Day-Night Thriller, Done and Dusted

Of all the events I've lined up for the rest of 2011, strangely the one I was most looking forward to was the Taupo Day-NIght Thriller. Last time I did it was with Joel Healy and Tijs Robinson as team JABOR (Just a bunch of roadies), and we took out the men's 2/3 team division after a ding-dong battle with a local team lead by Damien Steel-Baker. With fond memories of that race, it seemed like a perfect event to launch Megan and I as a team, and to kick-start our Cape Epic campaign.

As September drew nearer, various pieces in our exciting puzzle started to fall into place. Kashi Leuchs and Yeti NZ not only came onboard as a major sponsor for the Cape Epic, but also was happy to enter us as Team Yeti for the DNT. While symbolically it would have been nice for Megan and I do did it as a pair, my memories of riding with Simon as a duo at Wainui were not so good - there would be no real team-bonding opportunities for Megan and I if we'd only see each other at transitions. So, with Kashi's support, we enlisted local Yeti and all-round lovely guy, Alex Revell, to be our third rider - or more accurately our first rider!

A week and a half out, everything was looking fantastic - my form had been good at a couple of local road races and a cyclocross race, and I'd managed to slip in a bit of mountain biking too. Alex had been crook, but was quickly coming right, and Megan had done a bunch of MTB races with great results (well, apart from the one where she took a massive short-cut!).   Megan and I had also had more fantastic news on the sponsorship front, with Mitre 10 MEGA coming on board as a headline sponsor for the Cape Epic.

To keep life from being overly predictable, disaster struck.  I was just meant to be a sifty ride with a crew I head out with every week or two. This particular Thursday ride took us up Mt Vic. Jeremy had just recovered from a broken shoulder blade, and he, Rich and I were discussing the relative merits of breaks, dislocations and tears as we climbed to the top of the Super D course. I followed the other two down, but as I rolled onto the ramp near the top, I saw to my horror a rather large rock sitting in the middle of the track just beyond the ramp. I had no opportunity to stop, nor change line, and in my vain attempt to get around it, things went to custard and I flew off my bike and down the bank below the track.

I landed heavily, on my right forearm I think, and immediately knew I'd popped my shoulder. The good news was that it wasn't my left - dislocation number 4 for that one will see me straight into surgery. The bad news was obvious. I tried to relocate it myself using the strategy that works on the left.That didn't work at all, and eventually I gave up. I retrieved my bike and walked up to where I knew the others would be waiting, knowing that soon the muscles around the joint would start to tense, and that I'd soon be in dire straits.

The wait for the ambulance seemed eternal, and Rich and Jer, joined by Ranger Steve and Rod did their very best to keep me comfortable and suitably distracted. They were champions, but really were up against the growing pain and waves of nausea. About 4 hours later, Steve and I were sitting in my lounge, where I suspect he was waiting for the morphine to wear off sufficiently that he could confidently leave me alone. I hope never to have to repay the awesome company and care he gave me that afternoon, but would at the drop of a hat. He's been a hero of mine for a long time anyway, and come to think of it would have made an awesome substitute on the DNT team...

I was hoping the violence with which the shoulder relocated was a good sign, but on Monday I couldn't support my weight on it on a spin bike, almost toppling off at one point. I spoke with Alex and Megan, and they seemed keen enough to proceed with me in a management role. By Thursday though, it was feeling very stable, and I rode to work and home again. On Friday, I was still sitting on the fence, and when I dropped my car off at Alex's, my riding gear was in the car, just in case.

It almost became academic at the bottom of Grafton Road.  As I made the left turn just past the shops, I was confronted with a car, stock still in the middle of the lane to let an oncoming bus through a gap that wouldn't have taken both of them.  Not only did I manage not to steam into the back of the car, but found a wee triangle of life between the car and the moving bus, my injured shoulder mere inches from the colossus.  Surely survival was a good omen!  Besides that bit of providence, it was ace not to be back in hospital, or thinking about how on earth I'd replace my gorgeous race bike...

Alex and I drove together to Palmerston North, where we transferred all our gear into Megan's car before continuing the journey north.  We just made registration before they knocked off, and then had an awesome meal at a Thai restaurant on the main drag - I was suspicious I'd fallen asleep at the table the food came so quickly!  Apart from the unbelievably rude patrons mocking the uber-long surname of the manager, the experience was entirely delightful.

I'd grabbed the Yeti tent from Wellington rep Zeph Wadsworth, and when we arrived at our site in the morning, we got busy putting it up.  The amount of dust already floating around was a worry.  We got some team photos done before we were coated with the stuff, and besides, the only times we'd be all together over the next 12 hours would be at transitions, and then it would be all hands on deck!

Team Yeti, ready to rock and roll!

Alex was locked and loaded for the first two laps, and had disappeared before Megan and I headed down to watch the start.  I couldn't make him out in the mass of riders, but was certain he'd be there.  The field did a short loop of Spa Park before hurtling down past us to join the course proper!

Alex, squinting in the dust the photo doesn't do justice

Alex was near the front, and he, along with everyone else, looked to be struggling to see through the insane dust being thrown up by the riders in front.  He was clearly at the sharp end of the race when finished his first double lap, sending Megan off into the dust already a lap up on some teams.  I quizzed him about the course, and it sounded pretty benign.  When Megan arrived back, Alex was transferring the timing chip onto my ankle, not the other way around as she'd expected.  Call me an idiot, but I wanted in on this action!

I'd love to say I took it easy for a bit, but if so, it was only a few minutes, as "passing on your right... thanks" became the order of the day.  I was nervous, but felt in incredibly good nick, and my excitement almost completely overwhelmed any concern I had about my shoulder.  There was one hard/easy option on the course, and after checking out the "hard" line, decided that the second or two the easy line would cost were far outweighed by the consequences of crashing at speed.  There was one other short bit of track I was wary of - a gentle right-hander which was cutting out on the prime passing line...  As the day wore on, the blown out bit of track would widen each lap, and I was careful not to make any dumb moves through there.

And so it was that Team Yeti settled into our work.  We rode double laps, knocking out almost six laps every two hours, whereupon Alex, followed by Megan, then I would start again.

Alex, smashing it on his Big Top!

Megan, smashing it on her ASR 5!

And, me, smashing it on my ASR 5 Carbon!

It is usually after a few hours of these things that I can barely contemplate keeping going for 12 hours.  But, the team vibe was lovely.  Alex was knocking out his two laps in under 38 minutes, I was about a minute and a half slower, and poor Megan a few minutes slower again.  She pointed out she was not only riding the longest, but also getting the least rest.  I pointed out she was waiting least, and enjoying being out on the bike most, but in the end it was all semantics.

The double laps helped make sure we had time to eat, drink, and even be merry. Nonetheless, there was always someone on hand to write down the first lap time, and we didn't miss a transition.

It was good to see some familiar faces.  My good buddy from single-speed Nats, stealth mode, was doing a six-hour solo, and while I never saw him on course, he stopped by for a brief chin wag.  So too did Sepp - Wellington's loss has been Rotorua's gain.  Charlotte, one of the few hard-women from the inaugural Kiwi Brevet was doing the duo with her hubby, and Shane and Jude were in action, as pit-crew and 12-hour-solo rider extraordinaire...

Hey Jude, don't be afraid...

For our third doubles, Alex and I made the executive decision to grab a swift wardrobe change.  I was loving rocking the Yeti kit - black is very slimming after all - but it was a glorious as ever to pull on my beloved Roadworks jersey (well, one of my five!). I felt a bit bad I hadn't told Oli I was riding, but thought it best to save him worry!

Steeling myself for the worst bit of the course - I swear it got steeper!

Such a photogenic man!

True to expectations, it was marvellous to have Alex riding with Megan and I.  Not only was he the consummate team-mate, ripping around the course like he owned it, but it gave Megan and I a chance to hang out for a bit.  Not only do we live in different cities, but we only met back at the Tawhio in February.  So, heaps to learn, and it was great to further that process.

Megan and I, waving the flags of our two major Cape Epic sponsors

As the day wore on, it was clear we were doing well.  With each update of the results, we were extending our lead over the next mixed 3-person team.  We were also having a ding-dong battle with the leading 2 or 3 teams of three blokes.  That competition was going to go down to the wire.

At just after 6pm, Alex set out with lights on, and we switched to single laps.  I for one really struggled at night, though fewer teams on course meant lap times didn't drop that much (the 6-hour teams finished at 4pm).  The dust was catching a lot of light, and flinging it back into my eyes.  So too were the copious quantities of highly reflective trim folk were rocking on their riding attire.

A couple of hours to go, we did the math, and reckoned we were looking at 34 laps with around 15 minutes to spare.  There wasn't much we could do to squeeze another lap in - both Alex and I were riding over 20 minutes by this stage, so we stuck to our Alex-Megan-John pattern.  Alex had a blinder on his final and 12th lap, having enjoyed riding on Singlespeed Champ, Mikey Northcott's wheel for a decent chunk of the lap.  Luckily for him though, it wasn't enough to force him out again, and we knocked off with the predicted 34 laps. 

The time before prize-giving was well employed pulling down the tent and loading bikes and shoving everything else back into Megan's car.  Prize-giving itself was an efficient affair, and Team Yeti stood atop the dias momentarily, collecting gold medals for the mixed 2-3-person event.  A couple of days later, we'd learn we were 13th overall, beaten by only one other 3-person team - not a bad effort, if I do say so myself!

Team Yeti!

We drove back to Palmerston North that night.  Megan was the only one who could drive, on account the amount of stuff loaded against the back of the driver's seat!  While she had a power nap in Taihape, I supped coffee and read the paper at the servo!

We had a respectably slow start on Sunday morning, and shared brunch together before Alex and I coughed and spluttered our way back to Wellington - our bodies had already begun the process of expelling the massive quantities of dust we'd inhaled the day before. 

I could really have done without the craziness the shoulder injury caused, and while relieved that I didn't have to man up to the "I told you so" from all points in the compass, my overwhelming sense of the weekend was delight.  Megan and Alex had been awesome team-mates, not that I ever had any doubt of that.  I hope they'd enjoyed hanging with each other as much as I had with each of them.  The win was immensely satisfying for both Megan and I, and a small hint that we weren't the only ones who loved every bit of it was appended to an email from Alex today...

"When's the next relay?"


I recommend you check out Megan's awesome account:   here.  Alex's to come!

Mixing it up and sharing the love

I recently got an invitation to join my friends The Kennett Brothers and others on the launch of the National Cycleway - a two day ride through the Forgotten World Highway from Taumarunui to New Plymouth.  I chose not to join them, and instead would be spending Sunday in Wellington with my beautiful daughter Kaitlyn.

Cycling is a tricky sport as a father.  Ever since Kaitlyn grew out of her trailer bike, it hasn't been possible for us to race together.  While we occasionally get out for a ride where Kaitlyn's on her trusty Montana Judy, most of my riding is done away from her.  For the last few years, Kaitlyn has tended to spend Saturday with her Mum, so this has typically been a free-for-all as far as riding's concerned.  I've tended to try to concentrate any quality riding into that day, so that when we spend Sunday together, I'll have had a good ride under my belt.

This weekend, I fronted to the third of PNP's Balfour Pennington handicap series on Saturday.  I lined up in "Cat 1 Break", nominally the second fastest bunch on the road.  It was my first race outing on my lovely new Colnago, and I was pretty excited about that.  The race was frustrating at times, but I had a good ride, and while I didn't hold the front of the large group which hit the bottom of the final hill together, I finished knowing I couldn't really have done much better.  I'd felt strong on the flat, but haven't been doing much climbing lately, and am perhaps not best suited to the 39x25 granny gear on the Colnago.  Best I harden up!

After the finish up near the Mount Crawford Prison and a bit of sifting, I rolled back to the car and headed for home.  I didn't manage to catch Steve and Ash and a few other friends sessioning the top section of the Mt Vic Super D track, though had I been a little more attentive to my rear view mirror, I would have seen Steve waving at me.

We regrouped at my place an hour or so later, and headed out for a somewhat special ride (for me at least)!  I have just taken possession of my Cape Epic race rig, a stunning Yeti ASR5 Carbon, weighing in at a mere 24.25 pounds.  The wheels were built by Oli, and the bike put together by Yeti's Wellington rep, Zeph Wadsworth.  Megan's should be arriving soon, and with luck, we'll be racing a matching pair at the Day Night Thriller as Team Yeti.  Plenty more on this rig to follow!

Steve and I rode down to Makara Peak with Hamish (one of the easter bunnies) and his workmate Al, and we were met there by Ash and Leigh.  My bike was centre of attention for a while, as it had been at Friday night beers at Revolution Bicycles the night before.  I took point as we set off up Koru, and rode like a man possessed with interloper Andy King hot my heels.  We stopped to regroup at the bottom of the original steep route, panting!  The bike didn't feel unfamiliar at all, but boy did it feel fast!  The short stem and quick handling in particular were obvious, even at these early stages.

It was great to get out, and we collectively couldn't bring ourselves to stop and turn towards home.  Despite all having a few hours riding already under our belts, we continued through to the far end of Sally Alley.  Finally there we made the right turn, and were soon barrelling down Ridgeline Extension.

Before long, I was confronted with a very slippery looking boulder in the middle of the track.  Instead of going around it, or hopping over it like my more capable companions had done, I went straight over it, and was soon bringing my bike to a halt well off the side of the track. Unscathed, phew!  The learning process continued, but I was a bit more thoughtful with my navigation beyond that point.   While the others went to gather provisions I went home to light a fire, and had time to clean my steed before we whiled away the evening together at my place.

I love doing events, and while sometimes I really look forward to them for the challenges they bring, other times, I'm keen just to get along and support the event and its organisers.  I know how much work is involved putting an event on, and realise that these opportunities only exist as long as people are showing up.  Sunday had a cyclocross race on offer, and despite being #6 in a series of 8, I'd not yet made it out to one.

The CX series, organised by Mike Anderson of Bike Hutt fame, had been on my radar all winter but invariably something conspired against my participation.  The races are on Sundays, which coincides with my weekend-day with Kaitlyn.   She plays football in an all-girls team, and with the races out in Upper Hutt, mostly the conflict has been prohibitive.  Second, I was a bit nervous about the riding.  I'd done a 'cross race a couple of years ago on my commuter bike (a flat-bar roadie) with CX tyres on, but the early races had been insanely muddy, and I feared an event in similar conditions would be the straw that breaks my workhorse's back.  Plan B was my Raleigh, and I'd bought some Schwalbe Sammy Slicks to fit to the 29er wheels.  But, the singlespeed had me nervous about being stuck with a lousy gear.  In the end, gear anxiety was definitely the lesser of two evils, and I had the Raleigh on the back of the car when I collected Kaitlyn this Sunday morning.  We were soon a foursome, with my Mum and Dad joining us for the drive out to Upper Hutt.

We took the Silverstream bridge off SH2, and stopped at a wee coffee cart I'd discovered with some mates en route to a race in Whiteman's Valley.  Suitably armed, we finished the drive through the suburbs marveling at the level of church attendance.  Damn those places are busy out there!

By the time I'd signed in (as "sifter" for the first time ever!) and handed over another trivially small entry fee, there was little time for a warm up, and certainly no opportunity to check out the course.

We were told to line up at the start line, and as one of the first there, I needed to check which direction to point my bike in.  It was all academic though, as we were soon doing press-ups a short run away from where our bikes lay on the start line.

Photo: Kaitlyn Randal

With press-up efforts ranging from a dismal 0 to a whopping 10, we were soon dashing towards our bikes, mounting up and getting under way!

Photo: Craig Madsen

Mike Anderson promptly opened up a gap on half a dozen of us who were hot on his heels, and showed the way over the first of the hurdles. 

My first lap was by a country mile my worst, as I struggled to anticipate the twists and turns of the cleverly engineered course - it made full use of a pretty small venue, and put the acid on riders at various moments.  The race format was 40 minutes + 1 lap, and at lap times of just over 4 minutes, I had plenty of time to get used to it.

I was in second place by the end of lap 2, and was getting busy hunting Mike down!

I was getting slowly but surely catching Mike - on average - he'd pull away from me on the tighter section of the course, and I'd eat into his lead on the open stuff. 

The top of the course was by far my biggest struggle, and while limiting my losses was top priority, it occasionally played second-fiddle to simply staying upright.

As the laps wore on, I tried not to let my intensity drop...

Photo:  Craig Madsen

Photo:  Kaitlyn Randal

Photo: Craig Madsen

... and was finally hot on Mike's heels. 

Just when the catch was impending, disaster struck Mike, and he dropped his chain.  As I went past, I told him to take a lap - unsure whether or not, like in criterium racing, riders could fix a mechanical and then rejoin the race where they left off one lap later.  Soon, once the course had looped back on itself, I sensed Mike in hot pursuit of me -  he clearly hadn't taken me up on my offer!  A second chain problem soon after saw me out front on my own, and rather than ease off, I just kept hammering away.

As time passes, I'm slowly realising I do have a "race gear" after all.  And, as I slowly eased out of it in the last couple of laps, I became aware for the first time of my beautiful parents and daughter who'd been on course for the duration of the race. 

Ma and Katy watching the show!

I also hadn't noticed the marshall counting down each minute of the 40, so my first indication of progress was with 2 minutes left of the 40.  At the end of that lap, I got the bell.  Not before racing past a fellow competitor track-standing just before the line. Had he beaten me over it, he'd have had to do an extra lap for his trouble! I don't know how long he'd been there!

Photo: Kaitlyn Randal

The last lap was without incident, and I was soon crossing the line for what the commentator stressed was a cheeky win by a dirty burglar!  Guilty as charged, but it was either race B or spend the morning at a cafe in town.  I was bloody pleased to get out, and copping a bit of flack for it was a small price to pay!

The A grade race started soon after, with sit-ups as well as press-ups the order of the day.  Mum, Dad, Katy and I had a walk around the course while the riders knocked out their first couple of laps, and then it was into the car for the trip back to Wellington, where Katy's football team were eagerly awaiting her appearance!

All in all, it was a great weekend on the riding front:  a road race, a sifty mountain bike ride, and a balls-to-the-wall cyclocross race.  Three different bikes, and thrills all around.  Thanks to PNP Cycling Club and Bike Hutt for putting the events on - they are much appreciated!

What really capped it all off though, was being able to share the last ride with my family.  It's very cool to have them watch me doing something I love so much, when a lot of the time, all they have to go by are these words.  Yes, bike riding and racing is something I've done a fair bit of in the last while, and yes, it has often come at the expense of time with my family.  But, I'm glad they get to reap the fruits of that time - there's no doubt I'm a healthier and more chilled-out son and father than I would be without the outlet riding gives.  I'm also pleased for them to see me in the box from time to time, especially Kaitlyn.  Not bad for a kid to grow up knowing that there's some perverse joy to be found in digging deep and hurting!  Not to mention getting all dirty and covered in mud and whooping and hollering!  (Or maybe that's a lesson we adults learned from them.) 

This coming Sunday, Kaitlyn turns 11.  There's a PNP race that day, but I won't be there!