onionbagblog
Le Grand Depart, 08
Chapeau!
The first morning at the track comes a very close second to the first day of the Lovely Lido season in terms of putting a huge smile on my face. Like all good Maillot Jaunes, I prepared the night before with a thorough work out of the old girl. I also serviced The Bastard. Boom boom.
The pressure in my tyres was about as limp as I was after the thorough work out. Deprived of air for five months and in desperate need of having some life pumped back into them, all for the love of the velodrome.
I took a detour on the way to SE24 via an old familiar face over in SE17. Bob, of Bob's Bicycles, remains the preferred onionbagblog bike mechanic of choice. Plus he's got one of those rather powerful pumps that can fill your track tyres with 160 PSI quicker than it takes me to get kitted out in silly lycra.
All pumped up, I peddled through Camberwell, along Coldharbour Lane and Railton Road until I was within range of the track. All the old familiar faces were there, along with some new recruits to the punishing Saturday morning track training schedule.
Track cycling is an incredibly isolated and individual pursuit. It brings out the obsessive in you. You panic and double panic ahead of clipping yourself into the pedals:
Have I taken on board enough fluid? Do I need a toilet stop? Am I cleated in correctly?
All these minor details form a mental checklist in your mind as you battle against yourself for the following hour and a half, trying to avoid the dreaded bike bonk.
A quick warm-up and I was back in the saddle after a six-month sabbatical, joining up with the rest of the fifty strong pelaton as we circled the track, wheel-to-wheel.
The joy of the velo is the escapism. For two hours each week, your focus is on the sprint, and the sprint only. If you allow other thoughts to enter your mind then you'll lose the pace and be out of the pelaton. Once you're off the main tail, there's no chance of returning. You're left stranded on the banks, all bonked out and with your brain working overtime as to how you managed to mess it up. Keep it simple; keep with the pace and concentrate on the pedals.
'Fill the gaps! Fill the gaps!' Came the orders from the track coaches.
I filled my lungs and somehow managed to keep up with the pace as we raised the speed going into a track rotation system. We weren't officially racing until five laps to go, but positioning is all-important.
I managed to propel myself to exactly where I wanted to be, within the top ten group of riders at the front, shielding from the South London wind and with plenty of space to make my move.
I hit the front on the five-lap mark and dug deep. Nowhere to hide now. I knew it would take me a couple of months to reach my maximum track fitness, but I was quietly confident that I had managed to get this far during my first session back.
The inevitable stampede from behind kicked in with a couple of laps to go. I drifted, but I least I didn't bonk. I caught the tail of a mid-pack pace of riders and became involved in a private race for the line. I took the bell at the back of the mini-pack, and then surprised myself as I found some extra adrenalin on the final bend.
I sprinted across the line ahead of the other riders, punched the air and then felt very sick. Time to take on some water.
The new cricket season is just around the corner, and soon the Lovely Lido will be opening up for five months of glorious outdoor swimming. The onionbagblog South London Summer starts here.
Chapeau!
technorati: herne hill velodrome
| Sunday 13 April, 2008 |
Chapeau!
The first morning at the track comes a very close second to the first day of the Lovely Lido season in terms of putting a huge smile on my face. Like all good Maillot Jaunes, I prepared the night before with a thorough work out of the old girl. I also serviced The Bastard. Boom boom.
The pressure in my tyres was about as limp as I was after the thorough work out. Deprived of air for five months and in desperate need of having some life pumped back into them, all for the love of the velodrome.
I took a detour on the way to SE24 via an old familiar face over in SE17. Bob, of Bob's Bicycles, remains the preferred onionbagblog bike mechanic of choice. Plus he's got one of those rather powerful pumps that can fill your track tyres with 160 PSI quicker than it takes me to get kitted out in silly lycra.
All pumped up, I peddled through Camberwell, along Coldharbour Lane and Railton Road until I was within range of the track. All the old familiar faces were there, along with some new recruits to the punishing Saturday morning track training schedule.
Track cycling is an incredibly isolated and individual pursuit. It brings out the obsessive in you. You panic and double panic ahead of clipping yourself into the pedals:
Have I taken on board enough fluid? Do I need a toilet stop? Am I cleated in correctly?
All these minor details form a mental checklist in your mind as you battle against yourself for the following hour and a half, trying to avoid the dreaded bike bonk.
A quick warm-up and I was back in the saddle after a six-month sabbatical, joining up with the rest of the fifty strong pelaton as we circled the track, wheel-to-wheel.
The joy of the velo is the escapism. For two hours each week, your focus is on the sprint, and the sprint only. If you allow other thoughts to enter your mind then you'll lose the pace and be out of the pelaton. Once you're off the main tail, there's no chance of returning. You're left stranded on the banks, all bonked out and with your brain working overtime as to how you managed to mess it up. Keep it simple; keep with the pace and concentrate on the pedals.
'Fill the gaps! Fill the gaps!' Came the orders from the track coaches.
I filled my lungs and somehow managed to keep up with the pace as we raised the speed going into a track rotation system. We weren't officially racing until five laps to go, but positioning is all-important.
I managed to propel myself to exactly where I wanted to be, within the top ten group of riders at the front, shielding from the South London wind and with plenty of space to make my move.
I hit the front on the five-lap mark and dug deep. Nowhere to hide now. I knew it would take me a couple of months to reach my maximum track fitness, but I was quietly confident that I had managed to get this far during my first session back.
The inevitable stampede from behind kicked in with a couple of laps to go. I drifted, but I least I didn't bonk. I caught the tail of a mid-pack pace of riders and became involved in a private race for the line. I took the bell at the back of the mini-pack, and then surprised myself as I found some extra adrenalin on the final bend.
I sprinted across the line ahead of the other riders, punched the air and then felt very sick. Time to take on some water.
The new cricket season is just around the corner, and soon the Lovely Lido will be opening up for five months of glorious outdoor swimming. The onionbagblog South London Summer starts here.
Chapeau!
technorati: herne hill velodrome
| #permalink |
