maliciousjoy

I don’t like writing particularly long, or overly detailed blow by blow accounts of race reports for a few reasons. Firstly, I don’t think I can ever do justice to everything that happens in a race due to the experiential nature of racing. Secondly, like many others I tend to forget a lot of detail (race numbers) etc in a big stage race. Finally, I don’t think anyone really wants to live vicariously through the race report of a 36yo guy racing Masters B. With that in mind, here goes…

Preparation

It may have been 5 years between stints at the Tour of Bright and a few things had changed. No longer were the grades based on age, but now they were based on grading and often questionable handicapping. Given that I did not race the first year (2012) of this grading system, I had selected Masters B which I had raced previously at the 2013 Stratford to Dargo Classic. Perhaps one of the least well attended grades year round, I had very little idea who I was racing against as I’d not competed in a VRS race in 2014.

The training leading up to Bright consisted of 8-12 weeks of specific training, and a solid base post my November 2013 operation to remove my hardware post Stratford to Dargo.

Here's a chart of my various interrupted builds to make it to the 2014 Tour of Bright startline.

I chose not to train with the approach that more is better, but rather that higher intensity and good recovery is better. This meant that most weeks I was training between 8-12 hours, with the occasional bigger week. While people love to talk in kilometres, I think this is useless as 100km on beach road in a group is not the same as 100km solo in the hills – but, for what it’s worth my weekly average was under 300km, and I did one week > 400kms. My thinking was that with an ITT, a 93km stage which really only had 2 climbs, and a final day of less than 65kms, training didn’t need to be massive distance or time, it just needed to be specific to the demands of the race.

Stage 1

I had been waiting over 2 years to race my time trial machine at the Tour of Bright. The day had come, and with the help of Stuart Vaughan who lent me some fast wheels I was able to realise my TT dream.

The Malvern Star Oppy c/o Genesis and Jono.

After a solid warmup on the trainer, the racers were greeted by warm and humid weather at the start ramp. I was being pursued by Stage 3 winner and eventual 2nd overall on GC Paul Martinico. My goal was to avoid capture, and catch some riders on the way.

Mission accomplished.

I was 6th fastest at the split at the top of the climb, but faded somewhat on the second half to come in 16th, 47s down on the winner. I was pleased with the effort as it was a PB, and riding with a rear disc makes a totally awesome noise. Also Paul didn’t manage to catch me, so that was a bonus!

Stage 2

Overnight the weather forecast was predicting 90% chance of showers. A cool breeze greeted the racers for the first road stage and with the exception of an isolated and welcomed shower on the Kiewa Valley ~10km from the final climb up Tawonga East it was a warm and humid ride.

The pace from the start was frantic as soon as the flag went down. We averaged 45kph for the first 33mins with breaks trying to go off the front. This was somewhat nervy, but it wasn't very demanding if you were hiding in the pack like I was. A few riders (four I think) got up the road and went on to take the first sprint and KOM points at the top of Rosewhite gap. For the rest of us, it was pretty uneventful except for a strange crash on the right hand turn into Happy Valley Road which saw Brad Jones turn his wheel into a pretzel and take off a lot of bark on his left side (amazingly he finished, and wasn't last!).

The other highlights of the stage were:

Staying in the big chainring for the entire Rosewhite climb, where we averaged 28kph (4.4kms @ 4%)

Managing to take a nature break on the move

Staying with the leading climbers up Tawonga until 4kms to go

Setting new power PBs and timed PBs up Tawonga

Outwitting, and outsprinting all but one of the racers (amazingly this guy was built like a trackie!) nearby at the end of the stage by launching a sprint 400m out from the line

Experiencing a cryo shower post race

~1.5kms from the top of the stage finish. 17th on the stage +2:06.

The Yeti in his natural environment. -140 degrees celcius. Yes, that's not a typo!

I have to say this was an experience. I only went in after the previous three NRS riders exited alive.

  Stage 3

I wondered if that cryo freeze had worked. More so, I wondered whether my legs would function after a tough Saturday.

Thankfully the bunch was well behaved on the way out to Harrietville, only on the gas for the two sprints. I managed a good position through the town to start the climb in the top 5 and held good position and managed to obtain benefit from drafting alongside the other climbers.

The serious GC contenders were riding a soft tempo, a pace that I could hold for hours. This was, for me, an unusual experience as my previous races in M 1/2/3 resulted in the doors being blown off in 2-3kms from the base. This false tempo didn't last for long, and on a steep turn before the Meg the riders lifted the pace and blew the doors off many riders. I managed to dig deep and make my way back, but knew that repeated efforts like these weren't going to go down well.

Then we hit the Meg. This is 400m at an average of 9%. I'm sure it's steeper at points, but it's certainly an interruption to the smooth climbing up until that point.

Here's where the serious contenders moved away, and here's where I scrambled and gritted my teeth to make it over with the racers who were still chasing. I was pleased up until this point, and in all reality knew it was a race until the false flat, so for the next 3.5kms post Meg I did everything to stay with 3 riders so that we could maximise our chances on the false flat.

We were joined by some much needed firepower from behind a kilometer into the false flat section, by which time the roads were drenched and the skies had opened. Some riders (not me) pulled big turns to limit the damage to the leading group ahead, and by the end we only lost 1 minute to the mountain goats.

Glasses on for visibility due to the spray off the road. It was a fast series of bends at speed on slick roads.

The stage had been shortened by 10km due to inclement weather, so we were to finish on the first 2.5km climb after the false flat. It was arguably an epic finish, with torrents of water streaming down the final climb as we sprinted to the line. I managed to follow the leaders in my group and came in 11th +1:09 on the stage winner, Paul Martinico, and 13th on GC +3:37 on the winner.

The highlight of my day was the ride home with Murph, where we endured a localised hailstorm while being motorpaced by a totally awesome Canberran driver - he made our trip back from Harrietville as good as it could have been.

Epilogue

An annual event, the Tour of Bright is a must for the serious amateur (and semi-pro) cyclist. It was good to return and race this year, and exceed my somewhat vague expectations given I had not raced many Masters B races.

Right now I don't feel like thinking about the 2015 Tour of Bright, periodisation, formal training programs, nutrition etc. However, I'm sure to feel the calling to return to what is one of the most iconic stage races on the Australian amateur calendar.

Sharing the journey with my family and other riders, as well as making new friendships along the way is something that has made the sacrifices and all the training worthwhile.

Rooming up over 3 days with Andy, Calvin, and Francis was a great way to experience the race. Racing alongside Murph, a veteran of more than 10 Tour of Brights and Dom (Yetti) who stepped up to Masters B after returning to racing in 2013 in Masters C was a fantastic experience. Also, the hi-jinks with the Don and DT (who both excelled in Masters C) made the weekend one that I'll never forget.

It's been a while since I've been on a podium, let alone the top step. I'd forgotten what it felt like to be the centre of attention, and the recipient of adulation from your peers. It felt humbling and awkward, at the same time.

It was my third road race for the year, after being on the receiving end of some good ass kicking in the past two combine races - the infamous Hell of the West, and the Broadford HCP where I completed 2 of three laps.

Today was a little different as it was a scratch race and did not contain 11% berg, which after last week my legs clearly cannot handle this early into my race season.

Our race included some 20 odd riders and was on the well known loop starting at Newham primary school. I'd never raced this start/finish configuration, but was familiar with the circuit as Hawthorn Cycling Club used to have their club championships on the same roads.

Up the first hill straight out of the start riders were keen to get on with it, pushing a demonic tempo which had many riders (myself included) hustling to get back on after the first hill which would be the finish line.

After the finish I spoke with Sam about this, and he mentioned that it was his quick tempo on the front that got things going. It was a fair call, and was quite the heart starter.

Glyn Matthey was off up the road a few kilometers in, and I knew having raced alongside him before at the 2011 3 day tour that he enjoyed going up the road TT style. Most were content to see him and another rider go off the front, as there was still 87km to go.

So on the first lap up the Rochford climb we caught up with the two escapees and generally things in the bunch were pretty sedate. And that's more or less how they'd stay for the next 1.5 laps.

Fast forward 40kms, and after a few solo attempts we approached the turnoff onto Dons Road. At this stage there was a single rider up the road, and a small group of around 6 riders formed as the race turned left.

Behind them, we also pushed the pace and noticed that we had gone clear of a few more riders behind us. So the race situation was one up the road (which I had no idea of), around 6 about 50m ahead of us, and 6 riders in our group.

Our little grupetto worked solidly with the tailwind on our backs on Dons Rd, and turned into the start finish knowing that we were only 20 or so meters of the back of the front of the race (I completely had no idea there was 1 up the road). Just over the finish line, we caught onto the front group and pushed the pace a little.

After the finish I spoke to one of the riders (Pete) who was unsuccessful in coming back to our group and he said they got really close a couple of times to chasing back on but fell agonisingly short.

So I presumed we were it - 12 of us were now the front of the race, with just under a lap to go, and people kept urging others to roll turns. At this point however, I wasn't that keen to roll turns as I thought it was somewhat irrelevant unless we were concerned of being caught from behind.

So, as it turns out on Three Chain Rd I overheard a conversation between two riders which included, "Oh so your team mate is still up the road". The penny dropped.

With about 5kms remaining before the Dons Rd turnoff we caught the lone rider, and there were a series of counter attacks. None were given too much lee-weigh.

Coming into Dons Rd everyone was clearly hurting, and some strong moves were made by various riders to get off the front - knowing that they'd have a tailwind heading into the finishing straight.

Everything stayed together, and there were some serious  faces and heavy breathing that would rival adult film.

With a tailwind leading to the corner the 13 of us were drawn out in a long line, and no one was allowed off the front.

So here's where I'd like to think race tactics can trump form.

I went into the last corner, 910m from the finish line in 13th position.

The riders who went in first all gassed it out of the corner, as did I, but were then either left looking around at other riders, or attempting to go really early.

It took me 83 seconds from that corner to get over the finish line first, and in those 83 seconds lots of things I planned I either got right, and/or I was lucky in a lot of respects.

It was an uphill finish, which suits me being somewhat of a lightweight.

My best 90s, 60s, 30s, 10s, 5s etc... power came in that last sprint. I raced somewhat conservatively the whole race knowing that I could back myself in the last kilometer.

And most importantly, I didn't panic.

I didn't hit the front early, which with my current form would have seen me die a death by a thousand papercuts on the hill.

I rode past other riders on my way to a group which was starting to distance themselves on the first rise before the false flat, where it then kicks again.

At this point the other riders were either suffering more than I was, or perhaps poorly positioned. I decided to take the right side of the road (on the left of the line) where I'd be able to get shelter at points from the left-right crosswind at that point.

Finally, I timed my sprint. I waited. I waited some more. And then what was around 250m from the end I launched my one and only race winning attempt and didn't worry that there was a guy 20m in front who was dying a slow death.

I didn't look behind, until I was around 80m from the line, and at that point I knew I had it.

There must have been so much chaos, tired legs, and whatever else that I managed to finish lengths ahead of second place which was comforting.

Other riders may have wondered who's this guy? We haven't seen him at all in the last lap, or the previous one (perhaps).

But as I've learnt in many races, it's not the strongest rider who wins - sometimes you need a mix of luck, effort, and good tactical awareness to make it over in first.

Straight to the pool room

It's no secret to anyone that knows me, or has had a chat with me, that I'm passionate about all things two wheels. Over 15 years ago in the aisle of a supermarket where I was working part-time to support my university education I started chatting with a co-worker about cycling.

It was the middle of July, and every weekend that month Pete and I used to chat about the Tour de France. It was a remarkable year in cycling, with drug busts, rider protests, and events that it is fair to say turned the cycling world on its head. I was addicted.

A month later with the help of my older brother who loaned me some money, i bought my first road bike, and set out to ride Around the Bay in a day with little more than 3 months of 'training'.

I had bet my dad I could ride 200kms in less than 10 hours, and I was not only amazed at the people I met that day who encouraged me to keep riding along on my clip-less spd mountain bike pedals and massive gearing (46x23 was the smallest gear I had).

What impressed me the most about that day, was how helpful and genuine most cyclists were. Perhaps this was a sport that epitomised the egalitarian values that Australia so proudly championed?

Yes, I found out when I started racing how rich the history of the sport was, and how a lot of racers got into it because their parents or grandparents raced, but once you had access to a bicycle it was a close playing field.

Guys had their Colnagos with Record, I had my cromium-alloy Dodsun with Shimano RX-100, but it was hard work (as well as talent) that determined your success to a large extent.

Since then a lot has changed in terms of bike technology, my day to day life, but my passion for the sport has perhaps only grown stronger.

I guess that's why it was important for me to write this essay expressing my concern about some aspects of the sport which have recently saddened and frustrated me. Not as a bike racer. Not as a cycling coach. Not as an academic. But as a father, and crucially as a human being.

The events over the past few days involving a Melbourne bike store who decided it was a good idea to promote their brand and new store re-launch with the use of what can only be described as a scantily clad woman covered in body paint. Their response to the social media outrage was a thinly veiled apology, full of qualified statements which I think is fair to describe as a Clayton's Apology.

Last month I stopped following cycling tips on twitter because I thought this tweet was in bad taste. Remarkably (or not if you consider ego-defensive reactions as a response to a threat) he did not take me seriously when I said that it was objectifying women.

Nearly every time I ride down beach road I see other riders ogling female joggers, passing comments on female riders, and carrying on as to impress me and others with their machismo. Incredibly, some of these guys have daughters - some who ride bikes.

Phil Gomes wrote an important blog at the start of the year questioning the role of the podium girls in cycling. More recently, I was sure I read that Cycling Victoria or Cycling Australia would stop using podium girls.

In 2013 Caroline Buchanan won cycling's highest honour, the Oppy. Anna Meares has just broken another world record at the World Championships in Mexico. And it's probably fair to say that both grass roots women cycling and elite cycling is starting to gain the momentum to bridge the gap to its brother sport which has had over a hundred years of acknowledged history (thanks velocurious for bringing my attention to this - women indeed have had a rich history in the sport, just that it's been overlooked).

A lot has changed since I started cycling in the mid 90s, but a lot has not. I am now a father of a strong and courageous 11 year old, but I still see the challenges she will face in society as she grows up. 

There are still people who perpetuate gender stereotypes about women's roles in society, and are happy to justify their beliefs through all sorts of fallacious arguments including - "that model was being paid", "she had a choice", "the agency was very professional",  "no one at that party complained or left", "it was for charity".

I can't help but draw the parallel and point out to those who believe that free will exists devoid of social norms. Go on, drive your car naked - there's no road rule against it, but I bet you wouldn't do it, and I wouldn't advise you behave in the manner this driver did.

Humour aside, there are very real consequences of objectifying women, even if your intention according to your media release is benevolent. We know that objectification has a very real impact on women. A study (one of many) by a colleague shows that presenting women in such a way can lead to depersonalisation and the denial of mind and moral concern.

It wouldn't be ok to have blackface entertainers at some gala launch, or even on an out of touch Saturday night entertainment program. As a culture we've moved to stamp out overt forms of racism (we've still got a long way to go with our own indigenous affairs), as well as prejudice against some groups in society with same-sex marriage laws in the ACT.

It's not rocket science, but as a society we need to be changing our norms so that the objectification of women is not accepted behaviour even under the thinly veiled pre-tense of charity and art.

In 1930 Keith Hancock, an Australian historian, wrote amongst other things that our Anglo-Australian culture was founded on the auspices of a special distrust of those in public office and a sense of egalitarianism. This is one reason we are generally distrusting of tall poppies, and like to continue the endorse of the idea of equality through the use of such phrases in our vernacular as "fair go for all" or "fair shake of the sauce bottle" and concepts such as mateship. 

Social media has the power to give a voice to the people but may not be representative of the wider population. So, I think that while it is hard to gauge precisely how indicative the response on discussion boards, twitter, and Facebook are of Australians it's probably a safe bet that the majority of people (men and women) who read about the recent events at that Melbourne bike store were opposed to the choice by the store owner to use a naked woman to promote a charity evening.

I'd rather see that store publish a proper apology than see their demise due to what some would argue a stupid mistake.

I'd rather see people discuss the broader issues about the treatment and objectification of women in society than call the owner a neanderthal for his choice of entertainment.

I'd rather see something good come out of this, than for it to be dismissed or justified as just an isolated incident.

I want my daughter to grow up knowing that she will be judged on her merit, her hard work, and not her looks.

Perhaps I'm an optimist, but I'm also a realist and importantly believe that humans are capable of changing for the good with the right information and processes in place to facilitate this.

photo c/o Judith Cahill @actionpactpix http://actionpactpix.blogspot.com

Here's a small tale of my race yesterday. I always find it difficult where to start. Do I begin at km 0, or the days leading up, or just at the base of the final climb where the racing really starts. However, as you all know this report is more than just a single race (at least it is for me), and so it really began at some stage in February when I was allowed back on the bike and was still learning to walk. I will spare you the great lengths of my journey, but needless to say that Giro night-time ergos, 4-5 days of hydrotherapy a week, countless pilates sessions, physio, and massage filled my days and weeks for the last 13 mos. If you focus on the process, the the outcome will come. I strongly believe that you can give yourself every chance in a race by preparing well. With the exception of some nasty saddle sores over the past 3 weeks (and on race day), I have to say I was as prepared as I could have been (with minimal racing). In the end my 8th position was good. Not what I hoped for, as I went into the race believing I could podium - if you don't, why bother turning up on the start line. The race itself was a strange affair. With a new format (graded masters), and many riders I knew nothing about, it wasn't until the first hill that I could take stock of who was climbing well. The eventual winner Steven Payne, and Julien Fleurus (big guy) were solid. I opted not to show myself at the front as I had no idea what my form would be for a 10km climb at the end of 95 kms of racing. Now I use the term racing loosely, as it was like 2010 ToB (M1/2/3) which was slow as for the first 20kms until another grade passed us. This time it was Masters C who were actually racing. It appeared that everyone was willing to wait until the final climb to race. Nothing much happened en route - boring really. A training ride for most people. In the process of the longer climbs we managed to thin the bunch, so by the time we hit Dargo there were 12 riders (of 25 starters). Payne was up the road with an opportunistic attack 5 km before the final climb into Dargo, and the rest of the field was content to stroll through Dargo. It was that easy we had an organised nature break 20kms into the race, and I managed to have my customary on the bike wee not once, but three times. 3l of water will do that to you. Having raced in 2011, the final climb sorts the chaff from the hay. I was a front runner for around 2kms, but knew that due to legs (perhaps I would have been better off on a compact for the first 2-4kms), I could not sustain 115% of FTP. So I let three riders go up the road. I yo-yoed with some others who I dropped, then caught me (all on compacts!), and I held my place on the road for a long time. I passed countless numbers of riders from Masters C, and other races and focussed on the numbers. In the end the outcome in terms of measurable power was all that I could have hoped - but the result was not. I nearly gained a spot in the final km as I pegged back a guy up the road on the 17% wall, but he saw me coming. Despite sprinting at the end I settled for my spot on the road. Power up the climb was 15% more than 2 years ago and I was 2-3kg lighter (different race, different weather), and 10 minutes quicker. There were just guys who outclassed me on the day, and probably had more racing form which is hard to get from training alone. In some ways I'm disappointed I won't race Bright this year (as I think I could match them on tawonga), but am looking forward to my offie and surgery to have these screws and plates removed. If you're curious at what I was racing with look here and here. If I haven't thanked each and every one of you personally just yet, I will in the coming weeks when I see you. Your support has meant the world to me, and hearing about your achievements and stories while I was out of action motivated me to plan comeback 1.0. Comeback 2.0 will be even bigger, and I look forward to riding and racing with you all in 2014.

photo c/o Jo Upton @jouptonphotog http://jouptonphotography.com.au

Linky to Strava

postscript - couldn't have gone much harder (some proof below - see 5-50min power is year best and came on the final climb)

Recently I suffered a minor mishap cycling which resulted in some surgery, lots of ongoing re-hab, and a surprising amount of damage to my bike. This is for me another example of where insurance has been great, otherwise it'd be painful in more than one way. It'll be a while until I'm back out riding on the road, so I haven't been in a great rush to get my bike repaired, as it has taken me 12 weeks to get back on a stationary trainer. For the time being, I'm using an older trusty bike that's sure to give me a boost, and sourcing parts to fix my race bike.

So it shouldn't come as a surprise that I have sourced some parts of the cheap and evil internet. However, some parts I have been more inclined to go to a local shop and source to ensure that I get the right part. Cue story.

As my crash involved a heavy landing on my right side, I trashed the rear derraileur (Di2) and as a precaution have decided to replace the dropout. I would have had a heart attack had I bought the derraileur from Aus stores, but figured that I would source the dropout locally seeing it is a much smaller part that is likely to be particular.

Off to the local bike store, which I'd called ahead to find out if they'd be willing to sell me this part and asked approximately how much it would cost. I was quoted between $20-30, and figured this was more than reasonable for a tiny bit of metal. So why was I surprised when I turned up, talked to the people at the store, located the rear dropout from my top of the line bike to find out that they were going to try and charge me whatever the hell they wanted. The conversation went like this:

Guy: So that comes to $45. Me: Are you kidding me? Guy: No, that's the price we have on the system for it (after he'd spent over a minute calculating the price on his computer). Me: No thanks, I'm happy to go elsewhere given that when I called your store told me the price would be between $20-30 which I believe is more than a fair price for a tiny bit of metal. Guy: It's that price because they make fewer of them. Me: No problem, I'll take my dropout back and go to another store, given that's at least 50% more than I was originally quoted. Guy: Umm... let me look in the system and see if there's another code for this piece. Magically types on the computer Guy: That'll be $30. It's $35 but I'll take $5 off.

At this point I felt like quipping something like what would L Ron Hubbard do, but I was not in the mood.

I left the store wondering whether people who work in bike stores treat customers like clueless idiots, or whether it was just this particular store. When I hear stores crying foul about internet shopping this and that, I have started to think whether they are buying into their own self-fulfilling prophecy. I guess the whole experience was not only puzzling, but also served to amuse me for the afternoon.