Scottish CX Champs, Camperdown

 

I found myself in Pathhead on Saturday with both the Condor road bike and Moda cross bike in the back of the car and the sun beginning to wane. It was evident that by the time I would get to my accommodation in Perth that the sun would be too far below the horizon to spare me ninety minutes on the bike. So an executive decision was made to ditch the car in Dalkeith and take a lap round Musselburgh and surrounding countryside. 

It took my a few minutes to dig the bike out and get my shoes on, but I was soon off and heading north. The traffic was very heavy and making my way toward the coast, my ride was hampered by traffic lights and people in cars living their retail lives. After Musselburgh High Street, I worked my way round to Wallyford and back to Dalkeith and then ended going up towards Lasswade. By the time I returned I had 20 miles on the clock and my daily thirst for mileage was sated. 

It was a quiet Saturday night in the Perth Travelodge and I was up at the crack on Sunday for a 2 mile jog around Huntingtower. The mist was down and it was atmospheric and damp as I jogged around this fortified house with only a few crows for company. After a shower, it was porridge in a plastic tub and a yogurt for breakies. Donning my distinctive zebra-zigzag arm warmers, my monogrammed cycling gear and diamond cufflinks I was soon ready and it was off to Dundee for the 2022 Scottish Cyclo Cross Champs. When I was asked last week why I do cyclo-cross but not road racing on the bike, I answered that its because there are age related fields. With eighty or so 50's and 60's, there is no chance of coming up against some of the young guns and finding yourself out the back and isolated after 2 minutes. Instead, you get an experience that lasts long enough to enjoy and maintain the illusion  that youre still a  'player'. 

There was no commissionaire at the sign on tent to interrogate me as to why there is no photo on my licence card. No dramas. I collected my number after parking on the grass. Camperdown was chocca. It was cool and grey, but sheltering in the trees with the grey squirrels looking on perplexed by the whole affair, the course appeared straightforward with a couple of sandpits but no obvious bits for running. 

After the kids, we were on, mid morning. I was gridded near the back and were soon off and belting down the finishing straight. There were a couple of other guys from the club riding, and one nipped in front of me shortly after the start. The sheer temerity of the move made me smile as did the white rimmed googles he was hiding behind. However, I was soon back in front and chasing Jim Foulis (Dundee Wheelers) whom I'd met at Irvine the previous week. I nearly stayed in touch with him, and even managed to pass a Falkirk rider just before the finish. It was a most enjoyable 40 minutes of off-roading and I'm sure my confidence at attacking off-camber bends and slippy bits is rising with every race. I still managed to derail myself in one of the sandpits, but I'm learning. If I trained I might improve, but reports of my impending retirement were premature -  I'm still ploughing that dull furrow during the week. 

Finishing toward the back again, the bike wasn't too mucky and I retired to the Tartan coffee shop on Perth Road for a haggis and mango pannini (yes, really) and a pot of steaming tea. Top trip. Its Bo'ness next weekend after the Cross Country at Durham.

XC then CX - Kirkcaldy & Irvine.

 

The week fairly flies these days. The Scottish Short Course Cross Country Championships at Kirkcaldy last Saturday seems like a distant memory.  Three of us arrived just as the rain departed and assisted with the tent before having a jog around the short 4k course. Speedy Joe was on first in the womens race and struggled in the 2nd lap to finish around 35th, no doubt feeling the Alpine training in her legs. There was a surfeit of University Student runners in the race and the short course although heavy going was nonetheless little more than a sprint. The men's and vets race was not significant other than withdrawal of Anton after the first lap. I chased two Bella team mates and overhauled both before being caught in the last 500m by one. I knocked around a minute off last years time, but still ended up around 300th out of 500 or so. Maybe it was a bigger field or a faster day. I enjoyed the race though and gave it full beans. 

We took off shortly afterwards to Irvine and got there around 5.30 to the guest house by the harbour. It was fifty quid for the night, the bedroom was tottie, but it was clean and nicely laid out and even came with a caramel wafer. We repaired to the nearby Niche eatery and sat outside in the terrace. We then went to the Carrick Hotel past the Riverside for a pint and via Vanilla Joes for an ice cream cone. 

I was up and out the next morning for 4 miles, running along the coast toward Troon. After a Greggs sannie and tea, breakfast of would-be champions, I took the car the 300 yards to the car park for the Irvine Cyclo Cross. Boasting a record entry of 100 M50's/M60's, I rode a lap of the coarse and took my place at the start. The sun was out but low and it was a cool breeze blowing across the dunes. I am glad to report that all the new kit held together well and I finished an awesome 63rd out of about 80 or so starters. Came down once trying to be smart. It was a quality 40 minutes. Speedy and Anton provided some great support and took some cool snaps. I am looking forward to Dundee this Sunday and the Scottish CX champs. The course there looks pretty heavy, so the bike won't be coming back quite as clean as it was after Irvine.      

New Boot & Panties

Sat in the mid-morning sunshine armed with a mug of hot tea, I am feeling righteous. The bike wheels have been trued and came back yesterday, so I have spent the entire morning (so far) stripping the rear cassette (the wee group of cogs that sit on the rear back wheel), cleaning them, then re-assembling them. I’ve also mounted new tyres on both wheels. Tidy. The tyres are knobbly Continentals.  Shelling out fifty quid for the 2 tyres, I reasoned that they will provide me with better traction than the old ones at the forthcoming cyclocross in Irvine in bonny Ayrshire. Truth be told, if I had reduced the pressure from 40psi to about 20psi last time around at Herrington, I might not have had to be so tentative at the tricky bits during the race and probably wouldn’t have needed to splash the cash. Let's not talk about the new mountain bike shoes, but you’ll agree that they will give me a further edge across the sandy beach course. I think I counted a field of 100 over 50’s when last I looked at the British Cycling entry list, so I won’t be alone, one way or another. There could be some horrible congestion, though.

I used to spend hours riding and cleaning my bike when I was an eager young chap back in the eighties when the world was full of possibilities, and, as Scott Fitzgerald once wrote ‘don’t go out unless you’re doing at least 20 miles’. This was later confirmed when Duncan McHardy (RIP), erstwhile part time coach in Dundee said ‘less than 2 hours on the bike is a waste of time’. Times were hard. Standards were high. I used to think that I could ride with the best of them (well, at least in training). Might just be selective amnesia. My VO2 max has slumped like Bitcoin since then and my heart rate can only daydream about what it used to do, but I’m grateful that I can still go out and enjoy a good beasting, whether it be a run or a ride. 

Getting new tyres on wheel rims is a right faff. They’re too tight and it takes technique not to nip the rubber tube. It is a technique that I do not possess. It’s no wonder that the kids send their bikes to the local shop for any little thing. I paid twenty quid for the wheels to be straightened and most probably I could have done it myself, if I’d watched a youtube clip or three. My mother used to get exasperated when she’d find my polishing my spokes in the hall with silvo or bathing my nuts and washers in turps on the kitchen floor. Nutbath city limits. I am slowly rediscovering my old love of the bike and just need to complete negotiations with Mrs Mac as to where in the house they can reside. There is something atavistic about men and their ‘little collections’. I am not very patient when it comes to hoarders, but I concede that I have a blind spot for my own transgressions. There's been more than one visitor to the house who was agog at the bikes all over the place. I should add that they’re not all mine. The garage is too damp for the lovies, and who wants to over-winter with the mice or leggy spiders and listen to that tumble dryer doing its best to destroy the planet. I would really like them (the bikes, not the mice) in a room downstairs. A shed might be an idea, but the garden’s not that big and we might lose the onions Mrs mac has recently planted. So, for the time being, they are a persistent fixture at chez al.  

Moving on to running, I managed to improve my placing at last Saturdays Lambton Cross Country and nearly managed to breach the top 100. As I flogged my way with 450 other runners around 3 laps of a country park near Washington, I mused that this time of year is (without fear of contradiction), my nearly favourite time of the year to run. The autumnal colours are stunning. Running in the snow cannot be beaten though. My mileage is already up to 32m this week so I better reign it in. Its Kirkcaldy tomorrow for the 4k. Wish me luck. I’ll have the cleanest sprockets on the course! 

Postscript: 'I now read that selective amnesia may be a sign of impending memory loss. Ironically this research was published by University College, Irvine, but not the Ayrshire Irvine!' Who said that?