I’ve had a ruddy busy few weeks recently, hence the lack of
a post last week, but hopefully this bumper-sized blog-a-rama will feed your
appetites sufficiently! Last weekend I had two Elite Nationals in a row
(Bousquet and Guegon) and then the weekend just gone I rode le Tour de l’Artois
Coupe de France stage race. If I were a man of few words I could summarise all
of these athletic outings in a single word – suffering – but luckily (?) for
you all I’m a bumbling windbag.
It was really good to race with Sam again last weekend.
First up was Bousquet, and it was a lovely day for a bit of
tannage, and chatting with bike-fwends in the bunch. Unfortunately some people wanted to race, so we had to
fit some of that in too. I covered attacks for the team early on but nothing meaningful
really stuck until the finishing circuits, which included a just-that-bit-too-long
finishing climb. I had been feeling pretty un-good throughout and doing my standard
bottle miss meant that I’d resorted to ducking behind other riders as they
drank to try and get some residual liquid spray inside me. I also started licking my
arms to try and replace some salts, looking a bit like that weird monkey at the
zoo who’s a bit too interested in his bodily functions.
Those aero overshoes really helped me get that top 100 I wanted!
All good clean fun of course! I came good for about 10km,
got my teammate Fabian into the front group and blew my nut on the climb, to
crawl home at the back of the bunch.
Tick tick tick tick BOOM.
Sunday at Guegon was a pretty similar affair, although I’m
struggling to remember ‘coming good’ at any point. A split went after a mere 15k
in some hideous crosswind section dirty enough to merit my having nightmares
about it for a few nights; and I’m meant to be good at riding in the wind!
Unfortunately for me I was near the front end and thus had to pull the group back,
more or less on my own, whilst rival teams sat smugly behind. Of course when it
did return, I was feeling beyond fantastic and the break of the race went over
the top. That was my race over from then, really.
The youngest Mayor in France was at Artois. 22 years old innit, no joke!
Boucles de l’Artois began with a 23km prologue, and to say I
was excited would have been an understatement. I was positively pumped for it
to begin and even more so once we’d recon-ed the course as it was rolling, dead
roads with exposed windy sections. It was perfect for me and I was totally
ready to take my chance and take that jersey early doors.
I felt incredible during my warm-up.
I felt outstanding during my ride.
I finished more fatigued than I’ve ever been after a time
trial. I had given everything.
Everything was not enough. I came 16th, and I was
53 seconds down on the winner. That is what heartbreak feels like. I’ve thought
over my ride many times since and I honestly believe I did the best ride I’ve
ever done, and that I could have done. It is hard for me to swallow because
(without sounding dreadfully headstrong) I am good at time trials and I can’t
understand how I didn’t win.
Bahahaha, no words required.
Anyway it’s cool, I’m over it (I’m SO not over it). The
afternoon stage was a sufferfest and I actually sobbed joyfully onto a teammate’s
shoulder when the break went away because it meant that the pace, mercifully,
slowed. When the break came back on the final lap I dragged my sorry beehive up
to the front and did team duties for the boys, elbowing, leaning on people and
generally intimidating my way to the front with them on my wheel. As a team we
are well respected as winners now so we get given a bit more road space, but in
the final of a Coupe de France race it’s still an absolute scrum irrespectively.
I blew my nut on the final kicker climb with 5km to go (the beast who had
already ejected me out the back of the bunch twice prior) and then it was down
to Lorenzo and Fabian who, between them, got a 1-2 respectively. It was an
awesome result to come away with!
I fear that I’m beginning to repeat myself now by saying
that yesterday was painful, but trust me I'm getting bored of it too…
“Oh, here I am again! Five riders from the back of the bunch
staring at the back of some guy’s ankles, reading the sponsors on his socks in
a bid to distract myself.”
Just joshing about, lolling like a bowwwss.
Following team orders on the final circuits I got on the
front to chase down a dangerous breakaway with 20k to go, as we had no one in
it. I truly emptied myself, as one only can on the final day of a stage race, 150k into a 170k stage, and dragged back the group. What I didn’t know, as I
didn’t look behind (and could not really see anymore at this point), is that I split the
peloton with most of my team on the wrong side of it. I had been trying to work
for the team but in effect I’d screwed us all, not least myself. I completely
exploded with 7k to go and was caught and passed by what was left of the bunch.
I could barely pedal. I’m having a few days off now, yessireee. Until next time friends, take care all!
DMD
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