The past year, I have taken up a new sport along with my running.
Cycling, has struck a chord with me. After my Dublin to Sligo charity cycle on
a borrowed bike, I bought a good pair of wheels for myself at a dear price. In
the past year and a four months I have put in more than one thousand four hundred kilometres on it and counting.
Few other mates
joined me for the early morning spins. Really early morning, half four. We
regularly did fifty kilometres every week. I would additionally do another
fifty on weekends by myself. This kept going on for few months, until the day
one of them suggested we take part in a sportive event. All of us agreed and
quickly signed up. That also meant, training up. It was 122 km route along the
scenic routes on Connemara, Co Mayo, West coast of Ireland. The excitement was
building up, so much so that I bought a go pro camera to capture the event. I
had a few practice spins with the camera beforehand. Editing the footage with
metadata overlay and colour correcting was all new skills I had to learn.
Alan and I had a
few serious spins to get to the 100 km mark, just so to check if we really had
it in us. I noticed that I was depleted by the seventy kilometre mark and I
needed food to top up. Bought some extra gear like overshoes and full length
trousers just to be prepared for the worst of the weather.
It was March the
11th and the logistics were all sorted. We rented one car to throw in two
bicycles and booked a B&B at Westport. Alan drove his car with two bicycles
in it. So the four of us set off on a busy Friday evening. It took us over four
hours to get there. The first port of call was the Castle court hotel where we
had to register and pick up our race packs. First aid kit and reflective
blanket was mandatory along with the usual extra bits and bob one needs for a
sportive like this.
We checked in at
the B&B, we had requested for an early breakfast since the race starts at
eight. Three of us went to grab a bite and a pint. Now that the energy levels
are all topped up a good night’s sleep is all that was required.
Race Day:
Water bottles
topped up, and the tyres pumped to 110 psi, cycling gear on, Jersey pockets
filled with energy gels and finally the race number pinned to the back of the
Jersey we were all set. Had porridge and cereal for breakfast and off we went
to the briefing area at castle court. Seven hundred cyclists out of which 277
for the the longer route.
The entrants for the longer route had an early start at eight AM. The event manager was clear and concise about the course. The weather was mild at thirteen degrees and less than 25 kmph winds. Just what we wanted. We started with a rolling start off from Castle court. Few camera poses and three kilometres down the line was the official start line.
The entrants for the longer route had an early start at eight AM. The event manager was clear and concise about the course. The weather was mild at thirteen degrees and less than 25 kmph winds. Just what we wanted. We started with a rolling start off from Castle court. Few camera poses and three kilometres down the line was the official start line.
Everyone were
trying to find the pace they are comfortable in.
Alan and I stuck
together for most of the route. Our pace matched and we kept it steady. Meanwhile
we kept jumping groups until we found a bunch of cyclists who matched our pace.
Never have I taken part in a sportive such as these and I was not sure how
things would fall in pace. I was well aware that cycling in a group is the most
efficient way of cycling. A cyclists third behind the lead cyclists spends
thirty percent lesser energy to propel forward. On the course it felt natural
that such groups kept forming. Cyclists who could not keep up, dropped behind,
but those who could maintain stayed in such tight groups, often just six inches
behind the wheel of another. I sure does sound we are drafting on some ones
hard work as the lead. For over ninety kilometres Alan and I was part of such a
group. Couple of times, I did shoot to the front and took the lead for over ten
kilometres, just to show that I am contributing to the group as well. It turned
out not to be a good idea, since I drained lot quicker and soon I was looking
for energy. Alan kept telling me, "don't go to the front of the
group Badri, stay behind" .
There is some
level of grossness to cycling in such groups. Every often one needs to spit or
clear the nose, no one had time to stop, so it all has to be on the go. Some
just spit on their own jerseys some try their best to avoid the ones behind.
But nothing much can be done. Second, is on a wet section, the tyre wash is in
your face. The dirt and grime from the tarmac is on your face into your mouth
if open. Yuck!! In Spite of all this, there is no time to even think about it. Just
keep pedalling ahead, keep up the pace.
The event was well
organized. We had clear markings along the route to watch out for deviations.
At corners where caution had to be exercised, race marshals were present with
red flags, with clear verbal warnings as what laid ahead. There were
markings on the road as to the road condition and bends that came up. There was
a camera crew in an Audi, and couple of motor cycles zipping by two and fro to
keeping a good vigil on the cyclists.
Close to the
ninety kilometre mark where I had already passed two food station, i was
craving for food. My water was low, so that is the point where Alan went by
with the group. I topped up the bottle and had a banana costing me seven
minutes. From that point onwards I was by myself most of the way. I did meet a
fellow veteran racer on a steel bike. He must be sixty plus and he was keeping
up the pace on his heavy bike. That is when you find new respect for the sport
and the commitment of the participants. The route was simply too scenic to be
missed. I did take some time to not worry about pace, but lift my head up and
absorb the beautiful hills of the west coast. The road alongside the Kellymoore
abbey was smooth as chess board. The lake on the left, the Abbey by the right
with the backdrop of the gorgeous hills with the smooth tarmac ahead was bliss.
It was a great feeling, to be putting out the watts with other fellow cyclists
at that moment.
My wife and I had
been to these places on the same route before on a day trip. But at that point,
I was not in a position to refresh all those memories. We cycled around
the lake where we once went on a two hour cruise. And we were on the return leg
that is when the last challenge was waiting for us. It was a steep climb for
three kilometres. That was the point when I was at the largest cog on the gears
and willing to be as slow as I can to keep the balance. It was tough and
standing up to cycle did no good. My heart rate only climbed as the elevation
did. I could go as low as seven kmph which is slower than even my running
speed. All I had was to get to the top of the hill. Really SLOW and steady was
the mode.
Once past the
hill, the best part of the hill, the downhill; that's what I thought. I was
wrong, the other side had really bad patches of roads with some acute corners. The
Marshals had warned us to be extremely cautious. I could not get gravity to
take at me at full speed there. Every Time I braked, tears almost rolled off my
eyes (exaggerating). All that momentum lost.
At the hundred kilometre
mark was the final food stop. Here there were tents set up and hot beverages
served. I had to fight the temptation and make a flying pass at the stop just
stopping for a mere thirty seconds to grab few Jaffa cakes from the
volunteer.
Energy levels were
low and I had run out of the last gel at the climb of that nasty hill kilometres
behind me. There was no groups now to draft behind to conserve energy. All I
had, I had to give. The weather at this point was bright and roads kept getting
better. We hit the wide N roads and I could hardly see anyone neither in front
of me nor behind. The road looked familiar as this was the one we took on the
way out. I just put my head down and kept at it. Then a sign which more than
boosted by spirit showed up. "10 kilometres to the finish line". My Garmin
concurred, the end was near.
Finally one
cyclist caught up and I drafted him for a few kilometres and then he did the
same with me. The volunteers as I approached showed up more often with red
flags, cheering us along shouting out how close the finish line is. Music to my
years. The final left corner and there it was. I was so overjoyed, that I let
go of the handle bars and did that the pro's do at the finish line. Felt really
good. A pretty girl was handing out the medal and I remember telling her “You
have no idea how much this one means to me”.
Clasping the medal, i rode on the last few feet, hung up the bike on the stand and got on both my feet. It left like my legs were made of Jelly, wobbling around I looked for Alan's bike. He was at the message tent. He got in 15 minutes ahead of me. Grabbed at least five croissant and a cup of soup and some bananas. Fed myself and waited for Mihir to come in.
Clasping the medal, i rode on the last few feet, hung up the bike on the stand and got on both my feet. It left like my legs were made of Jelly, wobbling around I looked for Alan's bike. He was at the message tent. He got in 15 minutes ahead of me. Grabbed at least five croissant and a cup of soup and some bananas. Fed myself and waited for Mihir to come in.
After half hour of
feeding myself, I headed back to the B&B. Took a shower and then I was on
the bed and I was out within seconds. I slept for an hour and woke up to feel
my legs fully functional again.
The lads came
later on. That evening we all headed out to celebrate the race. Had a few pints
and good Indian food at "the Everest" restaurant. The food was
amazing and all we had to talk about was the race. Analyse and dissect every
moment each one had on the race. What worked for them, what did not? As we had
our dinner, we checked for the results on the phone. I was the 74th position
out of the 270 odd cyclists which I think is respectable. I was able to
complete the route in four hours forty six minutes. Alan was 49th,
Mihir 111th and Lee 264th .
Lee did have a tough time, but
that was purely due to lack of training. But I have so much respect for the man
for not giving up. He kept it going and made sure he was on the saddle at the finish
line.
We rested up well
that evening, and the Sunday morning, it was time to pack the bags, check out
and hit the road. As we started driving towards Dublin we noticed many cyclists
as part of a club cycling together. I had so much of respect for them and I
respect myself more than I had known for partaking in such an awesome event.
Thoughts about the next event popped up then, and by the time I am
writing this, I have already signed up for the next sportive and training has
been planned.
Here is my short video diary
The race route
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