30th May 2010 Championnat Dépatemental de France
Awake at the allotted hour of 7:30, I started the day with a good breakfast to set me up for the 1 ½ hour drive to the tiny village of La Capelle Gaudin, just north of Airvault in the Deux Sevres department of France. I arrived with time to have a good look at the eight kilometre lap.
The main problem was going to be the very strong wind. Although there was some protection, gaps in the hedges would cause some problems no matter how well you were prepared. After two warm up laps, my fears were proved right. It proved quite hairy in a couple of places on one of the long descents.
But having warmed up thoroughly and with a good sweat on, it was time to join the group for the start. I am not the jovial type on the start line, settling in to a world of my own, or ‘zoning’ as the specialists say. I have been that way since the beginning of the sixties, when my road racing started. Then came the delay for one rider who hadn’t appeared on time – apparently he had been given the wrong start time. We waited past the customary two minutes to follow the younger riders (50yr olds) and with much muttering from some participants, we were finally off. Then, low and behold, the late arrival joined in about 50 meters from the start!
The slight uphill start was no problem and the first bend onto rougher tarmac went without problems. But it became clear that at least three riders had major plans to annihilate the opposition with a fast and furious start. We were all fresh and as there is safety in numbers, it was a fast TGV line that was created. I was OK and found myself in the mid section, well protected from the effects of the wind, but it was obvious that this pace couldn’t be maintained. Up the two kilometre hill back to the start and finish line we raced, crossing the line in 6th or 7th, breathing hard but feeling OK.
Lap two started with us going even faster. I realized that a recent holiday in Italy was taking its toll, so I decided to just sit at the back and hang on for a few laps - how wrong can you be. As the front of the group started to sprint up the first section of the hill, and back up the long uphill section to finish lap two, I was in no-man’s land with riders behind me and the gap getting wider. Out of the saddle, and trying to bridge the gap, I looked back and saw I was pulling all the others behind me. None wanted to do any work, so I sat up and made them go past, then I tagged on behind them and we rejoined the others just as lap three started.
I was now riding on empty and was dropped, so I carried on at my speed and slowly started to catch tail enders. I knew I would be pushed to finish and went through a very bad patch on lap six, but I was still catching riders and so pushed on just a bit harder and got through the ‘no legs’.
By lap seven I was feeling really bad and although still going quite well, I knew I was not going to be able to finish. The encouragement from the spectators was heart warming but wasn’t putting anything in the tank other than a will to carry on. On the long climb to the finish of lap seven, I was caught by the two leaders of my group who were travelling like the wind. The rest of my group were out of sight, so as I crossed the line I decided to climb off - and live to fight another day.
1 May 2010 - Championnat Départmental de France
May Day at Sanxay in the Vienne department of France will certainly rest in my mind for a while. It could be described as the day I came of age in the world of cycle racing.
At 9:20am I set of for my first time trial - a hilly 9 kilometre route. The course was there to test individual skills and also stamina, and it certainly did the latter. There were only 18 Cat 4’s and I came in 17th. At least I wasn’t last!
But as I have said in other write-ups, this has to be a learning process for me this year. I can’t say I enjoyed the ride, but I was happy with my performance and felt that the legs felt good. Perhaps I could have gone faster, but we can all get things right with hindsight.
We all had to wait until 15:00 for the start of the actual road race, plenty of time to get some nourishment into the body and digest it. Well that’s the theory. Nerves are a funny thing and I had forgotten how I used to be during my road racing motorcycle career. Must be getting old.
Just after 2pm I set off with some of my club mates on a recce. The course included a couple of sections we had used during the time trial. Some others I knew and didn’t like, because they were so rough and badly potted from the winter. It really did unsettle quite a few.
At 15 :00, we were all getting into position for the off. Cat 1’s first, Cat 2’s, Cat 3’s and then the old men, us Cat 4’s, set off. This is the first time I have started using the big ring, and boy did I need it. The oldies around 50’ish set off at an alarming rate, but believe or not I felt at home. My legs felt good and I just sat in the bunch with no heart rate going through the roof.
Through the picturesque village of Curzay-sur-Vonne, and a really sharp right hand bend with bumps and pot-holes all over the place, out of the saddle sprinting to get back up to what I would have described in the past as break-neck speed. Along a narrow, windy and rough road to Les Chaumes, then getting onto descent tarmac to get back to Sanxay. Down the hill into Sanxay at quite a lick, over the bridge, then the TGV boys got into the action, pulling me along faster than I have ever been through the town.
One of my club mates made his move for the first sprint, with a rider from my old club, UVC Couhé, doing his best to deny him. But I had the bit between my teeth, sitting on the wheel of the guy from Couhé and as we hit the 300meter mark, I knew I couldn’t pass either but that I was safe in third spot. Third in my first sprint - it took nearly the whole of the next lap to wipe the smile off my face!
As we came down the same hill for the finish of lap two, I was a marked man, with a couple of riders doing their best to block me in. Years of racing motorbikes and the wide shoulders helped as they closed in for the kill, then two other riders started to TGV it and a space opened in front of me. Accelerating forward who should I catch up with but the same two riders from the sprint of the first lap. Both had their heads down and their bums up, and again I hitched a tow. This time the rider from Couhé won the sprint and I just missed out by a wheel in getting second spot from my club mate.
I have been suffering from tendonitis of the shoulder for a while and started the day with pain killers. But now I could feel the pain coming back with a vengeance because of the very rough roads, and possibly I had overdone the pulling on the bars in the sprints. My legs still felt really good, but as I went into the right-hander in Curzay, a rider in front nearly lost the plot and in taking avoiding action I hit one of the ‘bomb craters’ in the road which completely finished the shoulder. Although heavily strapped, it could not take that sort of punishment.
I climbed off at the end of lap three, but this time I am not at all disappointed in my performance. I’m getting used to the tactics, the pacing and knowing that it is only a matter of a few more races and a lot more training before I will actually finish in a better position.
18 April 2010 - St Maixent l’Ecole
I am old enough to know better but I got talked into a race on Sunday 18th April at the garrison town of St Maixent l’Ecole, once the home of Eleanor of Aquitaine queen of France and England. I should know better...but!
The weather had turned for the better with blue cloudless skies and a nice warm day of 22°C - so far so good.
9:30am saw us Cat. 4 riders off up a longish slope, nothing too drastic, but then the fun and games started. This was a real criterium race with lots of tight bends with masses of huge potholes in the road from the bad winter. Soon after leaving the town, we headed off on a long, slightly down-hill section, followed by a short, sharp, downhill piece at 50’ish kilometres an hour, then into a narrow tight right-hand bend which ran along a valley bottom before joining another wide road back towards St Maix. But this was the opposite of the longish downhill section - all uphill, followed by more of the tight in-town bends and pot-holes before finishing the lap up the longish slope with speed bumps, gravel and more pot-holes!
At the end of lap one I was in the mix and enjoying myself. Lap two was where the speed started to pick up and the effort of last weekend’s hard ride at the Bernard Bourreau (Petit Frère) started to take effect. At the end of lap two, I was still hanging in there, but I was starting to suffer. Lap three no change, but by lap four I had been dropped on the longish climb and was eventually caught by the Cat 1’s, who I hung on to until the finish where I ‘climbed off’.
So, another learning race that is starting to make some sense to me regarding to what I need to do in future training sessions.
- My race head is fine at close quarters and mixing it.
- Braking and cornering are one of my very strong points.
- On the flat and down hills I’m fine and quick.
- My downfall is I am not climbing good enough to get my other attributes into play.
I am determined to try my hardest to actually finish a race in a good position. I can do it in a Sportive, which is longer and a fraction slower, so with a bit of application I should be able to do it in these races.
Times for my laps:
- 14:22:7
- 14:45:1
- 14:17:3
- 15:08:1
- 11:59:4
The last time is because I hung onto the ‘maillot’ tails of the Cat 1’s. The only thing that can be gleaned from these times is I was consistent, but it doesn’t make me any happier.
Like some of my old school reports: Must try harder!
11 April 2010 - The Bernard Bourreau (Petit Frère)
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| Copyright© 2010 Photopro |
Saturday April 10th saw the weather start to smile on us… sunny, warm and with a stiffish north-easterly breeze for the start of the « Sportif » La Bernard Bourreau Petit Frère. There were far more riders than I can recall from two years ago, when a broken front derailleur mech. stopped me after thirty kilometres.
The usual jockeying for position at the start and the crashes in the first five kilometres brought home that bike riding skills and awareness are something that is not taught – or else is completely forgotten in the heat of competition. Then, after the shock of seeing riders and bikes in the ditches with one rider receiving medical assistance in the middle of the road, sanity returned to those who had temporarily lost it.
From Ligugé in La Vienne to Iteuil, it was fast a furious and by the decent into Iteuil itself, the legs had started to warm up and function. Then a short sharp climb out of the village and on to Aigné, with its picturesque Château over-looking the small village. With the speed picking up all the time we headed for La Villedieu du Clan, via another early tester of a climb.
By now we were getting up into the high 40km/hr and I must admit that it was very exhilarating to be in a group of riders younger that me and holding my own. From then on to Aslonnes and Château Larcher, the pace was a little too hot for me and I joined a slightly slower group of riders. For the next 25 to 30 k’s we rode as a unit taking turns on the front until we reached one of the worst climbs of the ride at a place called Voulon - not a long climb but very testing indeed and as the saying goes it sorts the men from the boys.
On this climb I found I was an adolescent... neither bad nor good, just average. But once over the top I found that I had legs to spare into the strong breeze and managed to latch onto a youngster, who I hope he won’t mind me saying, was the biggest wind break I could have wished for. He had so much fat round his middle, he could have doubled for ‘Monsieur Michelin’.
Through Minières de Payré, the pair of us put some distance into the following group while a guy from the French Foreign Legion who was just up ahead stayed the same distance, tantalizingly close but I was not able to bridge the gap to him.
With the breeze getting stronger, it began to hurt and I was riding on a tank that was getting low. It meant inner strength was needed and the ‘I will not be beaten or give in’ attitude was the order of the day. After the climb from Celle l’Evescault to Marcay, I just dug deep and worked like an automaton, but it was working.
There was no casual banter in the small group I found myself with. All were suffering and breathing was the order of the day. But they proved stronger than me and I got dropped in the last ten K’s. I had to settle for the hardest 10 k’s alone in the strong breeze. Ligugé arrived and with print works on my left I managed one last sprint to the roundabout marking the last decent before the dreaded uphill finish, which I managed on the lowest gear I could find to get across the finish line.
After the 84 kilometre ride I finished 197 scratch and 24th for my age group at an average speed of 28.8Km/hr.
How did I feel? Better than a couple of weeks ago when I climbed off during the first race of the season. Buoyed up and chuffed is I think how I feel, after all, six years ago when I started riding a bike I couldn’t walk too far, had two knees that would work properly, a spine that gave me trouble through osteoarthritis. So all-in-all, I’m over the moon. I know I’m not the best but I do the best I can and so can others if they put their minds to it. Age and Osteoarthritis doesn’t have to stop you enjoying life.
Remember ‘LIFE IS FOR LIVING’
March 2010 - St Loup sur Thouet
Sunday 21st March 2010 was my baptism of fire at a small town just south of Airvault in the Deux Sevres department of France. Just a short 8.5km race lap x 6 laps, total 51km. The circuit was in an idyllic spot taking in both sides of the river Thouet, with one long climb connection to a fairly quick downhill section, then back over the river to start the long climb again.
With all categories taking part it sounded simple, but I had no idea just how quick it was going to be. Moving up to the start line just before the brow of the first part of the hill; the five second countdown for the start; and then the fun - if you can call it that - started. Off like the proverbial hare, at what to some of us was a breakneck speed. To others it was a stroll in the park.
Bike handling skill is not the strong point of some of these seasoned riders, to put it mildly. But years of racing motorcycles professionally puts a person in a certain advantageous position - broad shoulders, boney and well spaced elbows, and a certain amount of ‘after me - you first’.
I stayed in the bunch for the first lap and even managed to outbreak many at the quick downhill bend just before the climb back up the hill to complete the first lap. Within a very short time the bunch was reduced considerably and I found myself with some on the younger Cat.4s... that’s 50ish, not mid 60’s, but I had learned something; after a slowish corner it is out of the saddle and sprint to get back up to their ‘ramming’ speed. So as we approached the slowest corner on the lap I was to the front of the group and didn’t have to expend to much energy to keep up with them.
But now the speed had really been turned on with the downhill section nose-to-tail and side-by-side at well over 60km/hr. But those years as a professional road racing motorcyclist paid off and I was really flying up the hill to start the third lap.
By now I knew I wasn’t going to last the full six laps, so I kept going with the bunch until the hill for the start of the third lap, and just before the start/finish line I was spat out the back of the pack. I had to look down at the road to see if I had actually stopped! But no... I was still moving quite quickly, but nowhere as fast as the boys up front. So I went as fast as I could for the rest of the lap and decided that discretion was better part of valour and it might be better to live to ‘fight’ another day. I climbed off the bike just before the finish, having learned a lot in a very short space of time.
I now know I have to improve my climbing ability considerably, which will mean losing some kilo’s and get more hill kilometres into my legs.
La Sostranienne (112km)
Saturday September 2nd saw me leaving home to go to La Souteraine, 50 kilometres north of Limoges, the pottery capital of France. The weather forecast was OK, but knowing this area of the Creuse, nothing could be taken for granted and rain could arrive without warning. Signing in was a formality on the Saturday afternoon, having paid up early in July. Just give your name and number and you receive a ‘T’ shirt gift with a number to attach to your ‘maillot’ or jersey.
Up very early - 5:30 - on the Sunday race day for a hearty breakfast of muesli…by the ton. Good carbohydrate in this stuff, but to me it's like munching wood shavings – dry and hard to get down. Drank lots of water to hydrate and fill as many cells as possible. It was still dark and cold as I went down to the start area and joined some 1,600 riders from all over Europe, taking part in either the l’Ecureuil or the La Sostranienne. We were allocated start areas by number designation and I joined those already waiting for the off, trying to keep warm and focused. This is where my professional road racing days of yesteryear help, as I felt the adrenalin start to rise and my concentration going into an area where its is almost impossible for someone to break in through my ‘barrier’. Now I can focus on the first part of the ride.
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 Top of the 5km climb at the Bois d'Echelle and still going strong... |
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8:30 and I was off from the second block to start. I released all the aggression which builds up at the start of anything competitive. Even at 61 years of age I am still an aggressive, competitive sort, and the jostling for position as we took a gentle climb from the start zone away from La Souteraine was quite exhilarating. By now my legs had started to work OK but as usual my mouth was dry and my lips were sticking to my teeth… like someone suffering from stage fright.
Kept pace easily with the second grupo, (most of the riders were a lot younger than me) and close riding was the order of the day as the huge start mass slowly thinned out becoming more rider friendly. Then the climbs started, like climbs I have never experienced before, but with the voice of my training partner and mate Tony ringing in my ears: “get into a rhythm and don’t try to go to fast at the beginning. On the climbs let your legs spin and don’t fight the bike or the hill - ride easy”.
Good words, but we were now on a mountain climb that I swear if I’d known about before, I wouldn’t have entered the event! Five kilometres of climb ranging from 9% to 13% with some nasty hairpin bends thrown in just to make your rhythm go to pot. With Tony still talking in my head, I just blanked out everything around me and got the rhythm of both pedalling and breathing into sync and although I did loose some places, I crested the summit, took a long mouthful of carb drink and started the descent.
Riding motorbikes for a living in the 60’s and 70’s had instilled in no fear of going fast, especially down hill. We had thin tyres in those days, not the fat sausages they use today, and I felt really at home plunging down the narrow forested road with plenty of sharp bends and quite a lot of loose gravel along with the dreaded pot holes and leaves. It felt really great and I hit a magic 74.3kph on those skinny 23mm Michelin Pro Race tyres. Not only did I make up the places I’d lost on the climb, but gained some more, out-cornering and braking many a seasoned rider on the steep descent.
There was a wonderful view off to my right, and made all the more beautiful because I was looking through a pink mist as I flew down the mountainside through forests with the cool wind blowing cobwebs from the brain and allowing this ancient osteoarthritic body to recuperate.
We still had lots of long climbs to get through, but the sun was shining, there was no wind and the company of the other riders was now to be enjoyed. Up, up was the order of the day as we slugged our way to the feeding station and some respite. What a joke! The feeding station gave a break from the long, long, climb, but we hadn’t reached the summit. So after stopping, replenishing the ‘bidons’ and cramming nourishment into pockets, it was a question of restarting on one of the steepest sections of the hill. A lot of grunting could be heard along with some gut-wrenching moans.
The course had now plateaued and we were on the final run for the finish. I had the slight embarrassment of getting cramp, my contortions and attempts at relieving the pain and locking muscles caused some hilarity from my fellow group of riders. Spinning in a low gear and doing my best to stretch or massage the rigid muscles helped and the spasms eventually past. I got my 'second wind' and on one of the longish climbs dropped my group and set off for home, picking off quite a number of riders who had bonked, either from possibly going too fast at the start or who were finding the going just a bit tough. I know I was.
With the finish bridge coming into sight, I caught another rider and we both made a sprint finish, but I just couldn’t get past him and had to settle for 142nd scratch but did finish 10th in my age group.
Roll on next year, when I plan to do one event a month from March to July, then a few more at the end of the year, possibly eight in all.
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