No Excuses.

But I got a puncture.

But the weather changed and I had to go back to the team car and give them my knee warmers, caskette and gabba jersey.

But I had backache.

But my landlady had friends round last night and they were drinking and talking until 1:30am.

Big deal! I could have used all of these excuses on Sunday, but I didn’t, because I’m so tired of hearing excuses. Phew, got that off my chest, now...

Oh here I am, just climbin' and stuff.

I’m not sure exactly why but I don’t have many memories of the race, Fleche de Locmine, but I have snippets that come back to me when I close my eyes. I’ll try and write them down for you here.

After going back to the team car to drop off some excess kit I remember seeing a corner coming up, and a potential crosswind section emerging rapidly, as I struggled to move up the bunch. ‘Uh oh!’ is the edited version of the words I said to myself.

With one hand on the drops I’m fishing around in my jersey for some sustenance, whilst the line of riders in front slinkies along the road. I catch my hand on something and the pin gauges a neat slice through my palm. I’m so focussed on the wheels ahead I barely notice and after the race it will take me hours to work out how it happened.

A sudden hail storm descends on us with 20k to go and I feel the rider’s expressions turning sallow, morale deserts them and their shoulders slump. I smile, knowing that the painful impacts of the icy marbles are hurting them but they’re not hurting me. They’re not even touching me.

Okay maybe they were touching me here...

I take a deep sigh and change into the correct gear for the finishing straight before the final corner. I don’t have to take any risks now, I have thirty seconds, maybe more. I’m dancing on the pedals out of the saddle to get up to speed and then I’m in the noise and in the reflection of every person’s eyes. I close mine and breathe in the scent of anticipation, tension, stress, suffering. And I breathe out. I own this moment.

This feels awfully self indulgent! 

DMD

And we're off.

Last weekend was my second one of racing, and again it involved pinning a number on for both Saturday and Sunday, as well as a cheeky midweek outing yesterday! If possible, it was even more successful than the last set of races for us 'Nantaises'. La saison a certainement commencer!

Saturday was seven laps of 20 kilometres which had an epic crosswind section right on the Vendee beach every lap through the line. With Vendee U present (the feeder team to Europcar) as well as various other stong outfits (including us!), it was always going to be a catfight in the crosswinds. I loved it.

Didn't fancy doing no-handed, that's how strong the wind was!

Each team took it in turns to put the hammer down, but in the end it regrouped around the back of the circuit on the final lap. My teammate Mathieu went on a courageous solo attack around 15k out but was clawed back and then, as a Vendee U rider countered I saw the perfect opportunity. I went with him, despite wanting to save my legs for the final kilometre, and what ensued was 9k of two-up time trial work, most of it into a block headwind. Just to sweeten the deal we had a 170 strong bunch breathing down our necks, ten seconds behind, the whole way home. 

Just before la flamme I launched one and held my ex-companion at ten metres, before finally cracking him in the final few hundred and enjoying the victory. It felt good. (Handsome Clement got 3rd too, like a bawse!)

Sunday was a great tactical race, the pinnacle of which was without doubt the shredding of the peloton we did in the final lap. With 20k to go we got on the front and gently rode through and off for a few kilometres before turning a ninety degree corner into crosswinds and letting loose. It was wild and savage and wonderful!

Just before everything got a bit crazy.

At one point it was just the 10 of us riding through and off and we had dropped the entire rest of the field! 

Sublime tactical perfection.

In the end it was a group of 27 riders left in the finale, with 10 of us, and it was attack after attack. I put in the last big one, but got caught 300m short which was a shame. Vincent got 4th in the sprint.

The blue train.

Tuesday was a damp squib for me personally as I didn't have the legs to do much, and spent the final hour getting a tan in the grupetto. Lorenzo claimed 5th on what was a hard third day's racing in four days.

Today has been a nice day off, involving many pancakes, Nutella, and the washing of cycling kit.
Yes people, my life is crazy.

I'm flying down to Marseille on Saturday for GP Jean Masse on Sunday (a Coupe de France) and GP d'Aix on Monday. Have a fun weekend one and all.

DMD

"Douglas Dewey, c'est du solide"

Cool headline eh?! I don’t want to make this post too long and boring so I’ll rattle through Saturday’s race. I was at doping control on Friday night until nearly midnight: great for the sport, not good for my legs! By the time I got home and into bed it was about 1am. I felt ill at ease the next day on the bike and was a watched man to a ridiculous level in a field of 28 riders, 7 of whom were from the same team. Long and short of it, I climbed off after an hour with the 3^rd placed finisher from the night before. We were cooked.

Red socks, pink kit... Errrrr, my others were in the wash okay!

From the highest heights to the lowest lows, that’s just me! I was feeling a bit down on Saturday night, foolish I realise, but I’m an emotional bloke you know? I went to my favourite spot down by the river with a beer and had a little paddle to relax.

I made myself ride on Sunday morning for an hour to get the legs going and then headed off to the race after two coffees: it was one of those mornings! I got to the start town and after seeing no sign of any race luckily stumbled across the course about 4km away on the industrial estate, phew. No time for a warm up, I just got my numbers and had a chat with fellow Brit Noah Banner before the start. It’s good to see young riders coming out here for proper racing.

We even had time for some dancing during the race.

The start was swift and my legs did not enjoy that much. When it settled down I made it into the front group and sat in for a bit. After an hour my legs were coming good and so, after a prime sprint, I decided to get up the road and make the race come to me. In hindsight perhaps 30km out was too far, but hey, nothing ventured nothing gained. I gained 20 seconds and hung out there for about 11km and when the riders came back up to me there were a lot less of them.

I think cramp did something to my face.

Les Francais were loving this show of panache/stupidity by now so I seemed to have a fair bit of crowd support. Fast-forward to the final kilometre and I’m just off the back of the group clawing my way back after sliding backwards on the final climb. As I reached the group someone attacked and I went to follow him. Just as I came up to his wheel he decided to pull off, with 700 metres to go, and me breathing down his neck. MISTAKE! I held my speed and put the legs into turbo mode, and that was game over for the rest behind as I held my twenty metre advantage to the line.

Glamour? No. Pain? Yes.

There are plenty of things I can take away from this race. Even if a course isn’t perfect for me it’s possible to ride it in such a way that means I’m more in control, namely by sliding backwards on the climb every lap to save the legs! Eating a banana on the start line will get you a one-way ticket to chunder-town. Finally, the French love aggressive riding: what’s French for gung-ho? Tactiques folles?

I know what you're thinking! I've got some winnings now so yes, I'll get down the hairdresser pronto guys!

When you're sure, you're sure.

I won on Friday. I knew I was going to. I had been thinking about my victory celebration for the past few days which, in the end, I didn't have time to use. I was so confident that I’d even spent time choosing socks which looked cool for the photos and I’d bought a couple of beers to celebrate. I don’t want to come across as headstrong, but I had such good feelings it would happen I felt unstoppable. And now for a little story about the race…

DodgeBall fans: "You've gotta get angrrrry!"

Peloton politics can be such a ball ache. When you see the pros on telly they don’t really do much pissing about until the final few kilometres, or at least it looks that way. At the level I’m at right now it happens literally all the time. Even if you’re in the breakaway of the day some jerk-off will miss a turn and then you’ll be shouted at even though it’s the guy behind you who’s the lazy one. Then everyone starts attacking each other. In criteriums this is even more of a truth.

On Friday night I missed the break of eight riders clipping off, so I rode across alone (well there was a guy on my wheel, but he couldn’t give a turn). As soon as I got there the self assigned ‘Patron’ of the break decided to give me a hard time for missing one turn, as I was feeling a tad jaded at that point. He made a friend in me there and then. Needless to say when I attacked at the end I made damned sure he was unable to follow. Revenge is sweet, mate.

The group shredded in the final 5km lap and it was me and one other rider at the front, with me driving it. I decided to attack him but he clawed me back, then obstinately sat on me. Fair enough I suppose. At this point I thought I was riding for second; I’d gone pretty deep to escape. It came down to a super fast tailwind sprint which I led out (big ring eleven of course) and thank god won! Geeks out there, I really wanted to win and the proof? 1585 watts peak power. Yes that’s a new record, by miles!

Me and my buddy the commentator bloke. 3>

I’ve got more to report on from the weekend but you’ll have to wait guys, I’ve got to do some food shopping! À tout à l’heure!

Tour de Lesneven

So I’m a sprinter now. The commentator said it so it’s official! On Saturday I won a humongous bunch gallop (me and one other guy) against some stiff competition (he was a lean climber). Let me explain...

The beginning of the stage was extremely leisurely which only made the anticipation ever greater for when the real action would kick off. We were riding towards the coast and when we reached it our patience was duly rewarded. There were plenty of crosswinds and as the group shredded and reformed I clawed my way up to the front, through more brute force than skill I should add. I was riding like a man possessed, it was one of those rare days when good form, meets good tactics and it seemed that as I reached the front split the perfect scenario unfolded for me. The group of ten worked relatively well together and this confirmed that this would remain the front of the race until the finish. To say I was a watched man would be a gross understatement. Despite the fact that there were three riders from one team, two from another and several other individuals in the break to me it appeared that they were one unit - France.

This was to be a grudge match between the tradition enemies it seemed. As soon as I realised as much I became cannier and waited for a chance to increase my odds of success. On the final climb with 4km to go I launched a silent attack (changing gears beforehand to minimise sound) and took four other riders with me. I launched another attack into a headwind with 1.5km to go but was quickly closed by one of the two riders in the break from the same team, before his teammate attacked over the top. I knew I had to react immediately and I did with force, gapping the riders behind and slowly closing the advantage my attacker had before locking onto his back wheel with 400m to go. I felt invincible and as I came off his wheel with 200m to go it felt like a foregone conclusion: the stage was mine.

I was holding the maillot jaune the next day for the team time trial which was in the morning. I haven’t done many TTTs before and for those that don’t realise, it’s a completely different animal to the individual time trial. I think everyone would agree that our effort was a total shambles, the highlights being losing two riders in the first 2km and me dropping my chain near the finish, but somehow we came away with a very creditable 2^nd place! Huge credit must go to Maxime, Guillaime and Sam (who did monster turns and pushed me for about 300 metres as I struggled with my chain issue)! We put time into my closest rivals too which was a bonus.

Stage 3 was another rolling day with more wind. Unfortunately I made a mistake and got caught out at the back on a day when a lot of tired bodies weren’t working brilliantly. The split rode off early on in the day and with it so did my hopes for another tour win. I’ve certainly learnt some lessons and had plenty of time to dwell on my errors as I crawled around with the backmarkers, so I won’t bore you any more with them here!

Regardless of the final stage it was a successful tour for me personally (and for the team) and it’s great to have the guys believe in me. Next weekend I have a Coupe de France race and judging by the speed of my ride today I will be taking this week pretty easy before then! All the best readers.

le Fleche d'Armor

This weekend was a really successful one for me: my first stage race win! It was in Fleche d’Armor, a 1/2/3 category race in the Cote D’Armor region on the north coast of Brittany. The scenery was very beautiful (I spent a fair amount of time enjoying it whilst sitting in the bunch all day on Stage 1) and despite warnings from my slightly crazed housemate the weather was good!

Stage one was 130km, rolling all day with a pan flat finishing circuit with about three corners, all very straightforward. A break went away early on as expected with my teammate Sam Allen in it, so I had the perfect reason to sit in all day and try and relax. The bunch was pretty nervous all day with lots of fresh legs and I actually felt pretty poor, but as we entered the finishing laps my legs suddenly came to life. The break’s advantage was dwindling rapidly; it split with Sam having some bad luck and getting on the wrong side, as three riders continued to push on. At this point it was around 8km to go, so I counter attacked, hoping to sly my way up to the three in front and perhaps gain some seconds on general classification or even have a shout at the stage win. It wasn’t to be, as everyone seemed very content to follow me yet rather unable to do any work. I tried a few times but they were fruitless efforts and in the end Fabrice Seigneur, a rider who last week won an Elite National race unsurprisingly won the break sprint three seconds ahead of the bunch. After a brief episode post-stage involving a broken down team van, a lack of clothing, food or drink we got to bed as early as possible on Saturday night.

Sam 'the bigdawg' Allen en route in the break on Stage 1

Sunday morning was a very fast 7.5km time trial with a climb of about 1% and minimal corners: it was right up my street! I did my best effort and headed back to the headquarters for a shower and some food. As I was just getting into the shower I got a knock from Sam who said something along the lines of “Mate! You ______ smashed it!!!” I chucked my clothes back on and turned up to the podium fashionably (painfully) late. I was leading the tour now by eight seconds.

You know the expression "keeping it under your hat"? Well I took that to another level this stage with an interesting mitt storage solution. Yes that's correct, my gloves are in my helmet here.

The afternoon stage was 120km and according to the DS had some tough climbs in. The first half was quite sedate with some crosswinds, but it was child’s-play compared to the Belgian gusts last year so I quite enjoyed it really. The second climb of the day was around 90km in (I think: my wheel had no magnet and the course info sellotaped on my stem was a little misleading!) One of the riders high up on GC attacked as I was getting a bottle, which was nice of him, and a few others clipped off with him so I put the hammer down over the top and got across. This group had myself and most of the favourites in, so it was guaranteed to stick, and get a bit tough near the finish. Various riders attacked me at this point and to try and take the initiative I clipped off myself to make them chase. This backfired rather horribly when we rounded a corner and hit a 20%+ climb: for me the stuff of nightmares! The guy second on GC attacked, I couldn’t go with it and the group shredded.  A group of five formed up front, then three behind them, then there I was, hacking along on the front to bring them all back. Luckily I had some help from 'Sammoth the Mammoth' who had somehow bridged across to us and we pretty much went full gas for 8km or so.

One of the few photos I can find online (disappointed!)

I bridged the gap as we entered the finishing circuit with 12km to go and then of course someone else attacked me. Four or five riders went up the road and we worked to keep them within 20-30 seconds as I waited and waited for the guy second on GC to attack me again. He did so at 2km to go (Sam shouted “Doug!”) and I put out more or less my maximum power to follow him. He was pretty strong. I clawed him back and then had to get on the front to keep closing the gap to the guys in front and inadvertently lead out the sprint. Two guys jumped me at 150m to go but I managed to more or less hold onto them to finish 6^th in the stage and just save the tour, by 5 seconds!

Of all the photos they took and I'm blinking in this one.

I was a little sore yesterday (Monday)! I've got an Elite National RR tomorrow up near Saint-Brieuc so I'm planning to try and roll around for a top 100 finish, get some tanning in and NOT do anything stupid. I hope it's sunny. Peace out.

South Downs Bikes time trial

First race done, and hopefully the first win of many! Here I am warming up in the car park before the start. It took me about 15 minutes to actually get any feeling in my legs as there was a pretty cold wind. (I'm afraid that same wind forced me to race in leg warmers so negative man points to me!)

I felt a little bit awkward on the bike, as apart from the spin I went for the day before it was the first time I’d ridden a time trial machine in four months. Coupled with the fact that the legs are always a bit iffy in the first few races of the season I was a little nervous about how I’d get on. I really felt like I was crawling up the hills on the course but I guess I must have been going better than I thought!

Thanks to Clive Jarman (@CliveJarman) for this picture

I shaved 47seconds off the old course record in the process of winning the event and it definitely made it worth dragging my girlfriend Emily out of bed at 7:30 on a Sunday morning (at least I think so)! Thanks to the guys at South Down Bikes for a great event and a great prize fund! I will be back next year.

Check out these links yo!
www.velouk.net
http://blog.sportsmassagebournemouth.co.uk/2013/02/larry-hickmott-held-this-morning-on.html?m=1

Le Tour de la Manche

It was a successful weekend for the team in France! I’d like to say at this point that I played a ‘team role’ which roughly translates as – I didn’t have the legs to do anything good so tried to help the bigger boys.

Beach break! We never actually went though: it was too far to walk.

The first stage was quite twitchy and nervous and there was a big ol’ tumble 35km in that took down a lot of the bunch, including me. I snapped my forks in half and my front wheel folded itself nicely around the guy who was lying down in front of me. I was pretty unscathed though; I just took most of it on my head, so no harm done. I chased back on, but then the race was neutralised anyway as 80% of the field were off the back. Then it was game on again.

Well at least I didn't puncture.

Bjorn convincingly won the stage in the end, after infiltrating the break of the day and climbing like an absolute demon. This meant we were holding the yellow jersey! Llewellyn was also up there the whole day but Lady Luck had other ideas, and he came back to the bunch after getting the slowest wheel change since cycling was invented. I got in a counter attack near the end but went so deep up the climb that I was on my knees, and then we got caught anyway. Classic!

Dream team.

Day one had been sunny and rather pleasant, but from then on it was a much damper event. It rained every day. Llewellyn was in great form and was in the break on day two as well, claiming a strong third place after a gritty stage.  

Enjoying the view from our 'balcony'

The morning of day three was the time trial and I was hoping for a decent result to pick up my spirits and justify the team’s confidence in my abilities. We drove the course beforehand and it turned out to be three hills in a row with some descents in between: not in my favour really. I bashed out a twelfth place though which in hindsight is quite good, but at the time I was disappointed. Mostly I was just confused as to how the winner took a whole minute out of me. Animal.

The second stage of the day was fast and furious and Llewellyn was again in the action, in the break, up the road, and first over the line - awesome win. At this point he was sitting second on General Classification so on the final day we had some work to do, dragging breaks back and generally trying to help him out. I did my job for the first 90km or so but once we got to the finishing circuits, which turned out to be hilly and seriously sketchy in places, I was toast. I clung on until 11km to go and then rode to the finish alone. Kinch lost a second on the line and so slipped to third place on GC but it was a strong performance, and a big bonus on top of the stage performances.

Sufferfest 2012: final stage, finishing climb, three laps to go.

We’re back to France on Thursday for le Tour de Loiret which should be a bit less hilly but no less aggressive or dangerous. You can always rely on the French for that! Bonne Journée. 

Mind of a moron(?)

If you’ve ever wondered what goes through the mind of a rider when they attack from a long way out then wonder no more, because I did it last Sunday, and I’m here to spill the beans. Here is my inner monologue.

‘I’m feeling quite good now. I think I’m stronger than these other guys in the break. The bunch is getting pretty close. We need to go harder or we’re going to get caught. Ah what, there’s oil on my new white bar tape! This cross wind is getting pretty boring. Wow they know how to make bumpy roads in Belgium. I’m going to go a bit harder now and see what happens. Is anyone going to come with me? Oh that’s good that guy’s coming across to me: oh no he’s not. Is that the bunch behind? I’m going to look forwards now. Can I make it round this corner without braking? I can make it round this corner without braking. I’m not going to make it round this corner without braking! I should probably stay upright I think. How far is it to the finish? Not so far. Two laps from here, only two laps; that’s alright. How long was a lap again? 10km or so wasn’t it. Oh shit.

20k to go: Okay that’s it, nice big gear, push the pedals. I can’t see them behind right now, that’s good. Why is no one clapping? Belgians. Oh no there’s a crazy lady, my biggest fan.

19km to go: I feel good. This is easy! Maybe I’m not going hard enough, I’ll go a bit harder. I can’t breathe! Okay that’s too hard, easy tiger. This corner’s good because I can stop pedalling for a second or two. My ear’s itchy.

18km to go: Out of sight out of mind. This is fine; maybe if they catch me I’ll still be able to sprint anyway. Stay on the drops; that’s not back pain, that’s just character building stuff.

17km to go: How long is this lap? Have they sent me the wrong way because I’m not a Belgie? Maybe I should take the union flag stickers off my frame. They do look cute though.

16km to go: I haven’t changed out of the 11 in a while, what a big strong boy. I need to pee.

15km to go: This road is too straight, I need some corners soon. Omega Pharma are probably all on the front right now. Goodo.

14km to go: I know this hill. I attacked here once. Twice more up it and then I’m home and dry.

13km to go: That’s the bunch. They look pretty mad.

12km to go: Maybe if I celebrated as I went over the line this time they’d be nice and give me the win?

11km to go: Hey crazy lady! You’re my favourite.

10km to go: Next time round through the finish and I’ll either be very happy or very sad.

9km to go: Distance means nothing when someone means everything.

8km to go: This energy drink tastes funny. I can’t really see straight. Probably shouldn’t crash.

7km to go: If they catch me now I can definitely sit in and win the sprint. Definitely.

6km to go: What am I doing here? Am I enjoying this? Maybe I should get a real job.

5km to go: I must be close now. My legs are starting to go. Just once more along this crosswind section. Where is the bunch? I hope my legs look good on telly.

4km to go: Up this hill, out the saddle, power power power. MY LEGS FEEL FINE.

3km to go: Put it in the eleven. Don’t hit any stones. Are my brakes rubbing?

2km to go: Crazy lady, you’re a hero. Round this bend, don’t hit the curb.

1km to go: I can’t see the bunch. This is actually happening! I’ve just remembered why I do all the training and sacrifice stuff. This crowd is incredible; they’re going mad for it! This celebration is going to look so great on video! Hahahaha.'

http://www.focus-wtv.tv/video/wielrennen-gent-staden

Ice ice baby

I had a jolly good time this weekend. Despite the cold snap that everyone and their mothers has been whinging about, I was pretty psyched up to head over to Storrington, a little town in Sussex, for my second race of the season. It was an 18km time trial on Saturday afternoon followed by a 42km time trial on Sunday; a little TT stage race.

On Saturday I did a nice long warm up on the turbo in the car park and by the end I could just about feel my arms. I sweated a single bead of sweat but it froze before it hit the ground. In the time trial itself I felt quite good if a little ragged. The course was up and down and I’d checked out the hill just before the turn (17% it said) so I knew I could get up it in the 54. It definitely wasn’t 17% but don’t tell anyone because it makes me feel like a big dawg!

I was second to last off, with Wouter Sybrandy two minutes behind me, and if I’m honest I spent a large amount of the race trying not to look behind me. I saw Wouter at the turn and tried to guess whether I was up or down on him but it was impossible to tell. I put the power down in the last few miles over the rolling hills and even did a (highly comical) sprint at the end, Cancellara style. It’s something I try to do every time trial, just to get it all out, and I was glad I did when I got back to the headquarters. I took the course record by two seconds, and won the event: great success!

Unfortunately Sunday's race was cancelled due to snow on the course, but I'd got what I wanted from the weekend: my first win of the year.

Here's some good snaps of the event :  

http://markghopkins.co.uk/p293120118/h272828d7#h272828d7

An aside

The observant among you may have noticed I mentioned this was my second race of this season; I did in fact ‘compete’ in the National Madison a week previously. It was a bit of an eye opener this early in the year, going from doing four hour long steady rides to doing (my best attempt at) 60kph on the track. Luckily I did one day on the track at Newport a few days before so I was totally prepared.

Here I am hiding behind the eventual winners - [manxroadclub.webs.com]

I was partnering with ex-GWR teammate Dave Sinclair, a sprinting don and experienced track rider. It was a good partnership; he was great at telling me what to do and when, but unfortunately I was still pretty weak technically. People may not realise that track racing is quite psychological and if you show any sign of inadequacy or weakness you get trodden on. From the off I was a bit nervous and as a result we were elbowed out and spent a lot of energy chasing tails. We finished seventh out of a very small field which frankly sounds better than it is. It was a far cry from my previous fun times on the track last year, when I was doing the individual and team pursuit, but it was a start to the season.