Well here it is, the latest I’ve been so far with my blogs. I’m getting very slack; maybe it’s some kind of mid season blog mental block....or I’m just lazy, I don’t know? It’s difficult trying to remember where I was last when I wrote my last one, obviously I was sitting at my desk typing it but in a passage of time sense of place, it marches relentlessly on. What I do know is though that a lot has happened since my last episode, much merriment and little racing equalling something between form and fitness. I will begin where I left off, leading up to the teams most local race, The Haguenau criterium.
This race was pretty much must win for us as a team, a Remy meder rider has won it every time for the past five years and anything but first place would be an embarrassment. So at the start we had a pretty much full complement of riders along with various juniors and other seniors from the club section. The brief was simple, win, easier said than done though! At the start I took a last minute “refreshment” break with a local tree, this meant I ended up being at the back for the start while the rest of my team lined up at the front. Bummer. This was soon forgotten though after 2 laps, I sprinted inside everyone cornering like something might corner if it was really hungry...or something (similes were never my thing). This got me to the front quick enough, but by this time three had already gone off the front and I had no idea who. I asked my teammates but no one seemed to know who was up the road and quickly gaining time. By this point I had settled into the corner, sprint, corner, sprint routine and it was time to start some sprint, sprint, corner, sprinting. I countered a few moves, followed a few more, went backwards a bit, then forwards a bit more, until finally attacking into a corner a group of us got away. About 15 of us all together with no less than four of us from team Remy meder, including me...hurrah! We worked sporadically and the three leaders were obviously more constant, maintaining the gap and pulling away. The group wasn’t cohesive enough and a few attacks later it was down to about 9 or 10 and I was still there. Still the pace wasn’t constant enough and the bunch was starting to pull us back, but the race was also drawing to an end. Some more last ditch attacks brought the group down to 6 of us 3 from team Remy meder and 3 from the local rivals ASPTT Mulhouse. We attacked the hell out of each other, but with 7 laps to go the relentless peloton swept us up and ¾ of race freedom were now over...time for a sprint!
At first I decided against getting involved with the sprint, but then I started to think “why not? I’ve got the legs!” And so began the endless moving up and jostling that is a bunch sprint. With 3 laps to go I was getting into the right place, about the 3rd line of riders and moving up whenever possible. Things were getting a little risky and the skills were definitely necessary to pay the bills. With two laps to go I was on the left coming into a section where the road suddenly narrowed due to being in a town centre. I had been worried about this section at the start of the race, but being off the front had somewhat forgotten it. The big bunch tried to suddenly go from one width to one about one metre narrower, but it was never going to happen. Spokes and derailleur’s came together, handlebars became entangled and riders started to hit the deck to the right of me. I remember thinking “I sure as hell hope they don’t fall this way”, but alas, they did. They sprawled over the road making the path available for me to go forwards somewhat narrower...about 3cm. This gap continued to shrink and so the harsh reality hit that I was about to crash, well it had to happen sometime...best make it look good. I surfed my bike along the ground and onto the pavement using only the bars as a contact point and conducting a “hang 5” in the process. As a result I slowly arose with only minors scrapes and some gashed bar tape, vaguely remembering I had been competing in some sort of cycling event. With only two laps remaining, the race had finished before I got back on the saddle and pedalled round to the crowds. I found out that of the three away one of them had been from our team and had ended up winning the race! Result! Now I felt great being from the winning team and having the battle wounds of a great crash to show the crowds...they lapped it up. After riding home in the dark it was time to get some rest in as some of my friends had come over from England to take me down to the Alps to watch The Tour Baby!!!
We started out with the six hour drive down there, which was accompanied by severe rain, so severe in fact that you couldn’t drive more than 30 mph on the autoroutes due to the fact nothing could be seen more than 5 metres ahead of you. The trip also involved a 30 euro fee for the pleasure of visiting Switzerland, luckily they gave us 5 Swiss francs for change (what the hell we were supposed to do with these was anybody’s guess). Once there, we pitched up, set up camp then went off to find alcohol and food. The week consisted of much of this, but we also did some riding. In fact on the Tuesday the three of us and special guest Ben Lane, decided to do the Marmotte loop. If you aren’t familiar with this, it’s 175km of riding taking in 4 major cols, The Col du Glandon, the Col du Telegraphe, the Col du Galibier and finally the mythical Alpe D’Huez. Pretty standard stuff... Thankfully the weather was kind to us, the sun was out but it wasn’t too hot and apart from the summit of the Galibier being bitterly cold everything was good. After a couple of stops we got round the whole loop in top top shape and even sprinted for the sign going back down Alpe d’Huez (not really, we were wrecks, mere hollows of our former selves).
The next day we went to watch the people who get paid to do it ride a similar route backwards. Getting up Alpe d’Huez was quite bizarre, at first we were told to get off and walk, but then we found out it was ok to ride and then we were told to get off and walk. It seemed as if their willingness to let you ride was directly linked to how self-righteous the gendarme felt. Half way up, to please the crowds, I cracked open a beer, refreshingly warm by now in the near 30 degree heat. I rode with it through the Dutch section, by now their party was in full swing and they were playing loud music and cheering anyone on anything that resembled a bicycle. I can honestly say that riding between them was one of, if not the best experience I’ve had on a bike, it was amazing. Just after them was a man holding a piece of what looked like malt loaf on a line and hook. Spurred on by the Dutch, I made many an effort to bite it off the hook, but failed. Fortunately my attempts weren’t in vain as the next day my antics were printed in the French paper. We watched the pros go up in their poxy 25s wishing I had had one rather than my 23 to use the day before (I’m sure I was going faster than they were anyway). The rest of the trip was spent enjoying ourselves and making acquaintances with some nice Dutch girls, also cyclists, on our campsite... we were sad to leave.
But, as soon as I arrived back in Haguenau, I was greeted by my family who had come over for a 2 week holiday to see me so the spirits were soon high again. My legs were feeling good during my training sessions (although god knows how) and I was looking forward to racing again after what had seemed like a long break. The time soon came and the Prix de Authoison was a 120km race was a 20 lap race of 6 kilometres with a short but tough rise every lap. The attacks came from the gun and I was following them and feeling good. A group of 5 got away immediately and I was looking to get across to them somehow. After about 4 laps I saw my chance, one rider I recognised as being a favourite had one of those 5 metres gaps off the front that you know you shouldn’t really give him otherwise he might notice and ride off. I put in a big effort and went past him a lot faster than he was going, but he got the message along with 10 or so others. I kept it going for a couple of miles and hurt myself trying to make sure we got a good gap. We had the front 5 in sight and now the attacks were starting to come from our group to get across. It wasn’t a matter of being the strongest (although obviously this helps) but getting in the right move that managed to bridge across, something my willingness to ride hard doesn’t help occasionally. When the move went I missed it and I was stuck in the second peloton, but worse things were about to happen. With the number 14 on the lap board the structure of the race had all but been decided, but sprinting out of a corner I felt my heart skip a beat and the flutter that I have come to learn is the start of a series of palpitations.
These are caused by the wall that regulates the electric pulse in my heart being slightly more porous than a regular one. A sudden change in level (for example standing up from sitting down or getting out of the saddle to sprint) can trigger the electric pulse to go round in a loop rather than simply travelling through the heart. This increases my heart rate by a huge amount and when really trying hard I have seen it reach 230 beats per minute and 180 while freewheeling for 10 minutes. While I am having these palpitations I feel extremely fatigued, like I have already been racing 80 miles and it means an average through and off effort feels like trying to climb an alp. Once they have started it’s hard to say when they will stop, another sudden change in level is necessary, but when they do stop it’s like nothing ever happened. I have been told I can put an end to it by having a surgical procedure that burns the hole in the wall and stops the loop, although with a small element of risk as with any surgical procedure.
Anyway, the palpitations didn’t stop and the next 12 laps were sheer pain. Going up the small incline meant destroying myself just to hold on to our small group while everyone else went up there steady. I had to sit on to try and conserve what I had, which was close on nothing and with two and a half laps remaining I was dropped on the climb. The rest of the lap was incredibly slow as without other riders nothing could help me go any faster and with 2 laps to go I pulled out, my heart rate still at 190bpm. Annoyingly I had felt really good in the opening laps (I know, always the case when you have a problem mid-race) and was hoping to do well, but these things happen.
In other news I baked a cake, a coconut cake to be exact, one of my grannies special recipes. It turned out great and I was very proud of it. Next week 3 races in 4 days, two of them Elite Nationals, so it’ll be going from not much racing to too much...Should be fun!
Until next time (whenever that may be),
Adjiis
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