Prologue

Last night saw my long awaited return to the competitive world of club cycling. The first club night of the season (usually just after the clocks have changed) is a key date in the cycling diary. For a member of The Glasgow Nightingale Cycling Club it is marked by the running of the Prologue time trial.

(NB the word Prologue is derived from Ancient Greek and means preface or preceding the main matter. In cycling, it is usually a short time trial at the start of a longer event - such as the Tour de France - used to order and position riders. For our club it helps us order ourselves into groups for subsequent training rides over the summer.)

I decided to ride over to the race. It takes place in and around Torrance, on the North of the city. From my house it is about ten miles give or take a little bit. I hoped that this would help me warm up but would also let me get more miles in the legs leading up to the Etape Caledonia ride. The weather was slightly overcast but dry.

On the way over I met fellow club member Tom Worthington on Great Western Road. He was on his way home from work to change, ready for the race. Tom is a Nightingale stalwart and a great guy. He is a true bikey with a love of all things cycling related. I don't know whether Tom drives a car (I doubt it) but he seems to have truly taken the bike to his heart and integrated it into his daily life. On this occasion he was cycling along in his "civvies", trousers rolled to keep them away from the chain, bag slung over shoulder. We had a quick chat and Tom headed off.

One of the interesting parts of the evening for me was as Tom and I turned a corner into Queen Margaret Drive. We were side by side, me in my race gear, Tom in his ordinary clothes, both on race bikes. We set off together but within one corner and only a couple of pedal strokes Tom was bike lengths ahead of me and looking around. I don't know if it was his line through the corner or the fluidity of his riding but Tom (the seasoned racer) had, unbeknownst to him, given me a reminder that I have much to learn...

Tom has his own blog here:
http://theweering.blogspot.com/

As I arrived at the club house I could see quite a crowd of expectant riders, mostly kitted out in the new 'Gale jerseys. These have a really classy look about them and it is great to see so many club members supporting the club in this way. I felt I stuck out a bit as I was all decked out in my bright green Geoff Thomas kit.

I gave my name to the starter, Jim Reid (all clubs need a Jim to survive. A club member for seemingly forever, he is always helping out us younger riders and events such as the prologue would not be possible without him) and was given number 13 on the start list (unlucky for some but actually my lucky number and my shirt number during my hockey days. An omen...?)

Riding a time trial is a difficult business. It obviously requires extremes of physical effort but it is also quite a mentally challenging act. Maintaining concentration is difficult, particularly when your body is so focused on other things. Also in the mix is the need to maintain the correct levels of effort. This is surprisingly challenging. One of my worries prior to the prologue ride was whether I would be able to control my effort to cover the whole course (the last time I rode the event I went off too fast at the start and blew up half way round). Some riders use power meters or heart rate monitors to control their efforts. I chose to go with good old fashioned "feel" (the battery was flat in my HRM!). Would I be able to go hard enough but without going over the "red line"? I knew time would tell...

The course is approximately 5.5 miles in length. It is in four sections - an uphill drag to begin, followed by a fast descent, then a hard hilly section followed by the run in to the finish. I waited in line (shivering in the cold after removing all unnecessary clothing) and soon it was my turn to start. The starter gave a short countdown and then I was off...

Riders are set off at minute intervals. It is always good if you can see the rider in front as this lends some incentive to the chase. As I went up the initial drag I could see my minute man off in the distance. I could even convince myself I was catching him. Once I reached the roundabout and began to descend the second section, he was nowhere in sight. I couldn't believe the irony. A heavy weight rider like me was actually losing ground on the descents! I pressed on regardless.

Next came another turn and the technical, hilly section. This is where I had come a cropper the last time. I had an idea in my mind of when I would know I was going hard enough. It sounds daft now in retrospect but I thought I would know when I had reached maximal effort when I got that rasping, metallic taste in the back of my throat. That is a sensation I know well from years of interval (running) training with hockey and always a sure fire sign you are reaching your limit. I was well and truly getting this taste for it all by now...

I managed to maintain my form through the hills and wasn't scrambling for gears too badly. I rode the whole course in the large chain ring. Then, as I rounded the bend, I could see my minute man again, who was turning for home. I vowed to chase on. A clear road at the final turn and I was onto the finishing straights. It is funny how these short roads that I had studied on the map so many times now seemed so long. They only looked like inches on the map? I didn't know how far to the finish but I kept grinding away. I looked down and realised I was in my top gear - not something I use very often! I felt sure at this point I was going to make the catch. Visions of Armstrong and Ullrich a la Tour de France flashed through my mind. I pressed on but then, there it was, I could see the finish. It was getting closer. I was still a few yards behind. Press on. More power captain. But alas, the race was over...

I didn't catch my minute man but I rode pretty respectably (for me that is. I was nowhere near the top riders but I felt pretty good and rode pretty consistently all the way round). I had no idea of my time. I had set my computer to show me distance rather than time, so that I would know how far to go. It felt as though one of my lungs had decided to take up residence in my throat. It took a while for my breathing to calm down. I was happy. Knackered but happy. Content with my performance.

I think in the end I finished about half way down the 30 man field. I rode the 5 miles plus in 15.08 minutes, so about 20mph average speed. The winning time was an extraordinary 11 minutes something. Again a reminder that I am many things but no bike racer...

The finished riders all had a cuppa and something to eat and then it was time to ride home for me. One of the most pleasing parts of the evening for me was the rides to and from the club. All in all I covered about 26 miles and I felt pretty damn comfortable through it all. I am feeling really happy on the bike just now. My position is comfortable and familiar and my "souplesse" is improving. I made it home just in time to see Sir Alan firing the American bird and have a chat with a fellow Etape Caledonian rider who I met in the street whilst putting out the wheelie bin! (Good luck Rod).

All in all a great night. Back in the saddle again. Roll on next Wednesday...

Cheers,

Col.