Last weekend was the National Junior Road and Time Trial Championships, the pinnacle of 2012 racing for many juniors across the country. It was based in Blackrock, a coastal town within a stone's throw away from the halfway town between the two capitals of the island: Dundalk.
I wanted to get there on Friday so I could have a scoot round the time trial circuit before the real thing on the Saturday. I was kindly granted that wish, and I set off for the TT recon just after I booked into the palace-like B&B we were staying in, opposite Dundalk's National Institute of Technology. It had a big wind turbine, which was cool.
The course felt like an original timetrial course, with a bit more added to it. The fact that it was a National TT Course meant it had to have a bit of zest, and I suppose that was what Cuchulainn CC came up with.
The lap started on the Dublin Road, a big wide expressway, exposed to the wind and with many differing road surfaces. It was a lonesome 8 miles until the first roundabout on the course, involving a tight back-the-way-you-came turn. A few kilometers later you took the second left on the junction heading for the motorway, which was even more covered in potholes and bumps, zinging the TT up a bit. At the massive motorway roundabout, you again headed back the way you came. This was a far faster turn than the one previous, as you could stay on the aero bars for the whole of the duration.
The route returned back onto the Dublin Road for the last punishing km's of the 31k course. The gradient was a mixture of flat and unwelcome drags, but a fast run-in nonetheless. It was a challenging course, and the winner on Saturday would be a worthy winner, Cuchulainn had definitely got that right.
Up at 0630, breakfast at 0700, out the door for 0800, on the turbo for 0855. Everything ran like clockwork. I arrived on the line at 0927, and was in the correct frame of mind to put all I had into the TT. I had a planned to go out steady into the 8 mile headwind, then try and nail it on the run in, when everyone else would be more fatigued.
My start was a disaster. I had to wait three minutes as I was the first junior off, allowing ample time for cars waiting behind to get past. The R132 is a long, straight stretch, so upcoming cars were visible from at least a mile away. However, when I departed at 0930, it was timed superbly so that 2 cars came out in front of me as I was setting off.
I was pissed off to say the least, and it took me a while to calm down and settle to my schedule again. The maximum time that I had lost was probably about 5 seconds, so if I lost a place by that much I would be enraged.
The 8 mile stretch was agonisingly slow. I had in my head that everyone else would be going faster at this point on the course and was only relaxed when I was travelling 50kph. My Belgian Project Counterpart Matthew Doyle started a minute behind and every second of that timetrial, I was thinking 'he might catch me'.
At the first roundabout I saw Matthew entering as I was exiting. Had to get the finger out, he was too close. I trucked it to the next roundabout, hoping to see Doyle miles behind, but I never saw him. He was already going round the second turn as I exited. Now I was panicking.
The turn back onto the Dublin Road was another fast one, which you could stay on the aero bars for; at least that's what I thought...
300m before the turn TWO cars passed me. It REALLY annoyed me this time, and at this stage in the test, safety was not at the top of the list, so I went round them and cut them up on the turn, surrendering for the less aerodynamic position on the bull bars.
Why the hell would you overtake someone so close to a junction? I was going 50kph anyway so I was hardly making them go at a snail's pace behind me. People like that on the roads need their brain checked, and maybe some analysis of what they're actually doing wouldn't go amiss; before thinking that they can perform any task just because they are in a tin box with a lawmower engine, that can go marginally faster than the machine I'm powering with just my legs.
Doyle didn't catch me. I was happy at that. I knew he was a better tester than me; but I'm pretty sure I would've pounced on him if he passed me, so neither of us could have finished! I got the bronze medal, and Matthew got a silver, with the clear-cut favourite being the clear-cut winner: Ryan Mullen.
I was content with my result. The people who had deserved to beat me, had, and I performed to the best of my ability on the day. I lost 40 seconds to Doyle, but I don't think I would have got many back if drivers had chosen to drive accordingly.
The result instilled confidence in me for the road race. I was out on the road bike straight after lunch, giving the road circuit a recon. The lap was quite rolly and twisty, but nothing as taxing as the torture assault courses designed by evil Belgian men which I had competed on in weeks gone by.
Sunday came and I was upbeat. The timetrial had shown my form was good, so hopefully I could maybe steal the coveted jersey in the road race. I knew Sunday was my last chance to get in the Junior World's Team. I had to deliver.
On the startline I was calm and relaxed. I had a plan. I had analysed the course. I was going to stick to my plan. I knew where to attack.
The course of action was simple. Follow the other favourites for the majority of the race, get in the decisive break, attack where I decided to attack yesterday in the recon (on a steep uphill before a junction going from a cross wind to a tailwind 5k from the finish), and become an Irish Champion. Piece of Cake. However, you can never have your cake and eat it...
2km into the race, Mullen was trying one of his trademark attacks of trying to break away early, do the damage at the start, and hopefully build up enough of a buffer to stay away until the finish. He was sneaking up the bunch and I was right on his wheel. He attacked and I was right on his wheel. But then it seemed much, much harder to stick to it. I wasn't getting more fatigued, he was just getting farther and farther away.
I noticed I was starting to make a clunking noise with my chainset, a similar sound of having a very rough pedal stroke. Now everyone was passing me.
Matthew was near the back and started pushing me saying, 'Come on, let's go!'
I knew something was wrong and waved him on. I got off the bike and stuck my hand up. Every car went past me. There was no break formed yet, so where was the neutral service? Team car 9 stopped and Mark McKinley jumped out of the car. He found that the chain had wedged itself between the jockey wheel and the caging for it. We got it back on and I was stuck to his car for a few kilometers.
I looked at my Garmin and was impressed when I saw 64kph reading. Then I remembered that I was inches away from a squeaking car bumper and thought better than to look at idle stats. The towbar was getting more and more menacing, trying to grab my front wheel as we swung around corners. I peaked out to look up ahead and saw the ambulance (ie the back of the cavalcade) right in front. I patiently moved up from car to car, getting closer and closer to the main bunch, which was thankfully all together.
I was just passing the comms' car, coming onto the right hander exactly 2km from the start/finish when I heard two pops, and air searing out of BOTH my tyres. This was beyond a joke, beyond bad luck. This was SOMETHING ELSE.
Mark stopped for me again, gave me 2 new wheels and repeated the same procedure again.
I could see the luminous green and yellow vehicle getting closer and closer but then I felt the familiar clinking that I had felt at the start of the race. The centre of the jockey wheel and exploded. Game over.
I had tried everything to stay in the race and it just wasn't to be. I wasn't that disappointed when I stopped; but now, a few days after the whole episode, with an opportunity to reminisce, I was just so deflated at what happened. I built the rode bike back up after the plane journey home last Thursday, and everything was okay. I rode the bike on Saturday for 30km and Sunday for another 10km before the race and everything was okay.
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| Intact Jockey Wheel (left) and not so (right). |
I got quite annoyed at some juniors just giving up. Not because they where physically incapable of completing the race, but because they thought there was no chance for them to win. Quitters never win, winners never quit. Ryan Mullen didn't win on Sunday, but he was in the worst state crossing the line. I saw at least 15 cyclists mosey off the back of the bunch after deciding they had had enough of this camaraderie for one day. I saw Ryan cramp up 3 times and fight to stay with the bunch and pull back the successful break until his body really did have enough. I respect that a lot.
'It's not where you've been, it's where you're going.' My brother told me that. A great quote that can be adapted to many different situations. I mustn't look back and moan about what happened any more, I should look forward and see where I can seek redemption. In this case I hope to win the Ulster Championships in Ballymoney; or at least collapse trying.
I think this will be my last blog for a while. I may do one in the winter if I get bored, but I highly doubt it! If not I will resume during the 2013 season, hopefully not needing any luck, and maybe a nice shiny new bike if anyone would be kind enough to give me one !
Until then, see you.
Dan
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