The impending start of the 2013 Tour de France has taken my thoughts back to the summer of 2010 and how I spent the first week of that edition.
The Great Tour. I've written about it before and you can find loads about it on Google, but suffice to say it was a 64 day charity ride around the coastline of Great Britain. It is one of the events that defined me as a cyclist and every now and then I like to remind myself of that summer by watching this video. http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=TXKVnd2xOoY If you can stand watching video of people on bikes and my taste in music, it might be worth watching. WARNING TO BRITISH VIEWERS - the bright thing in the sky was known as the sun. We used to get it sometimes in the summer. Remember?
I can't have a cycling blog without writing something about The Great Tour.
This was one of my defining moments in cycling, encompassing all the joys associated with great rides - superb company, scenery, sunshine, mileage and accomplishment; just on a much bigger scale. In cycling, you have to accept that for every up there is a down, in every sense. The Great Tour also delivered the worst spill I have experienced.
In a nutshell, the 2010 ride was planned as a circumnavigation of the coastline of Great Britain in 64 days to raise money for The Prostate Cancer Charity and retail trade charity Caravan. Graeme Knott, Hugh Roberts, Alistair Cope, Mike Sweeney and Sam Mashford were the hardy souls who completed the whole thing, starting and finishing in Seaton, Devon.
My involvement was just to ride the first two weeks - Seaton to Scarborough - approx 900 miles. My trip was cut short on my home stage, close to St Osyth, when I had a nasty spill and was carted off to Colchester A&E. My focus then became getting fit enough to rejoin the ride, which I managed and subsequently had the priviledge of taking part in the final week.
It was special for me, and pulling the video clips together for this 8 minute summary of my time on The 2010 Great Tour was a really nice trip down memory lane. Sunshine, bikes, great people and an excuse to air the Superstars theme tune! My thanks go to Dan Broom for producing such a fine video record of a great event which I have randomly plundered and shoddily edited for my own purposes.
Basildon - while surrounded by some modest hills, the town of Basildon itself is pan flat.
Well, that’s what I thought until I discovered the notable exception of GloucesterPark which boasts a few lumps of man made hill, dating from the town’s sudden post-war birth, now fully covered in grass and woodland.
For once, I had quite a good start
The perfect venue for Round 5 of the Eastern Cyclocross League, organised by Essex Roads CC.
Just one week on from Baldock, and while it was still a long way off traditional CX conditions, the temperature had dropped by over 12 degrees. My legs were feeling good, my bike was in much better shape than at Baldock, following a thorough strip-down and clean during the week, and I was ready to go. The first warm up lap immediately revealed the true severity of one of the climbs and that none of the three on offer were to be looked forward to. The second warm up lap convinced me to take it easy and avoid overdoing it too early ie. stop warming up and just stand around chatting.
The Muur Van Basildon
I had a good start and made the first hill a quarter of the way down the field. To my surprise, despite my measured approach, I found myself going past people who are normally way ahead. I kept calm and consolidated my position, passed through the first bottleneck ahead of the first pile-up to find myself clear in the top 30 or so as we approached the bottom of what became known as the Muur van Basildon. The severity of this slope was emphasised beautifully by the constant ringing of cowbells, thanks to Mark Fraser’s newly opened carpark cowbell stall. Mark’s photos and video from the race have also lost none of the sense of gradient and show this hill exactly as I remember it.
Again, to my surprise, I made ground on many of the faster guys - they were catching up or going past me on the downhills and the flat, but I seemed to have found my forte - I can't really be a climber can I? I am 6'1...
The second lap was more of the same, and I found myself passing clubmate David Triggs - I have never been ahead of him in any CX race. Ever. At this point I got a little too excited and abandoned the measured approach, pushing as hard as I could on the next two hills. That left me with nothing to offer on the flat and David duly passed me, gradually pulling away. He was followed by fellow Rover Mike Barnard who went past me one lap later. Even though they were gaining ground on me, I just kept them in sight and kept plugging away.
Ungainly but surprisingly effective
For the first time since I have been racing this bike in Cyclocross I wasn’t cursing myself over having a triple chainset and on laps 4 & 5 actually used the granny ring for what it was intended - getting over hills without getting off your bike.
On the final lap, exhausted at the top of the last climb, 2 guys went past me on the downhill. Determined to preserve what would be my best position of the season (about 23rd or 24th, for the record) I caught my breath before the final 600-700m of winding flat course and began to chase them down, keen to line up a sprint for the line.
Spoke key, anyone?
With about 500m to go and pushing through one corner faster than before, I naturally took a wider line out of it. At this point, my front wheel disappeared into a crack I hadn’t spotted on any of my previous laps, partially covered in grass. According to others who examined it later, it was about a metre long and 7-10 cm wide. Oh, and deep enough to cause a problem.
Unfortunately, I am quite familiar with the slightly dizzy feeling of being airborne when you should have two wheels firmly planted on the ground. My front wheel had refused to continue and I was up and over the bars, landing firmly on my head. Stunned, the next thing I recall is lying across the course, moaning like an idiot with a lot of pain in my back.
Even in this distressed state I was amused by the thought of becoming a human obstacle and half wished that I would cause some riders to dismount, hurdle me and remount.
Quite properly, I kept completely still. More through necessity than anything else. Help arrived quickly and riders were directed around me. My best finish would have to wait – this was my first DNF.
Dr Boyton leads her group up the Muur
At this point, Camilla Boyton of Dulwich Paragon revealed herself to be Dr Boyton of the Royal London and took charge of the situation until the ambulance arrived. The first ambulance guy arrived in a car and was told they would need a full sized ambulance as I needed to be immobilised on a board and carried out of there. Due to access issues, the Air Ambulance was discussed – I begged them not to, as I knew I would never live this one down – I felt I had made enough fuss as it was by causing the U12 race course to be shortened.
My main concern at this point was my 12 year old son – we were an hour from home, he was joining me in the full sized ambulance that had now worked its way onto the course to head for hospital and I could not move to help him out with anything. He had packed clothes, food and water into a rucksack, taken care of bikes, car keys and phoning home – he played an absolute blinder, keeping cool, calm and in control, showing exactly the qualities needed to fulfil his ambition of becoming a paramedic. Ironically, if I am ever asked about my proudest cycling related moment, the way Fin handled himself that afternoon would be top of the list by a long way. He was awesome.
He wasn’t the only one to play a blinder that day – I owe a huge debt of gratitude to everyone who helped out – friends, clubmates, organisers, league officials, strangers – you were all bloody brilliant.
To cut what is becoming a very long winded story a bit short, following the obligatory hours in A&E with examinations and x-rays I was declared to have no more than a black eye, swollen head, bumps, bruises, cuts, grazes, aches, pains and damaged pride.
Kit damage included a broken helmet, bent front wheel and another ripped jersey.
No bike riding and full recovery is now my focus and I hope to be well enough to race Rd 7 at Mistley.
*ALL PICTURES AND VIDEO SHAMELESSLY STOLEN FROM MARK FRASER'S YOUTUBE & FLICKR
