#bianch

On Sunday, my team Bianchi Dama competed on the famous Isle of Man TT course for the British National Championships Road Race. Our pre race brief was simple - learn and enjoy. Anything else is a bonus.

After a bad start to the week including a little cry at the side of the road on Wednesday after another episode of illness and negligible power output, I wasn’t sure if I would even be able to compete. Yet, there I was lining up right next to Hannah Barnes the current National Champ and Lizzie Deignan former World Champ at the start. As the countdown began I tried not to have a panic attack and rode away next to Hannah thinking ‘Dont knock her off. Don’t knock her off.’ We hit a long downhill and I drifted from the front to the back. An experienced rider I know rolled up next to me and said 'Don’t stress. Just let them fight it out at the front. You only need to get there for the first climb.’ I breathed deep. We rolled on, slowly heading uphill on the undulating course until we would hit the mountain. I was surprised to be sitting comfortably, using each uphill to keep my space and the unrelenting wind at the front helped ensure things stayed together. I found myself next to Lizzie again after one good move forward on a team mate’s wheel and had the nerve to ponder an attack to get the team some camera time. Hesitating was a mistake and soon enough I was swamped by riders coming up the outside and flew rearwards. I hit the steep May Hill much further back than I would have liked. I pushed round the outside of the bunch and up the first switchback to try and find another team mate. The leaders attacked and the whole bunch splintered into little groups as we hit the steepest part of the climb heading up to the Gooseneck. I found my team mate and tapped her on the hip. Get on my wheel I managed to get out on an exhale as I went past. Is she there? No. Shit. I slowed momentarily. Exchanged looks. Alright? A slight shake of the head. Go. I looked up the road. Lizzie’s group was already rounding the next switchback. I did the math. Urgh. My task now was to simply make it on to the finishing circuit to be counted for the team. Off I set again, digging deep to pick off riders one by one. Blue kit - got her. Black kit - got her. Pink kit - got her. A rider became glued to my wheel and I waved her through. We started taking turns. We found another comrade and started making some headway. We hit the flatter part of the climb after what seemed like an eternity and then heard a whoosh of wheels as some dropped riders flew past after the team cars. What?! We joined them and pushed on, echeloning into the cross winds trying not to get our front wheels taken out by each gust. We hit the descent. I decided to hang back. Exhausted riders taking risky lines is not a scenario that fills me with confidence. I hit 75km/h downhill solo in the strong wind. A big deal for me. I looked under my arm. No one. Time trial mode for the next fifteen minutes to get onto the finish circuit. I winced as I passed the Commissaire. Not a word. Blimey, I’m still in the race. The eight minute cut off was harsh but fair to avoid the leaders having to pass stragglers on the shorter finish laps of which there were six. I pushed on. I realised I hadn’t drunk a drop or eaten since the bottom of the mountain. I gulped something down. Suddenly I had company again. Black kit. A World Tour rider. I pushed on the hills not wanting to give her a free ride but she came by on the downhill taking an incredible line through the off camber corner which I tried to follow. Racing on completely closed roads was a revelation. I took the front again and pushed on. As we came up to the line for a second time I flicked my elbow. She flew by me in a blur and I then I saw it. The dreaded black flag. Oh, you fool! I pulled to the side of the road and spontaneously burst into tears, slightly overwhelmed by the whole experience. A friend reassured me that I had done more than was asked and I pulled myself together. We found more friends and headed back to the finish to watch Lizzie take the win and my two teammates roll in with the remains of the bunch in their first Champs. The only part time riders that I could see. Incredible. I warmed down and then our mechanic came over to tell me I had been placed as I did the finishing loop at least once - 65th of 90+ finishers in the end. After the year I’ve had, I’ll take that. For now. I know that I could have placed higher if I had more confidence in the wheels. We de-briefed each other, we laughed, we joked and then we jumped on the 7pm ferry to depart the beautiful island. We landed back in the UK around 11.30pm and drove to Somerset through the night finally hitting bed around 4am. Only just back in Plymouth now. I must admit the travelling kills me more than the racing. A day’s rest, a quick check in with my Doctor for some tests and then on to the next one. We head back up North at the weekend for the Tour of the Reservoir two day. Each of these races is an experience. A complete education. Wish us luck on our journey.