Looking forward to the 2023 road racing season

Roll on the start of the road racing season, when the peloton once again hits the road.

I penned the following for the Box Hill Association Video celebrating the 2012 London Olympic Road Races which made the Surrey Hills famous. They had asked my why do competitors ride in a big bunch!

The narrator read it like a poem.

The huge mass of riders swept by in a moment, a blur of bodies entwined with bikes in a riot of colour.

The whirr of gears.

 In the wake of the express, dust and paper is set dancing over our heads, the turbulent air whipping the hair across our eyes.

That was the bunch, or peloton - French for platoon - literally a large body of soldiers. In cycle road racing the term peloton describes the epi-centre of the race.

A tail wind will see it bowling along at 30s, a headwind, much slower.

 Team tactics will dictate the pace, set the odds for those weighing up their chances of escape.

But the dynamics are such that a rider must judge his effort to perfection if he or she is to succeed in getting clear.

Why?

Air resistance - the bain of all cyclists’ lives.

It materialises once you top 15mph and only gets worse the faster you go.

An invisible force through which a bunch will punch a bigger hole than a single rider, and move faster as riders at the front relay each other in a constantly moving chain to share this work.

The cagey ones, or the protected team leaders, take shelter in the wheels, saving 20 per cent more energy than those taking the brunt of it.

 The benefit disappears on steep climbs, when the gradient, not air resistance, becomes the problem.

Then the peloton may fragment into smaller groups.

Best place to be is in the first 20, to avoid crashes likely further back in a tightly packed bunch.

You must constantly move up to stand still, so to speak, because others will be striving for that top 20 place, too, moving past, sending you backwards.

The sprinters teams will often drive the peloton at speed, to discourage attacks, to keep the race together, to favour their sprinters.

Others may want to break it up, those who favour contesting the finish from a smaller group.

So within the mass that is the peloton there is a constant state of agitated motion.

If a break does get clear, teams not represented will set  a tempo to keep them in reach.

And gamble on rushing them nearer the finish. However,  teammates of those in the escape will attempt to disrupt the chase, soft pedalling in the line to slow it down.

As the peloton accelerates and is strung into one thin, long, snaking line, riders often struggle to hold the wheel in front.

Lose that wheel and a rider will be gone, blown away “out of the back” as the saying goes, as the peloton speeds on its unrelenting way.

Allez

Bah Humbug - thank God for the bike

 

That’s one of the best parts of the day done with,  an hour’s ride at first light.

Christmas morning is one of the best days of the year for a ride. A stillness in the air, very little sound, just your tyres on the wet road, the gears whirring, your breathing. A few people out, walking the dog, a few other cyclists, runners. Very few motors.

I’m on the winter bike, the steel Condor with mudguards. It gives a more comfortable ride across rough surfaces than my other Condor, all aluminium, a bit lighter, sharper, a delight to ride.

But so is the steel model. It took me to the top of Mount Ventoux once.

I’m on my usual short ride – an hour, sometimes 90 minutes. As a carer I cannot be out for too long.

As for the rest of it, bah humbug to all the ads laying it on thick about happy family gatherings, a real turn off for those lonely people with no one to share.  The commercialism of Christmas now starting four months out has spoilt what should be an occasion to celebrate the end of the dark days of winter and lighter evenings to come.  To renew acquaintances, for those who can. To wish for a good future - which is a bit of laugh, all things considered.

Christmas is  difficult to avoid. Unless you can escape the country, to somewhere not so manic, as many do.

The worst part is losing shopping days over the break and trying to make sure you have enough essential stuff in to cover for the lost days. Staple stuff, like bread, milk, eggs, but also the essential requirements to sustain the vulnerable person in the house.

But we will be looking forward to the roast lamb, roast pots, Brussels sprouts lightly steamed and dipped into a hot pan of butter, chopped garlic and flaked almonds – a quick stir and served.

Cliff Richard is on the tele. We'll avoid that. But we'll watch King Charles, listen to his Christmas message if only to wonder at how this Royal farce continues to hold the nation in thrall.

We'll watch a few comedy progs. But sadly our daughter remains in bed for the umpteenth year, as do millions like her with similar medical complications thanks to a rogue, as yet unidentified gene.

Ehlers Danlos Syndrome; POTS; chronic fatigue; now sensory issues which mean we run a quiet house. No noise, no boisterous visitors. She's very lonely. We'll attend to her throughout the day.

I’ve written about this before, entitled “1000 nights”.

But she will be looking forward to roast potatoes later, with her usual grilled chicken and stir fried veg.

We miss having visitors of course. But not cooking for them. Too confusing, all my timing goes to hell. Serving is a nightmare. Very stressful.

The last time we had people round we bought takeaways.

Only New Year's eve to deal with now!

Cheer up, the days are getting lighter.