Sunday, November 14, 2010

Dave's Diary. Racing in Melbourne


I’m sure you lot back in the UK are going to think that I’m hard done by and at the same time you australians are going to shout “Winging pome” with what I’m going to write.

Will the rain that seems to have settled over the area of Australia known as Melbourne please get lost, I aint brought enough wet weather kit.

Now it’s not that bad, it’s just when you come to Oz you kind of expect the weather to be well a bit brighter than it has been.

Due to this wet weather there has been a severe lack of racing, it’s crit season here and no one is crazy enough to race let alone hold a race in the rain here. Sure back home in the UK we hold races in the rain but here and I’m guessing it’s something to do with the roads not being use to having water on them, it seems to be a hell lot like riding on ice when its wet here.

I’ve been on a few cycling forums and other cycling websites and it seems I'm not the only cyclist who is getting frustrated at the weather.

It’s something crazy like 120 years since they’ve had this much rain over the winter. Last time I came to Oz I brought the rain with me, toping up the reservoirs around the blue mountains. Now, I’m not saying I’m a rain god and the wet weather loves me but if this is even close to the case surly you australians should be thinking about giving me a fell time traveling job, roaming the country bringing previously barren landscapes a fresh lease of life. I only ask for a passport (and a half decent wage). Good deal I’m sure you’d agree.


Though as I write this the weather seems to be picking up, the forecast says that we should be getting some of that sunshine for the next few day’s. Today I should be racing, I cant blame the the fact I’m not just on the weather. No, I’ll take some of the blame. I blame myself for ending up in a noisy hostel (well noisy for a backpacking cyclist who want’s to race, for an everyday bloke its practically morgue like). A lack of sleep, some crappy weather, hostel life style living and earning some cash the hard way by working on a flower farm all adds up to the fact I’m here in front of this computer and not out racing. Though I feel i’ve made the right choice. I’m not a guy who can afford to get to shattered, friends and family will back me up here. I usually end up at the side of the road sparko and thrashing about, but thats another story. A slightly sad crappy one but I wont bother you with it.

Instead I’ll continue my diary.

As I’ve said the weather has been a bit poor, though I did get myself down to Sandown race circuit on tuesday. There has been a few days between the rain that have been blooming lovely.


I’d managed to secure a ropey old van that usually sits in the corner of the hostel car park and sometimes gets the odd outing to the local supermarket. With this mode of transport I was halfway there, there being Sandown, the motor racing circuit that on a tuesday night during the australian summer is home to Carnegie Caufields Cycling Club (or CCCC as i’ll refer to them in future) evening race series.


After fighting with the old beast (the van that would be) and getting slightly lost I arrived at Sandown with plenty of time to get ready and race.

Yet again I was pleasantly suppressed at the venue the turn out of riders and thankfully the sunshine.

The circuit is about 3 km long, wide with got a good little hill that pulls the legs and then there's the wind.

Being open it’s windy, apparently tuesday was an odd en, the wind was in the opposite direction to usual. But either way it was all new to me.

The turn out was as epic (well from a british point of view) as sundays event, all the grades showing a strong number of riders. And all again looking fit for action.

I on the other hand was looking maybe mildly fit but at the same time feeling like that word that begins with an “F”, the opposite of fully fit you know the one!

I was suffering, no excuses i was just not going great. Though I was excited and fired up for good race. As is the way when your like this you make stupid mistakes. But I’ll come to that later. First up I’ll tell you about the set up of the place.

The pit lanes of the circuit were where everyone was mingling, chatting getting there bikes sorted and generally preparing them selfs. Along the grass verge were what we would call spectators in the UK if we ever had spectators at a race. Like Glenvale a nice atmosphere was in the air, all amenities were at hand AKA toilets.


Right, back to the racing as with sundays critirium each grade set off individually but due to it being a bigger circuit and wider roads everyone was using the course at the same time, all setting off at staggered periods.


The “A” grade race was close to 100 guys. A huge number for a mid week race. With me jammed in the somewhere. race started and now i van get back to that stupid mistake, being an eager, happy to be racing and generally not thinking I followed a small group off who had attacked off the front on the second or third lap up the hill, i try to forget the finer details rather than not actually know.

This ended up in my body telling my head that “your a bloody fool Everett”, eagerness is not a substitute for crit training. I hung on in there for a bit. The move up the hill was no problem for me it was the bits after that that I realized i wasn't ready for. Dear god, with my lungs and heart trying to escape through my mouth i slowly got dragged back to the bunch where I too refuge.

Hiding in there for the next god knows how long, my legs and heart started telling me that I was still suffering and not fully recovered from my first racing outing in Oz.

To cut not such a long story short I did what’s know in the business as “a piss poor performance” (can i write that in a blog. If you australians are alowed to use mild swar words on the radio at any time of the day then yes I can say “piss”).


The guys that were going good destroyed the field. Snapping it apart and getting a huge gap on the field. Finishing a long way off the front.


For me it was a ride back to the van, a big swig of something refreshing to rehydrate myself and a 40 minute drive back to the hostel where i’d have to fight for hob space to cook myself something tasty.


Still two down, I now know what to expect. fast furious racing would be it! Until my next blog entry, tally ho (non of that G’day mate yet I’m still kinda british after all)! Oh, n if any of you local Australians fancy a trip out on the bike leave me a message. I could do with some training partners.