Off and running

Prologue -- June 30: Liège to Liège, 6.1 km (4.0 mi)

Fabian Cancellara doing what he does best and winning a prologue. Photograph: Bettini

Thank goodness for an application such as Twitter, for without it we wouldn't realise that Fabian Cancellara actually has a personality, leaving us to understandable assume that the big Swissman is in fact a highly sophisticated cybernetic robot, sent back through time to destroy prologue courses. I mean, who really did I think I was kidding by seriously predicting anyone other than Cancellara to win today?

BUMPER EDITION TOUR DE FRANCE PREVIEW 2012

Musings from race six at the Kelso mid-week series

I definitely felt better than last week but then again it was a good 10 degrees cooler and without the humidity. I also had the Garmin back on the bike and like the slave to it that I am becoming I was able to regulate my ride better. Halfway around the final lap I was sitting somewhere around 8th overall when I was able to push harder to the finish than I otherwise might have done had I gone off to hard at the start as I am prone to do from time-to-time. By the time I reached the finish I was up to forth, just thirty seconds off the win, and had won the 30-39 class in a sprint by half-a-wheel.

Below is my race details:

A weekend of good riding

We got away up to the lake for the weekend and naturally with the sun shining, the bike came with. Two cracking days -- in particular the Saturday which couldn't have been better for cycling with temperatures in the mid-high 20's Celsius, little breeze and blue skies. The Sunday was overcast but cool enough to allow to a decent speed to be maintained without burning up.

The average speed for both days was good and good for training. On Sunday I had turned into the wind with the average sitting at 20.7mph. Determined to finish with it still over twenty, it turned into a time-trial as I pushed against the breeze while watching it tick down towards zero. A couple of short but sharp little hills right by the finish sucked a lot out of me and I might have dipped below twenty had I not rode the last five hundred yards like I was being perused by the peloton of the Tour de France. It felt good to arrive with it at 20.0 mph.

Saturday's ride:

Sunday's ride:

"It's hot for my Irish skin"

The headline were the words I spoke to one of the lads racing against me on the final lap as I offered him room to move ahead of me and off up the trail. I had cracked; or at least, I didn't have much in my legs and I was overheating and content to just get myself round to the finish. It was in the mid 30's Celsius and with humidity you could factor in another ten degrees at least.

I done all the right things pre-race. I drank lots of water, I took in eLoad, and some Hammer Gel, but that doesn't cool you down and when you go up the climb and into the trees and the breeze is only a warm one, it feels like you are riding in a steam room as the sweat lashes from your face.

I knew what I was in for after my warmup lap but there's nothing I could do about it. I forgot my Garmin so had to go on instinct as to how the heart-rate was running and I don't reckon I did a great job. Or if I did, I didn't factor in the heat. I rode steady enough the first lap but had little to push on with in the second lap as I had the week before until the final downhill when I figured the climbing was done and threw everything at it. I had gradually slipped down the order finishing somewhere in the region of 7th in the sport category after gaining one place back on that final descent. Not bad in a field of just under 90, but when you get the taste of winning -- even in a sport race in a local mid-week series -- you want more of it.

I hope it's a little cooler next week and I could certainly do with putting in a few road miles in between. Not doing anything from one Tuesday to the next was another problem.

Seven potential new tour champs that could possibly include two time winner, Jimmy Casper

 

Meet Jimmy Casper. Potential two time winner of past Tours de France and the first French winner since Bernard Hinault. Photograph: www.ispaphoto.com

With news that Lance Armstrong is set to be tried, convicted and hung by a jury of his critics from USADA for crimes against humanity, I mean, for alleged doping practices throughout his career, it seems that there is a strong chance Mr. Armstrong could lose his seven Tour de France titles earned between 1999 and 2005, though to whom he might lose them to is still up for debate.

There's a chance that they will leave the records empty for those seven years, but knowing how these things work they might well promote the seven second place men up into first which, given their names and their own history of doping, it would prove absolutely ridiculous. On that note, expect it to happen.

Yes, that would make the new champions as follows: Alex Zülle (1999), Jan Ullrich (2000, 2001, 2003), Joseba Beloki (2002), Andréas Klöden (2004) and Ivan Basso (2005). Indeed, that would be Mr. Jan 'four times winner' Ullrich, to you. The same Jan Ullrich who himself has 'admitted it all'. You see where this is going?

To me, if you want the cleanest man to win it then you'll have to go a lot further down the pile than second. Actually there's no way of knowing who was the cleanest in that era -- an era now widely accepted to be littered from top to bottom with performance enhancing drugs -- so, I propose they crown the seven Lanterne Rouge winners as champions ... not because they were clean necessarily, but because they were the worst of those that doped!

So without further ado, the 1999 to 2005 winners of the Tour de France with their teams at the time and their original time gap to Armstrong:

The web is closing in on Lance Armstrong who is charged with doping but for cycling fans, the timing is poor

Armstrong must contemplate what his next move is. Photograph: Mark Gunter | AFP

Just when Lance Armstrong thought it was safe to go outside and play again what with the US feds having dropped their case against him back in February and the Tour de France set to make all the cycling based headlines over the next month or so, the United States Anti-Doping Agency (USADA) have served the seven time winner of the Tour de France with formal doping charges spanning a period of 13-years, thus threatening to expose the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth in the long term, while taking away from the build-up to the Tour de France in the short term.

You all know the background to this already even though it only broke yesterday evening. The allegations against Armstrong are nothing new and he's been trying to swat them off for years now, but finally it looks as though USADA are going to present evidence along with witness testimony that could see the Texan held to account for his shady practices.

The accusations against Armstrong were sent to him in a 15-page letter that was leaked to The Washington Post. According to the newspaper, the letter alleges that Armstrong and five other former cycling team associates, including three doctors and the team manager, Johan Bruyneel, engaged in a doping conspiracy from 1998-2011. Among the witnesses are said to be more than ten cyclists.

-- Owen Slot, The Times, June 13, 2012

The letter itself can be viewed in its entirety, here and alleges the use of almost every performance enhancing drug under the sun by Armstrong. The man himself called the charges "baseless, motivated by spite and advanced through testimony bought and paid for by promises of anonymity and immunity", while maintaining his innocence to doping by stating, as ever, that he has "passed more than 500 drug tests and never failed one".

Another win!

What can I say, the conditions were ideal for a man from Northern Ireland. It wasn't blazing hot and just a few hours before the race start a cloud flew over the course and dumped a good week or twos worth of rain upon it. The course was slippery, damp and ideally suited to someone used to riding in those conditions.

Saying that, when I done my practice lap I was concerned I might struggle. I don't know whether it's my tires or just me but when the course is slippery, I feel the bike is just dying to throw me off. I have to assume it isn't me because I ended up winning the race, but you also have to factor in the fact that once they shout GO and the race begins you look at the course very differently than you might on a practice lap. You're confidence in cornering changes and you no longer worry that the tires might not hold the course.

At least I didn't and while there were a few close calls the bike held together pretty good.

Of course, I probably shouldn't have won the race.

It was on the first climb right at the start of the race when I heard the thumping sound of ACDC coming from just behind me. I didn't look around but I assumed someone had parked a car nearby though I never recall seeing one and it wasn't an area you would easily get a car into. The sound got louder however and soon it was alongside me. "Really?" I asked of myself. I looked over to see some kid with a large backpack on with what seemed to be a stereo inside. A boombox. A ghettoblaster. Whatever it was it was pumping out the tunes, everyone seemed to like it, but they also questioned the sanity of the kid riding with it and riding faster than anyone else.

I just figured he would blow and so I settled into my rhythm of trying to keep my heart-rate down until the final lap. I went onto the final lap probably in about forth or fifth, and with plenty in the legs I went up the final climb well and was soon within ears shot of the music again. I had caught the bloke with the tunes and after spending a minute trying to recover from the climb I attempted to sit on his wheel. But he was moving well and every time the course turned up he would increase the gap. I figured I was settling for second as we approached the final quarter of a lap with me twenty yards behind when he suddenly pulled in to stop.

Sure I was now in the lead I put the foot down and kept it down until I crossed the line. A minute or so later so did the kid with the music and when I asked him why he stopped his explanation was simple. It wasn't mechanical and he claims it wasn't exhaustion. "I wanted to change the tune."

Ride details:

Back at the O-Cup and a blazing hot day

Since coming to Canada my eyes have been opened as to how good some of the trails here really are, and that's without yet having even been out to the Rockies. Ontario is littered with good trail runs which suits the non-climber like me nicely. Sure there was some steep drags, but there's not what you would call a mountain in sight and so any climb can be summited in about five or six minutes.

As each race in this Ontario Cup series has come and gone I have declared the course the best I have ever ridden. Actually, that usually comes during practice when I ride at a nice steady pace knowing that I'm not in a race. And that was no different this weekend as the O-Cup's forth round took me to Albion Hills. I'd never been there before, which should seem odd given it's only 45 minutes from where I live and is one of the bigger mountain bike parks in the area, but on Friday night I went up to ride two laps of the race course for Sunday and came away declaring it the 'best course I've ever ridden'. It was fast, smooth, and there was no killer climbing. All the uphill was steep but short and a little momentum into the hill could carry you about halfway up.

As ever I decided not to race the first lap and a half, but to instead take it easy and try make each lap time faster than the last. My practice run indicated this could be possible and I set heart-rate targets for each lap that should leave me with plenty in the tank for the last go around.

But one thing I didn't factor in from the practice ride on that beautifully still Friday evening as the setting sun stretched out my shadow to about ten lengths of my actual body, was that the same sun would be higher in the sky come Sunday at 11.45am and much stronger. By race time it was well into the 30's with humidity and I had just the one bottle of eLoad with which to ration around the three laps.

As the first lap came to an end in a time of 27:52 I felt great. I was well off the lead, but that was fine. This was an O-Cup race and I was never going to win it. I had gone off steady and that was the main plan, though my average HR was a little bit higher than I had hoped. I hoped that if I could keep the second lap consistent then I would have something extra to give on the final lap and while that second lap left me feeling a little tired but still feeling like I had maintained a good speed, I was surprised to later read it was 1:36 slower than the first.

I put that down to two things. One, I hadn't gone off as easily as I had thought -- though it's lucky I went easier than I might otherwise have in previous races -- and two, that the heat was starting to take its toll.

Going onto the third lap all that was left in my bottle was about an inch of water laced with the dregs of that eLoad. It was warm, it was thick and it wasn't good. I had sucked in a Hammer Gel on the previous lap which also proved to be a mistake. As good as this stuff is half-an-hour before the race, taking it during only left me feeling sick and spending the third lap retching.

The third lap I pushed harder as planned but soon had to back off. It was clear that what I had tried to save in the first two laps had been stolen by the thick humid heat and zero breeze that was getting through the trees. I was drying out, dehydrating, gasping for water and at one point even feeling chills which definitely wasn't a good sign. I was delighted that I had saved something for the last lap because had I gone hard from the start, I'd have found myself halfway around the course lying in the gutter begging for any passing cyclist to spare me a drip from their bottle.

I was tempted to ask anyone I passed, or was passed by, to give me a sip from their bottle, but I never did. I struggled on to the finish with a third lap that was 2:50 slower than the first but not a bad drop off. So much for getting faster but at least I found out a couple of things about my current limits that should allow me to better pace myself still in the first lap next time around.

Firstly, had the temperature been ten degrees cooler I might well have lapped the third as quick as the second, maybe even the first but it wasn't and it wasn't something I factored in as much as I should have. Secondly, I realised that just because I 'felt pretty good' after one lap, didn't mean my HR monitor was lying and that I had paced myself well ... I had still gone off a touch too hard and that I should consider feeling 'pretty good' after one lap doesn't mean you'll still feel 'pretty good' for the third. I'll trust the HR monitor a little more next time and not be so hesitant to pull back a little just because I feel good at that moment.

Still, I finished, and after I stumbled across to the kegs of cold water and emptied one bottle over my head and another into my gullet, I felt good. It took the majority of the drive home with the air con on full-blast to cool down my overheating body, but by the time I sat down in the pub a few hours later, I was pleased that I had gotten around once again and that my result was a steady improvement on previous rounds. Given my relative lack of training time, I can't complain too much. Once the pain subsides, I can't help but be glad I'm doing these races and look forward to the next. But only when the pain subsides and I catch my breathe again!

Race details:

Better but not quite as good

So much for nice and steady. Hoping to redeem myself somewhat after going off a little too hard in tricky conditions and blowing apart on the weekend, I came into Tuesday's night's midweek race hoping to give myself a better showing by going out and riding a well paced race. I won the week before so clearly thought I could do so again. Then they shouted "GO" and I went off like the proverbial hare thinking I could storm my way to a win. By the time the first 500 meters of open field riding over a few little hills were done I was entering the tree line in second and already fearing where my heart-rate was.

It wasn't pretty from then on in. I was determined to finish, and I did, but after that flying first half kilometer, it was all backwards from there. Another lesson learned in a season of trying to learn how best to pace myself and find the kind of discipline that allows me to ride steady throughout.

I finished the first lap in second but was past by two others on the final laps as I punished myself into not losing another place. I finished up forth in the sport race; second in the male sport 30-39 category. Not bad at all given the weekends fiasco, but not as I might have hoped or might have done had I been a little more sensible at the start.

Ah well, always next week.

Snapping back to reality

After winning last Tuesday you would have thought that come this past weekend I would have been full of confidence, but I knew that with Sunday's race being a round of the Canada Cup series that it would be a step up altogether. My results in the Ontario Cup series -- of which this race was also round three -- has shown that already this year. But I did hope to go better personally and finish a bit higher than normal. What didn't didn't help though was the 9.30 a.m. start time of my race.

That isn't to use it a criticism of the scheduling. I was more than aware of why it was so early and I knew about it well in advance. But when you have a three month old who you delight in giving your attention too and you don't get to bed until near midnight the night before only for your alarm to buzz you awake at 6 a.m. you know you might be in a little trouble!

That was the case here and after a quick breakfast I was on the road for the hour and half drive north to the venue at Hardwood Ski and Bike in Oro, Ontario. I arrived in plenty of time, no problem there, but I probably hadn't eaten enough and I did feel tired. My warm up was lackluster at best and I was unable to get up here on the Saturday to practice the course and figure out what to expect around the next corner. While I felt good on the start line and over the first ten minutes of the first lap, it was only a matter of time.

My legs went dead, I lacked any real energy and the slippery conditions that didn't seem to suit the tires I had on my bike seen me fighting to keep the bike upright rather than get into any kind of rhythm. Due to riding the lap blind I hit a climb when I thought I might have a descent. I pushed hard on a hill only to realise it was longer than I thought and I needed to have paced myself better. Riding a mountain bike race without any prior knowledge of the lap and hoping to do well against those who do, is madness. By the end of the first lap I had been getting re-passed by the many I had moved ahead of on the first climb and the thought of anything else going upward repulsed me.

I got about two hundred yards past the start line and stopped.

I couldn't will myself to do another lap of the course, never mind two. Don't get me wrong, it was a good course and a challenging course, but that only served to expose my lack of good preparation. Had I been able to keep my first half of the first lap pace up, I'd have definitely had my best open race result of the year. I could say I went off from the gun too hard as usual and expended too much, but I genuinely felt good that first half a lap and but for a better nights sleep, more fluid taken on board and even a pre-ride the day before, I might have kept it up well into the final lap. I'll never know though.

After I informed the comissaire that number 147 was a DNF and I loaded the bike onto the back of the car and pulled out of there a couple of hours earlier than planned, I was angry at myself. Sometimes you just have a bad day. That's bike racing. I know that all too well, but it didn't change my disappointment.

When I first got my mountain bike last September, I vowed that I'd make it value for money by making sure I finished any race I started, yet here I was six events in racing on my new bike and I was climbing off. Why hadn't I taken a few minutes at the side of the track to compose myself and then rode the rest as a training ride? These questions you can't answer because your mind thinks different when your resting in your car on the ride home with a heart rate of 70 as opposed to gasping for air, HR pushing 185 and faced with two more laps knowing your body is tired and under fueled.

By the time I got home, showered, washed the bike, fed, and looked at my dismal laps stats on Strava and Garmin Connect, I decided to forget about it. I'd write this for the website at some point later in the week when I had gotten over it and I'd move on. Next race is the midweek series on Tuesday night again and I'll have to gain some redemption for myself. Win or not, I'll at least fuel up right, I'll warm up right, I know the course and baring my bike breaking down on me, I'll finish it. Then I'll turn my attention to round four of the O-Cup series this coming weekend and do the same again.

I think I won ... I did, I did

I don't remember the last time I won a bike race but I think it's safe to say it was longer ago than I care to remember. It probably happened before Lance Armstrong won his first Tour de France if that helps you get any perspective on it. And I probably didn't expect to win one again, at least not if you had asked me anytime in the last half-decade, though I will admit that deep down I knew I could win again if I had the time, put in the effort and got myself in race shape again.

Such thoughts of 'if' and 'when' were only prevalent prior to about 6.45 p.m. last Tuesday night. That's when I started a race I won. It wasn't the kind of win that guaranteed financial security, sponsorship or my name in the paper, but when you haven't won in a long time and suddenly find it happening, especially when it is most unexpected, you take it.

There I was sitting on my bike at the start line, in the thick of a pack of 110 sport riders at the Kelso mid-week mountain bike race series wondering what trouble the first single track climb might give me and how many people I'd have to scramble to get out of the way of? I didn't force myself to the front of the line because I knew I'd only get in the way ... that's how it has been in the O-Cup races so far this year when I've found myself trolling around near the back of the field and getting caught by the races that start behind mine.

So when things started on the little grass uphill section I casually got underway trying not to run into the slower starters. Then something strange happened. I felt way to strong and everyone else was going much to slow. I turned onto the fire track in about sixth place and couldn't help but look at my heart rate monitor second guessing how I was feeling. Surely I was about to blow.

I tailed someone across to the few that made the fastest start and went into the single track climb in second. How many people were about to roar their displeasure at my pace with a torrent of "on your right" and "on your left's"? But they didn't and by the top I was still on the front mans wheel and there was only three of us emerging from the woods.

'Dammit I feel alright,' I thought to myself. 'Stick with this guy and see what you have come the second lap.' But then on the rocky path climb that I thought would finally expose me I rode into the lead and away from the rest.

Now let me be clear. This isn't the big-time. There is no post-race urine samples taken ... but if there were...? Well, I'm certain I'd be just fine, but I wondered if perhaps someone had laced my water bottle with something because I don't belong at the front. It would have been amusing, exciting maybe if I wasn't trying not to over cook it.

The rest of that first lap was catching, being paced for a little bit by, and eventually moving ahead of those who started in the expert race in front. I tried to ease off a little, to conserve something for the second run up the single track climb but my curiosity over whether I might survive won over and I pressed on.

The second time up that climb was harder, I didn't dare look over my shoulder but my ears strained for the sound of a twig snapping behind me, the grunt of another rider, the dreaded sound of his tires easing up behind me. It didn't come and I went over the climb. I knew then if I could make it up the rock climb I would be home free as it would be flat and downhill only from then on.

Once over that final climb I knew I had the win. Let me correct that. I thought I had the win. It was then that I started to convince myself that there was at least one other ahead ... someone who got a great start and who disappeared into the trees on the first lap and blazed away. I figured there was little I could do so I shifted my mind to another fear: That the bike could and would break down at any minute. Every rock or log represented a puncture. Then from nowhere my right pedal clipped a rock that flicked the back wheel round. I threw out a leg and just about saved the fall. It snapped me back to concentration as I glided down the last section making sure that I didn't crash and to hell with any mechanical's.

I pushed up to the line and crossed it with my arms on the handlebars. I still wasn't certain I won and didn't want to represent that idiot who throws up the arms only to be told I was second.

Despite all likelihood pointing towards an at-long-last win, I had to wait until the following evening, until the results were posted online, to be sure of the result. "I think I won last night" turned to "I did, I did" after refreshing the events website for the 50th time in twenty-four hours.

It was a nice feeling then and it was a nice feeling crossing the line even if I wasn't certain. I hadn't blown, I hadn't been passed and it was nice to finish like this. It's a feeling that's hard to replicate and one you don't want to go away.