Spring Classics Week - Paris-Roubaix

Riding the Course
At the other end of the week that began with the Tour of Flanders, I wanted to watch the Paris-Roubaix race and ride some of the course to experience some of the rough cobbled farm tracks that give the race known as the Hell of the North its unique character. Early Saturday morning I drove through freezing rain and fog to Dover to catch the Eurotunnel, prepared for a wet, cold, muddy, miserable - and hence appropriately challenging - ride in northern France. But when I rolled off the train in Calais I was greeted by a beautiful, sunny, windless morning, perfect for cycling. Driving down an empty motorway I was in the town of Cambrai in no time. Sunny 20C- Spring has really arrived in France. God it was good to be back in France. I met up with Charles, an American student in Germany also keen to ride the course, and we cycled out of town towards the first sections of cobbles in the race. Once on the course there was no getting lost as they had put up arrows and banners over the start and end of each cobbled section in preparation for the race the next day.

The first section of pavé we tackled was sector 25 from Quievy - St-Python. The cobbles were noticeably bigger than those in Flanders, and the only way to avoid vibrating to a halt was to push really hard in a big gear and stick to the middle of the 'road'. The bits at the side look smoother, but that's deceptive. This section was 3700m long, and riding at close to my limit for several minutes was absolutely knackering. I read in Cycle Sport that the pros put out 550 watts on the cobbles - equivalent to riding a 4-30 4000m pursuit - and they have to do this 27 times in one race! Getting back on a tarmac road after this was bliss - it felt so fast! The next sector involved a slight downhill, and the vibration was even worse, my eyes couldn't focus and everything was a blur. Had there been a large pothole I wouldnt have seen it. Charles lost a water bottle but we didn't want to go back and endure extra pain looking for it. One section came after a little climb so our legs were already a bit tired. Without the strength to power over the cobbles it was very uncomfortable. We made pretty good progress through sectors 25 - 19 (counting down towards the finish) and stopped for water in a bar-tabac in Denain, and a bit of banter with the proprietor who was interested in our exploits and the race. He could speak English but "with Americans I speak only French" he joked. A cold beer there was very tempting - it was so warm we got very thirsty - but we decided to press on towards the worst bit of all, the Forest of Arenberg.

Now I thought I was starting to get the hang of the pavé by now, but nothing prepares you for Arenberg. The cobblestones are a lot bigger and the track is thus a lot rougher than the other sections. Attempting to ride it on a road bike with thin tyres and no suspension is the height of lunacy. But we had to do it. Charles got up a good speed and powered ahead, but I never got up enough speed and really struggled. It was quite amazing our bikes stood up to all that abuse without complaint, except that my saddlepack vibrated itself loose, but having stuffed it into my jersey pocket I carried on. There were lots of cyclists in the forest, mainly mountain bikers, some on the smooth track the other side of the crowd barriers that force the racers to ride on the rough stuff, many at the end spectating, but not many actually riding the cobbles on road bikes with us. But there was one rider giving it some, who I had to overtake. I had to go around him on the extra rough stuff, and the effort tired me so much he overtook me back, we had a bit of a contest, and I managed to just beat him to the end.

We did one more sector after that to Warlaing. Having completed 75km and 10 sectors of the course we had had enough, and cycled the 30km or so back to Cambrai where we enjoyed a cold beer and a big meal. We stayed in a delighful chateau outside St-Quentin.

Watching the Race
On Sunday morning we drove into St-Quentin and watched race pass by. A group of about 10 had got a 2 minute lead on the peloton, but this was too early in the race to be significant. Next we drove north to Quievy and the first sector we had ridden the previous day. Despite having taken the motorway we only just got there before the cyclists. There were big crowds where the riders had to make a sharp turn, and here we had a great view. The break from earlier still had a lead of 3 minutes, but with 150km still to ride, that wasn't much. Next we followed a Rabobank team car up the motorway to the Forest of Arenberg where there were huge crowds, a bar and BBQ and even a VIP suite overlooking the course. By now the race had completely changed- the break had been caught, there were crashes in the forest and the real contenders were coming to the fore. We hopped back in the car and a short way along the motorway the race criss-crossed the motorway. Traffic on the motorway slowed to a crawl as many cars had parked up on the hard shoulder. We joined them and were lucky enough to see the race once again. Then we headed to Carrefour de l'arbre, one of the final sectors of pavé where the race is often decided. And so it was - there were crashes galore in the tight bends just before where we were, which took Hushovd, Flecha and Hoste out of contention, leaving Boonen to power his way past us to victory in Roubaix. This is a really great race to watch as the winding course and the slowing effect of the cobbles makes it possible to catch it at many points, enabling us to see the race unfold.


Photos on Flickr

Spring Classics Week - Ronde van Vlaanderen

I've had a bit of a break from cyclosportives for the last few months, as I caught the end of the road race season and then had a go at cyclocross (great fun!) over the winter. Now Spring is here I'll be doing some cyclosportives to get the miles in.

Sportive - Sat 4th April
Last year's Tour of Flanders sportive was such great fun I had to do it again this year. I hadn't ridden a ride of more than 100km until last weekend so I decided not to do the stupidly long 260+km version again this year, settling for the 140km option which includes all the climbs that the pro race does. This year we were blessed with atypically good weather: dry, overcast, little wind, unlike last year's sleet and rain. I found it more enjoyable than last year - arriving at the climbs fresh after just a 30km warm-up was a pleasant change. I actually found the cobbles quite a bit easier this year, possibly from being a bit stronger and knowing what to expect, but certainly a carbon frame and 28mm tyres absorbed the shocks better this time. Ed, Christian and I started very late at 11:15 as we had a bit of drama in getting to the start. Christian and I managed to crash into each other in amazement that cars on the dual carriageway actually stopped to let cyclists cross! Luckily we weren't far from a bike shop for some necessary emergency repairs. There were still a few riders setting off that late, but without crowds to follow we did get lost (twice) after about 1km in Ninove and ended up on the MTB course. Thankfully we got back on track before ending up in a field. At that late time it wasn't terribly crowded on the climbs and I reckon I would have got up the Koppenberg in one go if someone hadn't fallen off right in front of me. Isn't that always the way? It was great to have some company this time round, and I struggled to keep up with Ed and Christian on the climbs and flat cobbled sections. Ed eventually faded, paying the price for setting a blistering price for the first hour, and Christian seemed to get stronger as I got weaker: I had to work hard on the flat and descents to catch him after every climb. By around 100km I was feeling very tired and getting cramp on the climbs: when I stopped on the Koppenberg I couldnt bend my left leg to walk, and had to limp with a dead straight left leg! My lack of winter base miles was evident, but this was all great training. After the 2nd feed stop I recovered and felt a lot stronger. The feed stations were well stocked, but I think not drinking enough caused my cramp. In the run in to Ninove with the hills out of the way, the pace picked up as many riders wanted to finish in a good time, but although the event was very well marshalled we did have to stop for traffic clearance and to single file into a cycle lane a couple of times.

Saturday evening we stayed in Aalst, a pleasant and surprisingly lively little city near the start/finish in Ninove, and got to sample some of the local beers.

Pro Race - 5th April
Next day after a leisurely breakfast we set off to watch the pro race. We made things slightly hard for ourselves by not having a map, petrol, or even a means of paying for petrol. Driving around Aalst burning our last few drops of petrol in search of a pump that would accept our credit cards, we nearly didn't get to the race at all, but having eventually found an Esso we drove west in the general direction of Oudenaarde. We resorted to google maps - sparingly, not just because of the extortionate data roaming charges but also because the phone battery was about to die! We had a vague plan to watch the race at Oude Kwaremont where we watched it last year, then head to Gerardsbergen for the finish. Outside Oudenaarde we took a shortcut cross country and found ourselves on the course at Eikenberg. It was a bit early so we pressed on in the direction (we hoped) of Oude Kwaremont, but very soon passed Koppenberg and decided to watch there. We parked up behind the Quick Step and Columbia team cars on the dual carriageway and strolled up the Koppenberg in - unbelievably - warm sunshine. There were lots of people atop the Koppenberg but not huge crowds. The police had limited the numbers and fenced off sections and weren't allowing us to descend to the steep cobbled bit, so we watched from the very top where the cobbles gave way to tarmac. Looking across the fields about a mile away I could just make out through the heat haze a group of 4 riders about 20s ahead of the peloton. At the top of Koppenberg Boonen led the chase with Pozzato glued to his wheel, followed by Devolder who would go on to win. Further back there were some really quite tired looking riders.
Next we drove to Gerardsbergen, took the last parking space, and positioned ourselves on the railway bridge coming into town before the ascent of Kapelmuur. It is quite remarkable that in the time it took us to walk to our car, drive fast to Gerardsbergen and wait only 20 minutes, the riders covered 56km and 9 climbs. By this point the race had taken a different shape - a lead group of Devolder, Chavanel, Quinziato and Van Hecke had a substantial lead, enough for Devolder to win. We watched the rest of the race in a bar where the atmosphere was fantastic.

Quebrantahuesos, Spain - 21st June

My next continental sportive of the season is Spain's Quebrantahuesos in the Pyrenees. I registered for this when I didn't get a place in the Maratona dles Dolomites draw, but having since acquired a Maratona place from the nice people at Cycling Weekly, Quebrantahuesos should form the perfect training for the Maratona the following weekend, as well as being a lot of fun and a substantial challenge in its own right.

Quebrantahuesos was, unsually, on a Saturday, allowing the rest of the weekend to chill out in both Spain and France. This trip was a first in several ways - first time cycling in Spain, a new mountain range to me, and the first trip I'd taken my (non-cycling) girlfriend on: she was keen to watch but I was hoping she wouldn't get bored as there wasn't really much to watch - after we'd disappeared over the mountain to France I wouldn't reappear until early afternoon. We flew out with Ryanair to Pau very early Friday morning, picked up a hire car and leisurely drove over the Pyrenees to Spain, checking out the route in the sunshine. We drove up the 28km gentle climb to Col du Pourtalet - a beautiful drive, the road snakes up between cliffs and tunnels and a river, passing thermal baths (a bit too hot for that), before opening out onto sheep pastures a few kilometres before the summit on the France-Spain border.

With stunning views over Spain, we descended past a couple of bright blue reservoirs to Sabiñànigo where I picked up my race number (and generous goodie bag - nice jersey, even a free book in Spanish) before heading West 15km to our hotel in Jaca, a pleasant small town with a castle and remains of a Roman fort, filled to the brim on Friday with cyclists. It is evidently a much nicer place to stay than Sabiñànigo which would be nothing without the car repair industry. I have never felt as unprepared for a big sportive as then - I was absolutely shattered from only 3 hours sleep to catch the early flight, and had picked up a bit of a cold or something in the week, with painful tonsils and generally feeling crap.

Well, after a good night's sleep I awoke on a beautiful Saturday morning feeling much better and looking forward to the ride. I drove to a few kms outside Sabiñànigo as I thought parking would be a problem, but it turned out it would have been easy to park much closer on the road with everyone else. I was starting near the back of the 9,000 field as I valued a good sleep over an early start. The participants were overwhelmingly Spanish, there being few Britons in evidence but I did spot a rider in Edwardes bike shop kit right by me at the start, who turned out to be Giles from my club. Small world.

The 1st 40km was very fast along the flat to Jaca and then North up the valley towards Somport. The climb starts very gently and you imperceptibly gain height until it gets steeper with a couple of hairpins in the last couple of kms. I got into a good climbing rhythm and overtook maybe a thousand riders - advantage of starting far back - and didn't get overtaken at all. It was a great feeling to have ascended the Pyrenees so comfortably and I was feeling good about what lay ahead. Pourtalet was the other big mountain to cross back from France into Spain, and the smaller Col de Marie Blanque in France surely wasn't going to present any problems. The descent from Somport was very fast and gave us a good long rest - some 30km of downhill.






By the time we reached the foot of Col de Marie Blanque it had heated up quite a lot - 34C in the shade, except there wasn't any shade on the first half of the climb. It's a narrow lane between trees and beside a river, but the sun was beating down with no respite. At 84kg and 6'2" my high body-mass to surface area ratio means I am prone to overheating compared to leaner climbers, as I did on Passo Giao in last year's Maratona. I was making sure to drink plenty of water and cool my head down by pouring water on it, but I was still getting mighty hot. I had dismissed Marie Blanque as a lesser climb but this for me was the hardest part of the ride - not only because of the heat but because of its steepness.


Helpful signs every kilometre let the cyclist know the distance and elevation to the summit and also the average gradient over the next km. There was a km averaging 12% and one 14%, with stretches in excess of that. I was doubting I would need my compact chainset for this ride, but by God did I need it for this. Fortunately about half way up, a cold mountain stream came crashing down into a stone basin that riders were filling their bidons from. I plunged my head into it and soaked myself completely - without that I would have really suffered. The crowds near the top shouted plenty of encouragement which was great. The views from the top were stunning. There was a feed station just down from MB but I stopped only for a few seconds to take on water. Other than SIS Go bars (which I swear by) and bananas I didn't eat much. I do find I have to eat less than when I started riding sportives a year ago when I was always at risk of the bonk. But in this heat I was taking a lot of water as dehydration threatened to affect my performance without being noticeably thirsty.

After the descent there was the only flat bit in the 200km before starting the 28km ascent of Pourtalet. Its average gradient is small, but that is one long climb! I decided to pace myself and not go too hard too early, until the last few kms when I tried to go a bit harder and overtake some riders. I felt I was on the verge of cramp, and I was getting an intense pain in the outside of my feet. I tried loosening the shoe straps but moving my feet around in the shoes made it more painful. The pain actually became unbearable, worse than the pain of simply climbing hard, and I had to stop and take my shoes off for a minute. A Spanish spectator asked me if I was ok, did I need anything? Yes, new feet please, I replied to her amusement. After that brief rest I pressed on keen to make up the time, and only in the last 3km or so did my heart rate rise substantially over 160. Before that it was just too hard to go any faster. Or could I have pushed harder without blowing up or getting cramp? It's difficult to tell.


The best bit of the whole ride was cresting the Col de Pourtalet - I was amazed at the crowds of spectators cheering us on, lining the road and creating a narrow channel to ride through, just like in the Tour de France! I love the way the French spectators shout "Allez allez" and as you near Spain it turns to "Venga venga".

A great fast descent from Pourtalet, but halfway down the road to Sabiñànigo they sent us left round a reservoir and up a steep little lane to Hoz de Jaca, the last climb of the day.


The climb itself wasn't too bad at all and I rode in a group that had formed doing a decent pace, but my feet were incredibly painful. It was just as painful not pedalling as pedalling, and I didn't want to stop so I kept going. Unfortunately it made what would have been a fun fast gentle downhill to the finish a lot less pleasant, agony in fact, and I was counting down the minutes to stopping.


I finished in 7:14, an average of 28kph over the 205km and 3800m climbing, earning me a gold certificate. A great atmosphere at the finish, everyone was very friendly, and there was well organised secure bike storage to leave your vehicle while you quenched your thirst with unlimited free San Miguel and pasta. No need for tokens or money, just help yourself. Fantastic. There weren't many British people, a few Dutch, but mainly Spanish, but I don't mind chatting to people in Spanish so that was cool. I limited myself to just the one beer - what a shame - but after just that I felt a bit light-headed and had to ride back along the highway to the car. I rode with a couple of Basque riders, one of whom had done a very fast time, the other had blown up ("Did you the see fireworks and explosions on Pourtalet? That was me").

Relaxing back in Jaca, we drank beer and feasted on authentic local tapas - wonderful. The next day we took a leisurely drive back over the Pyrenees taking in the views, and spent Sunday night in a delightful B&B near Pau, which I recommend - good restaurants, before flying home on Monday morning.

Check out my other photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/99263236@N00/sets/72157606061153131/

Dragon Ride - 15th June

A sportive in mountainous South Wales made ideal preparation for the Pyrenees and Dolomites. I'll write up a report on this when I get a moment. For now, suffice to say it was great fun.

Highclere Castle

Next up: Highclere Castle, 8th June. Not particularly hilly, but not far from me (Berkshire).

There are 2 ways to ride 200km - a hard way and an easier way. HCVL was one of the hard ones. I arrived in plenty of time with the intention of setting off in one of the first fast groups. In the first group there didn't appear to be anybody very serious. The 2nd group 2min behind likewise - some army and navy blokes but no obviously fast team or anything. One other Dulwich rider in the 2nd group, which after a last-minute Eddy Mercx with the saddle height, I set off with. It soon became apparent this was going to be a s l o w group. Perhaps this is just one of those uncompetitive sportives. (Wrong - the fast chaps set off later). But at any rate my aim was to get some good training out of it. Getting a good time was secondary. So I set a good pace, shared with a couple of navy blokes, and followed by a group happy to follow. With a tailwind on the flat we were doing a brisk pace. When we got to the first short but steep hills on the Ridgeway I + navy + couple more left most of our group behind.

33kph for the 1st 2 hours at the 1st feed station - yeah that was pretty quick and nobody had caught us. However by 70km I was in trouble. The legs just died and I realised i had done too much too soon. The little hills became painful. I had written the climbs on the top tube but it was meaningless - they werent climbs as such, you couldnt tell when they started or finished so I couldnt get into a climbing rhythm. It was all rolling stuff that wore you down gradually without any sense of progress or achievement you get when cresting an alpine col or Lake District pass.

One fast group caught me, and I tried to hang on for a couple of kms before losing them. The legs couldnt take any more. It was really hot. I made sure to leave the feeds with full bottles (but should have drank more while at the stations - didn't piss all day) but even so, the heat does seem to sap my strength. Except for Fred Whitton, my best rides have been in cold and rain (NoveColli, Polka Dot), when I think most people get cold and demoralised, but I get on with it. I've really suffered on hot ones (PIP, Maratona). Another group caught me - strong Norwood and Addiscombe chaps - and I stayed with them for a bit longer before getting dropped. It was pleasing to see others dropped from that group who i caught up with over the next hour or so. And that group didnt get much ahead of me as I caught up with them at the last feed. Another group passed me as I was getting water, and I lost a small group when I stopped at a junction and checked my rear quick release was still tight (it was, just at a funny angle) but I caught them after several kms of too-hard solo effort.

The last 50kms I did in a coalescing group of 15 or so, in which I spent no time at the front. Deserved I felt, given my earlier efforts and how much I had suffered. I certainly felt stronger after the last feed, and with 50 to go the end felt in sight. Hell, I even dropped some of our group on the last climb into Highclere.

It wasn't just the legs, my whole body hurt. As after the potholed roads of Polka Dot, my lower back felt sore. My new Mavic wheels are certainly stiff and I felt every bump. I think my sloppy low spoke tension Bonts absorbed more shocks than the mavics. Probably more relevant than frame material / geometry that the journalists always bang on about.

So I thought I hadn't been overtaken by more than 50 or so riders. And so I hadn't - 41st place, 6:54, average over 206km of 29.9kph - got me a gold certificate which I feel I earned the hard way.

Looking fwd to Dragon Ride on Sunday :)

Polka Dot - Peak District 1st June

The next hilliest sportive I could find to ride as Maratona training was the Polka Dot in the Peak District. The conditions - bitterly cold 10C early in the morning, with constant rain - made the first part tougher than it might have been, and I did have the odd moment when soaked through thinking what on earth am I doing. The hills were really challenging, not many places like it in England (Lake District being one of them). The scenery would have been really impressive with a bit of sunshine. Oh and some of the roads up there are in such a poor state I thought I was in Surrey.

Nove Colli

Next continental sportive was the Nove Colli in Italy. That's 9 hills, and 200km, starting and finishing in Cesenatico on the East coast. It was a wonderfully fun event, with some 13,000 competitors. Starting in the last group meant overcrowding on the 1st hill, but once it had thinned out I was able to put in a decent ride. It was pretty challenging but really did wonders for the fitness.