With my first year racing in the Veteran category coming to
a close, I hadn’t yet nailed a top 10 finish on my MTB. (Yes, there had been a
4th place last May in a CX race, oh and a sneaky podium in the
summer, but that was when I dipped back to the Open category for one event.) I felt
I had raced strongly at the previous round of the Brass Monkeys series, but I’d
been left slightly frustrated with 12th, only 2 1/2 minutes behind 10th
after 4 hours racing.
The evening after the race as I lay in bed I decided 10th
was my goal for the next round and that a bit more dedication was required. For
the past 3 weeks I’ve been eating carefully. Less naughty treats, cutting out a
grazing habit built up over the festive holiday period. The remaining Christmas
cake stayed in the tin instead of in my lunch box and I cut out my evening bowl
of cereal in front of TV. I’ve been going to bed with my stomach grumbling!
Further motivation came later that week when the series
points were published. Consistency meant I was placed 6th. I always
say that success at the Brass Monkeys series is about getting rider and bike
home at all the rounds. Grim winter conditions mean that bikes take a
beating during the races and riders have to negotiate flu and cold season while
remaining fit when conditions are not conducive to training.
Goal in mind I put in two big training weeks, both over 10
hours, including 4 hour weekend rides. I made sure these miles were off-road as
much as the weather allowed. I’d then taken it easy in the days before the final
race so I was feeling fresh. I’d cleaned the bike, checked the latex in the
tyres, fork pressures, cleaned the drivechain and double checked it was working
flawlessly. I was well prepared and on the morning of the race rather than
screaming up with minutes to spare, I arrived at the venue nice and early. This
allowed time for a proper 15 minute warm-up, instead of relying on the opening
lap of the race to stretch the legs. I then jostled for a position slightly nearer
the front of the grid. I felt fit; the bike was tuned, the starter blew the air
horn and we were off.
To help spread the field the race opened with a mile of wide
fireroad. Unfortunately overnight rain meant it was coated in a slithery gloop and
riddled with puddles. Riders wove left and right dodging the muddiest, wettest
sections while also fighting each other for position. The rear wheels ahead
threw mud up into my face, coating my glasses, adding visibility issues to the mix
of challenges. By the time we hit the course proper bike and rider were filthy
and as I pedaled up the first hill the drivechain sounded horribly grunchy and
gritty. Only 4 hours to go!
Riders continued to fight for places over the opening lap. I
was bumped left and right, my rear tyre was rubbed and one rider even ran into
me. As usual I can’t understand all this bumping and barging when we’ve got 4
hours to sort everything out. And having invested all that energy pushing me
out of the way and sprinting off ahead on the first lap I can guarantee I’ll
spin past them all later in the race. Experience has told me it’s best to conserve
that strength for later in the day.
Following the successful example of the previous rounds I preserved
what energy I could during the first 2 laps. This was hard in the muddy
conditions as you need strength and power to negotiate greasy roots and fight
for traction on slippery slopes. The 38 minute first lap immediately told me
that this wasn’t going to be a 7 lap race like the previous events. The 42
minute second lap meant it might not even be a 6 lap race! Into lap 3 I stepped
on the gas, quickly gaining on a group of 4 ahead that I could see contained riders
close behind me in the series ranking. As we approached a big grassy uphill traverse
I stamped on the pedals hoping I could catch and pass them all before they realised
and had chance to follow my wheel. Heart rate through the roof I wove between
them, out of the saddle hauling my bike up the slope. I then pushed hard over
the top to open a gap. A back marker came to my assistance when I was able to
slot in front of the slower rider just as we entered a tighter section of
trail, delaying the others slightly in their chase.
The reduced number of laps had thrown my normal refueling
strategy. I had stopped for a bottle at the end of lap 2 and stopped again as
normal on lap 3, but I rejoined behind two of the four riders I had overtaken
and worked so hard to distance during the lap. They also picked up bottles, but
had better pit assistance than myself with my bag of loose bottles! I’d
estimate it cost me 15- 20 seconds. It took an entire lap to close up the
distance lost and get back ahead. Now I had a decision to make. Did I stop
again, let them through and have to do it all again? Or did I push on and risk
hitting the wall when I ran out of fluid and food?
I decided to push on and maximize my advantage. I was riding
hard and made up some further positions during the course of the lap. The
conditions were also changing. The course itself was improving. The passage of
hundreds of riders had created a racing line through the worst of the mud. Also
new drier lines between the trees were getting run in, where people had gone in
search of extra grip. However, the earlier sunshine was history and grey clouds
were gathering overhead. First white sleety flakes were blown fluttering through
the trees by the stiff northerly wind. Then as we headed towards the final lap,
down came the hail. Beating on my helmet, the white beads briefly lining the tyre
ruts in the trail before melting away.
My strategy had worked and I’d stretched out a lead on the
chasers behind during the lap, but glancing back I knew the gap wasn’t huge. It
had taken some effort and I couldn’t ride another 40 minutes without further refueling.
I’d have to stop this time. Skidding up to my bag I swapped in a new bottle,
grabbed a banana and raced off with a gel between my teeth. Two chasers were
now hot on my wheels and closed right up behind as we clattered down the first
rooty descent. My pit stop had given them hope and I wanted to break them as
soon as possible. I launched a full attack on the first climb hoping to gain an
early advantage and a chance to eat while I still had time for my body to absorb
the nutrients before the hills at the end of the lap. As the trail looped left
at the top of the climb I glanced back. Despite putting myself deep into the
red both riders were still hot on my heels. Inner demons began to surface. I
wasn’t sure I could continue to ride like this and I didn’t fancy having to
fend off a counter attack. I worried those behind were just biding their time.
I had to remind myself that I had been stronger on the previous lap. I should
still be the strongest now, it was just as hard for them and they were burning
their last reserves trying to stick on my wheel.
For another 20 minutes we rode nose to tail, but with me
always setting the pace on the front. We gained another position sweeping past
a rider who had blown and was in survival mode, just spinning the pedals but
going nowhere. With about 10 minutes of racing remaining the rain began to lash
down. The trail conditions which had improved were suddenly lethally slippery
again, the roots like ice under the tyres. There were two climbs at the end of
the lap. Both of the long gradual variety, that burn the thighs more and more
as the lactic builds. The first was the steeper and I guessed better suited for
an attack. This was no out of the saddle sprint. I stayed seated and spun, not
quite in the style of Chris Froome but my legs were on fire, powering up the
slope as fast as I could. It was key I didn’t blow out before the top. Could I make
the top at this speed? I could feel twinges that suggested cramp wasn’t far
away. I didn’t look back, I crested the slope and focused on the best line
through the trees as I dropped like a stone down the other side, breathing
deeply trying to let the legs recover. Now I glanced behind. I had a gap but it
was just a handful of seconds. Into the final climb and it was the same tactic,
but this time the lactic came on much sooner. Rather than charge ahead I was grinding
my way up the slope with every last ounce of effort. At the top another look
behind. An empty path! I flew through the last few sections of singletrack as
fast as I dared in the worsening conditions, but they weren’t coming back to me
now. I was free, crossing the line alone with nobody even in sight behind.
I had heard no commentary during the race and had no idea of
my position. Diving into the warmth and dry of the event tent I spotted my name
on the results screen - 8th. Top
ten! I’d done it! In a room of damp strangers I had a little fist pump celebration
with myself! “Get in!”
It had been a tough race. My AVERAGE heart rate
over 4 hours was 163bpm! Some Sundays I can
do an entire 4 hour ride without reaching that sort of figure once! No
doubt it had taken preparation, dedication and a significant amount of effort
on the day, but I had the result I wanted. I also quickly learnt that I’d moved
up to 5th in the series, matching my best result from 2014 in one of
my favourite events.
