Peaks & Troughs

Fair warning: Today could be a philosophical one! I’ve been suffering with some fatigue over the past week and so there’s not really any racing content to be spoken of.

A peak.

Cycling, like life, has ups and downs and I’ve found that the lows often come immediately after the heady heights of success: it’s a long way to fall! Over the last week my body has been telling me things along the lines of “I’m tired, Doug” and “Why are you making me do six hours today, you nutter?” Yes that’s right, I have an inner monologue now. But being an athlete of the most pig-headed variety (a cyclist) I persevered. Cycling can be such a strange sport in the demands it makes because the key personality trait that allows you to improve - stubbornness - can also be your downfall if you’re not careful.

A trough.

Luckily I have my coach who knows me inside out. JB from TrainSharp.co.uk is a master in ‘crisis management’ as he calls it. Looking back over the last five weeks during which I’ve raced fifteen  times (including two stage races) it’s not hard to see that the workload has been heavy, but of course hindsight is crystal clear and cycling is not generally a sport for pure analysts and thinkers, it’s a sport for doers.

A peak.

You have to be a strong character to get up every morning, go out there and get it done, but a lot of people thrive on that hard graft, the brutality of getting your head kicked in every day in a stage race. I think of myself as one of those people, a good sufferer. Maybe one of the best, one day, because that’s what the professionals get paid for. But sometimes you also have to be strong and know yourself well enough to say: “No, I need another day to recover. I need a little more time because my body is telling me it needs to rest”. That is what I am doing today by taking the day off and not racing. I am trying to be strong by doing what appears to be weak.

Another trough.

On my back

I've had a week off since my win and it’s not been spent getting boozed and taking champagne showers; it’s mostly been in bed. And before any of you naughty people turn that into something good, I was mostly just lying on my back sweating a lot… Okay this is coming out all wrong! Basically I got some kind of stomach virus which completely knocked me out. To say it was horrendous would be exaggerating. Let’s just say it was really really awful.

Spent a fair amount of time watching this boil.

I've clearly been going pretty well on the bike over the last month and that’s what makes it even more of a ball-ache. I went from feeling like a bulletproof thoroughbred stallion to a limp overworked mule in the space of less than 24 hours. It’s a long way to fall when you’re at the top of your game, and I performed a pretty good double-pike back flip to face plant.

This was my week.

It feels like I've been holding my breath for the entire week, waiting and wishing, and today was the first time I've been able to open my mouth and breathe in the sweet taste of oxygen again. Hopefully that’s the end of the illness and I can crack on again. A huge shout out must go to Jon at TrainSharp for massaging my ego on Skype when I needed it the most; what a top bloke!

A win and a loss

I'm struggling to write an entry this afternoon after hearing about the news of Junior's death at Severn Bridge road race yesterday. I didn't know the guy well, but I did know him and when I heard the news on Sunday I was shocked. There are no words from me that will help his friends or family get over the loss but I feel it is important to acknowledge the tragic event that happened. When I raced against him in the South West he always had a presence at the head of the bunch and was a good rider.

Onto happier thoughts. I won the race on Saturday, with what is becoming a trademark show of stupidity/strength. After a rapid first 100km where no breaks were formed, one finally stuck once we were on the first lap of the finishing circuit. I wasn't in it, but I felt amazing, so I jumped off the front and took chase. A few minutes later and as I glanced behind I saw the welcome sight of my teammate Sam Allen riding up to me. I soft tapped for a bit and when he caught me we went full gas to catch the breakaway. 

The Brits show them how to play hard ball.

We were going great guns and did so within about 10km, leap-frogging a few stragglers from the break on the way there. When we joined the group we were just going through the finish up a small drag and as I drifted to the front I held my speed and got a little gap. I thought about it (for all of about two seconds) and then I just thought: 'Ahhh why not'!

This is just after my 'attack' from the break.

And that was it, either four or five 4km laps later (I lost count) and I had it in the bag. I held my lead of about 25 seconds over two chasers for the entire time and had plenty of time at the finish to enjoy myself.

I think it was starting to smart a bit at this point.

Testers eh?!

I was out front for so long I even grew a beard...

After plenty of faffing about on the podium, broken sentences in French and receiving gender ambiguous 'Parfum' for a prize I began the long journey home. It was a late night and I couldn't sleep. I think I knew then that I was going down with something, and in the morning sure enough, I was ill. I could feel it earlier in the week in the form of a tickley throat and coupling the cold weather and a big effort with little sleep meant it was inevitable. I started the race on Sunday but I was flapping about at the rear end of the bunch and after an hour or so I knew it was pointless. I climbed off and wrapped up. It's important to know when not to fight, and yesterday was one of those times. Nobody remembers the hero: they remember the winner.