in message <[email hidden]>, Simon Mason
(') said:
"Simon Brooke" <[email hidden]> wrote in message
news:[email hidden]...
Quoted message said:I went thinking that if I did under 1:30 I would be pretty pleased... I
enjoyed this far more than I usually enjoy 10 mile time trials, and on
the whole felt better for the whole distance than I usually feel on a
ten miler. As an indication of just how well we're doing getting kids
involved, six of the nine people who rode are under sixteen.
I was going to write a full ride report, but I'm too tired (and want a
bath) - so this is the report that's gone out to the club and the local
papers:
Well done Simon - I can't imagine riding a 25 mile TT - sounds dreadful!
We did an 8 miler last night and the finish couldn't come quickly enough.
It was the same one I did in 20-46 4 weeks ago and I did 20-50, so it's
consistent if nothing else.
Honest, it was easier than a ten. I had planned four descents as deliberate
micro-recoveries, and that was definitely a good tactic. I concentrated on
cadence on the way out, changing down every time it dropped below 80,
changing up every time it went above 85; and I tried to stay down on the
tribars as much as possible. I can maintain a steady 35Km/h if I stay down
on the bars... but it's hard to stay down long.
I went off first, because I'm slowest. It's bumpy up through Crossmichael
and Parton, but it was more than eight miles before I saw anyone. Then Ian
(my two minute man) came by saying 'it's a stiff night'. I yelled
back 'where're the weans' and he yelled 'behind'. Then about three or four
minutes later Steve (my three minute man) went by, and we exchanged
identically the same conversation... I had a few minutes loss of morale,
but then there was one of my planned micro-recoveries down the hill to Ken
Bridge; I stopped pedalling for a couple of minutes, got into my best
tuck, and let gravity work for me... and at the bottom of the descent,
they were only a couple of hundred metres ahead, turning onto the bridge.
Over the bridge they were still in sight ahead, and I was comfortable and
going well... up New Galloway High Street, probably the biggest climb of
the loop, roll over by the golf club, down onto the tribars again...
And then I was thinking, I don't know this hill too well, descending on
tribars was how I had my big crash... so I sat up onto the hoods, but
still going for it, through one little jink over a bridge, coming to the
jink over the second bridge. A car was approaching it from the other
direction... and stopped to let me over first. That was a lovely gesture!
It was about the fifth car I'd seen moving. Shortly after that, fifteen
year old Dean Martin, resplendent in Scotland strip, went past me. He was
my eight minute man, but he can take eight minutes out of me on a ten
easily, so I wasn't surprised. I called encouragement to him... and must
have eased up just a touch. Within a very few minutes four more of the
kids went past me in a bunch - not drafting one another but all really
going for it, definitely racing. I wound the bike up a bit and found I was
pacing them fifty metres behind fairly easily, so I thought I'd see if I
could get back in front of them. Getting in front wasn't too bad either,
and as soon as I was a bike length in front I went down on the tribars and
tried to stay ahead as long as possible... which lasted to the end of the
forest and no more.
Then there was a spell when I thought I was the last man on the road. I
won't say I'd given up, but I was no longer maintaining 80rpm and the
speed was down around 28Km/h. If I'd known young Murdo was still behind me
I might have eased up some more and let him come up and sit on my wheel
(yes, I know one shouldn't, but it's a bit tough on a kid to be last man
on the road). This section - from Mossdale down to Laurieston - is really
beautiful and I know it well but I have really no memory of the scenery.
What I do have memory of was a fast training group from another club
coming by and that really rubbed it in a bit. They had one guy dangling
off the back too, and when he went by me I thought 'I'm not having this',
and went for it.
Mistake.
I caught him... and immediately got cramp, the first time I've had severe
cramp on a bike in twenty something years. Ouch, ouch. Ouch. I applied a
rapid and vigorous massage to the affected leg while freewheeling and,
once it would move again, dropped into a much lower gear and span easy for
a mile or so. Through Laurieston, and into the last bumpy section.
I don't climb very well. I've never climbed very well, and as a matter of
practice try to make up for this by descending faster than most people.
However on this trial I'd deliberately decided to use the descents for
micro recoveries. It's a less exciting way to ride, but it seemed to be
working in as much as, with more than twenty miles behind me, I was still
able to attack the climbs. And as each undulation fell behind and the
number still to go got less, my morale was rising and my speed with it.
Finally I rolled over the last crest to a momentary glimpse of Threave
Castle positively glowing in the evening sun - the first time I've ever
seen it look anything but grim - and down.
Down a road I know, which has recently been straightened and resurfaced,
and which really descends. Down onto the tribars, and, on this last
descent, really putting the power in - 53x13, and spinning out at 105rpm,
the trees blurring past. Ahead is the hamlet, the finish line, the long,
straight bridge back across the river, the bike really flying. Past Dougie
the timekeeper, out across the bridge, slowing up, easing down through the
gears, off with the damned, damned helmet. Turn slowly in the road, and
back to the little crowd in the schoolyard - for laughter, and jokes, and
mutual congratulations, and endless replays of the action from the happy,
excited kids.
Brilliant evening, couldn't be better.
And, as I said, four of the weans broke one hour fifteen, which is pretty
good going. None of us adults managed it!
--
[email hidden] (Simon Brooke) http://www.jasmine.org.uk/~simon/
;; Human history becomes more and more a race between
;; education and catastrophe.
H.G. Wells, "The Outline of History"
