previously published on the
Braveheart site.
3PM Saturday afternoon in the foothills of the Pyrenees. The sun was blazing and Olot main street was deserted. A large banner was draped half way down – ARRIBADA, signifying where the championship finishing line was. The typical Spanish-town afternoon emptiness was disturbed by the appearance of strange-looking men with brightly coloured tops and funny walks – cyclists! A few dozen more started to appear, seemingly from nowhere, and congregated at the sign-on. My companion, David Sanchez commented on the large range of cycling clubs hailing from all over Catalonia – seemingly the Championship had attracted a good turnout, and quality with it.
We queued at the sign-on, seasoned racers pausing momentarily at the route profile - some letting out a gasp at the jagged teeth profile. Compared to Division 1 Scottish races the distance of 83km was small potatoes but the two main climbs to 1000m and 1150m certainly weren’t. 6 Euros at registration, a quick cortado in the café next door and it was off to set up the bikes and get ready for the off.
I was pretty nervous at the start but ready to get stuck in. I had done very little mileage over the preceding 4 weeks but was confident in my climbing ability and knew I would be competitive for the first 90 minutes at least. The race commissionaire explained the main features of the route and answered questions – just a few regarding the distances of the two main climbs – 13km and 7km. He also urged caution over the last 15km of the route – a descent from 1150m to 400m.
A neutralised start for 2km and accompanied by about 6 cars and 12 motorbikes we rolled out of Olot. Attacks started as soon as the flag went down and I was stone last as the peloton snaked its way along a flat and slightly downhill first 10km at about 50km/h. We passed a dozen strong group waving huge Catalan flags – fitting for a Championship race. We then passed Castellfollit de la Roca – a beautiful little town perched on a huge rock – like a miniature Edinburgh castle. This was the scene of the Catalan Duathlon Championship earlier in the year and so I was more confident knowing the road ahead. Knowing some short, sharp climbs were coming up, I moved nearer the front. The next 20km included about 6 of these steep hills, on average 300m long and 8/9%. I was moving pretty strongly and eventually formed a break of about 10 riders as we looped back past Olot and towards the first of the big climbs. I heard a few FC Barcelona team-mates chatting – one answering the other that yes, we had still to negotiate the real climbs of the day.
We had a decent lead on the main bunch but no-one was willing to work, probably scared of what was ahead. I found myself at the front and just wheeled away as the road ahead started to get steeper and steeper. We took a right turn and started the climb proper. One small bunch split and I didn’t have the change of pace to go with a small group of 4 who jumped ahead. 10 minutes in and I really started to suffer. It was maintaining a baking 40°C and I had ran out of liquids. Plenty of support was available on the side of the roads but these heavenly looking cans of coke and bottles of water were destined only for team-mates and personal friends. 20 minutes in and I was losing a bit of clarity – partly through dehydration and partly through the effort to that point. Perhaps a dozen bikers had passed me and I found myself in another small group of 6 riders. At last we made it to the top. A sign noting the altitude and name – Capsacosta 1006m, providing a welcome sight.
We were now descending but it didn’t feel like it. My legs were dead and the rough road surface sapped what little energy I had left. Some real descending on smoother roads and passing the scene of a recent podium finish at Duathlon I began to get my legs back, and just in time as we started the second main climb of the day. Only 7km and smooth sweeping roads but my lack of water was really beginning to bite and I tailed off with another rider 1km shy of the summit. We now hit the second sign – Santigosa 1158m, and the small bunch was in sight. A hard working 12km descent then followed to try and catch those ahead. I got on near the bottom, just as we caught another 5 riders from the Prestige Hotels outfit. It was now a 3km flat run-in to the finish. In being only my second road race I put in a pathetic attempt at a sprint, getting my timing all wrong and finishing second last out of my bunch of 16.
I was absolutely shattered and slumped to a kerb drowning myself with water and drinking all the coca-cola that was going. I had finished 26th out of 40 finishers, 7 minutes down on the winner but happy with the effort. More than half the field crumbled on the first big climb. The standard was good and I was still confident of getting up there and being more competitive in the future.
A top 20 finish came in my next outing at the Girona county championships in St. Gregori. A 68km RR with an international flavour (a couple of Americans and Frenchmen in addition to myself) this was 6 laps of a much flatter, faster circuit than Olot. Nevertheless, there was 3 short, sharp hills which provided ample opportunity to make a breakaway. I finished 2 mins down on the winner on a 41km/hour average. Although an inexperienced roadman I was again struck by the polished nature of the race. Several team cars were present for the larger teams who also had radio communication. Oh, and an endless supply of coke – enough to make you sign a contract on a roasting-hot day!
There’s quite a bit coming up in August, September and October – a great mix of hilly races, criteriums, hill climbs and time trials. I’ve set up a few races for my brother Stuart as he prepares for the Tour of Britain. Just a BCF license required and letter granting permission to race in Spain.
