I pulled into the Pfizer carpark, my two-day old crash-replacement helmet in hand. It’s predecessor had saved me from resembling a Hammerhead shark. I played fetch with a dog, until the stone went under a car. I had parked strategically this year. There was no cycling allowed in the carpark, so it was key to park as close to the gate as possible. After signing on, I met Richard, Eric and Breda. On my way to whip out some practice laps, I met, my previous nemesis and spawner of the hashtag #GottaBeatBarry, Barry.
Cross courses have a way of etching themselves deep into your mind. So deep that your spinal fluid remembers why the course is not on its Christmas Card list. I remembered the smoothest lines through the two bumpiest corners. By the mid-point of my second practice lap, my back was in agony. After my three laps, I met CX debutante, Paul and Panda the Dalmatian.
Me before everyone passed me. Courtesy of Paul and Sinéad
I watched the start of the Women’s race. Michelle took control of the race, emulating Sven Nys in his prime. Breda was battling for second. Monica was reeling in Caomhie. Emma was also tussling for position. Some Dad was loudly criticising his daughter’s cadence. I spent most of my life having obscenities hurled at me whilst the stakes were high (read: herding cattle). I can confirm that no child wants their name included in sentences with four letter swear words. He went a bit Wealdstone Raider on me after I asked him to chill and explained the finer points about cadence selection on the course sections. I guess some homies are OG, and throw up gang signs for 60rpm.
On the grid, looking around I noticed that the bikes had changed since last year. Half the number of chainrings, and dramatically more cassette teeth. I was running a 40t Oval ring and an 11-36. I was on the second row. Richard was on the third row. Barry, Paul and Dave were buried further back. We were unleashed. Richard’s side of the grid were faster away. I was boxed in and was losing positions hand over fist. I find 1x systems require a lot of gear changes to get to a good speed. The out of fashion double chainrings had me spoilt with their ease of acceleration.
Dave in action. Note the ground condition. Courtesy of Paul and Sinéad
I got some nice drive over the first gravel and bumpy grass section. I had forcefully commandeered the middle line I wanted. A nice gap opened behind me. This meant that your ginger protagonist would not be getting dive-bombed by some adrenaline fueled nutjob. I looked to my left after the third corner. A beautiful, Luke-favoured sight was unfolding. There was a massive compression. Riders were stopped, whilst I was accelerating away into the next section. It was strung out along onto the footpath. This made the line choices really easy. I only had to be aware of the stronger riders burning matches to get to the front. I fell on an uphill off-camber section, as a rabbit hole had decreased my traction. I looked back as I lay on the ground, threaded tyres coming at my face. I jumped up really quickly, a career as a “before” plastic surgery model flashed before my eyes. As I exited that section, another rider fell in the same position.
There was a gap in front of me going into the stairs section, this meant that I would not be stopping to queue. I made a few places in the remount. That short term income turned into a net loss on the oncoming boards and off-camber sections. Toni was the best supporter at the boards. Paul and Barry put me to the sword on this first lap.
I was not bothered by the 45-minute long Black Friday-esque barrage going past me. Included in this stampede was the Junior twins from Kanturk, who started two minutes behind the seniors. My goal for this race was to beat my Top 90 place finish from last season. The heavy grass was sapping my strength. My lower back was full of lactic acid, cramped muscles and probably a herniated disc or two. I wanted to pull out after two laps, but I kept thinking that I was putting “money in the bank”. The compound interest I would earn would see me make my goal of a Top 20 finish again this season.
Richard at the barriers. Courtesy of Paul and Sinéad
For the remainder of the race, I was getting fearful of not being able to clear the barriers due to my increasingly weak quads. But Toni’s encouragement kept the social pressure of being “Luke who snotted himself on the barriers” ever-present. Dave finally passed me. Unlike in the Randonée, he would only pass me once this day. On the last lap, I looked back and seen a group far behind. I wanted to stay away from them. On the back section I put in a dig, but I blew up before the barriers. The group passed me on the last section.
I gave back my timing tag and met with the frequent posters from Boards.ie. There was new format of giving the A racers 45 minutes to try the course (as opposed to last year’s 10 minutes). I took an express shower. I went back to the Coffee truck sporting a similar level of hygiene as an Electric Picnic patron.
Eoin in action. The ground condition has changed from the B Race and Rain. Courtesy of Verge Sport’s Blog “Cross Is Here"
Out of nowhere, it started to rain. This would mean that the course would be drastically different for the A race. Robin, fresh from his Masters XC World Championship win, was looking snazzy with his Masters CX National Jersey.
Ronan had a nice place near the front rows of the grid. Eric, Philippe and CX newbie Tom were at the back of the grid. With Eoin somewhere in between Ronan got a good start. Eric was trying too hard on the opening laps and crashed a few times, so he decided to pull out. I observed all of this from my vantage point of under the coffee truck’s canopy. My mullet has many features, alas water-resistance is not one. After the rain stopped, I bravely ventured to the board section just as Robin was turning the screw on the fast starting Squeak.
After I got home, I looked at my Strava results for the Course segment. My slowest lap this year, was similar as my fastest lap the previous year. I didn’t get lapped by anyone either. So all-in-all, it was a solid opener after my eleven week lay off.
Ronan doing his post-race ritual. Courtesy of Paul and Sinéad
Orwell Results
Women
Pos Name Time 1 MICHELLE 39:13 Four Laps 3 BREDA 40:53 4 MONICA 42:35 5 CAOIMHE 42:50 14 EMMA 45:38
Men B
Pos Name Time 1 DARREN 45:50 Five Laps Bray Wheelers 34 PAUL 49:52 35 RICHARD 49:59 38 BARRY M 50:17 48 DAVID 51:19 74 LUKE(ME) 54:07
Men A
Pos Name Time 1 ROBIN 55:42 Seven Laps Team WORC 8 RONAN 58:59 26 EOIN 1:01:19 45 TOM 1:04:01 51 PHILIPPE 1:06:21 74 ERIC 8:15 One Lap
Full Results are available from Fixx Round 1: A Race and B Race and Women.
I was going to post an introductory quote, but when I Googled "mistake quotes", I got a bunch of those fucking retarded WordPorn bullshit quotes. You know the quotes, "Men are pigs", that a certain gender shares on their Facebook pages and Instagram pages.
For those of you playing Luke GJ Potter Blog Post Bingo, please tick off, Misogyny, Wild Uncontrollable Anger and Profuse Swearing. For current and prospective employers and cycling club sponsors, this is just banter, lighthearted jokes and tongue in cheek commentary on things.
Screw it, I'm gonna use a quote, from some George Santayana geezer:
Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.
The Deja-Vu continued for the next three weeks.
Round 9: Green Sheds Circuit at Black Bull
Since going to Spain to Sinead's Yoga 4 Cyclists/Cycle Sierra Nevada trip in March, I've been struggling with my knees. It lead to my calves not feeling like they were attached to my body. I finally had enough and e-mailed some Aidan Hammond geezer. It was my cleats were pointing my feet in unnatural directions. The outcome was that my knee pain disappeared overnight. Aidan also made some adjustments to my bar orientation and saddle setback. This made massive differences to my descending and neck/shoulder blade comfort. I had replaced them myself before going to Spain, and they were slightly different Look cleats. The ones with the rubber under them.
"Do you have some race this evening Luke?" - Jay (work colleague). "You have to win this one, how many times you try now?" - Devys (work colleague). "Lads, I'm just back from Canada, I've eaten shit loads of Pizza over the last ten days. My day will come, but tonight I am hoping for to be in the group after one lap." - Luke (ginger jesus).
Immediate Deja-Vu Alert! Like last year, I rocked up to Black Bull with a new position on the bike. Last year, this race, was my Rose Xeon CW's debut, I had just been to BikeFitStudio to get fitted. Except this year, I didn't bleed all over the bike fitter's floor. Although I did drip water on Aidan's floor, as it was a stormy night outside the M50.
The sizable Semi-Limit group were unleashed to hound down the not so sizable Louise group. I was Ramsey Bolton, with my team of mutts, hunting Sansa Stark. We merged after 10km. I was near the front going into each of the next five roundabouts.
Gar and Killer decided to go on the attack after the fourth one. The guy with the Penguin stickers on his bike was charged with chasing them down. The aforementioned Penguin stickers were a prize for being "Second Best Ginger" on the aforementioned Sinead's Sierra Nevada cycling trip. This lone, Penguin sticker-clad hero, was none other than your protagonist.
I love the words "aforementioned" and "clad".
More Deja-Vu incoming. Last year's race was littered with me dishing out some verbal handbags to other riders, Romano particularly. Romano raced that race smart, stuck to his gameplan and finished 3rd. Again, I apologise Romano. I am not immune to bouts of being a cunt. This year's race demanded verbal handbags. As a living entity, it would possess a rider and have it's due.
After my chase of Gar and Killer, and my diet of Pizza. One rider came up-and-over me. He took the fucking piss. The 15m gap he left me to close was textbook shit-cuntery. He promptly got a "Slow up you fuck, what the fuck are you fucking doing?" and some Italian hand gestures. Given my oxygen debt from the chase, clear sentences like these were a miracle. I had never hysterically replied "What?" to a World Champion, but I crossed that off my Bucket List when Orla said to me "You should've closed that gap". Black Bull - Batterstown Banter though!
After the turn onto the Trim road, I was feeling spectacular. We got into a five man, one woman break. Myself, Gar, Killer, Rachel and two other fallen angels I can't remember. Team Louise reigned us back in like the wild Mustangs we were. Grouppo Compacto.
Then there was this drag. I completely lost my shit. I took leave of my senses and tried to attack up this hill. I remember saying to myself "Lets get the KOM points, attack, drop them all, you feel phenomenal, pizza is a super food." I blew up, spectacularly I might add. Louise tried to give me encouragement to get into a group, but my night was done. I had plenty of time to think "What were you thinking? What KOM points? I really need to stop eating pizza."
I was joined by Mr. Foley in the Luke-etto (Groupetto for Lukes). We made it to the finish line of the circuit. As we pulled in, Scratch, who had merged with Semi-Scratch, passed us. Sean gave us some hand gestures quizzing why we were stopping. We hung out at the finish line for awhile. They had enough marshals, so Jules, Colin (or Paul), Lucy and a dropped Dan rolled back to the car park with me. I was just at my car, when I realised that we didn't wait for my Luke-etto comrade. Sorry Luke, we fucked up.
The latest Deja-Vu, was riding back with Jules. This time last year, we were dropped, after he crashed and I waited up for him. Last year was also the first time I heard of Diarmuid. He lost his Garmin in the aforementioned crash.
It's a tough drive back from Black Bull. You are alone, and you must confront your inner demons. You are given two choices, 1. Formulate a plan to conquer them, or 2. Give up on life, drive your car of the road and take them with you.
I was at home, hosed, and sipping a hot choco in my extremely manly PJs as the race finished. I think that Semi-Limit and Louise were just caught near the end of the race. Killer got a 7th, after getting skunked on the line. The Scratch groups mopped up the placings.
Men's Results
Diarmuid O'C
Brian McN
Jules C
Sean M
Gavin D
Bernard E
Women's Results
Aideen
Rachel
Emily
Finish Line Video
Round 10: Brittas
This round was cancelled due to lack of an Ambulance. I was due to Marshall. In the words of the Philosopher McArdle "You're off the hook."
I had a nightmare that Thursday, I burnt my tongue on some soup in work, then again in the evening with a Cappiccuno.
I used the time to catch up with a bro, and pack for Orwell KAS, in Tralee. There is more Deja-Vu; I didn't compete in the round Brittas round before the TKAS last year. That was due to a crazy rain storm.
On the drive down to Kerry, I finished off The Gunslinger on Audible. The car was roasting hot. Even with the Air-Con on. I heard this hissing sound from inside the car. Was it a snake? No, it was the patch on my bike's tyre. The glue was melting and the air was escaping. The order of business upon my arrival was to take a shower and eat dinner. Then I had to replace the tube. In Orwell KAS, I took the two short routes. It was a nice warm weekend, and I took it really easy. Although the Sunday night, I avoided Deja-Vu. I learned from my past mistake. I opted for the pasta, rather than the pizza that gave me Gastroenteritis last time.
Monday, tired, slightly hungover, listening to The Drawing of Three and dodging speed vans, I drove home. Tralee to Dublin, via the image of the War Criminal that marked Barrack Obama Plaza. #YemenLivesMatter #CongoLivesMatter
Round 11: Mondello Park Crit: 1 hour + 2 laps
Deja-Vu again. Back from Kerry, soon discovered that I had Great Form and that Mondello was the next race. Brian Mc won this race last year, with a solo break in the final laps. I was dropped near the end of the race and needed to take an emergency shit, due to the aforementioned Gastroenteritis.
Team Limit (Photo by David Swift)
Our sizable Semi-Limit group was chasing after the four person Limit cohort, which included the returning Helen. Without our spiritual leader Garret, who was race organiser this evening, we didn't have anyone to lead. It took a lap for anyone to hit the front, but it was Your Penguin Sticker-clad Protagonist who organised the chase.
Team Semi-Limit (Photo by David Swift)
I took a lot of hard turns and resting in the bunch. Semi-Limit were motoring. There was a really satisfying turn with Luke Foley where, after a turn I slid in behind him like a Track Team Pursuitist. But we could not escape the enclosing Semi-Scratch group.
Team Semi-Scratch (Photo by David Swift)
We were reeled in along the main straight. I noticed Mike, and knew we were caught. Sean came zooming by. He wanted to press on with the Semi-Scratch riders. I let them set some pace for a few corners. But I was having to sprint out of the turns to maintain contact. I cannot sprint. I made a big effort to get to the front. I took turns with Graham, Eoin, Stephen and Mike. I was feeling mega-strong here. Sean was strategically conserving energy in the bunch.
The last corner on the circuit was getting tricky with the number of riders. I had a great line I wanted to take through it, but I kept getting dive bombed. This lead to a hesitant approach to it. I would lose a lot of places.
On what would be my last lap, I had to make up loads of places on the main straight, after a terrible last corner. I was exhausted at the top of the straight. I almost took Richard out on the run out of the first corner. I recovered around the next few bends and made my way back to the front. I tried to tell Graham that we were "Bike Buddies" as we have the same bike frame. But this joke was lost on him at 42km/h.
Team Scratch with League Leader Brian McN (Photo by David Swift)
I hit the front going into the corner with a big push. But it happened again. My calf cramped. I tried to massage it at 90 cadence, but it didn't work. I put my hand up and edged over to the side of the track. As Latin speakers would say "Raceious Overious". I sweated al ot in the warm up and didn't rehydrate properly. Valdis later advised me on putting Electrolyte tabs in the race bidon and to do calf raises.
I was sickened. I was going so strong. All I wanted to do was finish a race with the front group. It's been a shit season so far with all the DNFs. This was my best chance to finish a race.
Louise, Rachel and Rafael came by in the next group. The asked me to join them, but I was just coasting around and didn't acknowledge them. The Scratch group was next to pass me. I went into the pits and straight to the car to relax.
As I finished changing and tempering my rage after another DNF. I could see Scratch merge with the other groups. I walked to the start/finish line to hang with the other dropped riders. I reported that the groups had merged. We watched the peloton go by. The scratch riders were trying to attack and isolate Brian Mc. Other greedy riders were also trying to get in on the action, but this was neutralising the moves. All this was playing into the hands of The Man of The Ras.
This guy doesn't fuck around. (Photo by David Swift)
As the one hour time limit expired, Brian attacked. He hugged the railing as he took leave of the group with the gusto of a Mormon exiting an Abortion Clinic come Strip Club type of establishment. Would the result of last year be repeated?
The other excitement on track was Rachel versus Louise for the final Ladies point. They were together until Rachel attacked. We were cheering on Rachel's bravery and Louise and Rafael's Teamwork.
At the end of the extra laps, Brian won solo. Valdis took the bunch kick, claiming points to reduce the gap to the Green Jersey clad League Leader. Orla took two points in the women's league, by virtue of finishing in the front group. Rachel out-foxed Louise for the final point.
Men's Results
Brian Mc
Valdis
Bryan
Diarmuid C
Simon S
Brian McN
Women's Results
Orla
Rachel
Finish Line Video
Sorry for the lack of Slo-Mo, my Nexus 5X has its 120fps feature removed by some fucking nerd at Google.
Time is a flat circle. Everything we've ever done, or will do, we're gonna do over and over and over again.
This round up will tie neatly into a sense of Deja Vu, I've been having. Sometimes Deja Vu lasts for seconds, for me it lasted for 5 weeks. This is the story of a man haunted by the demons of his past. Demons who will now become his future tormentors.
Round 6: Brittas
I put my finger behind my ear. This wiped the last of The Green away. I may not be able to grow a beard, but I was wiser than 12 months ago. 364 days and 23 hours had passed since my first taste of Open Road Racing. Last time, I had been badly positioned on almost every corner. I had made an ill-fated bid for glory. I also got credited as Luke "Socks" Potter.
I visualised the victory that I would have. I would race smart. Hang back and move up for corners. Attack on the mid-point of the hill. Semi-Scratch and demotion pleas to Damien Long beckoned. Of the 11 corners on the course, I was excellently positioned for 7 of them and in a good position for another 3 of them. The one remaining corner, I was very far back, as in Dropped "far back".
We started, and I hung out at the back fo the bunch. The first corner was at 2.9km into the parcours. I waited until 2.2km to start with the Up-and-Overs. I was on the front going into the corner. Perfect placement. I would not be sprinting to keep in contact, the accordion effect and all that jazz. I kept up with the Up-and-Overs, and by sheer dumb luck I was at the front for the next corner, the one at the top of the circuit.
I missed a few turns, but started in the Up-and-Overs again midway down the back straight. I was nearing the front as we neared the bridges. When it was my turn to be at the front, I rode hard, to maintain my position going into the first 90 degree corner. I lost a few places on the bridge, but this was intended, so I would have shelter along the home straight.
On the first pass of the finish line hill, I was still fresh. I was riding on the outside, moving up in the group. At the crest, I was on the front. I attacked over the top and sat on the top tube on the way down, Sagan-style. With my legs rested I set about attacking the corner at the top of the circuit. This corner was assigned to me, two days previous, when marshaling the Women's crit league. I knew that it was freshly road-swept. After losing some positions, I was fifth going into the corner. I needed to sprint, but not too hard.
Nothing much happened for most of lap two. I think we caught the Limit group on just after the bridge. One thing was really pissing me off, one rider was riding in the middle of the two lines. "Are you going to take the position, or just pulling the piss?"
On the second climb to the finish, I was sheltered by Robbie Dolan. I switched off my brain and went into a meditation state, just focusing on maintaining distance to Robbie's wheel. Romano was beside me on the descent, there was a gap behind him. I said to him. Let's move out to the opposite side of the road just before the corner. We did, we made up lots of places with this wide line. I found myself on the front with a two man escape fifty meters ahead. I absolutely drilled it to make the catch. my head and body were extremely low to avoid the wind. After catching them I was shot to shit.
It soon became very clear that the Scratch groups would not be gaining on us. Last year a Limit group, containing Connolly and Potter, stayed away from a Semi-Limit group, containing Stevens and Rowan. This year would be no different.
Something happened at the front, and the Up-and-Overs stopped happening. This caused lots of compression on the narrow roads. Someone braked and that compression came backwards like a tidal wave of Sharks. I had to brake hard and almost took out Paul Kane. Someone took charge of the race and the compression stopped happening. Going into the bridges, I was near the back. After the bridges, I was dropped. The gap was widening, I cannot sprint my way out of a wet paper bag. Luckily, there was a JCB (For Townies: it's a brand of digger) ahead, this caused the group to slow. I caught up to the last of the peloton as they passed the JCB.
My momentum carried me to the front of the race, and past it. Holy shit, I was in the lead at the foot of the last climb. I was not thinking clearly. A rational person would've taken stock and convinced themselves "all I had to do was give everything for the next two minutes and I'll win".
Nope, I looked back and seen that my gap was big, but not big enough. As the peloton came by me, I could not respond to their speed and I was dropped. The finish was a hard uphill one. John won the race. Garret was overhauled with fifty meters to go, to finish fourth. Monica won the women's classification.
Finish Line Video (shit gets real at 40 seconds)
Results Men
John (SL)
Alan (SL)
Conor (SL)
Gar (SL)
Simon (SL)
Romano (SL)
Results Women
Monica
Orla
Louise
Aideen
Ciara
Round 7: Corkagh Park
I went to Canada on the Thursday morning, so see my brother. It was my mother's Christmas/Birthday/Mother's Day present all rolled into one. I was in the Ripley's Aquarium when I checked the forum for the results. One Broken Collar Bone and one Wrist Bone. Bad Buzz and a speedy recovery to the two lads. It was nice to see Richard and Matt getting points from the race which was won by Paul.
The Deja-Vu continued here, as the crash mirrored the one I had the previous year before this race. That Corkagh Park track is like a cheese grater.
Results Limit/Semi-Limit
Paul (SL)
Conor (SL)
Richard (SL)
Arek (SL)
Brendan (SL)
Matt (SL)
Results Limit/Semi-Limit Women
Monica
Rachel
Breda
Due to the crash the Semi-Scratch/Scratch race was not run.
While I was away, I lost my GitHub Commit Streak of 52. It was 49 days when I left. When I arrived and got settled in Toronto, I set my Mac's clock to the current timezone, which gave me an extra 5 hours to get in some commits. I then lost it on a busy day over there. I felt a sence of calm after losing something that had comsumed me for the best part of two months. It gave me license to implement more time consuming features, which needed research. Such as Spring-Data-JPA vs. Spring-Data-JDBC. RIP the Streak.
Round 8: Sally Gap
I was still in Canada, can't remember where I was when I got the news. Who was this Paul Burgess? It was all over TV, even in Canada. Did I mention I was in Canada? Luke in Canada, is the new Dan Lloyd riding for Cervelo Test Team.
Deja-Vu Update: I missed this race last year due to injuries sustained in the previous week's crash.
Results Men
Paul (L)
Eoin (SS)
Eric (S)
Brian (S)
Greg (SL)
Odhran (S)
Results Women
Rachel (L)
Monica (SL)
Aideen (SS)
Louise (L)
Charlotte (L)
Helen (L)
Rachel stopped Monica's winning run in the women's classification.
I met a guy on Three Rock hill. We talked about the InterClub League and the Orwell one. He had won the Sally Gap finish from Semi-Scratch. Upon hearing about a Limit rider winning our one, I followed it up with "We all know the story. Some unknown lad appears. Gets put in Limit. Turns out he was a Tour De France domistique". The guy didn't laugh, so fuck him. And fuck the other guy who was there too, who was taking 30 seconds off his PB every week up Three Rock. The secret to his success was probably not eating a packet of Tesco "Free From" Triple Chocolate Cookies on his way from Dundrum Town Centre to his house, 10 minutes away AKA the Chubby Luke training method.
After the previous week's strong showing (until the cramped calf muscle), I was full of confidence of winning this round. I started off smart, staying near the front. Until the catch, to Limit, was made. Then with the group so large, and maybe some of my rivals for victory possibly out of position, I started to put the hammer down on the front. I soon realised that this was not effective in shelling the stronger riders.
New Plan, try to engineer a break. Engineering a break proved hard on this race. It looked like everyone fancied themselves as the next Kittel, Gripel, et al.
One of the laps, I got a massive fright. The lad inside me twitched a bit on the turn at the bottom of the circuit. I reacted in true Luke fashion; "Hold your fucking line". I was in a good mood, and focused on conserving energy that day. Hence deciding not to expend kilojules by include additional expletives, such as bitch, cunt, asshole. In hindsight, reacting with a loud vocal warning, might have served to further distract the lad. So I could've been at further fault. We had a brief chat at the end of the race, where we made our peace with the past.
After this scare, I was hit with a surge of adrenaline. I could hear Jules telling me that I was getting angry. I went to the front an put the hammer down again. Still nothing happening. I consigned myself to wait until the last minute of the race, to try a break again. So I was sitting in, ensuring that I took sips of water every lap, to avoid cramp.
Seven minutes from the end of the race, Garret says "Wanna go for it Luke?". I said "Not yet". But I was badly placed coming out of the corner, so I changed my mind. "Let's hit it Gar!!". We tried, but I could not hold Garret's wheel along the straight. He got a bit of a gap, and I got further towards the front.
I looked at my Garmin's timer field, "39 minutes". It may as well have read "Attack O'Clock". I hit the front, trying for a gap. Telling myself that somebody will let the elastic go. They didn't. As the bell was rung, and the pace fired up. My lower back exploded in pain. In the space of 50 meters, I had gone from first to last.
After the race, my mullet received two comments. One from Jules about Laurent Fignon losing the tour by 6 seconds, as he was not hairodynamic enough. The second was from Garret, instructing me to cut it off. This made him the second Connolly to discuss hair removal with me in the previous 24 hours + 2 laps.
I went to the WWE Live event the next night, and took all my frustrations out on Roman Reins, by booing him a lot.
I got the finish line video though:
Round 5: 10 Mile TT Batterstown
After leaving my bike into Joe Daly's for them to apply the parts for the Randonée. I got my 11-32 tooth cassette and GS rear derailleur installed.
I got to Batterstown early. The spate of crashes that marred the M50's Junction 6 last summer, seems to have abated. I had time to warm up into the block headwind. Dave was on his turbo trainer. Preparing for the latest round of the HenCon Challenge.
Garret lead his group ever so slightly wrong. The outcome was that Darragh arrived just at his allotted time. Meaning that he would be riding the TT tired. Maybe that was Gar's plan. Maybe I've watched too many conspiracy videos on YouTube.
When it was my time to roll out. I got a nice start. Then two cars passed me and tried to turn into the funeral that was happening. This slowed me down a little. As I journeyed further, I could not see my minute man, Dave, in front of me. I also could not see Richard behind me. Upon getting to the roundabout, Dave had extended his lead on me. He was about to lay the SmackDown on Gar. I missed out on spying where Richard was.
The way back was insane. A Block Tailwind. I fucked up a little on the way back. At times, I was pushing the 50x11 at 63rpm. I should've retreated into the 13t cog, to spin a bit more and save my legs. Towards the end of the race, my legs were tired from the grinding.
After the race, I hung about and chatted a little. Dave had made it 1-1 in the HenCon challenge. He had beaten:
1 Scratch Rider, albeit returning from injury,
10.5 Semi-Scratch Riders,
13 of Semi-Limit's Bravest,
11 Limit Riders.
On the way home, there was a SpeedVan. It was parked 300meters after the 100kmh sign, where it's preceeded by a 120kmh zone. The profiteering bastards. The retarded driver in front of me was doing 80kmh in the 120 zone, obscuring my vision of the van. I popped out an passed him at 110kmh. I seen the van, went hard on the brakes and was at 90kmh when entering the 100 zone. I seen the camera flash. Or maybe it was the sun reflecting on the lens. I was scared of receiving more penalty points with my insurance up for renewal at the end of May. No letter arrived at the two addresses I claim to live at.
I scored a 27:10, which was 11 seconds away from 6th place.
Place Person Time After 1st Eoin G 25:14 2nd Tommy S 26:17 01:03 3rd Barry M 26:34 01:20 4th Conor D 26:38 01:24 5th Paul F 26:47 01:33 6th Killer 27:00 01:46 7th Richard C 27:09 01:55 8th Luke P 27:10 01:56 9th Garrett C 27:28 02:14 10th Kevin S 27:51 02:37 11th Diarmuid D 27:56 02:42 12th Malcolm G 28:07 02:53 13th Dave M 28:34 03:20
Robbie, started with Semi-Limit and made an attack on the second last lap,
Simon, started with Limit and won.
Short Story Long
Build-up
I got a letter, my apartment management company, €65 rent increase per person per calendar month kicking in in August. Paris-Roubaix was on, I looked at the Paddy Power odds. Tony Martin was at 65/1. This was fate. He would win this classic on Trentin's bike and pay my rent increase. I put €1 on him and €10 on Sagan at 3/1. I got up early to watch the full coverage. Early in the race, Tony was put on the front because Ettix-QuickStep cannot make a break. Then after the Cancellara crash, I watched my €11 go up in smokes. Sagan's group was blown apart and Tony was sent to the front to push the gap out by burning all his matches, like someone trying to light a cigarette in the wind.
What are the government doing about these rent increases? Debating over a fucking prayer at the start of the day. The only God answering their prayers is Loki. Where's my USC decrease? Where's the increase in housing supply to counteract this supply and demand crisis? The Independents need to sort their shit out and pick a fucking side. Prior to the election, I instinctively thought that Independents were shit cunts, just there to take up space and pick up €100k per year. I changed my opinion during the election, I dared to dream that maybe they could actually do something. But now, I have reverted it back to shit cunts.
Alan Kelly celebrating his free €100k and ability to practice nepotism. Labour are basically independents.
I got two cycles in since the last race. On Tuesday Night Hills, I took 1:20 of my PB up Curagh Rd. to Pine Forest. I was feeling good going to sleep... Until I seen Brendan's pictures of human dominos in the Women's B-race Sprint finish.
Pre-Race
I got to the track ealier than last week. There was a Strata3-VeloRevolution guy doing laps. He seemed pretty chill. I did my warmup, maybe I didn't do as good a one are the previous week. Killian joined me for the Hamstring stretches.
Tommy arrived. Everyone looked at each other nervously. Some were intimidated, others just didn't want to stare. I took a glance when he wasn't looking. His jersey was a bit looser on his arms. I used to go to the gym a lot, take Z-Mag, Creatine, Protein and eat scrambled Hen Periods. I knew what boat he was in. He wanted to be seen as more than just biceps. He wanted to be seen as a man... with a kick-ass beard. Ann had published an article about the Tour of the Foothills, about 20% of the article was describing Tommy's biceps. With all publishing companies looking for the next 50 Shades of Grey and/or Danielle Steele, Ann might be setting herself up for career change.
John rang his bell. This signalled 5 minutes to go. He gave the usual preamble speech, the shortened version is "Don't be a shit cunt during the race". Yvonne had a mechanical on the start line. She commandeered Rebecca's bike. We had Martin and Grainne making their League debuts.
Race
When Limit got to the bottom corner, I started agitating to be let go. I was saying "Now, come on, that's far enough" to John. Romano was in front of me, sealing a few inches. We were unleashed. I couldn't clip-in. My cleats are pretty messed-up since I changed them. I'll probably need to get them checked with lazers.
I was near the back on the first few laps. I needed to get to the front. At the back, you're red lining it to keep pace and you'll also miss the moves. I moved up slowly. My legs were not working, my warm up was not right. Gaining ground on the finish straight. Last week, I used this straight to take a sip of water. This week I was too focused on making up places. I eventually hit the front about seven minutes in to the race. On the main straight, I was on the front, I gestures for people to roll through. I got some help in the form of two able bodies. Not exactly the Calais Jungle I was hoping for.
We were reeling in Limit riders. Lots of us were sensing blood. I got boxed in and a bad corner had me at the back again chasing on. I was slightly off the back when the catch was actually made. Some lad messed up the last turn, went into the grass and then pulled out in front of a few of us. The pace up front slowed and we caught back on. We made the catch after ten minutes of the thirty.
It was going to be a slight rest, then time to start shelling riders. I was making up places safely. At sixteen minutes I was mid-pack. I was feeling really good, warmed up just in time for the business end of the race. Matt was in front of me, there was lots of space on the right to move up. I asked Matt to attack. When he declined my generous invitation, I spun it up. On the drops, low profile, Luke Ewan. I hit the front.
Now was the time to take a few riders with me. Split the field. Hopefully catch some of the stronger lads out of position. Divide up the points between us. This would be the winning move. I had the hair gel in the car, I've been working on a mohawk/mullet, ready for the podium. I was ready for my value, in the Orwell Fantasy League, to skyrocket. People would not be able to have Brian Mc and I in the same team.
That was the dream. But just as my gap started to go out. My non-driveside calf cramped. There was a pain in my calf that felt like a pull. I tried to jam it back into place with my thumb. This did not work and Doctor Luke was reeled back in, chewed up and spat out. I pulled in on the home straight. I told John that I was going to take a lap out. I stretched the calf. It felt better. I tried to jump back on as the main group passed. But I was gone full Matt Stevens. I could not clip in. I missed the group. Race Over.
Post-Race
I decided to be helpful, I rushed to the car and changed into warm clothes. I picked up my phone. I heard the bell being rung. John's ringing of the bell would later be known as "Bellgate". I sprinted to the track, as I, like Tommy and Robbie, though it was the last lap. I had the camera ready to record in 120fps, to get the slow-motion video. The group approached, but John was shouting last lap. Dave was asking where Tommy was.
It wasn't the last lap. I got the finish of the race. Simon won, for real this time. I helped John identify the placers.
Robbie and Tommy were very confused. They went for it on the Bell Lap. But that bell only signified the end of the 25 minutes. So they had run out of steam for the actual final. Mistakes were made. The #JusticeForTommyAndRobbie hashtag didn't gain much traction on Twitter, despite The FroomeDog championing their cause.
What Was Learned
I need to drink more to avoid cramps. I need to monitor the warmup too, last year 4x45seconds @ Z6 worked well for me.
View the Race Replay on FlyBys: Round Two. I enabled:
Myslef, as per ús, I am the protagonist,
John B, started with SL and won,
Tommy S, started with Limit and finished in the points.
Short Story Long
Build Up
After last week's anniliation, my confidence was a bit low. Still, I was keen to make ammends and test myself properly against the Limit groups. I intended to do some 30/30's on the Turbo on Monday, but I was too pissed off at The Walking Dead's cliffhanger. Pretty stupid blackmail AMC. Considering that there will be leaked set photos of the character on the ground with their brains exposed. My money is on Abraham getting romantically involved with Lucile. The show has a quota of African-American characters that they can have on the cast at any one time. I presume that this also applied to Gingers. Carol and Morgan encountered a new Ginger character.
Tuesday I cycled into work and cycled to the Tuesday Night Hills. I put in a few digs that would simulate the 30/30's that I missed the previous night. I got home, showered, fed and watched Wrestlemania. I also kept up my GitHub Commit Streak and extended it to 13 days at that point.
Pre-Race
As a member of our team in work was leaving, we went to Eddie Rocket's for Milkshakes. As I have been getting a little Lactose intolerant from my more Vegan/Vegeterian focused diet, I arrived at the circuit without much extra weight sitting in my digestive tract.
This diet change has also lead me to renounce my previous life as a Tuna Steampot consumer. I had my second bowl of Porridge, Almond Milk, Maple Syrup and Granola of the day at 5pm. I was at the circuit at 18:10. Which is not great timing, as my office is the next exit to Corkagh Park.
I couldn't decided what colour lenses to use, Yellow or Dark. There was rain promised, but it was bright at the bottom corner of the circuit. I went with the Darker ones. I was also employing the use of the Long sleeve skinsuit with a vest base layer and leg warmers and ankle socks.
I did my warmup and stretches. I went back to my car to throw in my jacket. Up the road Rachel was rubbing two Huskies. I have a bucket list, and hugging a Husky is on it. I could not let this moment pass. As they approached I bent down and stuck out my hand. They started jumping all over me. Next thing I was hugging them and they were licking my face. It was everything that I though it would be.
Jules showed up with a broken pedal. I produced my multi-tool from my utility belt.
Race
Racing in the rain, lets hope the Luke Staring at Stems does not become a thing. (Photo by Ian Anderson)
After standing around in the cold waiting for Limit to gain on us, Dick unleashed us. I was at the front for a few seconds, but I was struggling to clip in. I lost loads of places before I got clipped in. The biggest danger in Corkagh Park is that someone will lose a wheel and it'll be race over. Even before we got to the first corner, the guy in front of me lost the wheel. Some other guy was crossing wheels with me, thus boxing me in. I asked for space to get out close the gap. But these guys were in league with Mr. Blennerhasset and kept this animal caged. Spoiler Alert: the race was over before we exited the first corner.
I eventually got out and waited, near the front of the group, for someone to start the bridge. I have been watching some Cycling Maven and Vegan Cyclist videos on racing. I had one tactic, sit in and wait. No one wanted to come though. The race was getting away from me, I looked up and seen four groups ahead; Limit, John, Richard and Killian.
I punched hard and made the solo bridge to Killian's group. He was suffering from a dodgy hamstring. Obviously he wasn't warming up like The Cable Guy. There was two lads sitting on his wheel waiting for Killian to work. I took a breather at the back. I seen Killian pulling over and these lads were looking at him. I knew that there would be no help from these guys.
I jumped Grouppo del Killian and spent 5 mins averaging 263 Watts to catch the next group. Richard was in the same situation, except for bikes instead of hamstrings being his injury. Lads sitting on his wheel. We were now catching Limit Riders that had been spat out the back of John's group. I was taking a few small turns in this group with Richard.
I looked back and seen that Garret was leading the chase to our group. The main bunch was also in pursuit. They merged with us. "Great now we have all the firepower to reel in John" I thought. I was wrong. It was only Garret, Richard and myself taking turns. Three guys tired of bridging and chasing vs The Blenerhasset Express.
The three of us got a slight gap, and we caught Peadar on a slow section of the course. I yelled at him in good time to tell him to jump in behind me. He did. We were soon joined by the remainder of the group. It was getting darker and starting to rain, maybe even hail, hard. I should've used the Yellow lenses on the glasses, as now I could barley see 50 meters ahead.
I made a series of hand gestures to encourage more people to come through, but only Diarmuid joined us at the front. This was the opposite of the Turkish border, no one coming through. I stopped working. I let the three lads take a lap and then I'd make a gap for them to slot into.
When Dick announced that there was 2 laps left, I said to Richard, Gar, Peadar and Diarmuid to keep the pace really high. This would stop us getting swamped by the others and them stealing our hard earned point-less, imaginary places at the end for bragging rights.
As we passed a rider, Dave Mc was shouting "Don't let them laps you". Who was getting lapped here? Surely not Grouppo Luko. We evaded the Smackdown. I was half expecting Dick not to shout "Final Lap", but he did.
Final lap, I moved up along the outside of the uphill home straight with really high cadence. I took the first corner really well. Then looked under. No one there. I hit the gas to the end of the straight. Still no one on my wheel. "7th is in the bag, just gotta keep going here Luke" I though. Coming out of the bottom corner I was still free. Gar got onto my wheel on the slight uphill. I lead it into the final corner. I moved left, as I wanted shelter from the cross wind on the run home.
Gar, Richard and two others powered past me. I kept it going for a Top 11 finish.
Post-Race
It was a bitter sweet finale. I lost my 7th place, but the lads who worked with my group got good places because I kept the pace high. I shook hands with Richard at the end, fist bumped Peadar. I would've offered some high-fives but my bicep was almost frozen from the wind and rain.
I stripped off the wet clothes and dried up as much as possible and messaged my house mates to turn on the hot water. Set the heat high in my car and drove/shivered all the way home.
I was very happy I stayed towards the front. The difference in Average Power output between myself and Dan was almost 50W. He was at the back of the pack and had to work harder due to the accordion effect. I had some celebratory Falafel on the Thursday night.
What Was Learned
Maybe Damien Long was correct. I can mix it with these Semi-Limit lads.
But he was also incorrect when he was talkig about lads not losing the wheel.
