Kingston Wheelers Cycling Club Annual London-Brighton-London

 A ride that felt harder than the numbers suggest.

Maybe it was starting at 6:30. Maybe it was not having coffee in the morning. 

I’m sure that chasing The Pope in the first few hills helped. He normally takes one or two climbs to warm up but today he was on it from the beginning. 

I received a small blow to my left knee as a result of a minor fall. Nothing serious, but a small nuisance for the rest of the route. That also contributed to making the ride feel harder than the numbers suggest.

Trying to hold Bidders wheel when he sets himself in full pacing mode is definitively a factor. Made worse by how easy he makes it look like. You, killing yourself to hold his wheel, and him looking like he is going to buy some bread around the corner. That’s psychological torture. Definitively a big contribution to making the ride feel harder than the numbers suggest.

Anther psychological torture was climbing Ditchling Beacon. Bidders went ahead. I was pacing the other three riders. Not feeling great but proud of the work I was doing. A solid work in my mind. Demonstrating, once again, that what goes on in my mind doesn’t necessarily correspond with the reality a few seconds later everyone passed me. I struggled the rest of the climb to not being dropped. Psychological torture.

A very welcome stop at the Regency gave me the opportunity to load in caffeine. A coke and a latte. Caffeine did its thing and the ride started to feel easier than the numbers suggest.

But only until Bidders hitted the front again. 30 seconds later the ride was, again, feeling harder than the numbers suggest. Bidders hitted the front as soon as we got out of Brighton. Fair to say the ride didn’t feel easy for very long.

My performance improved though. I almost held his wheel in every single climb in the return leg. I was so full of myself that climbing Box Hill I was considering outsprint him for the KOM. A bit of a cheeky move if you consider he sat in the front for most of the climb but I have a peculiar honor compass when it comes to taking KOMs. The problem was a rider passed us. A rider positioned in his bike as riding with imaginary aero bars. Well, if you are going to pass Bidders up Box Hill riding imaginary aero bars you better be a very strong rider. 

He wasn’t very strong. 

But he was strong enough to drop me and kill my chances of getting a very well deserved KOM. I’ll admit feeling some pleasure seeing Bidders passing him at the top. Mainly because that meant I was close enough to see it. 

That gave me a moral boost. For me, a moral boost at the top of Box Hill means I fancied my chances of taking the Horton sprint. That’s quite a statement when you have Nick, a real sprinter, in the ride.

Long story short, I was last in the Horton sprint. I was so far back that I couldn't even tell who took it (and I didn't ask so the rest didn't realize how far back I was).

I hope you now understand why this was a ride that felt harder than the numbers suggest.

The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/11993086258

Take care of yourself

Javier Arias González

The worst sprinter in history

 

Second to last at the Horton sprint.

Considering I didn’t sprint I’d argue it was a great result. I’m that easy to get happy about my own performances.

My excuse (there is always an excuse) is I honestly thought the sprint was called off. The road was very wet, it was sunny at that very moment, but minutes ago it was raining a lot. Perks of the British summer.

I think I was third wheel as we appeached the last roundabout. I could probably brag about being a naturally well positioned sprinter as I got there without even trying.

I saw a couple of riders going on the drops and the naive in me still thought the sprint was still called off. 

I felt the pace accelerating ever so slightly and I didn’t think much of it. 

Then I saw Jack attacking and everyone following suit and I all I could do was to admire how fast they went for the line.

Let’s be honest I was never a great sprinter. My lack of skills to read the signs around me, very clear signs in highsight, probably makes me the worst sprinter in history.

The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/11829176067/

Take care of yourself

Javier Arias González

Arrogant without legs

 Arrogant without legs.

A recipe for a disaster. 

A disaster that came as early as 25 km into the ride.

Arrogant enough to try to drop GC Denis from my wheel climbing Green Dene. 

Obviously, without the required legs.

Everything went well until the ramp where the gradient increases came. The point where I wanted to attack. Also the point where GC Denis knew I was going to attack. And the point where I knew that Denis knew that I wanted to attack.

More importantly, the point where I exploded in pieces coming almost to a stop.

GC Denis passed me, looking relaxed. He even was able to ask if I was fine. 

It’s weird how these blow ups happen. 30 seconds after it I start asking myself why did I stop, I start telling myself I could have carried on.  

31 seconds after the blow up I start making excuses.

32 seconds after the blow up I have at least half a dozen of them.

The winner this time was something related to my heart rate strap not working. A pathetic excuse if you ask me.

Arrogant, without legs and making pathetic excuses.

The rest of the ride was brilliant though. Only a few showers, I wasn’t dropped and I took the Esher sprint.

He who does not console himself does so because he does not want to.

The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/11821451338 

Take care of yourself

Javier Arias González

Javier the coward

In my mind I’m the type of rider that attacks full of confidence, without fear. 

Also the type of rider that knows himself so well that knows exactly how fast he can climb, and for how long. 

Today I was proved wrong in both accounts.

My starting point is always that if I’m climbing a mountain taking turns with GC Denis I’m doing pretty well. 

We are so evenly matched, and we know each other so well, that those are always tricky situations. More so on a 30km climb, on the seventh ride of a training camp. 

At some point I felt like he was struggling ever so slightly to keep on my wheel. The temptation to accelerate and try to drop him crossed my mind. 

Then I looked at my Garmin and realized we still had 18km more to climb. I’m not that full of confidence, nor that fearless as I imagine myself. In fact I settled for a very conservative “wait a little longer, if he is struggling you might drop him without attacking”.

And now I have a question for you. What is better in this situation? To sit on the front and keep your own pace hoping for him to drop eventually, or to “force” him to continue taking turns so he gets more tired and eventually drops?

The advantage of the former is that you choose your own pace. The price you pay is all the work you have to do on the front while you give him a “free” ride. 

The latter makes him work on the front but also allows him to choose his own pace.

None of the options is ideal. Believe me.

I decided to stay at the front and set the pace. All the way to the top if needed. 

That’s where knowing myself so well that I know exactly how fast and for how long I can climb wasn’t as I always imagined myself. 

I was getting tired and my pace was slowing down.

GC Denis moved to the front and suddenly I found myself struggling to hold his wheel. 

I know the drill. He stands up on the bike, pushes the pedals a couple of times and a small gap opens. I panic (let’s talk another day how I consider myself a cool and calmed mind) and try to close the gap quickly. That little extra effort increases my sense of struggle. At that point the idea of attacking is a distant dream. I just hope I can hold his wheel.

Eventually he settles his pace and I feel brave enough to get a gel or drink from my bottle. That takes me out of breath, the sense of struggle comes back. 

So I decide to move to the front and chose the pace that is best for me.  All the way to the top if needed. 

We are back on square one.

Repeat this a dozen times and we get to the top of the climb together. 

100m before the top I sprint. 

Javier the coward, brave for 100 meters amd still miss judged how fast and for how long he can sprint. 

The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/11595276409

Take care of yourself

Javier Arias González

Making sure The Pope had a great day

He wanted to have an easy day.

So Richard L. leading the group dropped him at the Suspiro del Moro climb. 

GC Denis and I worked together in the second climb to make sure he wasn’t anywhere near the front at the top of the second, and main climb of the day.

I honestly don’t know who took the third climb of the day, I couldn’t be bothered to contest it (can 5k at 3% be considered “a climb”?). For the sake of this report's accuracy let’s all pretend it wasn’t The Pope.

He tried on the fourth climb of the day but this time it was me who decided where the top of the climb was and it turned out it was exactly at the same point I was first crossing the line after a short but magnificent sprint. The Pope was second though.

I am not sure who took the fifth climb either. It could very well be that it was The Pope. I was nowhere near to witness it. So let’s give him this consolation prize.

He’ll need it because what came was hellish for him.

An echelon on a windy road got him dropped from a group that Bidders was motoring at the front. 

As soon as he connected with the group again he hitted a section of the road that looked like a mixture of Strade Bianche and Paris-Roubaix. Probably the section TY enjoyed the most in the whole trip.

A bit of riding into busy traffic, plenty of traffic lights and hot temperatures to finish the day.

Well, none of this spoiled his day.

He was first into the swimming pool. A beer was in his hand when the rest got home. 

The Pope knows how to win.

The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/11562778850

Take care of yourself

Javier Arias González

Giro d'Granada

GC Denis was G, Bidders was Ganna and I was Arensman.

The Pope was Pogacar. 

Richard L. was riding for that team of Spanish speakers.

Mark was JuanPe Lopez. Liked by everyone but not in his best form for this Giro.

TY was riding for one of those small teams. Only invited to the Giro to make some noise. To put on a show more for the TV than for real cycling aspirations.

The DS was very clear with his orders in the morning. Today was a day for the breakaway. A short stage with a climb at the beginning. Let the breakaway go. With 30k to go put Ganna on the front, get the breakaway back and save the stage for the GC rider.

Have you ever wondered what the hell the Ineos team is doing?

That happened today.

Before we knew it we were in the breakaway. Ganna setting the pace in the front. G on his wheel and I glued to G’s wheel. Giving him that extra 5% of efficiency. Amazing domestique work.

The peloton, led by Pogacar, caught us just before the climb. Well, at least we made him work hard.

I saw any aspirations to the GC (which I will never admit I had) disappear in this first climb. 

In the second climb I offered my leader a gel before being dropped a few meters. A gesture that was rewarded with his demand of putting “a solid hour of power at the front”. A demand that made me question my loyalties.

Luckily for me TY attacked and all I had to do was to sit on his wheel. He started to move his elbows. I thought he wanted to imitate a butterfly. Maybe that was a new way of getting more aero drag. He started to complain when he almost dislocated his shoulder. Apparently he was expecting me to take turns with him. I played the “my leader is at the peloton” card and he eventually sat up.

As soon as the peloton caught us, Pogacar attacked. 

Who followed him?

Me.

It looked to me like a very dangerous attack. Our GC aspirations were at risk. 

It was all in my mind though. It turns out he was only going for an intermediate sprint. Just for the fun of it. 

A shame for him I spoiled the party by taking the sprint. I don’t remember the name of the town but I’m sure that gave me enough points to comfortably lead the sprints jersey classification and the end of the day.

A left turn came and with it a change in wind direction. Before we knew it a breakaway was formed.

Ganna, the Movistar rider and TY, very active all day, got a decent gap.

Pogacar panicked and started the chase.

I sat on his wheel guiding my leader through this critical moment.

At some point Pogacar, like TY before, started to imitate a butterfly. 

In your dreams, I thought. We have a man in the breakaway. You want to catch them? Work harder man. Get yourself tired. We are happy to sit comfortably on your wheel. Race craft at its best.

I repeat myself, have you ever wondered what the hell the Ineos team is doing?

G decided to start working with Pogacar. Even JuanPe started to collaborate in the chase. I felt forced to contribute too, clearly against my will and best judgment.

It took us a while but the strength of the chasers, especially when I started to contribute, was too much for the breakaway. Soon enough the peloton was all together.

After the feed zone it was clear the stage was going to finish in a bunch sprint. One of those that no one is interested in. 

At the end it was a very entertaining stage from the GC point of view but without changes in the positions.

If anything it was one more day confirming what an amazing domestique I am. Some would argue that I’m more interested in defending my 6th position in the GC (out of seven riders) but that is the sign of the untrained eye of the amateur, incapable of appreciating all the work that happens behind the scenes.

I, for one, don’t miss any of those details.

The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/11554684829

Take care of yourself

Javier Arias González

Pico Veleta via Cenes de la Vega

 

As soon as the climb started GC Denis opened a gap. 

His pace was a bit too hard for me. I bet everything on my plan. A magnificent plan.

Keep my heart rate around 150-155 bpm. Ignore power. At o’clock and at half past, eat a gel and drink water. At quarter past and quarter, drink energy drink. In the last 10km increase the intensity so your heart rate goes up to 165-170 bpm. Catch GC Denis. Catch The Pope, if at all possible. Make sure you celebrate at the top. 

Needless to say the plan didn’t quite work out. With 10km to go the idea of increasing my pace sounded like a bad joke. GC Denis and The Pope didn’t slow down either. In fact I started to lose sight of them more and more often. 

I didn’t capitulate. I kept riding at a decent pace but still saved something in the legs. 10km after 33km of climbing can feel very, very long.

With 3km to the top I found the road covered with snow. A road cyclist that was stopped there told me that was it. It was not possible to carry on. But that didn’t feel right. The road was covered by snow, yes, but you could see the tarmac not that far away. I told him I had two “friends” ahead of me so I climbed off the bike and walked on the snow. Got to the other side, jumped on the bike and kept riding. 

Not for long though. About 5 minutes later another section of the road was covered with snow. This one was longer. In fact, you couldn’t see where it finished. No sign of GC Denis or The Pope so jumped off the bike and started to walk on the snow, bike on my shoulder. For about 10 minutes.

When I finally got to a section of tarmac three things happened at the same time. The tarmac got worse and worse, the sections of snow got more frequent and my cleats accumulated so much compressed snow that I couldn’t clip in anymore. I just kept going thinking I was winning time walking on the snow (I was making quite an effort) although I was also thinking I was losing time whenever I was riding. The surface was now so bad that I don’t think it was suitable even for a mountain bike.

With, say, 800m to go I saw two persons walking down on the snow. Before I started to walk up I asked them if they had seen two road cyclists. No was their answer. But they said no with a tone that, suddenly, made me realize that of course GC Denis and The Pope were not ahead of me. But I was so close to the top that I just carried on. No sign of any path, just climbing towards the top with my bike on my shoulder (at least it was my climbing bike, the proper bike for it).

At the top I met three people. That meant the top was overcrowded. They were taking pictures. I took a picture of them as a group. They took a picture of me with my bike. It was hard to move around wearing cycling shoes, with the bicycle around, making sure we don’t fall.

Before I started to go down they, very nicely, asked me if I needed anything. Water? Gels? I told them not to worry. I had everything I needed. I added that I knew what I was doing. They didn’t look very convinced. Less so when I took the liberty of telling them to take it easy on the way down. It is descending when most accidents happen. 

Anyway, I started to descend and that was the moment I realized I was stupid. What on earth was I doing walking down a mountain with my road bike on my shoulder? 

It wasn’t better when I got to sections where I could ride my bike. I was riding 25mm tyres among rocks the size of my fist. I was better off just walking down. 

In any case it was a matter of time I got to the last section of snow. I jumped on the bike and started the descent. 

When I got to the first sign of civilization I stopped, checked my phone. Didn’t see any message from my riding mates (bastards) so I continued descending.

Half way through the descent someone shouted my name. Stopped. Climbed back and there they were. Sitting in the sun. Drinking refreshments. Ready to eat. Believing I was dead up in the mountain and trying to decide if it was appropriate to ride tomorrow or not (the weather forecast is pretty good so I’d be having the same doubts myself). 

They pretended to be happy to see me and after we exchanged stories it was clear what had happened.

The Pope (guilty) led GC Denis in the wrong direction at a particular point of the road. At that moment I passed them without me or them noticing it. I carried all the way to the top thinking they were ahead of me. They looked at the snow and thought there is no way Javier has carried on. They messaged me, they called me but my phone had no signal. That’s the moment they saw tomorrow’s ride in danger.

At least the story has a happy ending. We all will be riding tomorrow. An easy(ish) ride is on the menu. On Monday we all will tackle Pico Veleta again and I can feel in the atmosphere the desire of all of them to go all the way to the top. Stay tuned.

The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/11547536084/

Take care of yourself

Javier Arias González