NewsnReports08.htm

News n' Reports 2009

2009
Trip to Alkmaar Track by Hugh Byrne January 2009
Swords League : My first race! by Peter Doyle April 2009
Track Season underway by Hugh Byrne April 2009
Coombes Connor Memorial by Peter Doyle April 2009
Swords League : Bog of the Ring by Peter Doyle April 2009
Road to Barcelona by Derek Fagan May 2009 ***
Swords League : Garristown Revisited by Peter Doyle May 2009
Season so far & Howth Hill climb by Peter Doyle May 2009
Club League: Race 8 by Peter Doyle 3rd June 2009
DWCC TT League (Round 5) by Peter Doyle 11th June 2009
Club League 25 Mile TT by Peter Doyle 17th June
Club League: Race 11 by Peter Doyle 24th June 2009
My First Ladies Nationals by Laura Banfield 26th June 2009
Club League: Race 12 by Peter Doyle 1st July 2009
Club Road Race C/ship by Peter Doyle 8th July 2009
Marmotte 2009 by Mike Brookfield July 2009
Club 10 Mile TT C/ship by Peter Doyle July 15th 2009
Rad AM Ring (Germany) by Peter Doyle July 2009
League Races 15/18/19 by Peter Doyle August 2009
Clonalvey CP -Final CP ! by Peter Doyle August 2009
Sean Kelly Tour by Ciara Donoghue August 2009
An ‘Etape’ers event diary 2009 by Lloyd Scott October 2009

Thank you Mr. Mavic man – an ‘Etape’ers event diary 2009 October 2009
Report by Lloyd Scott

Monday 20^th July 2009

The day of reckoning arrived on Monday 20^th July, the Étape du Tour stage for the ‘public’. This year it was to be a 170km stage through the Vaucluse and Drome departments of Provence commencing in Montmélian (the home of nougat) and arriving at the top of Mont Ventoux (the infamous beast of French climbs!).

A 4:15am rise to make the 53km trek from Valence to Montélimar – why do we do this to ourselves, I ponder. A breakfast of muesli followed by pasta and three slices of "Mamie gateau" (Paul, you thought the apple pie was delicious, but Mamie gateau is an experience!). Arrived at Montélimar and all preparations done, it was time to get placed in the ‘départ’ pen – only an hour to go!

Anxious? No!!!! Montelimar at 06 00.

The start of the Étape is nervous, lots of emotions pass through what is at this moment a fragile body – fear, doubt, apprehension… Ah, as in the words of Susan Jeffers just feel the fear and do it anyway! Ten minutes to go and the two small tins of creamed rice placed strategically in my jersey pocket are opened and consumed – the last big charge before the off. Dominic, the Englishman beside me approves. 7:00am and across the loudspeaker there is the announcement of the départ of the first pen; seven minutes later, and with a temperature of a mere 21°, I am away.

I settle in well despite all the jockeying for position by the masses. Through Espeluche I carry on towards the first of the day’s five climbs, Cote des Citelles (428m; cat. 3). This one’s a steady rise and I even managed it on the big ring – I must be going well. Down a slightly technical descent and groups are starting to form within the peloton, including one with those favoured Étape-ers sharing the lead and working together (ah, just like the Sunday morning Vets CP I try to convince myself!). Heading for Nyons (44km) and the landscape is breathtaking; that rugged Provencal charm and, of course, those fields of purple lavender in full bloom. I note that it’s even more picturesque than during our reconnaissance trip in April.

Back in the pack I am sitting comfortably as we approach the 50km mark – only 120 to go and all going to plan, if not even better. Then I hear a ‘ping’ noise and I think to myself that sounds like a broken spoke. I look down to find my back wheel has indeed broken a spoke and the wheel is now rubbing off the brake pads. Disaster! I stop on the roadside, losing contact with the peloton and the usual emotions of upset and frustration kick in. What am I going to do? Some might remember the old 36-spoke wheels where if you broke a spoke there would be no real problem in continuing on; a slight buckle in one of these wheels wouldn’t cause you too much upset. However, I was now finding out that my 20-spoke Mavic Kysriums, with the spoke shorn off at the nipple, were posing a much greater challenge. I get over my initial frustrations, phone Audrey (a problem shared is a problem halved and all that…) and set about ‘managing the situation’. The Étape du Tour replicates the pro Tour in so many ways and the event organisation engages some thirty police motorcyclists and at least as many civilian motorcyclists on marshalling duties. One of these civilian ‘motos’ comes along and I ask about the position of the on-road Mavic service team. No help is nearby, I’m afraid. Many groups pass me by and, sure enough, there’s no sign of a service vehicle. My thought now turn to how I might get myself to a location where Audrey can pick me up…my Étape is over!

Over the top and down the technical descent identified in the pre-event information as one of the eight dangerous elements on the course. With only a front brake to assist me (having released the rear brake to minimise the wheel rubbing) I limp down at no more than 25km/hr. By this stage I have lost forty minutes on my companions of earlier. But hey, I am still actually in the event and might even be able to get my problem addressed.

I arrive in Buis les Baronnies and am never so glad to see the Mavic service van. My focus now turns to whether or not my broken spoke can be replaced. I approach the service person (Mr. Mavic man) and ask politely, in my best French, is it possible to repair my wheel. His response of "Oui, bien sur" (Yes, of course) is greeted with sheer relief. My Étape is not over after all! Mr. Mavic man reaches into the back of the service van to find a replacement spoke as I take the wheel from the bike. He appears with a shiny new red flat Kysrium spoke and sets about sorting the problem – but not without regular interruptions from fellow ‘étape’rs looking for assistance with their woes. All I want to do is to tell them to f… off, I am here first and my need is greater than theirs! While Mavic man is working on my wheel I take the chance to phone Audrey (thank God for mobile technology) and alert her to my position and progress (relief all round). Mr Mavic man completes the surgery, including removing the cassette as the spoke had broken on that side – all in all about twenty minutes. By this stage I calculate that I have lost an hour but, hey, I am now on course to complete, failing any other disaster. Overjoyed at the thought that I am still in the race I want to hug Mavic man but think better of it and just thank him kindly.

I’m on the road again with just 93 km to go and heading for the third climb of the day, Col de Fantaube (635m; cat 4). I start to settle in after my earlier exploits. The distraction of the buckled wheel has caused me to forget about eating and I realise I have to ensure I’m fuelled up to last the distance. Fontaube is a winding climb through some breathtaking countryside, passing from Drome to Vaucluse, but that’s for another day to stop and admire – we will return! Down a short descent and up towards the uncategorised Col des Aires (640m). Just two climbs to go now, Col des Abeilles (cat 3) and Mont Ventoux (HC). The descent of Col des Aires is quite technical and brings you along some quite lumpy sections towards Aurel (altitude 770m). This section might take its toll later on. As I proceed along the rise into Aurel, I catch up to a cyclist whom I cannot fail to notice is cycling with just one leg. I reflect on my own troubles of earlier and realise how very fortunate I am to have all my limbs. While people respect the effort and commitment I make to achieve a milestone such as this, I have such respect for someone who makes a commitment and defies their physical disadvantage to do the same.

I descend through Sault, noticing the elimination zone and can but think to myself that I could have been in the broomwagon but for my drive to continue and the work of Mr. Mavic man. I am also glad that I chose Mavic wheels! The penultimate climb of the day, Col de Notre Dame des Abeilles (996m; cat 3) and the first 2km are particularly steep (11%). It then eases out to 7% with a sharp rise at the finish following a short descent. The descent to Ville sur Auzon is an exhilarating experience on a wide closed road (one of the perks of participating in this event) reaching a top speed of 78 km/hr. Only 35 km to go!!

I reach Bédoin some five hours after leaving Montélimar and arrive at the final feed station to meet Audrey who, surprise, surprise, is waiting with my good friend Christophe. He has travelled from Chambéry to see me and, in that; he has his own story to tell and that is for another day. We spend a good few minutes chatting and then off I go to tackle the ‘beast’ starting from 320m out of Bédoin. My strategy for Ventoux is threefold; part 1 the first 6 km to be done at a quick tempo, followed by part 2, 6 to 16 km with an average gradient of 10% to be done as quickly as possible. The strategy for the final 6 km from Chalet Raynard is just to bury my head and go for it.

The temperature on the ascent is a ‘cool’ 35°C and the thought of having enough liquid on board to get me to Chalet Raynard occupies my mind. The two bidons given to me in Bédoin are sufficient and last me to the Chalet where there is a water stop. I take a welcome pause to restock for the final assault – just 6 km to go now. The swirling wind at this point on the open moon-like terrain, offers no assistance other than to cool an overheated sweat-ridden body. On the reconnaissance trip at Easter I believed the amber and black poles counting down the last 6 km in 10m intervals would be of assistance. On this trip I look at them only once and it is at 2640m. I approach the final km and believe I have just enough left to get me to the summit although the last 500m seems like it goes on for ever…

And that was it, the hardest stage of the 2009 Tour was completed and the memories will be long lasting and shared for many years to come. To get to experience the closed roads, the cheering crowds in the towns along the way and the feeling that you are a part of the biggest spectacle in world cycling is very special and is something that every cyclist should try to experience at least once in their cycling journey. And of course the personal story each and every participant has to tell is special. The sense of achievement, the will to accomplish a mammoth task and the experience of a special journey. Of course I will always be thankful of meeting and engaging with Mr. Mavic Man… what memories!

Thinking to next year!!! Well the Alps should be on the cards for the Etape in 2010 as they haven’t been to them for the last three years. Also, given that the 150^th anniversary of Savoie’s reunification with France is next year there may be a special stage planned for the Alps. Looking forward to the announcement on the 15^th October 2009 when all will be revealed.

Lloyd Scott

September 2009

Sean Kelly Tour August 30th 2009
Report by Ciara Donoghue
Ignorance is Bliss....or is it??

We started off in humid but dry conditions with the threat of rain never too far away. It was great to be part of a snake of cyclists that went for as far as the eye could see. A pleasant run out of Dungarvan with a nice speed keeping things together. Sean Kelly seemed in good form cycling along leading the group out. It’s always nice to be in the midst of a celebrity!!

The drags got longer and more and more people passed. All of a sudden people were coming out of a side road and I wondered if they were cheating but they weren’t. They had come from a climb they said I would be better off by passing as it was like the side of a house. They didn’t know who they were dealing with, Evelyn and I hadn’t gone all that way to Waterford to skip the Seskin Hill, the first of the climbs that people that been alluding to. Down to the lowest of my 23/11 and up I went. I was overtaken, at my snail’s pace by many, but I was satisfied to see some people walk...never!!

Then soon after there was a water stop, as many flavahans flapjacks as you can eat and a chance to shelter from a sudden downpour!! This was proceeded by a flattish run into Clonmel for lunch. Sandwiches and plenty of flapjacks!!

After lunch we tipped along until we got to the beautiful Nire Valley, the beauty of which we will have to take their word for as it was raining and we had about 10 metre visibility. The only thing I was looking at was the tarmac, once more back into the lowest gear to grind my way upwards. We are now in the heart of the Comeraghs. “The route climbs to over 400 meters altitude at the wonderfully-named Powers the Pot, whence it descends through enchanting uplands to the lovely village of Rathgormack”. The most accurate words in that quote are climbs and uplands. I am assured that I must have descended at some point but I feel justified in arguing that theory as my legs at this stage said otherwise. I asked someone if that was Mahon Falls to which they laughed and shook their heads.

We had been hearing about the elusive Mahon Falls since we arrived in Waterford and it was always joined by an intake of breath and a gnashing of teeth just to emphasize its greatness. Out of fear and respect for the monster ahead the day had been spent preparing for it. We had been warned that it was draggy and then just when you think it could get no worse there is a wall to climb at the end and with this in mind the grinding began. Then it went on, and then it went on some more and some parts were harder than others which just meant that I was grinding more slowly. Turning a corner the ‘wall’ in sight. This is what we had been waiting for this is what we had been psyching ourselves up for. People were walking up it some were cycling. Teeth gnashed, breathing controlled, the only way up is to sprint. A short sharp climb a dip another short sharp climb, breathing hard, heart pounding, pain everywhere but then your over it and woohooo, yippee, you can scream at mountain, you beat it, you got over it and the sense of satisfaction and achievement is exhilarating, you have conquered the world and you laugh in the face of the mist and the rain!!

You are ready for the decent into Dungarvan. On the decent there are mountain rescue, bales of hay to break your fall, ambulances and volunteers. After grinding your way up ready to speed downhill as a prize for your efforts you realise they are there because of its treachery and its breaking all the way down.

Still ready for the decent into Dungarvan the hills are finished. The next part is flat, it looks flat it has nice heather and some pretty flowers and your high up and you know if you could see anything the scenery would be magnificent. As it is there is a mist covering you and the flat is an illusion, back into lowest gear and the most gruelling miles of the tour. It’s slog. At this point, for I think the first time ever, I wanted to throw the bike into the ditch. How could they do this to us, we had mastered the mountain we were kings of the hills, whose idea was this section? But one of the things I love about cycling is that it doesn’t matter how tired or frustrated you are, you are stuck at the top of a mountain and the only way down is to keep going. It makes you dig deep whether you want to or not and you know you have no choice you have to keep pedalling. Eventually the decent begins, we see a volunteer and breathe a sigh of relief the hills are over, the drags are done. But oh no, silly us what were we thinking of. It was at this point that I realised why Sean Kelly was/is the great cyclist he was/is he must have thought Europe was a holiday and the hills of the tour de France mere drags.

Undulating roads back to Beary’s cross, where we are finally greeted by a wonderful decent and we can build up some good speed and really feel the bike move. It’s a wonderful feeling. The legs are tired, the knees hurt but you know your nearly there so you suffer the pain with a smile and you push as hard and fast as you can for that final exhilaration. When we reach the harbour and the finish we are smiling and proud bursting with our sense of achievement. Congratulations is exchanged all round and all in all it has been a great day, the pain forgotten, the certificate in your hand and as much tea as you want!! What more could you ask for?? A flapjack maybe, there are plenty to be had!!
<Photos on IrishCycling.com>

Clonalvey CP 19th August 2009
3 laps, 4 times over The Three Sisters
Report by Peter Doyle

I rode out to the circuit and got soaked, but the rain was warm so it wasn't a bother. By my calculations, I was one point ahead of Derek in the league, barely clinging on to first place (not including Javan, who is miles ahead!). This is not a position I expected myself to be in. At the start of the league I could barely finish a race, now somehow I have found myself in a position to win the league! How the hell did that happen? God bless the handicap system, that's all I'll say.

After Sunday's race, the circuit was fresh in my mind. I like it. It's got plenty of ups and downs so I find it easier to stay in contact than I would on the flat circuits. At sign on, I was wondering which group I would be in. After Sunday, Joe told Derek and myself that we would probably be moved to group 4. We protested a little bit, but secretly I think we were both pleased. The whole point of this is to better yourself and see how you fare against strong riders. After listening to our reasons for why we should stay in group 3, Joe told us he would keep it a surprise. Well the surprise was that yes, we are definitely in group 4 now. Quite a few other guys moved up with us.

We rode down to the start line and the rain was coming down heavy enough. Before the race start we paid respect to Paul Healion with a minutes silence. We've all read about Paul's fantastic wins and how strong a rider he was. By all accounts, he will be sorely missed by Irish cycling but most of all, he will be missed by his family and friends.

The rain continued to fall and I found myself admitting that if I wasn't in a position to win the league, I'd be at home watching the telly. So I only have myself to thank for having to ride in the rain on muddy roads. 7 riders set off in group 1. Groups 2 and 3 looked to be quite small. I had expected group 4 to have maybe 7 or 8 with a few more behind us, but we were directed to start together, so we did. Riding scratch! Sweet :o)

I spent lap 1 just sitting in getting used to the pace and getting a feel for riding with the riders who were new to me. Due to the wet conditions, corners were taken very carefully by everyone. None of us are doing this for a living and we all want to arrive home unscathed. On the second lap I found my grove and moved up to the front, leading over The Three Sisters. There was a lot of attacking by the Stamullen guys, Mick Nulty in particular. After our third time over the Three Sisters, the pace was quite high. As we approached the finish line, although not the actual finish of the race, an attack went out again. Two riders went off the front. I figured they were trying to get a break away in for the final lap. I tried to bridge over but I couldn't and found myself in no mans land for a while. Eventually it all came back together for the final lap. As we approached the Three Sisters for the final time, I spotted Derek move to the front. Covering attacks, I expect! He was let sit on the front of the bunch for pretty much the rest of the lap. We had caught all the leaders earlier. Then Mick Nulty put in another dig and rode off the front. No one went with him. I was only interested in watching Derek and finishing within one position of him, if I could manage it. As we turned on to the backroads, Derek was still leading the bunch, presumably with Mick way up the road. I must admit, I totally forgot that he was up there. We crested the short hill and hit the series of bends along the narrow road that leads to the finish. I sat on the right, with Derek on the left so I could keep an eye on him and respond to any moves. Then two riders attacked from my right. That was the cue for all hell to break loose. Tactics went out the window and finish line fever set in.

On the last bend I was on the right. Derek had the inside line but I saw that he got boxed in so I took this as my sign to give it socks. I gave it plenty of socks, knee high ones in fact, like what those weirdos wear... you know, triathletes. Anyway, Derek managed to find a gap and put the hammer down. He caught up to me, so I tried to respond and was leading by a matter of inches and holding the lead. Not in first place mind, but this was a race within a race. The finish line was looming and I was running out of steam. Derek kept the power on and nicked 4th place with 5th place going to me. I make that all square at the top. It's gonna be a fun hill climb on Wednesday.

League Races 15/18/19 August 2009
Report by Peter Doyle
22nd July: Corduff
This was on the Corduff circuit. I think that is what it's called, it's the one we used for our championships and our Nags Head 10mile TT. We were scheduled to do two laps so that was a welcome relief from the 3 we had to do the last time. As we hit the Nags Head on our first lap I rode to the front and tried to pull the pace up so we could keep away from the scary group 4 riders who we figured would be going hard on the hill.
We caught group 2 somewhere on the second lap.

Just before our second time on the hill I thought about having a pop and trying to solo away, but I figured it might be too far from the finish to stay away so I didn't go. As we entered Ballyboughal we got caught by the later group.

On the road towards the finish, someone took a flyer with about 1km to go. I wasn't sure exactly how far from the finish we were, so eventually I tried to bridge across in the hope of sitting in and jumping out to try and get a placing. All I did was drag everyone else with me. We rounded a bend and there was the finish line. Then everyone started passing me and I think I came 9th or 10th.

12th August: Bog of the Ring
We had to do 4 laps of the circuit. I always find this a fast circuit since it's pretty much flat apart from the two bridges over the motorway. We caught group 2 on the last lap just as we entered the back roads leading up to the finish. When we caught them I knew that there was still a group up the road. However, something happened along that stretch that made me forget all about that. What was it? Oh yes! Paddy started stringing the bunch out by riding at over 50kph for what felt like bloody ages. All short-term memory was dumped out of my brain as I struggled to hold on to wheels. As we neared the finish I forgot all about the first group and started sprinting. I was pleased with myself getting what I thought was 6th place. Then I saw all the earlier riders making their way back. Turns out I got more like 16th instead of 6th!
In order to help others avoid the same mistake, here is Peter's Top 3 Guide to recognising that you are not in the group sprinting for the win.

3. The group you caught has 10 people in it, but 20 started before you
2. The finish line marshals are not looking at the finishers
1. Half the people in your bunch sat up ages ago

16th August: Clonalvey
A nice circuit. It goes over the Three Sisters and has some other nameless 6% slope. We had 4 laps to do, but we started near the Oldtown Graveyard so we had to do the 3 sisters 5 times. Oh you're filthy! First time up the hill I think we lost a few people, not sure. The descent is nice and open and we take a left hander down a quick bumpy road leading very quickly to another left hander and on to the nameless slope. This is a nice narrow twisty lane which eventually leads up another slope to the finish line at a school. Just after the school we have a descent which takes a left just after a church eventually leading back on to the main road so we can ascend the Three Sisters again. I'm not sure when or where we caught groups 2 and 1 but somewhere along the course people from groups 1, 2 and 3 were still together with 2 ascents of the Three Sisters to go. On the second last ascent the pace went up on the hill and some people lost contact. There were 5 of us together for the last lap. As we hit the roads at the back of the circuit we lost one rider. 4 of us left to duke it out. On the final slope to the finish line I tried to sprint ahead for the win. Derek was right on my wheel and I couldn't gap him. He came by me and won by a few lengths. Derek, I'd like a 20% discount when I buy a frame from you, thanks ;o)

Rad AM Ring (Germany) July 2009
Report by Peter Doyle
Earlier in the year my older brother suggested that we do a cycle event on continental Europe. He lives in Germany and had been over to cycle the Wicklow 200 in 2008 so it made sense for me to do the traveling this time. But what event to do? There are so many to choose from. Milan - San Remo was mentioned as was Liege - Bastogne - Liege. Somehow these monuments were rejected by the committee and I
managed to find myself agreeing to do a 24 hour 4 man team relay race around the Nurburgring in Germany. The very same one that Michael Schumacher used to strut his stuff on (in fact, if recent news reports are to be believed, he will be doing it again soon). The aim is simple, cycle as many laps as you can within 24 hours. So we had two people signed up, we still had to find another two. A stringent selection process began involving a series of tortuous time trials, horrific hill climbs and personality profiling. We then realised that
the tests would rule both of us out so we settled for sending emails to all our cycling friends. Two suckers, er I mean fine specimens stepped up to the plate. So we had our four team members.

The first was Kevin: known as Mr Bump to his friends due to his uncanny ability to injure himself from doing the most simple tasks, such as opening a book. Kevin is a very strong triathlete. He claims the bike is his weakest discipline. If it is, he went to incredible lengths to hide the fact by putting in a great performance on all of his laps.

The second team member was Marc-Anton: a man fluent in at least four languages and incredibly relaxed. His organisation and attention to detail was to greatly assist with the smooth running of the team. His un-wavering good nature also saw him keep his spirits up even when it only seemed to rain on the times he went out for a lap! Mark is another strong triathlete so the wet conditions was surely no bother
to him.

The third, was Aidan, my older brother. He has a knack for suggesting zany escapades. Not all of them come to fruition, but it seemed he was determined to make this one happen. Aidan is relatively new to cycling, having only taken it up as a hobby less than two years ago. He has since completed many sportives including London-Paris earlier this year. Next stop for him is racing and he will surely do well there.

The final place in the team was filled by yours truly.

Kevin and I both flew into Dusseldorf and made our way to Nurburg. The last time I was here was for an F1 grand prix. I was down with some mates and it felt like we were on a 24 hour drinking binge. This time I was once again binging but it was to be on energy gels instead of long island ice teas.

The day before the event we did a 45km cycle of the surrounding area. The roads are phenomenal... smooth and fast. Mind you we did manage to find one full of potholes and covered in muck. It's nice to be reminded of home. Our hotel was right next door to The Ring. Racing cars were tearing it along the home straight at high speeds. In less than 24 hours, we would be cycling along the very same tarmac, but
much much slower.

On the day of the race, we got our camp site set up and I prepared myself to head out on the first lap. At dinner the previous day we had drawn straws to see who would go out first. The shortest straw being the criteria for going first. I drew the third longest, but the result must have been pre-ordained as I was then informed that since I am the only one with experience of racing in a bunch and that no one
else wants to descend at 90kph while the group is still together... you can guess where this going... yes, I was to be the first out regardless of who had the shortest straw. The plan was to do a lap each. Me, Aidan, Kevin and then Marc and keep rotating.

I made my way over to the start line 20 minutes before the race was due to commence expecting to slot nicely into the front. I was very wrong. I was way down the back. Brilliant. I should have known the Germans would be first there. And since I was in Germany, thousands of them had been up earlier than me so as to stake their claim.

Bang on 13.20 the race started and we were off. The circuit is very tough. If you aren't going up then you are going down... fast. You never go in a straight line for very long. There is always a fast corner to negotiate. The circuit started on the home straight which leads down past a hard right hander to the twisty bits where the camping area was located. Near the end of the regular circuit we peel off to the left to head into the forest section. This is where the fun starts. You can see the course profile here: [url]http://www.radamring.de/upload/plaene/Norschleife-Profil.jpg[/url]. The first downhill bit gets you up to about 70kph but it isn't long enough to get much faster as it ends in a right hand turn. It was a new experience taking long sweeping bends at over 60kph. This leads towards a left hander and here we hit the best part of the circuit. Riders were getting over 100kph on this section. I clocked 88.8kph on my speedo. That was plenty fast for me. It is really amazing how fast you can get just by going aero. Thank heavens this section ended with a steep uphill section. If it was a left or right hand turn, there would have been carnage with people overcooking corners and running wide. A big thank you to the original race course designer, whoever he was. After the manical descent, there is a few bumps and
bends before the main test of the circuit and a different kind of fun altogether... a 4km climb which gets steeper as it goes on, all the way to the top. It starts out easy with 4 or 5%, but it then sneaks up on you and before you know it, you are at 8, 9 and 10%. It offers a brief respite 3/4s way up. It's tempting to start powering away on this flatter section, but it holds a nasty surprise as it rounds a bend. Here is where we hit a progressively steeper slope starting at 6% and culminating with 17%. On the very first lap, people were walking this section. Personally I don't see the point of giving up at the toughest bit. At the top of the hill there was a feed station.
Now, the lap is 23km long and the steep uphill bit is followed by some nice downhill slopes and the race is all about how many laps you can do in 24 hours, so I didn't see the need for stopping, I can recover and eat when my lap is over. There is only 8km to go at that point. Some people must have thought the competition was how many bananas you can eat in a minute as plenty stopped and were stuffing their faces. If the station was serving German sausages and Erdinger, maybe then I would have stopped and probably not continued either!
But it wasn't.

The final 2 km of the circuit was a long drag. It was the only
stretch where you could switch off and not suffer too much. The only trouble with this is that it ends with another slope getting up to about 15%. Not terribly long, but enough to suffer if you tried to power your way over it. I had opted to spin up all the climbs as I knew that trying to blast my way over them would only leave me with dead legs. The top of this slope leads onto the finishing straight and the end of the 23km lap.

Our team had decided to strap the timer chip to a water bottle and pass that on the move to the next rider instead of having to stop and strap it on your leg. Anything to shave a few seconds. Everyone on our team enjoyed their first lap... the sun was shining, it was all quite novel riding on the circuit and we were full of energy. I was anxious about what it would be like at night and what an 80kph descent in the dark feels like. Well it turns out that it feels bloody great! For some sections of the course it really is pitch black and all you can see are red tail lights in the distance. For some of the faster corners the organisers had decided to light them up. Just as well really since no one wants to kill themselves. As we hit the evening time we had about 2 laps done each... giving us 8.
This was going to be the real test. Trying to sleep, not get hungry, then be alert enough to ride at high speeds on a technical course with a steep climb and then try to wind down after your lap for more sleep. All of us are strong riders but this is a real test of the stamina and will power. While asleep at the back of the tent I could hear riders zipping by in the middle of the night. It was a constant stream. The steady humm of tyres on tarmac and the whirr of chains through cassettes was surprisingly soothing. Every now and then an
anxious rider would shout "Karl! Kommt! Wo bist du?" as he scanned the riders faces at the side of the track looking for his change over spot. We each did about 2 laps each in the dark. I was doing the lap at dawn... it wasn't scheduled, it just worked out like that. It was really amazing. I hit the main climb just as it was turning to daylight. The scene of the red tails lights all along the rising road and dark trees against the brightening sky was a sight to behold and
I'll remember it forever. I tried to stay in a good steady rhythm on the hill. I kept my breathing the same all the way and put the bike in the easiest gear... "spin to win" was my motto for the day. I think at this stage I was on my 5th lap. The steep bit at the end was starting to feel really difficult now. The spin motto had done it's trick for the earlier laps but I was needing to stand to get over the top now. Another lap nearly done. The track had been wet for the previous hour as poor Mark had to deal with heavy rain in the dark on the descents. I didn't envy him at all. Thankfully the rain had eased off for my lap and by the time I was finished it was mostly dry.

My times had gone down for the night time laps, but all the other guys had kept theirs pretty much constant. I expect the time was lost on the technical corners. But that was behind us now. It's daylight again. Only about 8 hours to go before the finish. We were in 44th place around this time, just 90 seconds or so behind the people in front. Since many teams would have the same number of laps, the time it took was also a big factor. We worked out that we would each get at least two more laps and there would probably be time for an extra lap for one of us. Our fastest lap was under 43 minutes and our slowest had been 52 minutes. Don't quote me on the lap-times/lap-counts/elapsed-time too much since I haven't revisited everyones log to double check! Only my own. Since muggins was the first to start, that meant I was scheduled for an extra lap. That was fine by me, I was happy to do it. We were all tired but I expect that any of the lads would have taken the lap had I been too tired to do it. Earlier, heading into the final few laps we learned that we were in 42nd position about 3 minutes down on the groups in front. As I started the final lap there was a nice buzz around. Everyone knew that the race was nearing the end and you could sense the relief from the other riders and waiting crew members. But between us and the finish line stood another 23km of 80kph descents, 60kph sweeping bends and 15% slopes. Fine if you are just starting out, but this was my 8th lap after a night of on/off sleep. I had forgotten to bring a mat so I was sleeping in my sleeping-bag on top of my bike bag. For the record... the chainreaction.com bike bag is very comfortable to sleep on once you remember to take off the straps. Before I headed out to wait for Marc to finish his lap I grabbed a handful of jellys and my energy drink. I had lived on the jellys for a day now. I bought two bags in a hardware store in a town near the race start. They cost 1.69 each. If my dentist is reading... they were sugar free. For everyone else, they were absolutely covered in the stuff and they kept my energy supplies topped up. My energy drink was made up of the contents of salt sachets which I robbed from the canteen in Dublin Airport departures (too airport security: ha ha! you didn't catch me!), glucose from the baking aisle of Dunnes Stores (I paid for it), water (free from the tap) and a dash of fruit concentrate (also paid for). There you have it, a cheap and effective energy drink which works. No more need for fancy schmancy stuff from powerbar or whatever they call themselves.

Anyway, the last lap... it was much like the other ones except this time across the finish line I got to celebrate. Afterwards we checked the results. We had moved up to 39th position out of 476 teams. In our category, Masters 1, we had come 25th out of about 230 teams.

Our team was called "The Mongrels"
Overall results: [url]https://service.acceptus.de/rennen/results/6/2009/4er_Rennrad_M%C3%A4nner_gesamt.html[/url]
Our category: [url]https://service.acceptus.de/rennen/results/6/2009/4er_REN_Master_1_M.html[/url]

Some statistics from my own cycle...
Total distance covered: 186km in 8 laps
Maximum speed: 88kph
Average speed: 30kph
Total meters climbed: 3618

Club 10 Mile TT C/ship July 15th 2009
Report by Peter Doyle
I wrote my last report almost one year ago after completing the Etape The club 10 mile TT was the race for today. It was originally scheduled for the circuit starting at Ballyboughal GAA club heading up towards Naul and turning left, however, due to some "difficulties" the circuit was changed to use the same course as we did for the road race championships the previous week. This was fine by me as it meant we had a nice juicy hill to negotiate. I'm never going to win a flat TT or even get many points in one, certainly not on a regular road bike, so this late course change was good news. I'm sure not everyone was of the same opinion.

Earlier in the week, I managed to get my hands on some magic numbers to help with pacing around the course. I had taped these to my handlebars. When noticed by other riders, I tried to laugh it off as my shopping list for the way home. I'm not sure, but I think my ploy worked.

At the start line I noticed that everyone seems to have a pair of Oakley Radars. I've been toying with the idea of getting a pair since my own Oakleys have too small a frame and restrict the view a little bit. My warm-up time was spent trying on everyones glasses.

When the start time arrived, I was the fifth rider off, if memory serves me correctly. My magic numbers had instructed me to keep a HR of 150 for the first 500 meters. That was for the old course which started uphill. This new course started with a downhill. As soon as I started my HR jumped to 200. I always thought my max was 205, but I'm pretty sure I saw a 209 within the first KM. So much for pacing myself. Maybe it was just an errant spike. I wasn't exactly hitting high speeds or pushing a big gear, mainly because I can't, but the HR wouldn't come down at all. I resolved to ignore the dastardly do-hickey and just go by how I felt.

After the first left hander the course hits a narrow country lane. Last time I was out here it was full of big tractors. I hoped I wouldn't meet any which might slow me up. The lane stayed tractor free, although I did have to negotiate one of the Chelsea/Foxrock variety.

At the fly-over bridge I took the right hand turn and tried to spin up the short incline. Some guys took a wrong turn here. Even with the wrong turn, I hear that they put in impressive times. I know I was beaten by at least one person who went the wrong way briefly. The road then led up to the old N1. A nice long straight.

My bike has a rattle that comes and goes. By the time I got to the old N1 it was really annoying me as I was never sure if it was the sound of someone else catching me or my own bike. It turned out that it was always my own bike. Maybe I won't bother fixing it as it kind of keeps me motivated.

When the course turned off the old N1, it hits a short series of dips and rises. It's very easy to go into the red by trying to power over these. This can leave you with an empty gas tank for the Nags Head. Not a pretty prospect. No doubt some of the stronger riders can take them in their stride, but I opted not to go hard over them. As I hit each rise, I tried to just spin over it as I knew it would empty me out trying to do otherwise.

At the foot of the climb there seemed to be a hell of a lot of flies around. Food is food, but still, I'd rather not. This hill is a bit of a stinker as it's not so steep that you need to stand, but it just seems to go on for ages at a gradient that will tire you out if you try to bully your way up. I went pretty hard up the climb, but I was wary that I need to keep something in reserve for the downhill part. That is where plenty of the guys on the TT rigs can make serious time.

Eventually the end of the hill came into sight and the descent to the next left hander gave a bit of recovery time before the push for the finish line. When back on the main road I tried to push a big gear down the hill, but I couldn't get much over 50 kph. Stupid skinny legs! In the end I clocked a time of 27.20. I hope that matches up with the time keepers clock, cos that's what I told everyone I got. No idea where I came in the rankings.

Back in the car park I manged to snap the frame of my own Oakleys when cleaning the lense. Good thing I tried on all those pairs earlier on. Now I know which ones I wanna get.

Marmotte 2009 July 2009
Report by Mike Brookfield
I wrote my last report almost one year ago after completing the Etape du Tour That event was nasty due to bad weather and my report ended jokingly with ‘anyone fancy the Marmotte next year?’ It was not long until that joke had become a reality and the only nutter I could find to come along with me was Derek Brangan, a very strong rider (especially on the hills) who laughs in the face of pain, as only a Ardcath man can.

We booked onto the event with Sportactive who organised things very well. All we had to worry about was the riding. The hotel was just above the finish line in Alpe d’heuz which meant easy access to the start and no hassle at the end.

My training was similar to the previous year - training camp in the Yorkshire Dales followed by a programme from Aidan Hammond. Lots of miles and hill work, as you’d expect, but I was also concentrating on time trialling. I did the Dave Kane league up North together with local 10 & a 25 mile time trials. Time trials really hurt, so my pain tolerance was high and I figured this would come in handy for the big event.

The day before the Marmotte I rode the top four hairpins of Alpe d’heuz and noodled around the village on the bike. This is the day horror stories are bantered around. They range from competitors riding off cliffs, exploding tubes from hot rims on descents, bonking caused by dehydration and hot foot…. whatever that is! It’s hard not to let this get into your head, and you tend not to sleep well that night. I figured as I don’t usually ride off the road for no reason, I’ve done lots of training and it cost a lot to be here that I wasn’t going to worry and bloody well enjoy it!

Our start time was 7:50am from Bourg d’Oisans which is at the bottom of Alp d’heuz. We descended the alpe at 7am passing a surprising amount of accidents and punctures on the way down. I took it easy, I didn’t come all this way not to make it to the start line.

Compared to Etape 08 the start was great, we just rolled over the start line, our transponders beeped and we were on our way After a little warm up of about 8k we started our first climb - the Glandon, 24k long and 1152m of climbing. I whacked it into 34/27 and that was me for the next hour or so. I’d say I spent about 6-7 hours in this gear, not very exciting compared to the quick fire changing when racing but ‘spin to win’ was my motto, it was going to be a long day and I wanted to save power for Alpe d’heuz at the end.

I stayed with the group but bit by bit our riders were falling off the back. We were only doing about 9-10kph, however we were steadily overtaking everyone on the climb without much effort, I started to get a bit worried that we were going too fast too soon but knocked that on the head with a ‘feck it! I’ve got a super light bike, super low gears and I’ve trained like a monster so lets boogie!

We stopped for food at the top of the Glandon, at this point I didn’t feel great to be honest. It was very hot and twiddling that low gear for so long felt weird on the legs, maybe I was a little worried about what lay ahead as well.

We descended surrounded by breathtaking scenery and then rode 20k to the village of Saint-Michel-de-Maurienne. It was draggy and hot and was glad to get this out of the way. We filled our bottles from a water pump in the village and I went for wee in the bushes. There were old ladies leaning out of their balconies not impressed by the thousands of cyclists invading their town, throwing their arms in the air and shouting at us. One tried to hit me with a bucket of water but she missed. I felt guilty and shouted ‘I’m sorry’ then jumped back on the bike before things got nasty. I think they were actually enjoying themselves though, fair play to them.

We kicked straight up the Telegraphe, 11.8k long and 856m of climbing, this was just more of the same, one gear all the way, beautiful scenery, it was hard work but more a steady slow burn not the good old lung bursting you get time trialling up Howth.

At the top, my wife Grainne was waiting with the Sportactive support car. Derek had a slow puncture so we fixed that, had something to eat and descended again. That was the first and last I saw of the support car and in my head decided it was time to ride ahead of the rest of our group. Derek was having a ball and it was obvious he wanted to get moving too. Our laughing and joking was probably annoying everyone anyway.

As if to ruin our frivolities, out of the blue came thunder, lightening and heavy rain. We were heading for the Galibier, 18.1k and 1245m of climbing, people were taking shelter but we were used to this (training through the winter in Ireland has its benefits) we pushed on, hoping it would not be raining at the summit. The rain eased as we started to climb - this was one of the toughest sections but also the best fun. We weaved through the other riders and gasped in astonishment at a man with only one leg and one arm cycling his way up with us! I was starting to feel better and not worse like you’re supposed to.

At the summit it was very cold with snow still on the ground. It wasn’t wet however I could see the rain clouds closing in. Derek ate his food as I descended. This descent was incredible and I had to remind myself to stay on the road as I had no parachute or spare lives to save me if I made the slightest mistake.As I tried to take it all in I searched for higher gears to keep my legs spinning and pushed the chain off, my hands were numb from the descent and it took a minute or so to get it back on. I presumed Derek had passed me while I was fixing the chain so I put the hammer down to try to catch him. This descent was 45k long with a few lumps in the middle. It was great fun going fast at this point - jumping between groups and hitting the pitch black tunnels through the mountains at full speed, it was like a video game, kind of unreal, beautiful and terrifying in equal measures. My time trialling training came to the fore here and I was feeling great. 160k done including 3 of the most iconic mountains in cycling, now the alpe.

Heading for home now with only twenty one things between me and conquering La Marmotte - the 21 hairpin bends of Alpe d’heuz, 13k and 1103m of climbing.

I had lost Derek, I later found out he was not ahead of me and he had called the missus from the top of the Galibier before descending.

It was now very hot and I decided to ration my drinking to one mouthful per hairpin so I did not dehydrate, cramp or mentally go into a dark place before the top.

The first 3 hairpins felt the steepest but I was going strong and passing everyone, I had spun all day and had plenty of power left. The count down to the top is tormenting, some hairpins are much further apart than others but I knew this is just as much a mental challenge as a physical one and tried to stay focused.

Towards the top locals were pouring water over competitors to cool us down, I as good as did a track stand while I got a good drenching from them because my bottles were nearly empty and my sips were getting smaller. 100m was feeling like 1000m but nobody was passing me, I was hurting now but I was on Alpe d’heuz, the Wembley or Albert Hall of cycling I was going to love it, even if it was trying to beat me. Getting off was out of the question, no matter how hard it got.

Each hairpin is named after a legendry cyclist, 2 is Marco Pantani and 1 is Lance Armstrong. At hairpin 1 you’d think the is job done, but I new there was another 2k to go. I still had enough in me to stick it in the big ring and get it over with. I crossed the line at 9h33mins (8h46m riding, 47m stoppage time).

There was no slow motion, hands in the air style glory I had day dreamed of (which kept me going). In fact there was no medal, no bag of goodies and I forgot my free meal ticket.I just rode back to the hotel, sat on the bed and noticed my transponder was still around my ankle so had a quick shower and walked back down to the finish line - forgot my free meal ticket again!!Handed in my transponder and got my medal. Now I was feeling good, a medal, first man back out of our group and I still felt human!

Sorry if this disappoints anyone. I know reports are meant just to contain misery and pain. I loved Alpe d’heuz so much I did it again the next day in the rain, it was like riding up a river - it was bloody great!

Derek also had a great ride finishing in exactly 10 hours. I’m not sure what’s next or how to top La Marmotte or even if I’d want to! It is an awesome event - I’m keeping my mouth shut for now.

Would I recommend it? Well if it’s pain you want, just race up Bellewstown from every angle or do a 50mile time trial, but if it’s beautiful scenery, never ending iconic climbs and descents to test the nerves, then La Marmotte could be the ultimate personal challenge on the bike.

Club League : Race 12 1st July 2009
Report by Peter Doyle
The 1st of July club league race saw a return to my favourite circuit, Garristown - Ardcath. Last time the club league was here I managed to nick the win. Mick McCarthy has since won in an open race here in much more spectacular fashion. But lets be honest... anyone can do a 10km solo breakaway and hold on till the finish. It takes wits and calculation to leave it to the last 500 meters ;o)

I thought showers had been forcast for the evening, but as we now all know, they held off till about 4am today. I trust that I wasn't the only person woken up by the thunder! As such, we had a beautiful evening for racing. I think the handicaps were smaller this week, or so I heard. I'm still in group three, there may have been two more groups behind us, I'm not sure, but there was at least one. I try to forget about them and just catch whoever is ahead. If and when we are caught, then we can deal with them.

About five minutes before we were due to start, someone from a group behind got a puncture. Unlucky. I think someone gave him a spare wheel or else he got it fixed quick enough. It takes me upwards of 10 minutes to change punctures. Two minutes to change the tube. Three minutes to get the damn tyre back on the wheel. Then at least another five minutes to do it all again after I pinch the tube against the rim. That usually ends with a few minutes of swearing. Very satisfying

So we're given our orders and we're off with six minutes to make up on group two and heaven knows what on group one. Half way round the first lap we are down to five minutes, so it looks like we are going well. I was feeling pretty good so on the uphill drags I moved to the front to try and keep the pace up. I know I said I try forget about the guys behind us, but I still would like to stay away from them. Littered along the course were two or three guys who looked like they had punctures. I spotted one chap in a red/black/white jersey who was fixing his. On the next lap I saw him walking in his bare feet. Mechanicals suck! I felt sorry for him, but even if I had time to stop and help, well I'd be useless.

As we came through Ardcath some folk basking in the sunshine outside the local pub gave us all a cheer. It felt quite good! There was no time to thank them, but it's always nice to get some encouragement. So, the first lap was over and we've made some inroads into the earlier groups. We got a four minute timecheck to group two somewhere down the line. We zipped down towards the back end of the course and were informed that we still have four minutes! We had gained nothing in the last half lap. The only thing we can do about that is work harder.

As we started our third and final lap we were joined by whoever was chasing us. One of the guys at the start had said that we would definitely be caught. He was proved right. As soon as we were caught the pace went up. Fine by me, I want to catch the other groups! We got a two minute time check at the furthest corner from the finish. This is going to be tight. As we approached Ardcath for the last time we were given our final cheer and we were picking of more and more back markers. Surely the bunch can't be far ahead? Where the hell are they?

As we got over the small rise out of Ardcath they finally came into view. Feckin ages up the road. Yes, it's going to be very close at the end. There was nothing for it but to chase and chase hard. We were definitely taking chunks out of the lead. I saw the group hit the bottom of "that" hill. As we reached it they were half way up it. Someone from our bunch launched himself up the hill. Who the hell was that? And why is he able to go so fast? I later found out it was Javan Nulty. That's enough explanation. I chased him as hard as I could. He had a good gap. Up ahead I could see that someone from group two had already launched his own attack and he had a massive gap on everyone. He looked a dead cert for the win. Near the top of the hill Javan passed all the bunch and I followed not long after. He was chasing the leader and I was chasing him. None of us was to catch the other. I donned my race face for the finish and crossed the line in third position. I'm pleased with the result.

Club Road Race C/ship 8th July 2009
Report by Peter Doyle
I stuck out my eblows and gave the guy next to me a dig in the ribs, he was cutting me up a bit close. I saw a gap ahead and jumped into it. I could sense someone behind me. I did a quick check and saw the whites of their eyes. They had their eye on the goal and were gunning for it. He was moving up on the left. I veered into his path to so as to wedge him between me and the edge. No quarter given here. Someone else took this as their chance to sneak up on the right. Oh no you don't! I reached out and grabbed them and reefed them backwards. They went head-long into a group just behind. Collateral damage. Everyone is expendable. I could see the end was in sight. I lurched forward, picked up the tongs and pulled a plastic bag off the roll and delicately picked up my prize. The things you do to get the last sesame seed bagel!

Last night was our club championship race. I fully expected it to be as competitive as the lunchtime queue in Centra so I was pretty nervous heading out. I heard some of the stronger guys were going to be present. The expectation was that they would be giving it socks on the Nags Head in order to break away. So my plan was to stay near the front, shelter and watch to see who does what.

At sign on, plenty of folk were debating whether or not to do the 2 lap or 3 lap race. In the end we must have had at least 30 riders in the 3 lap race. May have been more, I didn't count, OK!

As soon as the race got started, someone went off the front. An early leader. The pace was far from hot in the main bunch. The leader sat out there for a couple of K and was eventually joined by two or three more. The main group was keeping them within sight all the time. A few more guys bridged over as the lap progressed. As we went up the Nags Head for the first time, everyone was taking it easy. At one point I was riding at the front along side Mick McCarthy and Stephen Halpin. "Three skinny f**kers at the front!" I heard someone remark :o) That's the only thing I have in common with those two guys. They are on a different level to me.

I was expecting an attack to go out at the foot of the hill, but it didn't happen. We all stayed together. On the descent the group got strung out and the chase was on to catch the early breakaway. Just after Ballyboughal and the start of the second lap we all joined up. I sat near the front as it was plain as day that something was going to happen this time round. I was reluctant to do a whole lot of work before any more attacks happened, so if I failed to close any gaps or jump on any wheels that were going nowhere... sorry :o)

Then, before the motorway bridge, it happened... Stephen Halpin jumped. He was followed by Mick McCarthy. I figured that was a break that might stick so I went with it. Five of us got away. I think Andrew Meehan was also in the group and one other guy who I never got a look at. I'm in way over my head here, but screw it. To the guys in that break, if I rode too hard off the front, or screwed up the pace line, or was doing other things wrong which I wasn't aware of... I didn't mean it! We worked to stay away. I was feeling the pace before we even hit the Nags Head, so I didn't fancy my chances at staying with the guys. As we hit the bottom of the hill, the un-named rider slipped off the back a little. Not too much further, I also fell off the group. They were down to three. I could see them ahead and near the top it looked like another rider had been dropped. I think he eventually dropped out as I passed him just before Ballyboughal. A mechanical or something I guess. I wasn't stopping to find out. I briefly toyed with the idea that I'd be able to solo the second half of the race and try nick 3rd spot as I didn't hold any hope of catching the leaders. That fantastical notion was put firmly in check when I saw a bunch approaching as I left Ballyboughal. As they caught me I jumped on.

I stayed near the front of this group as I figured I'd give it another shot of getting into the break that was inevitably going to go on the Nags Head. Sure enough a group of about five went at the bottom. I stuck with them to the top, but I was starting to cramp and was feeling the pace, so I slipped out the back. On the descent it came together again as first the chasing group caught me and we then caught the break. Two guys, Stephen and Andrew were still up the road with about 45 seconds or so. At least that's what I heard from a marshal.

As we came into Ballyboughal for the last time, there was about ten of us in a group going for third place. We hit the fast left hander out of the town. Not long left now. I don't know how I would have done in the gallop for 3rd place as about 3km from the end I heard a bang followed by a loud hiss. Puncture. My race is over. Even though I didn't finish I loved every minute of the race. I know I may not have great tactics or knowledge of racing but it's all about learning from the experienced guys, watching what they do and how they do it. There are so many strong riders in the Swords club that it's very clear that I've a tonne of catch-up to do. I'm going to enjoy trying to do so!

Club League : Race 11 24th June 2009
Report by Peter Doyle
I'll start this by saying that I am more Andy Schleck than Robbie McEwan. Before I go on, I'll qualify that... if Andy is Barcelona FC, I'm the Kidderminster Harriers version of him. For those that don't follow the National Conference football league in the UK, that's pretty far down the list. Although, comparing the Harriers to me is probably disrespectful to them.

Last nights race was on a new circuit for me: the Damastown course. However, all the roads were familiar to me as I have trained on them manys a time. The weather was absolutely perfect last night. It was so warm, that I didn't even bother with a base layer or armwarmers. Now, when I leave them at home, you just know the weather is good. Once again I was in group three with about twelve or thirteen other riders. I never really know how many other groups are behind us, but there was two ahead of us.

I think the gaps were shorter this week, at least for my group, as we didn't seem to be waiting as long before we set off. Straight away we are on a drag towards Naul. It's nothing steep, but you can test the legs here if you go hard enough. A couple of KM up the road was the first left hander leading down the Nags Head. The road here ain't great, but it wasn't as bad as I had expected. Single file was the order of the day down here until we hit the sweeping left hander on to the main road towards Oldtown. It's nice and smooth for a bit here, but after the road swings to the left it gets pretty bumpy, single file again. This leads us towards another couple of left handers and up some short hills which see us hit the finishing straight which is flat. If you carry on past this you get to another left hander which leads us back to sign-on/start line.

Right, that's us all familiar with the circuit. The first lap went by OK, nothing about it jumps out. I think we lost a couple of riders about two thirds round it, so we were down to ten or eleven riders. On the second lap as we neared the bottom of the Nags Head we could see the ambulance at the sweeping left hander. I saw a couple of Stamullen jerseys on the side of the road getting treated. From what I gather, three or four guys went down together with two of them taken to casualty as a pre-caution. Hopefully nothing serious there. It's never nice to see anyone involved in a crash.

We started picking off some back markers on the second lap and towards the end of it we could see a bunch ahead of us. Before we got to the Nags Head we caught groups one and two and some jumped on as we slipped past. Once again, we were approaching the business end of the race and I'm still in. As we approached the last swing in the road before the end, I was close to the front, maybe six or seven back... poised and ready to pounce. Then the fun started... and by fun, I mean "fun". Inverted commas intentional. This was my first time in a proper bunch gallop for the win. Man it's tight in there. Robbie McEwans were coming from the left, the right... every which way. Shoulders bumping. Andy Schleck does not belong here! Someone came a wee bit too close for comfort on the right, so I looked to move left, but I'm already pretty much rubbing shoulders with someone! No where to go but back as I get squeezed out of it. Dammit, I had a great position heading up the straight and now I've lost five or six places. I moved over to the right where there was lots of room. No one was in my way so I had a clear run at the line. I put the hammer down and passed two guys. I could see the sprint for first place going over the line. The front three had a gap, so it was just the minor places to hunt for. I was inside the top ten now so one last effort to try and nick as much points as possible. About 10 meters short of the line I sneaked into sixth place and tried to steal fifth. But no joy. It was close, but the video replay showed that there was about 6 inches between us. Not quite as close as Cav and Haussler, and not quite as fast either.

Derek Humphries was the nights winner. Well done to him. That might see him into first place in the league now. In second was Rob Staunton who owed his placing to, and I quote, "my big arse and elbows" helping him hold position in the sprint.

Back at the finish line a passenger in a passing car advised us that none of our parents are married and that we should remove our sexual non-motorised vehicles from the carriageway post-haste! I'm not sure what she was on about as my folks are definitely married, my bike is a road bike, so it belongs there, and while it's a damn sweet bike, I wouldn't go so far as she did with the description.

My First Ladies National Road Race 27th June 2009
Report by Laura Banfield
So somebody managed to convince me to ride the Nationals. I didn't have an iota what to expect but the course this year was rideable for beginners so I figured I'd give it a bash. I had nothing to loose.

The weeks lead up the the race saw me doubting why I signed up... after having mechanicals and getting lost (yes I did actually manage to get lost, for shame!) in the league race on Wednesday my love for cycling was waining. I very nearly had a David Millar style moment that night where I almost threw my bike in a ditch, I'm sure we've all been there at some point.

Saturday morning could not have been nicer with the sun splitting the sky but I was a bag of nerves. Nerves do funny things to your brain, I must have walked in and out of the house 20 times before I got all the kit I needed into the car. I could hardly concentrate.

I had some delays on the road out and my tension was building but arriving at sign on there was such a buzz with everyone milling about it was exciting. I chatted to one of the Swords lads riding in the vet's race (hope you enjoyed it), checked my bike and kit and eventually calmed down a bit.

All the riders rolled down to the start line together. I felt very professional heading down there I must say. Not long waitng on the line and it was time for us to start. The womens race set off just a few minutes behind the mens. I had been told that the first 10k was nuteralised but the pace seemed pretty hot for me from the start - good God what is it going to be like once we round the first corner?!

Once we got onto the course I was hanging in ok. There were a few hairy moments with people riding close and nearly coming into contact with cars on the far side of the road but thankfully no incidents. One of the girls in contension for the title punctured quite early, I felt so bad for her but she got sorted and got back on.

My race was not to be good for long and alas I started to slip backwards up the climb to Summerhill. Bit by bit I lost the wheels and soon I was on my own. A few encouraging words from Paddy Doran up the top of the climb kept me going and I persisted. At this point the team cars started coming past me and people shouted at me out the window to get in behind. Now normally I wouldn't do this but I needed all the help I could get so I dutifully tucked in. I felt like a pro drafing up through those cars.

After not too long a few of us who had dropped of the main bunch came together and got working together. I was so thankful that I didn't have to do 50k alone! That would have been a long time trial.

As we approached the 3rd lap our group was waved down and told to stop. I had a sinking feeling that there had been a terrible crash but actually all the women were being stopped to let the men's race come through - bizarre. The men zoomed past and we got on our way to finish the last lap. I'm not sure if this stop affected the dynamics of the womens race or not.

My final lap went without incident and I finally crossed the line. I sure didn't win but I was happy to have completed my first national race.

http://www.irishcycling.com/publish/news/art_4079.shtml

Club League 25 Mile TT League 17th June 2009
Report by Peter Doyle
A quick question to all riders... did anyone else's house builders have the foresight to put a kitchen in the middle of your bike workshop? What a genius idea. You can very easily work on your bike and be close to all the snacks at the same time.

A few weeks ago I spent the best part of three evenings in my workshop/kitchen cleaning my white bike. It was absolutely filthy from the damp races that we have had. Sure, white bikes seem like a great idea when you are in the shop and they are sparkling clean and when I saw it, I simply had to have it. It was also about 700 Euro cheaper than the black version. But since that day, it has been a constant struggle to keep it clean. It doesn't help matters that one of my other bikes is also white.

It was somewhat clean at yesterdays TT. A 25 mile TT (40km). The longest I have done prior to last night was a 5 miler around the Boot Inn circuit. I wasn't enitrely sure how to attack this one. In the end I settled for this: pedal hard on the way out, pedal harder on the way back. I've read that one should not go into the red too early because it will be very difficult to recover if you do. So I kept just the right side of the burn, which was tricky enough heading directly into the wind.

The circuit was straight out and straight back over some lightly rolling terrain. Nothing steep involved. Some of the guys and girls had their clip-on bars or TT rigs, aero helmets and disc wheels and maybe a skinsuit or two. Not me, I just had me plain old road bike. I think at least the bars might be a worthwhile investment. On the road, the first 2km were not a bother. From there after it became steadily more difficult. When I got to 5km I was beginning to appreciate how long 40km actually is when you are trying to do it as fast as you can.

It was at about 5.5km that my behind started to hurt. I couldn't get comfortable in the saddle. That kind of spurred me on a bit as I wanted to finish quickly so I could get off the stupid bike. I won't bore you with what happened on the course, not least because nothing actually happened, but at the end it was a serious struggle to get off the bike. Bike and body had almost become one, and not in a "he was so fluid on the bike that it's like an extension of his body" kind of way, more like "he is so unused to time trials that he hasn't a donkey's notion how to set up his bike" way.

I got 1.05.47 with an average speed of just under 37kph.

Dublin Wheelers TT League (Round 5) 11th June 2009
Report by Peter Doyle
I wasn't racing this week as I was scheduled to marshal, so here is the race from a marshals point of view...

Sign on, everyone is on their bike. Us poor marshals are not. The weather is cool, but it looks like a nice evening. Try not to be envious... fail miserably.

Stand in car park holding my GPS unit trying to figure out which corner I am to stand at, eventually figure it out.

Go to the corner with flag and trendy yellow jacket. Some consolation can be taken in that we at least get to try tell folk in their cars what to do. Sure they can ignore us and we actually don't have any power to stop anyone, but with a yellow jacket and a red flag comes an inordindate amount of authority that people seem to respect. Think about it, if someone came up to you in the street and starting telling you to go in a different direction or wait where you are for a minute... you would ignore them. But if they are wearing a yellow jacket, you somehow feel compelled to follow their direction. And so it was that I stood like a sentry at my corner, flag and power-trip at the ready.

5 minutes... 10 minutes... 15 minutes...
Sigh... when will something interesting happen? Hang about... here they come... nope, that was just the trees moving. Oh great, here's the rain, lot's of rain :o( And thunder and lightning too! Quick check of the flag to make sure I didn't somehow take a metal one! There I am, in the middle of the road, standing tall in an electrical storm. Is this how it's all going to end? Frizzled in a yellow high vis vest with soaking wet jeans? I had hoped the end would be much more majestical.

Wait a minute, here they are. Now is our chance to shine :o) Wave that flag like you've never waved it before, point the riders in the right direction. OK, that took about 20 seconds. Now do that for the rest of the groups for two more laps and encourage the guys who are dropped. That was pretty much the order of the day. Everytime the guys came by our corner they took it very handy. It's a sharp corner followed by a couple of blind bends with a road full of holes. Bad enough at the best of times, but when the road is like a river... well it can't have been fun. Why do we do this anyway?!

It looked to me like group 4 caught group 3 early enough, but were not gaining on group 2 and group 2 were not gaining on group 1. I'm not sure. Possibly I invented my own race to pass the time. I was also counting those orange trucks. There seems to be no end to them heading out that way. I got to 20 and gave up.

After the second lap, something good happened. The rain eased off. It didn't stop, but I took it as a positive as even though I was still getting wet, it was not at such a fast rate as earlier. There's optimism for ya.

Eventually the last group went past. Our job was done, no crashes, no incidents of note. I'm bloody starving.

The following day, Thursday was another round of the DWCC TT league. It was in Howth so I was eager to try and put in another good effort. I think we had fourteen people sign on. There was four of us from Swords there. I was fourth off. There were bonus points on offer tonight if you managed to beat your time from before. Under 7.30 was my target. This time I opted to stay in the big ring all the way so that I don't risk any shifting problems. I have enough of a range at the back to allow this. Probably not great for the chain, but anyway.

I started off much harder than last time. I almost regretted it before I got to the golf club as I was wondering what the hell I am doing and how this is hurting so much, so very very much. I got into my groove just before the descent and recovered on it, getting ready for the summit push. I felt like I was digging very deep. So deep in fact, that I missed the dashing lady in pink shoes and short white skirt at the bus stop that seemed to distract quite a few of the lads.

I caught my minute man and also my two minute man. There was no mist this time but the lungs were still complaining and the legs were burning. I tried to sprint coming over the top, but I couldn't gather any more energy so I kept the speed up as much as I could. 7.33. Slower than last time, but it felt much much harder. I got the fastest time on the night, but after handicaps, I came out with 7 points.<Full results>

Club League : Race 8 3rd June 2009
Report by Peter Doyle
Everyone who races probably owns more than one bike. First of all you have your hack bike which you save for winter and wet days. You don't take too good care of this bike but you still love it. You call it your hack bike but it still probably cost a crazy amount of money. The only reason that it became your hack bike is because you read too many bike mags and the relentless Colnago/Cervelo/Look/DeRosaSpecialized adverts wore you down and you bought that carbon fibre beauty. Whatever about the cost of the hack bike, this new bike is so expensive that if you smash it up in a crash, there's no way you can afford to replace it! But you race it anyway. Those of us that cycle commute will have our commuting bike. Invariably it's a fixie, as is the current trend. There's also your mountain bike which either gathers dust in the shed (like mine) or gathers mud on the trails (like some of our successful MTB lads in Swords). Finally there are the frames that you have accumulated over the years. They are hanging on hooks in the shed, waiting to be built up and ridden. I must admit that I have been commuting on my Cervelo for over a week now due to a series of punctures and mechanicals on the other bikes that I have been too lazy to fix. It's massive overkill, but I figure that the more you ride a bike, the less it actually costs you as you are getting more value out of it. I reckon by the year 2030 I'll be able to read the original price tag without wincing.

Last nights race was at Bog Of The Ring. The first time I did that circuit I did one lap with the group and the other three on my own. Unceremoniously dumped out the back door like a roudy drunk down in Tamangos. Last nights race was five laps. We had beautiful weather with not much wind. The sun was out, but not too warm. A perfect evening for racing. The knee and arm warmers were off and the gilet was discarded. I was in group 3 again. To be honest, it's difficult to dress up the fact that we rode for 50km and didn't manage to catch the earlier groups. Not much happened on any of the laps. For me, the most exciting part was when I got to discard my bidon like a pro. I don't know why I did it. All the lads in the pro races seem to randomly feck their bottle into the ditch, so I figured that it was an integral part of the racing cyclists experience. It felt good doing it and I even managed to find the bottle afterwards! Seriously though, the bottle was popping out of the cage on the bumpy stretches and I was worried that it would fall out and take someone down so I ditched it as we passed the sports complex.

Only on the fifth and final lap did we manage to catch some back markers from the earlier groups. Scratch caught us on the far main road of the circuit. When they did I think we all stayed together. I'm pleased that I was able to stay with them. I wouldn't have been able to do that a month ago. I tried to stay close to the front as we hit the second to last left hander and I managed to pretty much do that for the remainder of the lap, which wasn't terribly long anyway. As we neared the sports complex we caught a few more from the earlier groups, but we had no hope of catching the leaders. They had done their work and stayed away. Good for them. They had probably already finished by the time we were at the complex anyway. The final part of the circuit sees us go past the complex and up a short rise to finish on the bridge over the motorway. I could see that the game was over but decided to hammer it anyway for no reason other than to get a bit more value out of the bike. I hope I'm still cycling when 2030 comes around.

Lessons from this week:
- I need new bottle cages, again
- must learn to shelter better from the wind

Something to show for my efforts! 20th May 2009
Report by Peter Doyle
Following my silly mistake in the last Garristown race where I felt strong but lost the bunch by looking around me instead of at the wheel in front, I was determined to hang in for the entire race no matter what the cost. The conditions were much better than the last few weeks. Very little wind and dry roads apart from some small wet patches. Not as many people turned up this week for some reason. I took my usual circuitous route out via the quiet backroads of Ballyboughal and Oldtown. Along the way I passed a farmyard where there was geese all over the road. They aren't the friendliest of animals and let me know that they didn't want me around. The roads were still quite wet, so I was surprised when I saw that our circuit was pretty much dry.

There was quite a relaxed atmosphere at the start as we waited for our orders. The first group set off, I think there was only two of them. After group two went, there was a late comer who decided to time trial it after his group instead of waiting and going with group three. It took quite a while to catch him, fair play to him for staying out so long on his own.

When we got underway there was no bike shimmy action from the other week that I could see. I had overheard one of the guys at the start talking about how his bike shimmied quite a bit. It must have been the same guy that I had seen a few weeks ago. Guys in our group were also saying that they expected us to be caught before the end since we were definitely doing three laps this week. I had made sure to pay attention this time so I knew how many laps we were to do.

The first lap was done at a pace that felt comfortable. That either means that we are going too slow and will get caught or that I have finally found some race legs. Well some of the other guys didn't care about my legs and tried to push the pace and keep the up and overs going. For some reason, we didn't seem as cohesive as we were in the other races.

At the first left hander a couple of guys thought the course was straight on and missed the turn, but they got back on quick enough, so no real harm done. I like this section, there is a nice sweeping downhill that you can carry speed through to get you up the other side. Gotta watch out for that pothole full of water on the left though. I'm not sure, but I think I saw a dog swimming in the the thing, it was that big!

On the back end of the course Tony and another couple of guys were doing a lot of the pulling. I hope that I was taking enough of a turn at the front too. I certainly felt that I was. At the end of the first lap, I was still in there, so that was good. I just need to hang in for more than half of the second lap to beat my record. I don't know if all of our group was still together on the second lap, but there was still quite a few of us there. After we passed the half way point of this lap, I was still in. Bonus :o) As we were heading along, there was an unmerciful BANG! What in christ's name was that?! It sounded like someone had lit a banger. Well no one was about to stop to find out so we ploughed on and thought no more of it. At the finish it turned out that one of the lads had a blow out. I've honestly never heard that happen before and I hope it never happens to me. God bless his bike handling skills, it can't have been too easy to keep it together safely. We finished the rest of that lap without incident and picked off a few back markers.

So, we started the last lap and I'm still in there. Scratch must be catching us soon. Our group is mostly together. Some gaps start opening and a bit of energy has to be spent to go around. At one point there must have been a 20 or 30 yards split in our group, yours truly being in the wrong split. I don't think it was a concerting attack by the front guys as it was too early. Just a wheel lost by someone. We all joined up again after only a short time. We hit the back end of the course. This is all new territory to me now. We haven't been caught and we don't have much distance left to cover. Maybe 5km. Tony, a guy with much more race experience than me, (and nicer overshoes too) advised me not to waste energy by doing too much work at the front now as the attacks are going to start happening. It was sage advice.

Whenever I go for long solo cycles I usually get afflicted with some song stuck in my head. A few weeks ago I cycled to Portumna on my own. For nigh on 3 hours I had the sound of Chesney Hawks' "I am the one and only" going through my head. It turned out that the song was aptly named since it was the one and only song that my mind would let me sing to myself. Absolute torture. I only knew that line and the one that followed, something about not wanting to be somebody else. Well I would have gladly been somebody else if it meant that I didnt have to subject myself to that song anymore.

Thankfully for all the races so far, I've managed to stay"song free". There just isn't anytime to let your mind wander as you have to concentrate all the time. Especially near the end because as we approached the rise at Ardcath an attack went out. I think it was started by one of the guys who was in group two. We had caught them earlier. I figured it was too early to go since we still had that awful rise at the very end to contend with. Two or three guys went with him. The rest of us held steady. After the road started to dip the guys were still away and I was thinking that they are going to be successful. I think there was four or five us together behind them. Whoever else was in our group must have been shelled out coming up the previous rise. As we approached the final uphill we closed up on the guys. They had indeed gone too early. There was about a 5 yard gap. The legs were starting to cramp but I felt strong. There's not too far to go so I can probably do one last effort and try get a placing. I decided to close the gap so that we were all together going into the climb. Then I found myself at the front. NO! That's not where I want to be. Too often I have seen the chaps on the tellybox get stuck on the front and have everyone sit in only then to come around for all the glory. We were half way up the hill when Tony drew level with me. I was on the inside, but still at the front. We finished the steep part and came on to the drag before the final bump. I realised that this is a serious chance to really go for it. I tried to shift to the big ring but it wouldn't go in. JEEEEESUS, not now! There was nothing for it, but to leave it in the small ring and hammer like the clappers in the biggest gear available. I was spinning out big time, bobbing up and down like a pigeon. Must have looked a sight, so I'm not looking forward to seeing that on the vid that I think was taken. I stole a glance behind me. I had a gap! I hit the final dip and was fully expecting the guys to catch me. kept spinning like a loon and saw the finish line getting closer and closer. There was loads of people there. I wasn't about to slow up so I hit the line as fast as my gear would allow. No one came around. I had won!

Season so far & Howth Hill climb 13/14th May 2009
Report by Peter Doyle
I wasn't racing this week as I was scheduled to marshal, so here is the race from a marshals point of view...
Sign on, everyone is on their bike. Us poor marshals are not. The weather is cool, but it looks like a nice evening. Try not to be envious... fail miserably. Stand in car park holding my GPS unit trying to figure out which corner I am to stand at, eventually figure it out.

Go to the corner with flag and trendy yellow jacket. Some consolation can be taken in that we at least get to try tell folk in their cars what to do. Sure they can ignore us and we actually don't have any power to stop anyone, but with a yellow jacket and a red flag comes an inordindate amount of authority that people seem to respect. Think about it, if someone came up to you in the street and starting telling you to go in a different direction or wait where you are for a minute... you would ignore them. But if they are wearing a yellow jacket, you somehow feel compelled to follow their direction. And so it was that I stood like a sentry at my corner, flag and power-trip at the ready.

5 minutes... 10 minutes... 15 minutes...
Sigh... when will something interesting happen? Hang about... here they come... nope, that was just the trees moving. Oh great, here's the rain, lot's of rain :o( And thunder and lightning too! Quick check of the flag to make sure I didn't somehow take a metal one! There I am, in the middle of the road, standing tall in an electrical storm. Is this how it's all going to end? Frizzled in a yellow high vis vest with soaking wet jeans? I had hoped the end would be much more majestical.

Wait a minute, here they are. Now is our chance to shine :o) Wave that flag like you've never waved it before, point the riders in the right direction. OK, that took about 20 seconds. Now do that for the rest of the groups for two more laps and encourage the guys who are dropped. That was pretty much the order of the day. Everytime the guys came by our corner they took it very handy. It's a sharp corner followed by a couple of blind bends with a road full of holes. Bad enough at the best of times, but when the road is like a river... well it can't have been fun. Why do we do this anyway?!

It looked to me like group 4 caught group 3 early enough, but were not gaining on group 2 and group 2 were not gaining on group 1. I'm not sure. Possibly I invented my own race to pass the time. I was also counting those orange trucks. There seems to be no end to them heading out that way. I got to 20 and gave up.

After the second lap, something good happened. The rain eased off. It didn't stop, but I took it as a positive as even though I was still getting wet, it was not at such a fast rate as earlier. There's optimism for ya.

Eventually the last group went past. Our job was done, no crashes, no incidents of note. I'm bloody starving.

The following day, Thursday was another round of the DWCC TT league. It was in Howth so I was eager to try and put in another good effort. I think we had fourteen people sign on. There was four of us from Swords there. I was fourth off. There were bonus points on offer tonight if you managed to beat your time from before. Under 7.30 was my target. This time I opted to stay in the big ring all the way so that I don't risk any shifting problems. I have enough of a range at the back to allow this. Probably not great for the chain, but anyway.

I started off much harder than last time. I almost regretted it before I got to the golf club as I was wondering what the hell I am doing and how this is hurting so much, so very very much. I got into my groove just before the descent and recovered on it, getting ready for the summit push. I felt like I was digging very deep. So deep in fact, that I missed the dashing lady in pink shoes and short white skirt at the bus stop that seemed to distract quite a few of the lads.

I caught my minute man and also my two minute man. There was no mist this time but the lungs were still complaining and the legs were burning. I tried to sprint coming over the top, but I couldn't gather any more energy so I kept the speed up as much as I could. 7.33. Slower than last time, but it felt much much harder. I got the fastest time on the night, but after handicaps, I came out with 7 points. Full results here: http://www.dublinwheelers.com/forum/viewthread.php?thread_id=114&pid=575#post_575

Road to Barcelona by Derek Fagan May 2009

Swords League : Bog of the Ring April 2009
Report by Peter Doyle
The character, John Rambo, made famous by Sylvester Stallone, once wryly asked his mission commander "Sir, do we get to win this time?“. Presumably he was ticked off from loosing all the time. Me too. But how to go from loosing to winning? A slightly less famous Rambo from the Swordscc.com web forum offered some advice, "cycling is a hard sport and if you get a kicking just train harder".
I don't know about anybody else, but that's what I'm going to have to do. I thought I had trained hard. I had done my intervals, my endurance spins, my recovery days. It seems that they just aren't enough.

I mentioned in the last report after my dismal performance in Coombes Connor that I was going to bring my bike back to Cyclelogical. I did just that on Monday. The guy in the shop said he won't take it back. I asked him why not. "It's been made slow", was his deadpan response. OK, so I just made that up, but I reckon that's what he would say if I brought it back.

OK, on to the race report...

It looked like it was going to rain, there were plenty of grey clouds hanging around. It was also chilly. Up ahead of me I spied a lone rider. He had a yellow jacket on. He must have set off earlier than I did. There were a lot of cars on the road. I put the hammer down and tried to catch the lone rider. He was getting closer. I strained to see him. It looked like he was on a mountain bike, with panniers. And that wasn't a yellow jacket, it was a high vis builders vest. I doubt this guy even knew that he was actually in a race. A commuter race! A race I can actually win. The best kind. I caught him. As I passed, I unclipped one foot and pedalled with the other. Just like Cav did to Cipollini (no, I didn't really do that). I didn't bother looking back to see his anguish. I was focused on getting past the virtual finish line. You have to take victories where you find them.

That was this morning on the way to work. I'm still trying to block out the real race from the evening before. The Bog of the Ring CP. The only thing in common with this morning's commuter race was the grey clouds and the chill in the air. Everything else was different. I had been moved into group three for this week (group two, I'll be joining you soon). The circuit was to be mainly flat with just a couple of short bumps. The finish straight looked like it was directly into the wind for about two km, ending on one of the bumps.

Our group set off in hot pursuit of group two. I don't know if we ever caught them because I wasn't going to be with them for much longer. Although I had high hopes at the start. We were going fine and had a bit of a tail wind once on the main road. The wind also helped us when we turned off and headed towards the back of the circuit. One of the guys reminded us to work better together and not to go flying off the front too hard. I was feeling quite strong and was confident that I would be able to hang in this week. How wrong was I? Once we hit the back of the course just off the second main road, we started going into the wind. I simply don't have the power to keep the speed up like the rest of the guys in the group. I was still taking my turn at the front, but it was getting more difficult and I wasn't recovering as well once I was back in the draft. As soon as we finished the first lap, I was off the back. Still 30km to go. I didn't hold much hope of being able to jump on to any other group behind, since they are the faster guys. Near the end of the second lap I was caught by group four, and one of the guys kindly called "jump on". I would have loved to, but I couldn't. They pulled away. At one of the corners on the third lap a marshal told me that they are only 30 seconds ahead. I counted 30 seconds in my head to see if they had waited for me. No such luck, there was no one there. Group 5 caught me not long after. Actually they may have caught me earlier, I can't remember.

As I finished my third lap, the finish line marshals were getting ready. I was the only rider in sight. So this is what it feels like to breakaway and win solo! As I reached each corner on the last lap, all the marshals were heading for home. I guess that means I'm in last place again. I had hoped to see some other rider who had been dropped, or at least be caught by someone else. It's lonely at the back.

P.S. on the way home some passenger in a car decided to whack me on the back of the head as he passed. The joke is on him though, I had a helmet on. I hope his hand hurts more than my legs.

Coombes Connor Memorial April 2009
Report by Peter Doyle
Hot on the heels of my first TT and my first club race, I decided to try my first open race: the Coombes Connor Memorial in Drogheda on Sunday last. I had originally planned to do a training spin in Wicklow with a cycling buddy from Orwell but on Friday he then suggested that we do the race instead. In a moment of blind optimism I agreed that it would be fun. On that point, I was to be proved very wrong, but more on that later. In the meantime, I spent all of Saturday thinking of ways to get out of it: "oh my bike is in pieces", but no such luck, it was in perfect working order. Besides which, I have a spare. Couldn't this recession have arrived a few years earlier before I bought them?!
Saturday passed without any divine intervention and so I resigned myself to more of the same punishement that I got in Garristown last Wednesday. My Orwell buddy drove us up to Drogheda where we arrived in good time.

At sign on I was given my one day license and a shabby race number which screamed "Newbie! Keep at least 10 feet away!". I pinned it on and went for a warmup. There were plenty of familar jerseys around warming up: Usher, Orwell, Dublin Wheelers and also a few familiar Swords faces, although I have no names to put to them yet. Eventually we were coralled and escorted down to the race start, a 5 or 10 minute spin down the road. I was chatting to one of the guys from Cyclelogical on the way down. He sold me the bike I was riding... "better put in a good show", I thought to myself.

The As and Bs started first, they were to do 7 laps. The announcer informed us that the Cs race is to be shortened by a lap due to our late start, 4 instead of 5 I think. Fine by me. After a short wait we were given our starting orders and we were away. There was a slight drag at the start, but adrenalin was enough to see me over that. I tried to stay in the middle of the bunch and I felt I was doing OK at it. The pace was high, but it was early so I could deal with it. The road quality was very good and it wasn't long until we hit the first corner. Everyone seemed to be taking it handy and it passed without incident. This took us off the main road and on to a smaller one. The surface was good so speed was still up. It was a bit of a drag so the group split out a bit and I was able to move up. I gained a few places, but suddenly I found myself drifting backwards as the tempo increased. Was there a break away happening? I've no idea, so don't ask me! All I know is that, if there was, I wasn't in it.

Soon after, we hit another corner which brings us back on to a main road, a call went up for "gravel!". I wasn't too bothered as I had already picked a line and it looked clear. About 20 yards ahead and off to my right, I saw a collision and then heard the horrible clatter of carbon fibre colliding with the ground. My first thoughts were for the bikes... after all, bones heal, but carbon fibre stays broke.
Very quickly after the first rider fell, another plowed straight into his bike and went head over heels. It looked like he landed on his head. As I passed the two riders I saw that one of them was my Orwell buddy. He didn't look happy. I later found out that he was the first to go down after someone took out his front wheel. Strangely I wasn't bothered by the crash. There was a race to finish so there was no time to think about it. The bunch moved on like it had never happened. Just two less riders to worry about.

The pace definitely went up after this and I was finding myself fighting to stay on. A couple of other Swords riders were at the back with me also fighting hard. They were more successful than I was as I kept loosing contact. As we reached the 15km mark and finished the first lap, I was amongst the stragglers. This was starting to feel very similar to Garristown. It may have been a different race with different riders but I was still Slow Pete.

Over the next 6km I was to constantly loose contact with the bunch. We approached the corner of the crash. I've no idea if the riders took it any easier than last time, probably not. All I know is that I had the place to myself when I took it, so no chance of a crash. Then the broom wagon over took me. The driver shouted something to me. I've no idea what he said, answers on a postcard. I traded places with him a few times. He must have been toying with me, trying to tempt me into his nice fast van. Well, I never take lifts with strangers so I battled on and gave it one last big effort to get back on. I looked at my speedo and realised that I actually hadn't gone any faster with the effort and the bunch was way up the road. The broom wagon passed me again. I realised that I was never going to get back on. I gave up. Mark me down as a DNF. I turned around and rolled back to the crash corner where my Orwell buddy was still waiting. He had loads of roadrash on his right leg. The other rider had been carted off in the ambulance. I later found out that he was OK. We limped back to the start line where I handed in my number. Then we headed back to the car. But wait, the punishment wasn't over. My Orwell buddy was dropping me on the spin back to the bloody car! He had crashed... had limited use of his gears... and I still can't keep up. I think I'm gonna ask Cyclelogical for my money back!

Track Season underway by Hugh Byrne April 2009

Swords League : My first race! April 2009
Report by Peter Doyle
At this time of year it's always tricky to figure out what to wear on a cycle. Especially when you have to get your kit ready the night before because you are going to the race directly after work. Today I packed two different raincoats and one gilet. I also had a pair of armwarmers, kneewarmers, a base layer and a full sleeve jersey along with some overshoes... the type that look like socks. Actually, I wonder if they could be worn as emergency socks? Anyway, as a small token of optimism, I took a pair of sunglasses, but not the dark ones, instead I brought those nice blue lense ones that brighten up a dull day. I got them for free from Wiggle.co.uk. Thanks Wiggle. The forecast was for strong winds and some rain. We weren't disappointed there.

A friend remarked after reading my other reports that they are like a chapter from Angela's Ashes, what with all the misery and the gloomy outlook. As such, it was with not a small dose of the consumption and with not two pennies to rub together that I headed out to the race from Garristown to Limerick. Sorry I mean, Garristown to Ardcath.

The circuit for this race was the same one that we did in Garristown a few weeks ago. This made me both happy and sad at the same time. Happy because I knew the course and what to expect, sad because... I knew the course and what to expect! I was in group 3. We set off and headed away on the first downhill section.

A lot of things can go through your head just before you crash. I got taken out by a car executing a u-turn a few years ago. My thoughts immediately before impact were "why didn't you look", closely followed by "oh bugger".

I didn't crash at last nights race, but I thought I was going to when the rider's bike in front of me started to shimmy. Think of the way Elvis used to move those hips. Elvis had nothing on this guys bike. For some reason my own bike started to shimmy, but I corrected it quickly and prayed that the other rider could do the same. I pased him as he brought it under control. I think he stayed upright as I didn't hear any commotion.

We took the right hander at an easy pace. The rain was coming down and the surface was greasy. No one wanted to come off. I learned just how greasy it was at the first left hander. Everyone took it handy, including myself, however, as I was straightening out after the turn, I put down some power and the whole back end slipped out, but I kept it together.

I'm sure to you seasoned and experienced racers those two incidents are nothing to raise eyebrows at, but to a novice racer in his first season, this is the kind of stuff that can be embelished in front of non-cycling friends. When I re-tell the stories, it will end up as me having to bunny-hop another downed rider and pulling a powerslide out of a 90 degree left hander.

I later learned that one of the guys had crashed in a separate incident. Hope you are OK buddy.

The downhill section at the far end of the course was a bit nervy. I wasn't enjoying the driving rain and the blustering wind. I was relieved when we turned out of the wind and on to a drag towards where that Robin Reliant is. This time I had managed to hang in for more than a lap. Maybe I have found my group. Halfway round the second lap, I made a bit of an error. I was on the rear of the bunch and I sat up as we were taking a corner. I should have known that it was followed by a downhill. The guys belted off down the hill while I was looking at the scenery. I wasn't too worried as I figured I had a whole lap and a half to get back on and I was feeling strong enough.

I ploughed on by myself for a few KMs. There were still a few back markers from the earlier groups littered on the road. Then, I looked around and saw the faster group behind me. A few guys passed me, including Stephen Halpin (good luck in the Rás, Stephen). We were just starting an uphill section. I realised that this is actually the finish! Did we miss a lap? I finished in the middle of the rest of that group. I know they started four or five minutes after I did, and that we had only done two out of the three laps, but I'm pleased that I managed to hang on as long as I did before I was caught.

On the way home the heavens split and the rain came pouring down. There was a strong tail wind so it was bearable. I still got totally soaked. I definitely feel the consumption coming on now.

Trip to Alkmaar Track by Hugh Byrne January 2009

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News & Reports to Hugh Byrne at swordscc@eircom.net