Expectations were high for this evening and the pressure was on. This was set to be my last race for a while.
When I first constructed my plan to try and raise my game, I knew pushing this far into June would be touch and go. It’s one of the critical months of my year at work and the luck of the weather largely decides how easy or tough things are.
Thankfully, with the dry spring and early summer continuing, things are generally good and there was nothing to stop me getting away for a few hours. The obligatory ‘what if’s’ did flash through my mind but to be honest, getting home for this evenings rounds would be the least of my worries if I broke a bone! It would be wrong to call this a premonition mind you as I get the same thoughts every race!
My prep was mixed. I was trying to carry through my good form from two weeks ago by doing a race intensity effort every 72hours (either Zwift or XC) with plenty of rest and a bit of endurance in between. Whilst not 100% specific, they all got the HR into the right sort of zones- although the brutal KISS pursuit race on Saturday was a bit fruitier than I was expecting!
The race bike felt like when I used to get into my 306 after a 12hr shift driving tractors as a student- light, nimble and speedy!
Warmup was sedate until 19:30 when I whizzed back to switch Jerseys and then ramped it up for ten minutes.
I even avoided too much confrontation with the Comms on the start light and slinked into the middle of the bunch.
Matt was here, hopefully carrying good fitness from his big weekend ride and Ben was also here. He had clocked 134miles on the Dragon Ride at 16.5mph so his F+F would both be through the roof!
I had of course done my over-blown research on the entrants and the field was around the same size as usual but the successful break-artists from the last few weeks were missing- mostly because they are now Cat 3’s. This left all the top dog spots to be filled.
Setting off, I felt awful! That’s not just artistic license to give myself a chance to enhance my epic finish either! I had been knackered all day at work and even a crafty afternoon nap from 3-4 hadn’t touched it.
The system was fully primed with sugar and caffeine now though so I knew it was as good as it was going to get.
The pace felt zippier than some races but probably wasn’t yet. I don’t really know what happened on the first lap as I had drifted to the back and couldn’t see.
At this point I laughed out loud at my hopes of getting in a break- I was currently just trying not to get dropped.
Lap two was even worse as the first attempts started pinging off the front. Again, I smiled at the thought of trying to bridge- this lap was 291w just trying to follow the bunch.
That pretty much set the tone for the race. Attack, chase, attack, chase, chase, chase etc.
Why is it, wherever I race, the crisp, fresh-looking guys in plain Rapha seem to love their solo break attempts! It must be for the Photographer I reckon because they are never anywhere to be seen at the sprint.
I joke of course, fair play to them for having a go.
A few laps in and Matt was on the prowl. He came past with intent. Sadly, I was still waiting for the afterburners to light up so could only watch initially.
He moved expertly through the bunch and launched across to the two man break that was hanging just 50m off of the front. Kudos for the move! Finding a surge from somewhere, I followed the wheel of the guy who was following Matt.
Now with hindsight, this is stupid!! I realise as I write this that I should have covered the front of the bunch and defended him but I wasn’t really thinking straight at this point and thus blew both of our chances. A lesson learned perhaps.
Anyway, whatever gap there was before was now a strung-out train of riders linking everyone back together. As Matt’s fuel light came on and he was running on fumes, a couple of guys finally started pulling and I swung in front of him to try and keep him in the move but sadly the hill had arrived and it was all back together.
Now time to cling on! I’m not sure if it was this lap or the next but at one point, I very nearly lost the wheel up past the finish line and had to put a huge sprint in to catch back on- hitting 1900w in the process! A shame I couldn’t have unleased THAT at the end!
The more I race there, the more a few things niggle me about Thruxton. But the timing of the races is a big issue. The only time I saw a good break get away with about 8 riders clear and looking focussed, was just before we got lapped by the Cat 3’s. And the Motorcycle Comm pretty much shut their move down to ensure the Cat 3 break could get past unhindered.
I’m not saying it ultimately changed the outcome of the race, but it did spoil a good chance of something other than a bunch sprint getting rewarded.
I reckon doing the Cat4 race earlier with the Juniors and then the Woman’s race later with the Cat 3’s would be a far better format.
I kind of hit my lowest ebb at this point. I was still working hard and knew my only chance was a sprint. I started to consider the last lap and a plan formed in my mind. Basically, every lap of this race, we had been reeling in moves up the hill and had pretty much gone full gas. My HR was always 180 by the end of the pit wall. This told me that there was absolutely no point in forcing a move-up on the last lap. It didn’t matter if I hit the base of the final climb (such as it is but you get the point) in last place- if I went any harder than usual, I wouldn’t have a sprint.
Instead, I had to surf. I had been Nathing all race and leaving big gaps at times but it was time to focus and concentrate on holding a tight wheel at all times.
Thinking back to last time, I knew the right-hand side would be a better option. The bunch favours the left and tends to box you in. The pace stayed high from three laps to go this week. I had no answer other than to push the pedals around and follow the best wheel I could.
As we hit the bell, the pace rose further then stopped, then surged again as a few people tried a long distance flier. The plan stayed the same though, sit in and be patient.
At around this point, instead of the panic that I was expecting, a serene calmness descended. This was it. This was the moment. This was the culmination of the year’s racing. All together with all to play for. I looked ahead and tried to gauge where the points finished. With this imaginary line in my head, I knew I had to be up to that kind of region as we tipped into the chicane and after that, it was time to channel every last ounce of energy I had devoted to this since December, into my final sprint. I felt up for it! I felt ready to rip this carbon Chinese frame into pieces! I was 100% focussed on my goal.
Into the climb and I surfed gently up the right hand side. Everything felt good. My plan was coming together and I was moving up for little effort.
Guys in front were drilling it and just towing us up the slope. My imaginary line of the front 10 places came nearer and with just 80m until the chicane, I was nearly there and felt like I was floating on air.
A quick interlude at this point to say that I am well aware that this also sounds like artistic license. A realisation of my chosen narrative if you like. The old ‘I felt shit, had a cold, missed the bus, blew a tube and still rode away to victory’ routine. But I tell you- whether I could have pulled it off remains forever an unknown but it almost doesn’t matter- the feeling I had at that moment was as good as that illusive point is going to feel I’m sure.
Anyway, back to the final 500m. Ben was well placed as usual, but along with the guys around him, they were coming back to me and the guy I was surfing. I also had a great line through the chicane eyed up and was as ready as I was ever going to be.
I loaded the dice into the shaker, closed my eyes, shook as hard as I could and tipped them out onto the table. I needed two sixes to pull this sprint off.
The first dice rolled just a few moments and landed. A One!!!! Shit. At this point, the closest moment to a crash yet at Truxton played out. Ben and another guy collided and as always, the counter-steer took hold and seemed to suck them towards each other.
They were going down and hard it seemed. But no! They held it up. The guys in front seemed to accelerate away as all of us behind braced ourselves.
It was back on though and the other dice was still spinning wildly!!!! I could yet get a point with a single 6 perhaps!
We all re-accelerated towards the chicane and I will say that the sun was awful. That’s all I’m going to say however as I don’t know who reads this. As I stood up and began my assault on the grand finale, the sound of bikes scraping down the road hit my ears and two shapes fell across the Apex in front. My perfect line was now blocked and a good 6-8 riders on the inside were already through, meaning at least 15-20 riders were away. As I took to the rumble strips, I realised one rider was Ben so I pulled over to give him a hand.
The Commissaire ran over from his car and immediately started questioning for blame but sadly the sun means I have no answers to give.
And that’s it for now. No points but another great evening. Yes. it was a bit negative and yes the crash was a little senseless but the passion remains and I can’t wait to get back into it again.
Needless to say, another plan has been written and my sights are set on Big Events at Hillingdon in October.
