Another Tale of Cyclocross Misadventure

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 Gloucester Park 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 23^rd or 24^th, 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

Belgium

Perspective. Its how things look from where you are. As a cyclist, you immediately have a very different perspective to non-cycling members of our society. You see things differently. You might not think that you do, but believe me you do. It does no harm to remind yourself of this every now and then. Its good to get some perspective.

Examples of cycle-specfic perspective are many, but the most obvious include:

Lycra - to the cyclist it is practical, essential, even cool. To huge swathes of the public at large it is not acceptable in any polite circumstance. Ever. I do lycra quite a bit. Most days.

Shaved Legs (male) - again, completely acceptable to those in the know (although there appears to be no consensus on exactly why) and guaranteed to raise more than an eyebrow in most outside circles - particularly the non metro-sexual ones. Haven't taken the plunge personally - doubt I will.

Red Traffic Lights - for far too many of us on the cycling side of the fence, these appear to mean nothing. Perspective, bordering on blindness. To society in general a red traffic light means you stop and wait for a green one, or amber at the very least, but you stop, before ploughing on. I'll say one thing for motorists (I am one from time to time) at least the vast majority know a red light when they seen one and stop.

Belgium - for me, this is the big one. A country that separates itself as clearly as the cycling community can define itself from the nasty outside world. Belgium - a political basket case of a country which finds itself without a government for over a year, paralysed by the failure of the two populations to come together. Belgium - its a joke.

Can you even name a famous Belgian? Belgium - known for beer and chocolate that most people think is French anyway. Belgium - Plastic Bertrand, Tin Tin and  Poirot. Again, most people probably assume anything marginally famous and Belgian to be French.

We live in blissful ignorance of Belgium, until we cycle.

It is possible for your perspective on Belgium on its own to define you as a cyclist, even if you never ride a bike

Perspective. Belgium - commonly viewed by many as the epicentre of the cycling world. A cycling Garden of Eden, if you will. The spiritual home of cycling as a real sport. The races, the riders, the cobbles, the climbs - only in Belgium, and most of us want a little bit of Belge to rub off on us. We crave it. We even pay for it. Kit with a flash of black, yellow and red. Bikes from Ridley, Merckx, Flanders...

The greatest of the cycling greats? Why it can only be Eddy Merckx... the Belgian legend that grows each year - he is the starting point for most newbies to our sport (at least they can see past Armstrong). By the time my son is boring people in pubs about the unbeatable Mr Merckx, the legend will have grown yet further to prove that he won every single bike race on the face of the planet between 1967 and 1976.

Think about beer and sport... Budweiser/Carlsberg/Amstel, Official Beers of whichever football tournament is currently raking it in... talk to a cyclist about beer and you will get one of two responses - CTC leaning types will invariably go for "a pint of old stuff with bits in it" (beards are wonderful bit filters) but talk to anyone with a modicum of race interest and I would be surprised if you weren't bombarded with some of the most obscure Belgian brews available. I am a little more commercial in my tastes and happy to settle for Duvel or Leffe, but your hardcore race fan will swear by some Flemish Monkische Scrotebrau and settle for nothing less.

Belgium - produces more World Tour riders than any other country. Given the size of the place this is amazing. The Spring Classics fought out on the cobbles and climbs of Flanders and Wallonia each year are OWNED by Belgian winners in a way that French fans of the Tour de France or British Tennis fans at Wimledon can only dream of. Take the Ronde, or Tour of Flanders as an example - run on 95 occasions. Won by Belgians 67 times. They own it.

How many famous Belgians can you name? Newbie cyclists, probably at least five. More established riders and fans, at least 10 to 15. I bet many hardcore, long term race fans will be able to name 25 - 50, or even more.

Cyclocross - don't even get me started on cyclocross, my favourite racing discipline - I could be here all night... there will be many posts to follow on cyclocross in the coming months, but you cannot deny that 'cross is possibly more Belgian than Belgium itself.

Oh Belgium... how I have come to admire you... but only because I cycle.