The flying Kiwi

The Women's 10 TT series trophy - originally the Vale of Leven
Clarion CC's Ladies Championship trophy from 1950.

Last weekend I was very excited to see the All Blacks lift the Web Ellis Trophy, but I was equally excited to lift the West Lothian Clarion Women’s time trial champion trophy.

It all began last winter when a few of the girls from West Lothian Clarion were discussing plans for the coming year. We got onto the topic of our clubs’ weekly time trial series.  None of us were particularly interested in time trailing but we got into the “I’ll do it if you will” kind of agreement.  I’m not sure if anyone else even remembers that discussion but I decided to uphold my end of the bargain.

The first week I, erm, needed to get my haircut, which I could of course only do a Thursday night.  I couldn’t find a suitable excuse for the next week so spent Thursday carbo loading and getting myself just a little bit nervous about pitting myself against the clock over 10 miles.  Short and fast is not really my forte.  Riding along flat, not particularly scenic roads is most definitely not my forte.  My love of cycling is hilly, scenic back country roads.  So I took in these types of roads to ride to the start of the TT.  Of course when I turned up I was surprised to see that a lot of people had driven to the start.  Oh dear, I thought, this does look serious. No matter, I paid my £1 entry fee and got my race number from the back of the organisers car.

Next came the pre-ride phaff.  Because I had ridden over I had the full works on my bike  - drink bottle, pump, saddle bag with tools and inner tubes.  So I starting fussing about to do with all this until someone pointed out that it is only a club TT.  Ok, stop fussing woman and just get on with it. 

Rolling up to the start I was pretty nervous. As most first timers are, I was mostly nervous about posting up a ridiculously slow time. My goal was to get under 30 minutes.   So all I had to do was average 20 miles per hour for 30 minutes.  How hard could that be?  1 minute to go the person in front has gone and I roll up to the line.  30 seconds do go I clip in while the pusher off holds on to me.  20 seconds getting butterflies thinking I’m not going to fall off, I’m not going to fall off (this comes from the ridiculous fear of falling off when the pusher off lets go).  10 seconds, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5,4,3,2,1 – GOl!  I’m out like a racehorse out of the gate riding as fast as I can, watching the speed on my computer.  I’m doing around 20 to 22 mph and feeling strong.  I hardly notice the traffic around me and just focus on keeping as smooth as possible and watching out for obstacles. I try to get as aerodynamic as possible but it difficult to hold this position on the drops.  10 minutes in and someone goes flying past me – my minute man.  13 minutes and I’m at the turn. Wow! I’m going to get under 30 minutes.  I can do this in 26 minutes. Wrong!  Now the pain starts as the course rises up over a motorway bridge and the road drags.  I don’t want to change down to my middle cog and my legs are screaming as I fight the incline.  From here it is really hard and I fight the urge to ease off.   My sportive experience is telling me to slow down as I am used to pacing myself.  I am also paying the price for going off too fast at the start.  As this stage I am yelling to myself to dig deep and keep pushing. 

The road continues to drag and another rider passes me.  Surely it’s got to end soon.  I get to a junction and finally the road seems to flatten.  I see a high visibility jacket.  The finish!  OMG and I’m under 30 minutes.  OH NO! !!! It’s just a man trimming hedges and not the finish line at all.  Where’s the finish????  Another few hundred metres and there’s the sight for sore eyes.  I feel sick and completely spent and roll back to the layby to compose myself. 

We stand around and have a chat waiting for everyone to finish.  The officials walk back from the finish to read out the results.  I am first woman and my time is read out as 29:57.  I can’t believe it!  I crawl home back over the Bathgate hills, realising why people drive to the start.  I am so spent that I have nothing left to get home.  When I finally slump in the door, the first thing I do is to tweet my time.  But then the next morning I find out that my time was actually 30:57.  So that means only one thing – I have unfinished business and start obsessing about how I can better my time.

Over the course of the summer my times gradually improve and I finally get under the 30 minutes on week 8.  My goal over the summer also changed to trying to win the women’s series, which I did. It was not an easy ride either as I had some strong competition so I had to ride as many nights as I could, as fast as I could.  Some of those nights were pretty grim too. 

I was really surprised at how much I enjoyed the series.  Not only is it strangely enjoyable pushing yourself over 10 miles, there is a great camaraderie amongst the riders.   Now, I can’t think of a better way to spend a Thursday night.

Full results can be found here;

http://westlothianclarion.blogspot.com/2011/08/michelle-and-brian-are-club-10-tt.html

Ken Laidlaw Sportive 2011

Two years ago I rode my first century, the Ken Laidlaw Sportive, in torrential rain.  On paper it should have been a miserable experience as I also rode on my own and hadn’t done enough training.  But it was the best ever event I had ridden, due to the stunning route on quiet roads and the great organisation and camaraderie.  So in 2011 I promised myself I would ride it again, hopefully in better conditions and as a stronger rider.

My other half had somehow talked himself into entering as well so we were both up at 6am for the drive down to Hawick for the 9am mass start.  Both of us hadn’t done enough training so we discussed that we would opt for the 52 mile route if we weren’t feeling strong by the first feed stop.  Two years ago the lack of training was because I had entered on the spur of the moment, this time it was down to work commitments.  Still, no time to dwell on that.  We arrived at the start and I spotted a few of my club mates from the West Lothian Clarion.  I have only been a member of the club for 2 years so it was great to be in a small posse of gold & white jerseys at the start.

9am and we were off in a peleton of 500 cyclists riding through Hawick town centre on closed roads.  Soon we left the urbun confines and into the approach of the first climb, where I lost contact with my club mates.  No matter, there were so many friendly people riding to chat so you just end up riding with anyone.  Then someone called my name and I turned my head to see a former work colleague. It was a pleasant surprise to see Alan, who used to be a short distance commuter, wanting to do more miles.  So Alan & I caught up on news on the first climb before he dropped back to ride with his brother.  We soon reached Roberton where there were lots of bystanders cheering us on like the Tour of Britain was riding though.  Kids were banging pots.  It was such a brilliant atmosphere, which took away the pain of the first three climbs.   There were even supporters on top of the Swire, which has featured as a killer climb in Cycling Weekly. 

Somehow I lost contact with my group on the descent so had to work hard in the Yarrow Valley in the head wind to catch a group.  I took my turn at the front but found the pace a bit slow so I left them behind.  Then I spotted a clarion jersey up ahead so wound the pace up again to catch John Hanlin.  We started up the next climb together and worked with four others up the gradual Berrybush climb into that persistent head wind.  I looked behind and saw about 30 hangers on.  I tried the flick of the shoulder to get more to share the work. Then I got half wheeled out of the group so I decided it was time to get clear of the group and went over the top on my own.  Of course I got caught on the descent and John & I rode into the first feed station together.

My beady eyes were searching out a red Ribble amongst the melee of bikes outside the village hall.  Yes! I had caught up with Mark at the feed station so walked in with a grinning face to spot him.  Both of us were having a great ride, and the weather was fair, so there was no way we were going to cut the ride short.  It’s very hard to leave the feed stops on the Ken Laidlaw sportive as it is more like being in a café, but even better - a café filled entirely with cyclists. I chatted to so many people that it was 20 minutes gone by before I could get myself sorted for the next section, where John & I joined forces with more clarionistas Davy & Gordon for the rest of the route.

We worked together and chatted for the next section to Langholm, so it was more like being on a club run.  I was dreading the next climb as I knew it was a biggy and was steep at the bottom.  About three miles before “That Climb” Davy punctured.  Within 30 seconds a support vehicle pulled up with spare tubes, then another, and then a motorbike with a track pump appeared.  Puncture repaired, we were off, only to puncture again.

Nicely rested after the second puncture we were soon faced with That Climb!  After four big climbs in the legs and a head wind it was tough.  Everyone seemed to be in their on little world of pain. Alan caught me so we rode up together to what we thought was the top.  But there was more to come as there was a dip and then more ascent.  Davy, Gordon & John were waiting for me at the first false summit –what a sight for sore eyes!  We mingled in with the club from Dalmeny, a neighbouring town, whose shirts said “No Hill No Cake”.  Great motto and after that hill we deserved cake. The next feed stop didn’t disappoint and there was definitely cake to be had and much more, including endless cups of tea.

By this stage we were tired but thought we had cracked the ride.  Mmm,  maybe not with 3 big climbs left….the ride almost cracked me.  I had to resort to the emergency caffeine gel for the second to last climb as I was feeling the pace.  And then there was Bonchester hill, the last gruelling climb to get over before the charge for home.  And it went on, and on, and on.  When you’ve got three grown men asking if this is the last climb then you know it’s been a tough day.  Still we dug in got to the top and then it was only five miles of descent and a straight run home…until we punctured again with three miles to go.  Again there was fantastic support from the roving supporters. Puncture “fixed” we were off to the finish of what has got to be the best sportive in the UK.  Challenging route, quiet roads and brilliantly supported.  The icing on the cake is it is such a friendly event from the organisers and volunteers to the riders to the supporters on the road side.  Simply fantastic!

105 miles, 2,500 metres of ascent.  Rolling time of 7 hours.  Elapsed time of 8 hours 40 minutes. 

Lake Feminine APR 20 March 2011

Driving up the M9, a rainbow appears from the murky Scottish Day as I listen to hyper pumping tunes on Radio 1 on the way to Balfron.  Balfron is the HQ for the Lake Feminine APR, a women’s only handicapped road race.  While I have lost count of how many sportives, triathlons, half marathons and 10ks I have completed, this is the first cycling road race I have ever entered.  Why, as I near the age of 40, am I putting myself through this?  Well a few reasons.  Firstly, I want support the drive to develop women’s cycling in Scotland.  Secondly, I am hoping to lead by example to encourage other novices to enter.  Lastly, plain curiosity, to find out how I compare and what it is like.

It’s about 7 degs C with a constant fine drizzle keeping everything damp.  At registration I try to ignore that fact the most of the competitors look 10 years younger than me.  There’s the normal last minute phaff over what to wear before I meet up with Debbie for the 4 mile ride to the start. It's a nice warm up but you sense the pre-race nerves as groups of riders go flying past in silence.  I didn’t want to rush to get to the start only to get cold again.  So Debbie & I just stick to our own steady pace and time our arrival to perfection.  Debbie is my club mate and fellow committee member from the West Lothian Clarion.  This is Debbie’s first event ever – not even a sportive or 10k to her name. This is a fantastically brave move, especially with the race being in March, straight out of another fairly harsh winter.

At start, a layby on the roadside, we are arranged into our groups.  There are four groups, arranged by ability.  Group 1 has a 4 minute head start on Group 2, who has a two minute start on Group 3, who in turn leave 2 minutes before the last group.  39 women are entered in total. 

As novices, Debbie & I are in group 1.  We have a discussion in our group how we will arrange ourselves.  We decide on the classic chain gang in an anticlockwise direction.  This means we ride two abreast, with the outside riders moving up faster and pulling over to the left in front of the first rider.  The next rider following behind and does the same, while at the back the last rider pulls out in behind the last rider on the right so we all move in a circular motion.  This will give us a faster speed as each rider only has a short amount of hard slog and then will recover in the group once back on the inside.

However, this plan doesn’t eventuate as the group falls to bits right from the off.  Some riders just take off too fast (or are we too slow?) and others are a long way behind.  Debbie and I work hard to try to catch the front riders to form a group as the others are not catching us from behind.  Stuck in no-mans land, we experiment with taking turns at the lead and soon begin to ride really well as a two woman team.  Group 2 goes past.  We try to catch their back wheels but inadvertently caught the tail-enders who had fallen off the back so miss catching the main group.  Once we hit the first roundabout and we realise we can’t catch them we just keep working out our pace as a team.  A few minutes latre and riders from Group 3 come through.  Then, just before the first climb, along comes the train that is Group 4.  We stick with Group 4 for a bit on the first climb but as we crest the hill we lose them. 

The middle section is just the two of us for quite a while.  My demons start to come out and I have to confess to feeling a bit down at being passed by so many girls.  But I concentrate on my riding, banishing those pesky demons, until we catch up with another rider and form a team of three.  We yell to a girl who is abandoning to come with us but she doesn’t look best pleased.  We get a really good chain gang working and get a good speed up.  A few miles on we see another rider in the distance but can’t catch her on the flat.  Finally we catch her and then three becomes four.  We work together on the next section which has a few ups and downs and a long drag uphill.  At times the group falls to bits, as we each have our strengths and weakness.  And we all show signs of tiredness at different sections. But we try to bring it back together.  I really start to enjoy the race now as it is this team working that I love. 

Debbie is flying now and has managed to pull ahead.  You GO GIRL! is what I am thinking.  Normally I’d be a bit jealous but somehow you are quite please when it is your team mate getting ahead.  But after a couple of miles Debbie takes the wrong turn and, due to the time lost, is back with us.  At this stage I am feeling knackered and realise I need some fuel. I eat what is left of my energy bar and a few minutes later start to get some strength back.  After what seems an endless piece of A road we  hit a roundabout and are directed to Balfron. I can sense the charge for the finish line now.  We hit the bottom of a climb so I take my gel and the last of my drink, and start to push harder.  I look down on my frame and see my Livestrong sticker “I ride for Ellen Orr (Mum)”.  Thinking of my Mum’s battle with cancer I dig deeper for Mum.  Last turn I sense the end is near.  I take advantage of the turn to drop my group but am soon bought back into the fold.  Down to three and then it’s just me & Debbie again. We ride together until the last climb when I give it all I’ve got to the finish line.

Back at HQ it’s time for tea and cake.  There is great chat amongst the girls, even with our comical mud splattered faces.  A quick clean up and then it’s time for prizegiving.  A £250 prize pool is allocated out to the first 6 places.  There is a great buzz at the turnout and talk of the next event.

Debbie & I completed the 31 mile ride in a time of 1:48.  Out of the 39 entered 32 finished.  We placed 26^th & 27^th but I am pleased because I have a ridden the fastest I have ever ridden, have worked well as a team and we finished!  I’d recommend the Lake Feminine APR to anyone who wants to experience racing.  There was a wide range of abilities. If you want to avoid riding on your own get along to your local club now and start finding a race buddy or two.

Kingscavil Hill Climb 2010

And so an era ended last Sunday.  This time last year I entered the West Lothian Clarion Hill Climb competition.  I really entered on a last minute whim, because a) I wanted to give support to the local cycling club who had the nous to close off a road for an event and b) because I fancy myself as a bit of a hill climber.  To put things into perspective, I love climbing hills, I can outride a lot of men and women up a long climb but I have never been good at short bursts.  At school I was always last or second to last in sprints.  In fact I was always last or second to last in most athletic events.  Don’t get me wrong, I was a half decent cross country runner, tennis player and could out walk most people on a long day’s hike, I am just not a born sprinter.

So imagine my delight when I won the women’s prize last year.  This really was a novelty to me. Most events I enter I look for my result by immediately going to last place and working my way back up.  I was the only woman entered but that didn’t really matter to me.  I was the women’s champion for a year and, as it was the inaugural event, I was also the women’s record holder too.  Since then I joined West Lothian Clarion and have taken on the role of Treasurer.  With some of the other girls in the club I have also been involved in promoting women’s cycling.  Another mad cap idea was to offer up a bottle of champagne and write an invitation out to the local clubs. This went out with combined email to the cycling clubs in the region. It must have worked because we had 11 women entered, including two youth riders. 

10:17 on Sunday 17 October I rolled up to the start line.  Clipped in, gears at the ready, I am held in place by the pusher offer and the countdown begins. 10, 9, 8, 7 (nerves start now) 6, 5, 4, 3! (realise I am still holding on to the brakes – such a novice!) 2! 1! GO! Steve lets go as I sprint to the start of the climb.  The gradient steadily increases while I click the gears down and drop into the granny ring for the first steep section. When I hit the bottom I am already breathing hard and can feel the lactic acid building.  S*@t I think, I haven’t left enough to get up this bit.  I’m going to come off.  Banishing the demons I put all my effort into getting up this bit as I know the gradient eases over the brow.  My sight goes blurry and my calf muscles are screaming.  People are shouting my name so I have to keep hammering away – partly because their cheers give me a boost, partly because I don’t have anonymity like last year, and partly because I am wearing team colours this year and can’t let the side down.

The gradient eases so I try to get my breathing a bit under control, as the next steep section is coming up.  I see Mark and hear him shouting at me.  Allez! Allez!.  I get out of the saddle, too painful, can’t breath – I WANT TO GET OFF!!!!  Back down on to the seat.  I know this is the crux and I have to give it all I have got.  Digging deeper I get back out and change up a gear.  My legs and lungs are screaming – NO MORE!  But I change up another gear and focus on getting up the last steep bit.  Finally over the brow I change back into the middle cog and push as hard as I can to the finish line.  I hear the piper, can see the chequered flag.  A few more seconds of pain and I know it will be over.  At last the finish line.  Unclip, see grass, collapse, can’t breathe, can’t get up.  I know I have given my best, but I also know that I was almost caught at the end.  And so my reign as Women’s champion is over.     

I had succeeded in attracting a good field into the women’s competition. So much so I bought about my own downfall.  Not even a podium finish this year.  7^th fastest woman but I did knock off 10 seconds off last year’s time.  Another 10 seconds and I would have equalled third place, 5 seconds quicker and I could have got fourth.  So I guess that consigns me obsessing about knocking seconds off my time next year.