In reality I knew I shouldn’t be riding let alone racing. Still
I convinced myself to drive to Hampshire for the first round of the Southern
Series. I’d developed a phlegmy cough during the week which had headed to my chest
leaving me short of breath. The only reason I was still tying a number board to
the handlebars was largely out of frustration. I’ve been feeling really strong on
the bike in recent weeks and had been focused and looking forward to this
opportunity to turn that form into a race result. With such a limited number of XC races this
year I couldn’t face missing the chance of racing. Especially on a local course
very much suited to my strengths, where last year I finished on the podium. My
previous race this year had been affected by a mechanical issue so I was really
keen to get a result on the board that I felt my current form deserved.
I got a lot of coughing out of the way on the warm-up lap.
As usual the Matterley course was defined by the long climb up from the valley.
The rest of the course traversed its way up and down the steep Downland hillside,
linking woodland singletrack with gravel farm tracks. Veterans were racing in
the afternoon by which time the course had dried considerably, but I’d imagine
that it had been a very slippery experience for the morning races. A bitingly cold
northerly presented a serious headwind during several of the more open sections
of the course.
Off the line I kept a close eye on those familiar faces I’d normally
expect to be racing. Initially I kept them in sight, but in hindsight it was
clear I was actually just hanging on. We reached the foot of the climb for the
first time. I’d expect to be strong here, this is why I like this course. But there
was no fire in the legs, no attack! I barely held station. I dragged myself to
the top and then watched the gaps ahead gradually grow while my lungs fought
for oxygen and the legs tried to recover.
Perhaps it was tiredness or maybe I was trying to
overcompensate, but I misjudged one of the opening corners of the second lap,
the front wheel washing out from under me on the slippery chalk. I was quickly
back up, but it was a further 10 to 15 seconds given away.
I dug in and clawed back the positions I’d lost during the
fall, but those I’d hoped to be racing were by now in a different race up ahead.
The second time up the climb was worse than the first, this time I was actually
shipping positions. Sliding backwards and now nearer the tail of the 50 rider
field than the front.
As I crossed the line I became aware that the mechanical
issue which plagued my last race had returned. The chain had slipped off the
lower jockey wheel. I stopped, looped the chain back on and set off again a
further 10 – 15 seconds given away and another dent to the motivation. Physically
I was struggling and my pace was slowing. Mentally I was also now a mess. I was
passed by two riders I can usually comfortably beat and as they rode away from
me I had no response, I had given up. I backed off and spun my way around the
remainder of the lap, rolling across the line and then heading straight for the
car and home 2 laps early.
It was my first DNF for nearly 5 years, leaving me angry and
frustrated. If only the race had been a week earlier when I had been flying. I
feel I’ve missed a golden opportunity at a course suited to my strengths. I’m
also cross with myself for even trying and putting myself in that position of
failure.
I’ve been away travelling on business this week. Being away
from the bike hasn’t helped me get over the irritation of last weekend. Now I
am home I need to reset and focus on the rest of the year.
