I finally drew my 2016 season to a close a few weeks back, and to be honest it's taken a little while to work out exactly what to write. It's not like I've been lacking in time either (I haven't touched my bike for two weeks!) I've just not been able to find the words. Anyway, in a moment of clarity between digestive biscuits (McVitie's Dark Chocolate, obviously) while binge watching Peep Show, it finally hit me- relief.
My road season actually finished in mid October at the first round of the Surrey League Ottershaw series- I needed a top 5 to maintain my 1st Cat license, and I was unashamedly points chasing. On the day however, everything seemed to be conspiring against me- and when I say everything, I think I mean myself. I'd left my British Cycling license in Loughborough, my arm warmers at home, my embrocation oil in the wrong bag, I forgotten to wash my kit so my shorts were still slightly damp from the wash... I don't know if I was subconsciously trying to sabotage myself or what, but my main feeling that morning while getting changed in the cold was "what the fuck am I doing here?"
I was mentally drained, and in all honesty racing was the last thing on my mind.
Anyway, as it happened forgetting my armwarmers was possibly the best thing I could have done- as soon as the neutralised flag came down I was on the front churning out the Watts simply trying to keep warm. I flicked my elbow for someone to come through- nothing. I glanced back- I was by myself. Right then.
A lap later, another rider came across to me- Graham Crow from Handsling Racing. Another lap, and two more riders joined us- Mikey Mottram from Morvelo Basso, and Jack Taylor from Planet X. It was a solid group- nobody pissed about, and we rapidly built up a solid lead over the bunch. My head was back in the game- I knew I had my top 5. Could I convert it into a win?
With 5km to go, Mikey hit it hard as I finished my turn. The other two could respond, but I was going backwards- don't panic, hold it steady, bring them back.
We all came back together with 1km to go.
Sit on the back, save your legs.
750m to go- Jack Taylor kicked away from us
Too early, hold it steady
500m to go- he's still away
He'll tie up soon- hold it steady.
250m to go- Graham lights it up
Almost there, almost there...
200m to go- Mikey gets out of the saddle.
Don't give him the chance- GO GO GO!
100m to go- I'm leading.
All the way now Pete, all the way
50m to go- still me.
Fuck me this hurts. Where is everyone?
0m to go.
YES!
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| Celebrating from the drops: I didn't think I had enough of a gap to throw my hands in the air. |
Big shout and a fist in the air to celebrate. 1st Cat license maintained. Season over. Relief.
Except for my season wasn't over- I had a month until the British Universities and Colleges Sport (BUCS) Track Championships. I was representing Loughborough in the Team Pursuit. I had unsettled business with that race after finishing 5th with the Loughborough B team last year- this year I was riding in the A team, with a championship title to defend.
The month leading up to BUCS disappeared in no time- I was doing my best to stretch out my road form for as long as possible. My legs were just about hanging in there, but mentally I was exhausted. In the week leading up to the race, my taper was perfect- I did a short spin the day before and my legs felt fantastic.
Warming up on the day, I felt good. I was relaxed, confident- all we had to do was repeat the speeds we were doing in our training sessions, and we should win. Simple, right? Nope.
I'm not quite sure what happened, but a few minutes before our qualifying ride, I was gripped by nerves. Not just the usual pre race nerves, but full on confidence crisis nerves. This was new...
We got called up for our start- as favourites, we were seeded in the last heat. The current fastest qualifying time was still slower than our training rides, and the track was running super fast. This should be straight forward. But I was right on the edge- if someone had said the wrong thing to me while we were waiting to go up, I either would have punched them or cried. Either way, not quite the right zone to be in.
5 seconds. Breathe in.
4 seconds. Breathe out.
3 seconds. Breathe in.
2 seconds. Out of the saddle.
1 second. Lunge back.
0 seconds. GO!
Perfect start- a rapid opening lap, we were in formation straight away, Jonny hauled us up to speed and we were flying. It took less than 4 laps to catch the opposing team. Tom finished his turn and swung up the track. My turn.
This hurts. This really hurts. Hold the pace. Only half a lap and you're done. Perfect, swing up. Swing down. Hold the wheel. Oh shit.
In my adrenaline/nerve fueled state, I'd completely overcooked my turn. I was supposed to last the full distance, and I'd blown at 1250m. This wasn't meant to happen. Thankfully the guys got the message that they were down to three men, and managed to see it through to the end. Fastest qualifiers. Phew.
Still, this wasn't good for my ongoing confidence crisis. I rolled back round to the track centre, and proceeded to lie down and attempt to get my head back together. I was after anything to help me quantify just why I'd blown up so badly- sadly, on the track, rubbing brakes isn't a valid excuse! Anyway, ultimately I'd just gone way too fast on my turn. Lesson learned. Time to warm up for the final.
Thankfully by the time the final rolled around, I'd pulled myself together. We were racing the full 4km in the final, and it wasn't about times- all we had to do was beat the team on the opposite side of the track. Much easier to process. This time, I got it right- fast, but not too fast. Perfect change, back on Tom's wheel. Sam was tearing our legs off on the front, which considering he was racing the National Hill Climb Champs just a few weeks previously was super impressive. Sam finished his turn. Jonny finished his. Tom finished his. Me again. Do what you do in training- ride until you blow.
Full gas. Swing up. Done.
As we'd arranged previously, I pulled off at 3km, which meant I got to see the boys finish the job off from the top of the track- admittedly through slightly blurred vision. Gold medal. Job done. Relief.
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| Burying myself in the final. L-R Me, Sam Mansfield, Jonny Wale, Tom Ward. |
I'd planned well in advance to have a few weeks off after BUCS. There's been a lot of crap food, nights out drinking, and nights in sitting around doing nothing. Although it's been necessary, the novelty does wear off a bit, and I'm dead excited to get back into training this week.
Anyway- until next time!
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| A very happy Loughborough squad after taking the overall rankings in both the men and women's competitions. |
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