RTTC National Circuit Championship - 2015

I rode the RTTC National Circuit Championship at Thruxton a few days ago (Oct 19th 2015). A write up is on the Team Sales Engine blog.

Love this photo - war face and nice and aero

Really great event, well organised, great circuit and really fair conditions for all riders. Managed to get my 'war face' snapped on the circuit and the pictures are as follows. Last year's ride was a shambles as my chain developed a fault and caused me to have to put the bike in the recovery position whilst swearing at it with a mile left to race. There was an issue with Shimano 11 speed chains apparently. Gladly this year the bike was fab, the rider was in good enough form and the weather was dry but a tad windy.



I was 55th on GC and 8th in the National Masters A category. A nice way to end a season of several highs. Great to race this event with Sam Hayes again and also really good to have James Gomm in tow for Ostrich Curry and general mirth making.

The Italian Job - Passo dello Stelvio

Few places in cycling can rival the Alps for sheer scale. Even fewer can rival the Stelvio as the definitive mountain col. No matter the language, Stelvio Pass, Stilfersjoch, Passo dello Stelvio, this col, from whichever direction is brutal and beautiful in equal measure, I can attest to this having had a crack at it from both the Prato side and then the Bormio side.

With the Foscagna, Eira and Fuorn cols already in my legs and 60 miles traversed across Italy and Switzerland, the Stelvio beckoned. The next three hours were to be the most gruelling and educational of my cycling life. 

The climb begins by rolling from Prato allo Stelvio at around 3,000ft. The target is the summit of the pass which is around 17 miles away, and 6,000ft higher. The pass is only bettered in altitude in the Alps by the Iseran. What unfolded was an almost religious experience. There are 48 hairpin bends on the climb from this side. The first three (48 to 46) take a while to appear and an even longer period to complete, a purgatorial prelude. I had ridden with Simon Wilson and James Gomm to the first hairpins, and then pushed on alone for 85 minutes of steady tapping on my 36*28 gear. A gearing which was way too big for the circumstances but which was good enough to crack a 5-6mph average speed. 

I could see Simon on the lower slopes, hovering around 200-300 yards back, he was going steadily and James was not far off him. As we progressed the ~10% gradient was becoming harder to deal with, but the real kick in the teeth was the increasingly windy and wet conditions. The rain had become a full-on storm and the wind was now gusting 35mph. 

At hairpin 22 several of our colleagues who began the day with us began to abandon. As a trio we were riding just on the edge of the storm, the only break in the gloom was the dozen or so Ferraris that were being thrashed along the pass. I'm no petrol-head so the spectacle was wasted on me. At that point in time I was looking for road position, so the screaming engines were more of a distraction for me than a delight, I was weaving around the falling rocks and shattered branches from the overhead pine trees to try and manage my tyres from puncture. A puncture or mechanical at that stage would be terminal - quite literally.

Stelvio Pass from the summit, facing towards the Prato side, two days after the ascent of doom

At hairpin 10 the wind lifted me and my bike (the lovely Victoria) completely off the road. Boom! Welcome to the game son. The wind was increasingly ferocious. My thighs and calves were on fire. My focus was solely on getting to the top - the inner tester in me took over, 'I don't DNF and I'm not about to start now'. 

My kit was drenched and I was drenched. Fortunately it was good kit and I'd held off the elements as much as anyone could, this was now a purely head game. 

Simon went passed me, we exchanged glances and nods. We said nothing, like men on the gallows waiting for the drop. James went ahead and pushed hard for the top. It would take him 2 days to recover from that effort.

Getting to haipin 2 was the single most difficult physical thing I have ever done. Mentally it would be right up there too. Something akin to special forces selection I guess. Even my cramp had cramp. Twisted and contorted I pushed on.

The wind on the top of the climb was brutal, two of us sought shelter in a doorway until we spotted that the hotel at the top was open. We bundled for cover and then the enormity of what had happened set in. Shivering and shaking was the order of the day, a couple of co-riders came in, frozen and soaked to the bone. Blankets were conjured up by the hotel staff and lycra-layers were peeled off to stave off hypothermia, with modest effect. 

A support vehicle arrived, dry clothes appeared, coffee, crisps, biscuits were consumed with haste. And then the suffering began to relent as we took sanctuary in a commandeered minibus and trailer. Bormio please driver, don't spare the horses.

The summit monument to Fausto Coppi.

The day of the ascent would have been my late Father-in-Law's birthday, I didn't realise it till afterwards, as a great fan of Coppi Brian may well have been pushing me on somehow. That one was for you BP. The tales of the Stelvio and Cima Coppi are renowned for a reason but I now have my own personal post-script that will stay with me forever.  

My respect for this pass is now absolute.

The summit of the Gavia - what a difference a day makes

I feel the need, the need for.... ...a glass of celebratory Wine Society Merlot

Well I seem to have gone rather quickly in today's Chronos RT 10 mile time trial.

I posted 21 minutes and 44 seconds to be precise, which is 5 seconds quicker than my fastest time ever (set in 2014 on the F15/10 after a week of 18,000m and 500 miles-ish of Alpine climbing training).

I am going quicker now than I did 10 years ago. I must, therefore, be like a fine wine, maturing with age.

There can be no other explanation.

Thanks go to a support network in the shape of my team mates, in 'the Engine' and elsewhere - and a VERY supportive family who let me traipse around the East Midlands each weekend from April-September in pursuit of fitness, mental well-being and performance improvements.

F2A/10 Chronos RT - about 6 miles in. Thanks to Davey Jones for the pic.

I did smash my body and brain to bits into the prevailing headwind going out to the turn. Some would say there isn't much of either to smash.

Positive splits, it's the only way.

Some pointless data that only me and Steve Robinson care about.

It takes two baby

Last night I was treated to the following view for approximately 23 minutes and 36 seconds. 

But what is it viewers?

I am sure you are now trying to work out what it is. Or have clicked elsewhere in your browser having realised this is weird.

I'll help you out but bear in mind this is something that has been burnt on to my retinas over the past 24 hours.

If you have not worked it out, it is Steve Robinson.

More accurately, it is Steve Robinson's backside as viewed from about three inches away.

I like Steve a lot, he has been a friend for approximately 15 years. We have raced together for most of that period and we share a common love of Stewart Lee's comedy. He also has a van akin to Team Sky's Death Star. What's not to like?

But to spend half an hour that far from where his lunch would normally be exiting his body, takes some doing. And also some convincing, let's get that straight right now.

So, apart from a pastime performed in the Cannock Chase area by ex-professional footballers, what could we be up to? Well 'give me your answer do', if it wasn't whizzing along on a racing tandem.

Riding a 'normal' time trial bike at speed is exhilarating. Riding a 2-man version with no control over the front/pointy end but still attempting to make it go quicker is probably the comparable to static-line parachuting from 800ft, versus jumping off a Red-Bull-branded-space-balloon thingy in a flying-bat suit.

Tandem racing, it is the future. I have seen it, I have scoffed at it, my prejudice for the tandem was rivaled only by that of my disdain for the folding bike (and all forms of trikes).

But that was yesterday, before my road to Damascus (or Old Warden, Bedfordshire) moment.

My only lingering thought, apart from the visual scar (above) is that the words of the song 'Daisy, Daisy' and associated reference to a bicycle made for two, need to be struck from the canon of English language popular verse. Or at least it should be annotated along the lines of the following.

Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do,

(Translates to 'So long as the answer is not 'Slow-the-f**k-down!! We're going to die on that corner!')

I'm half crazy all for the love of you.

(Half-crazy? And the rest. Especially if you think we are going to smash 350 Watts up that hill.) 

It won't be a stylish marriage,

(Easy for you to say, you are not stoking this thing - I left my dignity and any residual style at the signing on point along with my £2 levy to the CTT.) 

I can't afford a carriage,

(Because you blew it all on carbon fibre, tandem specific wheels and modified Sugino hubs.)

But you'd look sweet upon the seat

(Sweet? Sweaty more like.)

Of a bicycle made for two

(Well, that is factually correct - so leave that line in)

I think HAL in '2001- A Space Odyssey' sang about this. Just before he fired his best mate out of the air-lock or similar. 

For the record, Steve (pilot) and I went round the Hitchin Nomads Briercliffe 10 course, which is not flat, in well over 25mph. That is half a minute quicker than I have ever gone on my own. Still grinning, although seeking therapy.

Putting some skin in the game

Yes, I know, it seems a while... ...I have been inundated with requests to blog about my travails and travels in the renowned British Time Trialling circles. 

Since my last broadcast, I have done some races, got ill (nothing life or death but a touch more than "man flu"), got better. Did some more races.

To amuse the reader, I shall regale you with yesterday's endeavours. I entered the Lampard RC F15/10 on the Marston Moretaine course. I have been training well, the numbers were good on the power and pulse and although it was a bit of a hard day to call weather wise, the runes looked promising. 

And then it happened.The zip on my skinsuit ripped, just south of my navel. 

This meant that not only did I look like a reject from Stan Lee's sketch book,, e.g .Shit Time Trial Hero Man, it also meant I could not take to the start line due to CTT's regulations on attire, e.g. "Competitors must be clothed from the neck to at least mid-thigh". All told, I looked like a deviant and I would have stopped me racing too.

To make matters worse, I drew the attention of both James Gomm and Mike Webb who both attempted to "yank my zip". Bearing in mind they(Gomm and Webb) were crouched at midriff height "tugging hard to release my fastener" this could not have looked good. 

If Bedfordshire Police had patrolled the underpass where we had parked (yes I know, it gets worse doesn't it), I dare say Stan Collymore and I would be in the same support group now working out why our lives were in respective tatters.

With no solution in sight, I took to wearing my winter jersey over the top of the offending garment. This at least hid my rippling six pack from the attendant masses and also allowed me to do the actual race. The net effect of wearing the equivalent of parachute was not formally quantified but I am suggesting it was at least 1.5 seconds per mile.

As Morrissey once said, "I can laugh about it now but at the time it was terrible" I'll be packing two skinsuits next time.

Stay tuned for more fashion advice.