Sometimes I have good luck, sometimes I have bad luck. Yesterday I had a little bad luck. But no one died. So it's all good then.
With the recent freezing conditions relenting and then a large depression crossing the UK on Friday, it became quite obvious that no matter what, Shrewsbury was likely to be held in heavy mud. A few internet searches and an article on the VeloUK website made it clear that this was likely to be one of the more technical rounds with woodland and several sets of man made obstacles.
With Paul not racing, Heather and I packed the van and set off well before dawn for the three hour drive. A pre race McBreakfastThingy and strong coffee being a welcome break.
Upon arrival we were greeted by a superb venue, a large sports centre close to wooded area. No prospect of a cold shower here. Blue skies, a little frost, yet a reasonably warm morning. As H disappeared to sus out the start and pit arrangements, I signed on and ventured out onto the course.
Tough, technical, muddy, iffy. Well iffy in places. A long, tarmac start straight went onto some fast grassland, followed by a really fast muddy descent. Then the course went into flat but super technical woodland before onto a series of mad made banks, of cambers, steps and boards. Then, through the finish….and repeat until exhaustion. To add, the last part of the course was covered by the commentator. I had visions of Jeux San Frontiers, Stuart Hall style laughing at the chaos that might ensue first lap. This wasn’t helped when a fellow competitor did a magnificent ‘endo’ with a miss-timed bunny hop of the hurdles in front of me. Finally there was a truly terrifying off camber bank on probably the fastest part of the course. I quickly realised that the faster you went, the safer it was……but goodness, the stakes were high. 100% commitment was the only way, it was just that if you got it wrong it may well be three months in Shrewsbury Infirmary. Did I mention the small sand pit? Oh, there was one of them as well…….
Two laps later, and I knew all I needed to know. I could get round it without falling, but about 50% of the course was pure survival and the rest was pure bottle. Avoiding a major mechanical was also going to be crucial such was the mud.
Nicely perked up with a flat-fizzy drink, I lined up in the gridding pens with fifteen to go knowing that my slow but steady accumulation of national points should now see me at the business end of the grid. As I sat there, the commissaire started to read the great and good names out. Then he started on the names of people I actually race against, and so the list went on. One by one, riders went forward into the six rider wide ranks. And then, there was just me, waiting….
The commissaire asked if I had done any other rounds? I had. What was my name? I told him. He checked his list, and in fairness to the chap, he immediately ‘fessed up’. “You should have been on the second rank, I got distracted and missed your name. Sorry.” Thinking back, I knew how this happened. A rider on the second rank had indeed played hell at not been on the first row and engaged the commissaire in a direct conversation. With riders now stripped off ready to race, it was not right to delay the start. So I had to take my bad luck and make the best of it. Nine rows back. I had a lot of work to do.
Bang. We were off. About 200m later, we were off the tarmac and straight into the dreaded off camber bank. It was clear from the outset that I would struggle. The woods would allow the front of the race to stretch out whilst the rest of us all found ourselves riding at someone elses pace. With the event being so tricky in places, I knew that low gear smoothness and avoiding crashing was the way to go on the technical bits. This would allow me to recover, and not loose chunks of time before leathering it on the tarmac and grasslands. Riding through the woods, I did what I could to relax, let my shoulders drop and not brake, but moderate my speed early to let the front wheel do its job.
Changing bikes every one and a half laps kept Heather frantically busy with her using 125 litres of water in about half an hour. Even then, the bike stopped working properly with only the front changer really being viable. Big ring for going fast, little ring for staying upright.
After picking off riders one by one, and plenty more unashamed wheelsucking, I came into the penultimate lap onto the back of a group of two. I knew that what ever my position was, this was roughly as good as it was going to get for me. At the bell, it was just me and one other after the Zepnat guy overtook me going backwards without his bike in the woods (kamikaze overtake that went wrong - bigtime). A quick glance behind for Mr. Zepnat confirmed he was out of it. It was me or him…..
Into the technical section for the last time, I sat behind and waited, my plan being a rare sprint on the last 100m finishing straight. He knew what was coming, me or him. Bizarre really when you don't know if you're racing for 21st or 121st place. Going up the steps, I was there, just one more bank and then it happened, as we lapped none other than ageing CX god, Mick Ives. Mick slipped, tripped and my companion avoided him. I didn’t, in so doing taking an almighty bang to my right calf. Game over.
Somehow, I managed to salvage a few more points with 27th place. In all honesty, it’s a pointless exercise to speculate what might have been, and I genuinely don’t think the course would have flattered me under any circumstances. I'm a big numb tester, not a product of the BMX generation. All that matters is that I had a fantastic day of sport, learnt a little more and gained a bit more confidence.
I even managed to be enthusiastic at stopping off at Ikea on the way home. Better get on with that DIY now Heather……
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