder....and lightening, not necessarily in that order. They delayed the start by 10 minutes and the rain started to relent, my shiny white socks were still ruined after 7 seconds of riding though.

We started fast; Tom decided to attack from the gun and stayed away for a few laps. I countered a few times when it came back together but not much happened. The race had sprints every 10 laps with points for the first 4, Tom managed to get up there for the first one so I decided rather than riding around finishing nowhere in the sprints I’d help Tom try and win it. This involved chasing down many an attack and making it tough coming into the sprint so no one tried to get away. Luckily I had the legs to do this and Tom managed to get up there in most of the sprints. Unfortunately there was a particularly strong German that insisted on ruining it for us. The rain eased off and the race dried out making the course nice and fast, but with three quarters of the race down I was starting to get tired from all this chasing and working. Tom managed to get up there in the final sprint and ended up second overall which was a relatively satisfying result for all involved, although we all wanted the win.

Sunday was my target though, I had great legs on the Saturday and was hoping I could carry it through and pull off my own good result, I knew it was possible. I wrote down the GPM points on my hand and remembered where they all were in relation to the finish as it was an “en ligne” race rather than laps. I studied the start sheet meticulously, scouring the past weeks results and comparing names, noting anyone I thought might be dangerous. I tried to prepare myself as well as possible to give myself every chance. Once the race had started I could feel my legs from the day before, but this was to be expected. They were still good legs and coming into the first and hardest climb of the day I was well positioned at the front of the bunch with a small break just up the road. I followed a hard attack, but not all out, I could see this hill was going to go on for at least another kilometre so I saved a little. It helped as I caught a few people who had killed themselves to go with the move, a few of the better climbers were riding away though and going over the top I was towards the back of the front group. A few people sprinted past me over the top and I wanted to follow, but that was a damn hard hill I had just come up and I didn’t want to sprint just yet. If only I had, a small group formed just ahead (and I mean literally 50 metres) after the climb and that was it, race over.

Obviously I didn’t know this at the time as for a long long while it looked like it might come back, as is the way in bike racing. But also as is the way in bike racing, it stayed away, much to my annoyance and disappointment. At first I made many attempts to try and get across sometimes with others, sometimes on my own, but was continuously chased by teams with riders in the break. After a while I decided it was pretty fruitless and sat in which is about when the Kazakh “Olympic (junior) academy” started chasing as they had failed to put a rider in the front group. Unfortunately they weren’t particularly strong and although they held the gap at just under a minute they couldn’t pull it back and eventually many of them blew. My group split up a little towards the end as the last third of the race was spent trying to form a group that might jump across in the closing stage. Unfortunately this was everyone’s idea and every time I went people were determined to follow. After a while a small group formed ahead of us and we were getting towards the end of the race, although I had no idea how close we were. Then suddenly we turned right and there was a 300metres to go sign. Were the hell did that come from? Not even a 1km to go flamme rouge, let alone a 10km to go sign. Our group carried out its hasty sprint for the minor placings, but at this point I wasn’t particularly fussed where I finished, I ended up 29^th. Tom had managed to get in the break and finished a good 5^th.

I felt pretty annoyed with myself after the finish, but probably because I expected a lot out of the race and didn’t get it. It’s even more frustrating knowing you could have done better than having done your best and still been used to wipe the floor. Oh well, I’ll know better than to expect a result next time and take the race as it comes.

Until the next time,

Näkemiin

Some form.

27^oC is what the Credit Mutuel flashing sign told me the temperature was this morning as I sped past. The sun was just burning off the mid-morning haze and although there was a little wind it was a good day for riding. I couldn’t keep my heart rate down for thinking about the weekend just gone and one coming up, that’s right, things are on the up. As the weather got better, me and Tom decided it was time to get out of the apartment for a bit and do some recon on the local cafes. We found that a very dodgy looking one 300 metres from our apartment was actually quite pleasant on the inside, albeit a tad expensive. The décor was clean and smooth with a very flash pool table and electronic darts board. Now pool is one of those games that 95% of the population think they are good at but in fact are pretty mediocre at best, I am one of these people. Tom on the other hand, is not, he had told me that he was good at the billiards based games and I was sceptical at best having heard the talk several times before. But once we started playing it was obvious the only way I was ever going to win a game was with a lot of luck, but at 2€ a game, luck could wait. The other highlight of the week was receiving a completely flat, but no less tasty loaf of soreen (malt loaf) from Tom’s mum. They don’t sell this finest of commodities in France for some reason, so it was swiftly devoured after our ride that day, with some butter of course.

My training went nicely during the week; I felt good spinning the legs and worked hard in my longer rides to keep the speed up and good weather makes this a lot easier. The legs felt good and I was looking forward to the weekend, it would comprise of a 1, 2 and 3 category race of 115 kilometres on what we would find to be a rolling to hilly course with 2 x 1km climbs, each with GPM points at the top. As well as these were a couple of other tough ascents that weren’t deemed hard enough to warrant a sprint at the top. To give myself more of a chance I finally got round to fitting the carbon bottle cages I had brought over from England. I would have done it sooner but for some reason the multi-tool I brought over didn’t have the right size Allen key, I digress. I also decided it was time for a new sock combination; I have always worn two pairs of socks due to my feet being long and thin and not filling out a shoe properly. So when I think I need an extra boost, I change my race sock combination. This time I went for an old, slightly murky, pair of assos socks that had served me well in the past underneath and some new white ones that I bought from Decathlon at 5€ for 3 pairs to go on top. Everything was set, my bike must have been at least 10% lighter with the carbon bottle cages and I had a new race sock combination, nothing could stop me.

We got to the race quite early, so for the first time this season we drove round a lap beforehand. The hills looked pretty daunting and numerous from the car, but then again they always do, generally though I think the drive round helped. After signing on, getting the good old paper number, pinning it on and warming up, I got to the start at the front. The hilly nature of the course and varying degree of ability in the 90 strong peloton meant it was quite obvious that the first serious move that got away, would stay away. As soon as we were waved away we turned right into the first none classified hill which was just as long, if not longer, than the other climbs. The attacks came soon enough first from our team, then others. I followed the people I considered dangerous and the race soon got tough as we hit the first and then second climbs. I stayed in the mix as much as possible and followed some of the hardest moves, the legs were good. Despite the attacks the bunch was still largely together as we finished the first lap and hit the ascents again. Coming into the first of the two GPM hills I put myself at the front ready to go with any serious attacks, this proved to be a good decision. Gwenael Rouzet, the obvious race favourite, made his move attacking for the GPM sprint. I followed 5^th in line behind making one of those efforts that could possibly shorten your life span, but you know that somewhere someone will have left a gap. Someone had and ten of us were away, 3 from my team including me, 3 from the other big team, CC Etupes and 4 others including Rouzet of course.

The next 10km were pretty painful, I had to skip a few turns but I was in the break. I hadn’t been too far back, I did have the legs, the race winning move had been made and I was in it...yes. After the necessary burn to get away from the frantic peloton we settled down to a very steady pace, almost too steady. In fact I was amazed at how average the pace was, my legs were itching to go faster as I was worried we’d be caught going so slow. It turned out not to be the case and that the steady pace was the same as or more than the pelotons constant accelerations and easing off. After a lap in the break my legs felt great, I started to think I could win it and began to convince myself. After another two laps though I felt slightly differently, the constant climbing and descending had taken its toll on my legs. Coming into the last lap an attack was made from the break on the opening hill; I was quite near the back and reacted a moment too late. The gap had been made and I couldn’t bring it back, the same could be said for three others one of which blew completely never to be seen again. With about 16km to go the three of us worked, desperate not for our efforts to be wasted and be caught by the peloton. Luckily with 1km to go we knew we were safe and so began the cat and mouse for 7^th place. I have an average sprint, which means that when I’m up to speed not many people come round me but I struggle to get round the really fast guys. I enjoyed the cat and mouse knowing whatever happened I would finish in the top 10. I was 2^nd wheel following the jump from one of the guys and thought I was starting to come round him as we came into the finish. But my legs were in a bit of a state after a hot day and cramp wanted to take hold, I blocked it out for 200 metres but once the rider in 3^rd shot past with 50 metres to go I knew I was finished. I finished 9^th out of the break of 10, a little disappointing, but before you can sprint you must first be able to run and before you can run you must first be able to walk. I think I’ve just broken into a sprightly jog (all thanks to those carbon bottle cages and new race sock combination).

Our team finished 3^rd, 6th and 9^th in the end and were disappointed to miss out on the win (Rouzet). I was quite happy with my performance, but I’m a