2012 will be my first year of racing - road races and criteriums. Start at Cat 4 then move up from there. Maybe I’ll never get any higher? Maybe I’ll reach Cat 1 by 2013? I have no idea where this might take me but I’m going to train hard and ride hard and see what happens.

I didn’t really have a clue. The dream of riding at an Elite level was nothing more than a dream, but I was ready to jump into racing and give it my all. Now that we’re at the end of my first season, it’s a good time to look back and see how things went.

The beginning

It started with a whimper. After a few group rides with my new club I turned up at Castle Combe on Easter Friday for a Cat 4 only race. Crap. A big bunch and lots of nerves. I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

It only took four laps and I was out the back. Four of thirteen. A solo time trial to the end as punishment and back to the drawing board. 171 beats per minute for 57 minutes. Was I really that bad? Maybe not? Probably?

But there’s nothing wrong with failure if you learn, and learn I did.

Now it’s started

Two weeks later I turned up at Ilton for another Cat 4 only race. Two weeks of lying in bed at night, thinking. I knew exactly what I’d done wrong.

• I wasn’t confident enough to ride on a wheel
• I wasn’t confident enough to ride next to someone
• I dropped back, and then used all my energy, multiple times, riding up the side of the bunch

I’d worked on my bike handling. I’d worked on my confidence. And I just sat in, watching, resting, and avoiding the wind. Not only did I feel good, but I was having fun.

“I wonder if I can finish near the front.”

“I wonder if I can get some points.”

“Whoa, you’re near the front. Last corner. You’re in a good spot, what the hell happens now?”

“(roughly 30 seconds of nothing)”

“Huh? What the hell just happened? Did I just win a race?”

Yep, I had. I’d won. Comfortably. Bloody hell. 10 points. That’s worth a Cat 3 upgrade.

Thanks to Chris Rhymer for this photo

This was the turning point. Until this race I didn’t even know if I was a cyclist.

Onwards

I’ve always been internally competitive. I compete against myself and my own goals. If this includes competition against others, then that is collateral to everything else.

But damn it felt good to win.

I raced at Castle Combe a couple more times. First I wanted to finish with the bunch. Done. Then I wanted to finish in the top 20. Done. Then it was June and it was my birthday and I was 30 and well why not drive an hour or so down to Ilton and race around an airfield.

I’d slowly grown in confidence and felt like I vaguely knew what I was doing. I was forunate to have some great teammates who I watched constantly and learnt from. It’s all very well having fast legs, but a bike race is a complex flow of speed and effort and bodies and bikes and you need to know your place and when to move and when to wait and where to be and when to fight.

Every once in a while a man shouts: “Faster.” Probably thinks bicycle racing is about going fast.

On a cloudy and windy day in June in a Cat 3 race around Ilton someone got away on the first lap and stayed away. I tried to get across with him and failed miserably, so I waited until the end. “A sprint for 2nd then,” I said to Ben, who hadn’t realised someone was off the front. Ben jumped before the last corner and nearly stayed away, but the bunch reeled him in before the line. I followed the right wheels, hit the front at the right time and took the sprint for 2nd.

When I got my first 10 points, it felt like a fluke. Beginner’s luck perhaps. But now it felt like I was getting somewhere.

This and more by Richard Owens from the Kalas Cup Support Races

Castle Combe

As the site of my first race and first failure, what I really wanted was to win at Castle Combe.

I was getting faster and fitter and better able to ride in a bunch, and finally got a good result at the beginning of July. I still did a few things wrong, and nearly ended up on the grass in the sprint, but after staying on the tarmac I managed a much-too-late kick and came through with a 3rd place.

Photo thanks to Rich Lewton

I followed this up with a win the next week in some of the worst weather of the year. Horrible rain had most of us wondering what on earth we were doing. At the end of the first lap I tried to go off the front with teammates Mathew and Kevin - mainly just to warm up! Of course, things inevitably came back to a bunch sprint which I nailed (and can still remember every single moment of). I did everything right in this race. The win meant a lot.

After this I picked up some more points at Thruxton and Ilton, before getting back to Castle Combe on the 2nd of August for the second-to-last summer series race of the year. By this time I’d managed to get 41 British Cycling points so needed 9 more to get my 2nd Cat licence. I really wanted to do the last race of the year as a 2nd Cat, which meant I had to win.

Thanks to James Tobin for this photo and the one below

In more horrible weather, in my 11th race, and after leaving my sprint a little late, I took my 3rd win of the year.

2nd Cat

To be racing in an E12 race as a 2nd Cat in August was unbelievable and way more than I ever could have asked for. My honest goals at the beginning of the year, and especially after my first race, were to stay upright and learn as much as possible.

I made it to Castle Combe on the 9th of August and raced the E12 race. It hurt. I suffered. I didn’t score any points. But I absolutely loved it. I almost made it up the front for the bunch sprint, but although I knew where I wanted and needed to be, unlike in a Cat 3/4 race, so did everyone else!

This was my last race of the year. I only managed 12 in total - all of them circuit races, but it was an incredible introduction to racing and I am so completely hooked and obsessed it’s not funny. Now that I’m a 2nd Cat I know that next year is going to completely different. I can’t rely on bunch sprints in every race and I’ll be riding with people who are stronger and faster and way better than me. I also need to start racing on the road, pushing myself in longer races and riding for my teammates.

I can’t wait.

to the victor belong the spoils of the enemy

Peon Pro races and trains on a 2004 Specialized Allez Elite, a bike he received two and a half years ago on his company’s cycle to work scheme (via an Ebay auction). He also rides a singlespeed Langster when commuting to work and for training during the winter.

The Specialized 54cm frame is made of A1 Premium “Aluminum” and provides a stiff yet compliant ride, suited to Peon’s limited power and unknown sprint ability. An experienced cyclist may find the frame limiting, but Peon is unable to afford a new one so tells himself, at an ever increasing frequency, that he doesn’t really need a carbon frame.

The drivetrain consists of the original 9-speed Shimano 105 groupset that came with the bike, upgraded to a KMC 9-speed chain and Ultegra 12-25 cassette. The chainrings are standard 39 and 53 options, with worn teeth as you would expect from such an old bike. Peon “powers” the cranks with a set of Look Delta pedals. These came with the bike and he never got around to changing them or trying anything else.

Up front, Peon has a 110mm FSA OS-190 LX stem (seemed like a good idea at the time) and recently upgraded to some 42cm FSA Omega Compact handlebars which he loves. With his previous bars (used for almost 2.5 years) he was unable to comfortably:

• be in the drops
• change gear or brake when not on the hoods

The new bars have completely changed this, which means he can now descend slightly faster than a very slow snail. The stem is adorned with the ubiquitous Garmin Edge 500 mount.

Peon has come to the conclusion that his arse doesn’t really care what kind of saddle he uses, so he recently purchased a Fizik Arione on Ebay because it was cheap and the colour scheme matched the rest of the bike. He hasn’t raced on it or ridden it further than around the block yet, but is hopeful that it will be comfortable in the long term. If it isn’t, at least it looks good.

Concave, almost non-existent braking surfaces on the original ALX330 wheels forced an upgrade recently and Peon stretched to a pair of Ultegra RS80 C24 wheels. At 1521g these are “crazy light” compared to what he was used to. The wheels are shod with GP4000s which he happily rides everywhere and they’re stopped by Swissstop Green brake pads.

At 9kg, the bike isn’t one of the lightest bikes out there, nor is it very close to the UCI minimum weight limit, but it gets him by and Peon figures it’s probably cheaper and more worthwhile to lose a couple of kilograms from his belly than couple of grand from his bank account.

Atop this bike Peon was dropped on lap 4 of 13 in his first race and sprinted to a very unexpected victory in his second. More information and details are available in the gallery below.

I’d had two weeks to think about everything I’d done wrong last time. It all came down to one thing: wind. So today I tucked in and made sure I didn’t do any work. I think I even smiled.

My thoughts, in roughly chronological order:

“This is fun, I think I can make it to the end this time.”

“My legs feel good.”

“Wind and legs. Wind and legs. Cycling is just wind and legs.”

“And a brain. You gotta use the legs and avoid the wind.”

“Just ride. Wind and legs.”

“I wonder if I can finish near the front.”

“I wonder if I can get some points.”

“Whoa, you’re near the front. Last corner. You’re in a good spot, what the hell happens now?”

“(roughly 30 seconds of nothing)”

“Huh? What the hell just happened? Did I just win a race?”

So the story of my ten points wasn’t long or romantic or meaningful. I raced once and got dropped. I raced again and won. I have my ten points and I’m now a Cat 3. I wonder what happens next?

Yeah, you know this. I know this. I knew this.

That doesn’t stop the thoughts and the dreams of a sprint to the line and raised arms and meaningless Cat 4 glory.

But the reality is harsh when the pulse stays at max and the bunch spins away and the wind beats you back and you realise you don’t have any of the things you thought you had.

Disappointment and hatred and loathing burn bright.

A nobody with no legs and no talent and no results. But that nobody is still a hell more of a somebody than most of the people out there.

So the burning ignites the training and the miles are covered and the hills climbed and the legs get better. Next time I won’t get dropped. Ten points are a long way off, but they’re coming. They’re coming.

Bike-disturbed is as good a definition as any. Wake, look out the window, think about what kit to wear and tyre pressures and ouch the thighs still hurt from last night’s squats and hopefully I can get a hundred in and home before the wife complains.

It’s a good obsession, I think, when it not only takes over a huge part of your life, but also amplifies and improves everything else. The fitness and competitiveness and the simple joy of spending time riding make those hours at the desk sweeter, the time with family, the half day walk up a mountain with a kid on your shoulders that was never possible before.

The cold and the pain and the suffering and the sweat and the fast descents and the mud and the heart-bursting climbs and the bloody traffic and the views. Wow, the views. All of it.

A random chat in the park with a stranger. Schools and the weather while the kids play nice and the swings get pushed.

I ride bikes for a living. It’s my job.

Dammit. I want to do that too. I’m going to do that too.

At 29, with a wife and son, it’s far too late to want to cycle at an elite level. But you know what? I’m going to give it a shot.

I figure I have a five year window.

At the beginning of 2011 I weighed 89kg and could barely run 5k. I’ve come a long way in 11 months - I weigh 10kg less, I can run 5k in 22 minutes, I comfortably commute 100 miles per week on my bike, and I can cycle 70 miles at a good pace without too much of a struggle.

2012 will be my first year of racing - road races and criteriums. Start at Cat 4 then move up from there. Maybe I’ll never get any higher? Maybe I’ll reach Cat 1 by 2013? I have no idea where this might take me but I’m going to train hard and ride hard and see what happens.

If I get to 35 and haven’t made it, well so be it. But feel free to join me. It’s going to be one hell of a ride.

Why not, hey?

So where do we begin? Overweight? Working too hard? Can’t run without getting out of breath?

Yep, that’s where.

Bus trip after bus trip after bus trip. How much time have I spent standing at the stop doing nothing?

Along comes the cycle-to-work-scheme. Or at least, my boss says they’ll buy me a bike (I can do some overtime if I want to spend more than £300).

Ebay, reviews, bike shops. Specialized seem OK for a first bike. “Make sure you get at least 105’s” says my friend. What the hell is a 105 I wonder.

Research, groupsets, bids. Lose. Lose again. Regret. Should have gone £20 higher. Eventually I win. Drive to Brighton. Gorgeous blue Specialized Allez Elite. Yep, Shimano 105.

And that’s when it really starts. Pedals slowly turning. Walk up the steep hills. 9 miles to work. Give the legs a breather. Next week, we go again.

1032 km for the year. Not too bad. But then winter comes and it’s dark and I don’t want to buy lights or ride in the cold. So the bike goes away and the legs disappear.

But February hits and it’s riding time again. And there have been gym sessions every week since Christmas. Swimming and weights and running. And instead of 15 km/hr it’s 18, then 20, then 22, then 26.

And as the weight drops and the muscles grow and life just gets better, and as I stare at the driver’s when I overtake them in their clunky unmoving cars, I know what it means:

The emptiness of those lives shocks me.

It doesn’t take long. I haven’t raced yet, but I’m a racer.

I’m 29 but it doesn’t matter. I am on my bike. Riding. And I will race.