Changing Times

For a while now I have been considering my future in the sport and more importantly what I will be doing come September when I return to the UK. In recent weeks my form has dipped, probably not helped by a week on the beers in Berlin with my Australian team mate, and my motivation to train hard has followed. Whilst my future is as clear as the blurry image through the bottom of a Berlin beer glass, one thing is abundantly clear to me, as of September 2010 I will no longer be a bike racer, no longer need to drag my weary body out of bed at an ungodly hour in winter to do an unhealthy amount of training, no longer constantly suffer from sore legs and more importantly no longer have to watch what I eat and drink, mind you I never did much of the latter anyway.

Don’t for a minute think that this is a snap decision brought about by a little dip in form as it is not, the stark reality is I haven’t been ‘on it’ for a while and an incident the other week couldn’t have made it any clearer to me that I no longer ‘have it’ whatever ‘it’ is.

Standing on the start line of a local semi-nocturne with 99 other lycra wearing bike junkies, the rain began to fall in biblical proportions. Having been dry for some time the roads were in a dry and dusty state before the rain decided to make an unwanted appearance, as any racer knows this is a recipe for disaster. In this situation the rain and dust combine to form a slippery paste which lies on the road surface and leaves the amount of grip you have about as easy to predict as the winning lottery numbers.

Instead of the motivational thoughts, that should have been running through my head, all I was thinking was how little friction there would be between tyre and tarmac. Nevertheless I clipped my unwilling body into my pedals, noticed that I would be ruining another pair of nice white socks, and headed down the road with the rest of the pack. Everything was going okay for the first 2 or 3 laps of the circuit, much to my amazement, and everyone was taking the corners relatively sensibly with the usual French approach of cornering, which is based on trying to take corners in the wet at exactly the same speed as you would take them in the dry, seeming to be long forgotten.

My amazement was to be short lived when on an inconspicuous roundabout Daniel Barry, ironically not French but a New Zealander with Leucieme Espoir Quimper, decided that sliding along the tarmac, directly in front of yours truly, was in fact the fastest line to take. This in itself may not seem like such an unusual incident and if I am honest in recent years I would have been pleased to see such a rider, being one of the strongest in the race, on the ground (sorry Dan if you are reading this) however the difference in reaction between myself and Daniel couldn’t have been further apart, whilst Daniel jumped back up on to his bike like a ‘Jack in the Box’, I preceded to bottle every corner and eventually decided to call it a day after a few more laps.

Daniel went on to take 3^rd place…I went to the pub.

Another Perspective

Well the merry go round of our sport continues to turn, Landis has made his monumental, yet hardly surprising revelations about the dark side of our sport, Valverde has finally copped it for his ‘involvement’ in operation Puerto and to top it all off Cancellara is effectively being accused, in some parts of the media at least, of using a ‘motor bike’ to ride to victory in Roubaix and Flanders this season…Eastenders has nothing on pro bike racing.

Yet you may find it slightly strange that what aggravates me more about the whole situation is not the dopers, not even the Doctors behind the dopers, but the ignorant comments made by some sections of the media and on bike riding forums, from people that have obviously never been there, slammed in the gutter at 55kmph for hours on end, or had to peel their soaked wet shivering bodies off a mud plastered bike, to be told they have to do it all over again the next day, never stood on a start line so tired that you actually contemplate the prospect of sliding along the tarmac over and above the pain required to finish the race, or have sat there looking at the 23mm of rubber in front of them wondering who the hell is riding so hard, I could go on, I won’t as it will probably crack you.

Even more amusing/annoying, is the unfounded belief that cycling is becoming cleaner, it isn’t, just the people that say this are becoming more ignorant, people who have no right to comment on a sport that is so unbelievably hard, so unbelievably demanding that unless you have been there you wouldn’t know. Maybe it is the British mentality of fair play that refuses to believe that riders charge up, or maybe it is because the sport in the UK is so small that racers are in a huge minority that produces this belief, but I certainly find it very amusing and aggravating in equal doses.

At this point some of you may be wondering why I have such empathy for the dopers who, I should point out, don’t even have to test positive these days to warrant a suspension. Well the answer to this question is very simple, because I am just the same as them, with one fundamental difference I have a choice, I have another life option, many don’t, they have no other path to walk. As Greg LeMond famously said:

‘it never gets any easier, you just go faster’

While I am no means Pro material on the bike I still know how it feels to put yourself in a box, to be so tired you struggle to walk up the stairs, to sleep for 14hrs a day through shear exhaustion, but more importantly have the pressure whilst in this state of semi consciousness of doing a job for the team. Fortunately for myself I am well supported, have few responsibilities and have a decent set of qualifications which will be with me forever, as a bike rider you are only as good as your last season or race and I have a golden ticket out of this life as soon as I want to use it, a trump card if you will, others are not so fortunate.

For many bike riding has always been their life and often riders will have finished school at 16 to pursue their dream, the training load for a pro cyclist or future pro is such that riding full time is a necessity, so with no qualifications and a life in a factory or the fields to look forward to, through a lack of qualifications, a 2 year suspension for doping is no barrier when the rewards are so great, the pressure to succeed so high and the shelf life of a rider so short, in Europe unlike the UK, the sport is still very much working class.

Do not for an instance think I am condoning doping, I am merely offering another perspective from someone who has raced both inside and outside of the UK where a bike race has more riding on it than enough prize money to pay for your entry fee or the McDonalds on the way home, for many riders it is still a ticket out of a boring, ordinary life. Don’t forget it is only the idiots that get caught!

Right enough of the negativity and non bike racing information, which I am sure some of you actually want to read about. In other news we had a visit last Friday lunchtime from the DS, where I was told I was racing a stage race over the weekend, talk about last minute! I went like the proverbial on the Saturday and ended up riding the last 25km on my own, although I was expecting this, as before Friday I was planning to have a weekend off as I was shattered.

No prizes for guessing the Brit in the Team

The Sunday went much better in terms of my performance, although worryingly during the TTT on the Sunday morning, in which we were 9^th of 30 teams, not bad considering we only lost 42 seconds to the winners who were all on low pros with discs, where as we had one set of tri bars between the 5 of us, the DS in the car behind came to the conclusion that I have no power in my right leg as I am slightly crucked on the bike. This links up with the pains I have been having off an on in my right hip over recent weeks, so he is on the case to the osteopath and hopefully I can get that sorted out soon.

In the afternoon stage we managed to move Mikael up to 2^nd overall in the sprints classification and after keeping myself well placed found myself in the break of the day. All was looking well but we were caught by a large counter attack group on the finishing circuits which had the sum total of zero teammates in. With at least 4 other teams having more than 3 riders in the front group, I proceeded to get a kicking and missed the move of 7 that stayed away for the win. Still a pleasing performance considering the bad sensations I had all weekend and the team maintained good moral throughout. I am now taking a very easy week, after sleeping most of Monday and Tuesday.

Oh and finally more news/rumours just in, apparently there was a positive at the Rutland, don’t they know British riders don’t dope!

A Day Out Front

‘Nous sommes partis, c’est bien,’ were the words I heard as the rider in red with the tri colour bands on his sleeves came level before taking his turn on the front. As I settled into his slipstream I looked round expecting to see the bunch not far behind, but all I could see was empty road, where had everyone gone, moments earlier I was the last rider in the echelon before a line of 100 plus riders all sat in the gutter, all with the familiar 1000yard stare, an indication that the mind has left the consciousness, retracted itself into the deepest darkest depths of the skull in an attempt to ignore the pain being exerted on every sinew as your whole reason for being becomes the 23mm of rubber in front of you, for once I was not one of these people, I was not having to convince my legs the pain would stop, or that the rider on the front would tire soon, for once it was me who was in the ‘G-spot’.

Whilst in this wonderful place, where you feel no wind, but also do no work, I remembered the words an old pro once told me, ‘if you have the legs to go, go when it’s hardest, that way only the best can follow you,’ if the brief glance at the face behind was anything to go by, it was getting pretty grippy. As I sat there taking the draft, still aware of how hard the wind was lashing us, this thought kept repeating in my mind, I was ready. All of a sudden, the wind picked up and the echelon dragging the bunch along eased, this was the moment, my moment, I dropped my chain down two sprockets and preceded to do my best Fabian impression, launching myself in the right hand gutter aware of a rider on my wheel. After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was probably only more than a few seconds I eased up and pulled over at which point the fateful words were uttered, ‘nous sommes partis, c’est bien’.

As I looked across at my new ‘team mate’ for the day, the 1000 yard stare already closing over his eyes, I too could feel my mind shutting down in an attempt to hide the pain, for ours was the unenviable task of riding a team time trial alone in our own little world where every pedal stroke hurt and every slight incline is cursed, former national titles becoming irrelevant and every slight descent being an all to brief opportunity to take on some fluids and possibly eat, staring at our computers multi tasking by watching the kilometres drift away all too slowly whilst trying to keep our speed above 45kmph on the flat, playing our own little mind games, trying to convince yourself that the pain doesn’t hurt, yes I like you am mental. As the Commissare moto to the left read our numbers out across the race radio the stage was set for my first long break away attempt of the season and I settled into my new ‘team mates’ draft.

Now I have been trying to get into this position all season, for the last two months I have plugged away, followed moves, ridden in countless gutters and had my legs ripped off more times than I can care to remember, eaten well (often in the dark-don’t ask), trained hard and rested harder, and most importantly kept the faith and finally I had managed to make it into a half decent move off the front of the bunch, but boy could we have done with some support. With the usual Brittany weather lashing us with a nice cross wind and the prospect of another 55km en ligne where every turn would reveal a hitherto un ridden road for myself followed by 11 laps of what can only be described as a brutal finishing circuit which would make the Lincoln look like a walk in the park, we could have done with some more momentary ‘team mates’. Fortunately reinforcements were on the way as we soon found out via the Commissare moto, you see even the experienced French riders can be caught napping by cheeky moves made by foreigners.

As we were finally caught by the group behind I decided to take a much deserved sit on for a few kilometres. After this all too brief period of relaxation I found myself a nice place in the rotation, and got on with my ‘job’ for the day, with four team mates in the bunch it was important I remained in the break as long as possible to give them a free ride.

Arriving on the finishing Circuit in the Front Group

Cassettes whirred, chains clunked up and down the sprockets and riders tired, my mind wandered but we all settled into a rhythm, a group of 9 individuals connected with a common goal all rolling, all riding, all hurting, just trying to stay ahead. The gap eked out agonisingly slowly but eventually we had over a minute. The kilometres disappeared agonizingly slowly but as we approached the circuit I actually had good sensations. The usual attacks before the circuit never appeared and as we completed the first lap a rider attacked on a false flat after the finish, believing it to be too early he was left dangling off the front by the rest of the break for a lap before being returned to the group, a wasted effort which would surely be to his determent by the end of the race.

However the next time up the climb, things started to go wrong, I went from feeling brilliant to appalling and started going backwards faster than I have ever gone forwards, nothing my head could say to my legs made any difference, my legs probably realising finally that my head is a lying bastard, the extremities of my vision closed and I do not remember the next 2 or 3 laps, until I was caught by the group behind and my team mate tapped me from behind, I was done. As I went backwards through the groups I started to recovery slightly and began to realise how agonisingly close I had been to getting a good result, the break staying away, until I ended up in the last group with two other of my teammates. I rolled across the finish line, the race probably finishing minutes earlier a broken man, thinking of what could have been, I still however had a wry smile on my face, for those 70 or 80 kilometres I was off the front, I was in the mix all the hours of training and missed nights out (ok I don’t miss many) were worth it, and that as bike riders is what we live for.

Oh and I rode 2.5hrs home after the race as well.

Going backwards after being dropped from the break, I am in the little ring for gods sake!

It's a Small World

I am sure that most of you will at some point or another have thought that the world of bike riding/racing is small, well imagine my surprise when I headed downstairs this afternoon to fit some new cleats for the weekend, when a Swiss car arrived in the car park driven by one of the guys from the BMC Gran Canaria camp!

That is all.

We are all Mental

‘True perfection has to be imperfect I know that sounds foolish but it’s true’

(Noel Gallagher, 2007)

Why, you may ask, am I starting my latest blog post with an Oasis lyric? Let me begin…

On a recent training ride with my Aussie teammate, Ben, the conversation, as usual, turned onto the topic of the race at the weekend and how hard it would inevitably turn out to be. After debating how the race was likely to go and such intricate details as to which way the wind would be blowing during the ‘course en ligne’ section and who the likely winner would be and slowly beginning to realise that by about 3:30pm on Sunday afternoon we would be massacring our bodies sat in the gutted at some obscene speed I blurted out ‘we are f**king mental doing this’, the conversation continued further until we both came to the conclusion that all half decent bike riders are ‘mental’, a statement which requires some explanation.

To become a ‘half decent bike rider’ you have to be one of two things, either extremely talented and arguably lazy as if you had this much talent and applied it you would be a ‘good bike rider’ or even a ‘great bike rider’, or a dedicated, hard working, to some extent single minded perfectionist who strives to get the last drop out of everything from their diet to their bike and time available to train, unfortunately yours truly fits, like the majority of the ‘half decent bike riders’ into the latter category.

So as a ‘half decent bike rider’ you are likely to be a perfectionist whether you realise it or not, I mean how many of you out there have bought a set of better wheels as they will make you ‘x percent faster’ on race day, and said ‘I’m sorry I can’t I have to go training/racing/rest up for the weekend’ or invested in the latest in training technology such as powertaps and srm’s? Beginning to get the picture yet?

Ok so you have admitted you are a perfectionist, well you haven’t really I have just told you that you are, and with this level of dedication I would hope, for your sake after investing this much time and energy into yourself and the sport, you start to see an improvement in results, at which point you move up a category whether it be from 4^th cat to 3^rd cat or from a top amateur rider to a continental professional, the effort you have made has paid off…or has it. You now find yourself at a higher level and all of a sudden you have gone from the front in the races to the middle or even worse sat last wheel in the gutter or worse still blown out the back. Never mind surely that extra training session a week, or new set of wheels or dam bloody mindedness will allow you to cope at the new level you reach and the process starts all over again.

One day however disaster will strike when you realise, ‘this is it’, there are no more hours in the week for you to train in, new wheels to buy, fat to loose off your body or new diets out there that claim to improve performance and at this point you have reached ‘your level’, but wait you are only in the middle of the pack, you are not the ‘great climber’ you once were or unbeatable in the sprints you are just mediocre, average a no body. In your aim to reach perfection you have become average, all those hours on the bike, wet winter training rides and new shiny bits for your bike and you will not progress, the only ones who truly ‘make it’ are the household names of the sport how many riders are there in the Tour de France every year and how many can you actually name, how many win a stage or even finish in the top 20 of a stage?

Oh and as if that wasn’t enough, every time we go out training, we end up where we started…As I said, we are all mental.

Just a post for you to ponder on your next training ride with your buddies!

BMC in Gran Canaria

It seems such a long time ago now that I was pedalling in the sunshine on the beautiful, if you avoid the tourist traps of Maspalomas and Puerto Rico, Island of Gran Canaria. As I sit here in our apartment above Macarini Cycles, whom are one of Hennebont Cyclisme’s many sponsors, watching the rain come down, listening to Definitely Maybe (you can’t leave it all behind) and hoping that my riding shoes will dry out for tomorrows undoubtedly wet training ride my mind wanders to that distance Island off the coast of Africa where I got the opportunity to ride some amazing bikes, with equally amazing people under the guise as a ride guide. In fact if the definition of being a professional cyclist is that you get paid to ride your bike, then dam I have already made it, well for a period this February I had, call it a stagiere contract which never got extended if you will.

For those of you who closely follow Pro bike racing the brand BMC has had mixed fortunes having, through the sponsorship of various teams, employed riders such as Tyler Hamilton, Floyd Landis and Vinokurov to ride their steeds. After the success and corresponding failure of sponsoring such riders, I think you all know what I am alluding to, BMC took a back step in the world of bike sponsorship but after last year title sponsoring its own Continental level team, in 2010 it is looking to make a serious impact in all the big races thanks to the signings of riders such as Cadel Evans, George Hincapie and Allessandro Ballan and to coincide with such an increase in sponsorship investment comes a range of new models in both the road and mtb categories, which brings me nicely round to why I was being paid to ride a BMC in Gran Canaria.

The ‘2010 BMC Ride Camp’ was an opportunity for BMC’s top European based dealers and distributors to try out the new range, so that they could get to know the products better and provide feedback on the bikes, useful information for any bike company especially considering the quality of some of the riders present…I won’t boast on the palmares of some of the guys I rode with, but ex Giro, Tour and Vuelta riders were all present along with one of Laurent Fignon’s top equippers. So what was a Master of Engineering graduate who had decided to give it all up to race his bike in France doing here, well I had the not very daunting task of leading group rides, getting the opportunity to try the road range myself all whilst being paid, with the inevitable grin on my face that comes from being in such a situation.

This may sound like an easy deal for all involved, but along with all the fun and games, and believe me there was a lot, a lot of hard work was involved for everyone employed by this operation, from the mechanics who arrived 2 days before the first guests and had the unenviable task of unpacking and building the 90 bikes shipped out for the project in one massive container, which then had to be correspondingly re packed at the end of the project, to myself and my fellow ride guide and teammate Phil Gale who would leave our apartment we were staying in every morning at around 7:30am and not return until 9:30pm having fitted around 5-6hrs riding in between, but boy was it a blast, the bike wasn’t bad either.

The BMC boys having an obligatory Coffee stop-one of the things that really stood out for me during my time with BMC was the fact that the group were more than just colleagues, they were all really good mates, which made my life a whole lot easier, that and the sun!

The centre piece of BMC’s range for anyone with a preference to riding on the road was undoubtedly the new range topping Team Machine, which Team BMC will be rolling out on soon, rumour even has it that if it is dry at Paris Roubaix Ballan will be riding one with a set of deep section carbon wheels surely a testament to its vertical compliancy. I was privileged enough to be able to ride one of these for the duration of the trip and without going into the technical detail as this can all be found on BMC’s own website, I can honestly say it is the best bike I have ever ridden, incredibly stiff whilst maintaining a vertical compliance normally associated with frames made from other materials such as titanium, it was a real drag to have to give it back, but alas I had to, annoyingly the Swiss precision that created this masterpiece of bike engineering also meant all the bikes were counted out and counted in at the end of the project…bugger! The Team Machine really is a quality product that should leave the small Swiss brand punching above its weight in the world market place.

But enough of dreaming about sunnier times and better bikes, it’s still raining and it’s time for me to make some dinner. I would just like to say a big thank you to everyone I met at the BMC camp for such a great couple of weeks and allowing me to try out some amazing products, but particularly and in no particular order, Stephan, Marcus, Steven, Patrick, Mike, Frank, Steven, Manuel, Eric and Alberto.

A Little Trip to France

Well i feel i should apologise somewhat to the avid readers of this blog, all 3 of you that probably is, but after a snowy, sleety unrideable afternoon in the North West of England i logged into my account to see if anyone had messaged me...etc and realised the last time i updated this blog with information regarding what i have actually been doing was quite a long time ago. I could make up a massive list of half decent excuses but the stark reality is that i have been exceptionally lazy.

So without further ado this is what i have been up to over the last couple of weeks. I finally finished work at Waitrose on the 5th Feb and my god what a relief it was no longer will i be rocking up back home at 10:30 at night with a body in ruins, i am sure all of you riders out there will appreciate how painful walking around for 9hrs as a bike rider is...ouchy. Having said that i would like to extend a massive thank-you to almost everyone at Waitrose, i know some of you are reading this, for making the last 6 months of work a complete laugh. After my last shift the members of my Section all headed out into town for a curry as a farewell meal where i preceded to show everyone how much i can eat, which incidentally is a lot.

The weekend after i finished work literally flew by, i managed to ride for just over 4hrs on both the Saturday and the Sunday, with the afternoons taken up organising my life as on Monday myself and Phil Gale, teammate for the season and all round sound geezer, were off to France to drop our gear off, pick our kit up, get our licences sorted and generally get sorted for the season.

Monday morning soon arrived, my car was packed and the sat nav set to my first destination...Phil's house, after the best part of 5hrs i arrived at Phil's and after a quick turn around and way too much coffee in a short space of time we were on the road again heading to Portsmouth ready to get the Ferry to St Malo. Having been on the go for the best part of 10hrs i was glad we had a cabin booked for the overnight crossing and soon the snores of two tired bike riders was drowning out the sound of the diesel engine powering the boat along.

The morning soon arrived...or rather it didn't, forgetting the consequences of the continent being an hour ahead on time, we left the boat at 8:45am still in the dark which was a little disorientating, but we were on the road heading to Hennebont and with Ian Brown on the CD player it was all smiles in the Astra.

After 2.5hrs of driving we reached our destination and headed into town for a coffee, before going to the Presidents house, running errands, going to the doctors...etc all boring things that i do not really need to talk about here. A lovely evening meal with the Presidents family followed however it was soon off to bed ready for the 6am wake up to get the ferry back to the UK. Now 8hrs on a boat during the day didn't appeal to me much before and certainly does not now, fortunately myself and Phil were pretty tired so managed to sleep for most of it but man was it a drag. On our way back into Portsmouth though we did manage to capture some pretty good pictures of the sunsetting, goes to show that there are some decent places in the UK too.

The view from the Ferry entering Portsmouth, nice i think you will agree.

Once we hit the port i dropped Phil off with his Dad, who had rather kindly offered to pick Phil up in Portsmouth thus saving me about 3hrs on my journey back up north, filled up with Petrol and smashed it back up north back in time for tea...well not really.

After missing 3 days of riding during my travels i decided to put a hard block in over the last weekend, doing 3hrs on Thursday, 4.5hrs on Friday, 5hrs on Saturday and 6hrs on Sunday with a 50mile reliability thrown in for the mix, i think my form is about right as i was still feeling pretty strong on the Sunday, having done some efforts in each of the preceding rides also. It is a nice feeling to know now though that when i get back from a ride i do not have to rush round to get ready for work, i can eat and get a quick nap in to aid the recovery.

With me off to Gran Canaria on Saturday to meet up with Phil again i am spending the last few days in the UK relaxing and riding as much as the weather will allow before heading to Gran Canaria for 2.5 weeks and finally to France for the season on 12th March.