On the way to Xmas ........  via The Hollow

Faberge fabulous ……

The sun shines on a right push.

Six go forth ……..

Grey, miserable, cold but enough of the high lights.......

Was it the heat or the distance? The total lack of shade or the relentless road?

Whatever it was it made for a debilitating and hard race. 

Due to the unusually long distance I opted to sit in. A wise choice as riders were keen to take the front and set the pace. Which never troubled my comfort zone and reminded me of taking the bike shopping.

But it wasn't to last.

I attacked at 30 kms with the first sign of a significant bump in the road. I flew at it producing 450 watts which I held over the top.

Though it had a splintering effect the damage was recoverable so I settled back and we regrouped.

However, having declared war I was set for another battle and at each opportunity I attacked.

I had the decisive break with one rider on my wheel and two chasing in no man's land. I'd gone very early and knew it and sat up to allow a 4 man break to form. 

I immediately chastised one for not working. The other blew. Two minutes later the workshy guy was toast.

For the next 60 kms we shared the work. Never missing a turn and metronomically coming through.

However, I didn't feel right today. I hoped the legs would settle. Spark into life. Produce the magic. Spin like a whipped top. But it never happened.

I was laboured.

My rear wheel had broken. I was riding something from a superstore special and it performed like a badly behaved circus elephant.

My rival's rhymical cadence caused me concern. I lifted the pace. Followed the numbers to threshold but he stayed on my wheel.

I began to contemplate the what ifs.

Positive psychology trying its best to banish the dark thoughts massing as we approached the closing kms. 

Convinced I could detect the stirrings of serial cramp I doubted my ability to sprint. Also, from experience I knew shifting position can send cramp shooting through every muscle. As will lifting the pace. I had to be so careful and unmoving in the saddle.

But the legs weren't there today.

The left hand turn signalled 6 kms to the finish.

I knew it. My rival didn't. 

Also I'd measured every post, sign, junction, bridge and paint mark of that final km.

Cav says wait. Go as late as you dare.

Having sat on the wheel for 5 kms and been allowed to, there was no way I was ever coming through. But I wasn't asked.

I was ready for cat & mouse. We had the time to play around. It just didn't happen. I was being towed all the way to the line.

I'd found my Mark Renshaw. 

At 300 m to go I thought in this condition it was too long.

Wait.

At 200 m it would have been normal to unload. But not today.

I waited.

Now time stood still and milli seconds turned slowly. 100 m to go and I think he must unleash his sprint.

Nothing.

And in the same instant I'm aware I may lose the element of surprise if he goes and I have to counter.

So I attack.

But the 3 hamstring muscles in both legs scream shut down. The gastrocnemius and soleus muscles are locked solid and I'm having spasms interspersed with contortions akin to when Foreman took Frazier apart.

I sit only to stand again. Then the brain finally accepts this misfiring and somehow commands the legs to push through the pain and ride.

I take about 40 m clear distance and sail to the line arms aloft. A touch as ever of El Pistolero plus a nod to Phil Gil with a certain panache.

I made the celebration pro style.

Next I came to a halt locked in agony leaning against the side of an ambulance unable to unclip. 

Three guys held me upright.  I managed to get my feet out before doubling up with cramp.

I'm used to it.

I quickly found a position  where it subsided allowing me to sit on the stoop of the ambulance and drink an orange juice, thank everyone and do a group photo.

A couple of minutes later I was riding back to the car. My kit powdered in white salt lines. My body encrusted in the stuff. Dried river beds of salt lined my legs.

This was some effort today.

I was not alone.

My team mates were riddled with cramp too.

I'm racing on a training bike with training wheels and it shows. No aero advantage and yet I'm competing against guys on state of the art high tech pro machines.

I won today.

I earned it on the training roads of hilly Muak Lek where I've repeatedly pushed deep in to the red.

Today was just another day.

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Tony Carter

Tour of Nong Khai 7 - First!

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On the way to Xmas ........ via The Hollow

Faberge fabulous ……

The sun shines on a right push.

Six go forth ……..

Grey, miserable, cold but enough of the high lights.......

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