Playing the Points Game, Lessons Learnt and Todmorden

En route breakfast stop and derailleur in situ.

I wasn't going to comment on my final Yorkshire Points race of 2013 at Todmoden, due it being a rather dismal damp squib of an affair, what with a ripped off rear derailleur and all!  It ripped off at the start of the second lap and my remaining contributions to the race comprised steadily trotting around, stopping and chatting, having breathers and actually watching the race, and eventually crossing the line and declaring myself as DNF.  

However, I've just been perusing the final standings and I've realisied what an idiot I've been!

You see, this was only about 10mins before the winners crossed the line!  In retrospect I'd have been better actually walking more slowly and doing more chatting... or even popping for a coffee and a slab of heavily alcohol laced Jo Allen Tod Brownie (YUM!) before re joining the course and crossing the line as an actual finisher.

Sans derailleur!  Tanks Jo Allen for the Photo

This would amassed me ~50 points (rather than 0) - yes 50!

And would have catapulted me in the final standings from 143rd looser boy/also ran to a top 100 higher roller/mixing it with the big boys finisher of the highest calibre.  The kind of elevated socially acceptable position where I am no longer mocked, no longer pointed at and laugh at, but, instead, people nudge and whisper amongst themselves "hey, there's that John from HCtB... best watch him... he knows what he's doing when he gets his leg over a CX bike... he finished in the top 100 last year!"  That kind of thing!

So the you can go slow and gain lessons was learnt.

Gratuitous and unnecessary photo of a Sweet Centre Chickpea Curry
Breakfast - the breakfast of champions! 

Other useful lessons from the day were:  It is possible to eat a Chickpea Curry Breakfast en route to Tod and not feel wretched for the entire race, and it's best to give it 20mins before driving after eating one of Jo Allen's Tod Brownies!

So not all was lost and remember... Every day is a school day!

'The Rules', and Their Recent Application

Thanks Jo Allen for the Photo.

I really like the course at Todmorden.  It is great fun with it's famous cobbled climb and generally testing terrain.

However, when the morning of the race dawned, a race that is not only the climax of the Yorkshire Points Series, but also one, if not THE, highlight of my season, I peeped out of the curtains to be greeted with cold, wind and rain!

Now, coping almost daily with harsh outdoor working weather conditions, I have developed a morbid obsession with the weather over the years.  As this obsession has grown, so has the 'fair weather cyclist' in me and, sometimes, I just can't face another drowning! Don't get me wrong - I like mud plugging - it's just the rain falling on my head that I find a little tiresome these days.  Perhaps I'm in the wrong game?

On this occasion, the morning of Tod'cross, the temptation to sneak the curtains back, and slip back into bed was incredibly great...

Then, my mind wondered to to 'The Rules'.  Firstly:

Rule #9

// If you are out riding in bad weather, it means you are a badass. Period.

Fair-weather riding is a luxury reserved for Sunday afternoons and wide boulevards. Those who ride in foul weather – be it cold, wet, or inordinately hot – are members of a special club of riders who, on the morning of a big ride, pull back the curtain to check the weather and, upon seeing rain falling from the skies, allow a wry smile to spread across their face. This is a rider who loves the work.

And most importantly:

Rule #5

// 

Harden The Fuck Up.

So I got my act together, tried to be a hard man, loaded up, and got off.  I softened the blow of the foul weather some what with a Bradford Curry Breakfast on route... not perhaps wise, and that is going to have to go down on the 'Things I learned Today list' - ie don't have a curry before a race!

Todmorden was wet, muddy and cold... but, rather strangely perhaps, very enjoyable!  The luxury of a fair-weather ride is going to have to wait.

It’s all About the Fake Tan



Tanned Shins



After what I considered a rather poor opening Summer Cross Round One at Keighley, I rolled up at Tod - for already the second time this year - a little deflated.  By now, all the anger and frustrations from the other week had ebbed, and the promises I had made myself had gone by the by… However, I had managed to fake tan my shins.



Being an amply proportioned gentleman in a bicycle racing environment, populated by super skinny fit wheeled gazelle like creatures, who effortlessly pedal/run rapidly up hill and down dale… seemingly all day long, I usually spend most of my time riddled with paranoia! 



Tanned Shins in Action



Slow…  Unfit…  Beer belly…  Muffin top…  Too short…  Too tall…  Too hairy…  Not hairy enough??  The list goes on.  But it’s my pasty shins that cause me the most misery.  So, fake tanned up to the max I rallied myself to the line and got ready for the cobbles.

What can I say but the fake tan worked.  I was 4% better!  My contemporaries must have been dazzled to the point of apathy by my bristling freshly bronzed shins!!  I’ll never go un-fake tanned ever again.

Another day… Another lesson learned.

War of the Roses…

Photo courtesy of Neil Hendry

Photo courtesy of JoozeD

Sounds and smells akin to a scrabbling team of liniment smeared horse’s waft through the cobbled enclave, as floundering footed racers search for grip.  The essentially simple task of hooking a stud or cleat into a greasy sett, and levering oneself inch by inch up the hill, and ahead of your nearest rival, seems insurmountable at times, and an experience I will not forget in a hurry. 

I refer to the infamous ‘Chimney’ – an approximately 100m long, near vertical (it felt like it to me at least!!) cobbled climb, which was doable for the top boys and girls, but a real test to the rest.  The gruelling course threw everything it could at the riders – I say riders, but for large sectors of the very muddy loop, terms such as joggers, walkers, sloggers or draggers may be more fitting.  It’s difficult not to use the old ‘No Man’s Land’ cliché, but I find it difficult to come by words more fitting.

 

To continue the War theme further, and fully expose my very limited historical knowledge, I understand Todmorden to have had a long history of battles between flamboyantly dressed Lancastrians and Yorkshire People and, judging by the turn  out the other Sunday this, now thankfully peaceful tradition, is set to continue.

Todmorden provided a brilliant course and a brilliant day out, oh and a free Duvel to boot.  Roll on next year.

Cheers