I did it! My first-ever race! Or at least, my first ever race since racing mountain bikes as a 16 year old. 18 years later and I decided to dip my toe into the world of road circuit racing. Strava data can be found here, but as I didn’t start it until into lap 3, I’m missing a few miles.
My first foray into racing was as interesting as it was exciting. On the one hand, my stomach was a big nervous ball of acid. On the other, I was practising positive mental visualisation of a strong finish! Wandering through the car park on my way to sign on and there’s people warming up on rollers, other people standing round with serious faces and serious legs and then there’s little-old me: Undertrained (probably) and pushing my trusty Cube (with a, shock-horror, triple chainset!) across the way. As I walk, my eyes are overtaken by the sheer volume of bike p*rn: Carbon wheels, carbon frames… And what looks to be a small child, pushing an S-Works Venge? Seriously, what am I doing here? Fortunately, I’m in good company, as MDCC has a good-sized contingent out today, including some other first-timers. There’s a big field for the 4ths-only race – about 60 or 70 if the rumours around the airfield are accurate. Fortunately it’s a wide, flat circuit that can easily accommodate that many riders.
On the line, we’re told that the race is being reduced to 45 minutes plus 1. That suits me in terms of overall effort, but I worry that it might push the pace up. The women go off ahead of us and then it’s our turn. I miss my pedal at the start and end up looking like a total newb from the off, sprinting to catch up with the back of the bunch when I do finally get clipped in. I catch back up, and settle myself in amongst the centre of the bunch. I look down at the Garmin: 25 mph – a decent clip, but doesn’t feel like too much effort in a pack of this size.
Down the back of the circuit, the wind becomes more obvious. I’m conscious of being boxed-in, but can’t find a way out in any direction. I concentrate on the wheel in front for the time being, surrounded by the thrum of carbon wheels on concrete. Ultimately I find a gap and look to move up the outside, my next newb’ mistake… I hit the outside of the bunch, move forward and then find I can’t move back in. I’m about 12 wheels back, on the outside and hideously exposed. At no time has the difference between bunch riding on a club run, and bunch riding as part of a race, ever become so horribly apparent. Ultimately some more people overlap me and I can tuck back in, safe in the centre once more. The horrible realisation hits me that whilst I might be competing, I’m certainly not going to becompetitive today.
Based on that, I try to concentrate, I want to pick out the stronger riders and observe. If I can’t be strong enough to ride on the front (for long) then I can at least try to get my brain around the tactical nuances of circuit racing. We pass the women on the finishing straight and into bend one, keen to see how the guys at the front respond, I take the corner wide and push for the front of the group. Henceforth, I shall refer to this as newb’ mistake number 3. I’m so obviously clueless, nobody even bothered with a “break right” call as I came through, though in fairness it was never my intention to break! Once again, I can’t force my way back in, and I find myself second wheel, just as the guy in front sits up to let me sail through. I find myself at 25mph, into the wind, with my heartrate trying to set a new PB for bursting out of my chest. I’m a little bit sick in my mouth as I sit up and pray to be caught. Shamefaced I return back to the middle of the bunch.
I settle back in, watching and trying to learn. The tactics intrigue me, but I figure that the only way to be sure of not being totally boxed in is to be near the front and the only way to be near the front is to be capable of taking a turn up there. The fitness definitely needs work. There are a few comings-together, but nothing serious and there are no crashes. Realising that I’m not in any kind of chance of placing, I try to enjoy myself, but also to work for my teammates – if I see a stronger rider exposed, then I try to come through and shield them a little. A few breaks go off, but nobody is organised enough to make one work – the breeze down the back straight sees to that. The bell goes, seemingly too early, and with it there’s the inevitable kick in pace. The speed creeps up to mid-30′s and stays there – I don’t have any problems keeping up in the bunch, but it’s clear that the stronger riders are better positioned and are starting to stretch out the bunch. I know in my head where I’d like to be into the final two bends, but maintaining a position in the bunch is a nightmare. My legs have got nothing left at the top end to push any harder: It’s like the end of a 2×20 on the turbo, only more brutal and it’s all I can do to not move backwards. Coming into the final 50 metres and my legs are on fire, all of my clubmates have passed me and I’ve finished in the bunch maybe 2/3′s of the way back, if not further.
Best fun I’ve had in ages. I’m back again on Sunday for another go!

