This is a little joke between Sam
and I which speaks volumes for both my black sense of humour and the nature of
bike racing. Monday was one hell of a rodeo for me but I more or less clung on for
dear life and got round. Me being me, I decided to get in the break of the day
on my first race back after being off colour last week. Luckily the riders I
had for company weren’t up to much – amateur champion of France, two from a
feeder team to Europcar, three from division one teams and the local tank with
five wins to his name – so I didn’t suffer at all.
Attacking the Amateur Champ of France... Hahaha kidding!
It felt like I was stuck in
second gear all day and the other boys were definitely foot-to-the-floor in
fifth. We pulled out a minute on a 170 strong bunch in less than 10km, which
gives you racers out there an idea of the tempo.
Take that dehydration!
We were in front for 110km and I
was swinging for approximately 109km, but some of the other riders who know me quite
well now thought I might be sandbagging to save energy. I think they got the point
when I hurled that the grimace was real.
My (pain) face for the day.
With 25km to go the bunch was
snapping at our heels and on the climb I went out the back door as attacks shot off the front. From there it was a case of sitting in the strung out peloton
and enjoying the view from 100 riders back. By the time I crossed the line I
was half asleep on the bike.
I'm not certain, but I think I was crying a bit at this point.
Although 115th place
is hardly going to get the Directors knocking on my door I’m happy with what I
achieved. Firstly, I showed that I’m tactically astute enough to get in the
right move, and strong enough to stay there even on a bad day. Secondly,
it’s proof that I can still suffer like a hound-dawg at this point in the
season when a lot of riders are winding-down, cracking-up and generally just
hating life. I’m looking forward to feeling at one with the bike again this
weekend at Agglo Tour!
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