This blog, the Unknown Bike Rider is named for a very good reason. It’s dedicated to the people who train, work, try and do their best in sport. Make no mistake about it, cycling a bike is tough, very tough. Whether you are down in Carrick on Suir today, racing the Bobby Power memorial, whether you are on Eurosport, racing Milan – San Remo or whether you are like me, preparing for the Wicklow 200 on June 10th, there is one pre-requisite needed, an ability to suffer and work like a dog. Some people suffer more than others and it’s that ability that seems to get you over the line in an event. They say that Kelly could suffer more than most and reading his book “Hunger”, you would quickly realise that it was the case.
I have never been blessed with sporting talent or ability and at age 53, I doubt any of the professional teams will be giving me a shout anytime soon. I’m a pretty below average bike rider, involved in a sport that I love and a sport that I’m committed to. Weather conditions in Ireland this year have been far from cycling friendly, there was a recent crash, where my confidence was dented and I’m struggling with motivation issues. Wicklow is a huge target and I won’t be ready for it sitting at home thinking about it. For events like that, you have to train, rest, train, rest and then, train again. No matter where you are in the cycling world, no bike will push itself.
I headed out on a very hard training spin yesterday and I found how much I am prepared to suffer and the impact it has on my body, mind and health. I found myself in a pretty dark place and it wasn’t pretty.
My route was simple enough, leave Cahir, down through Ballymacarbery, onto Dungarvan and then, I’d take the Waterford Greenway to Waterford City. It’s simple enough, with no serious climbs on the way. It’s also about 100km, weather is reasonable enough and with the exception of the wind, I should manage it easily. There are a few long drags and one or two hard bits that I’m worried about at the same time, but nothing I’m not well capable of.
I’m also riding a World Tour bike, an AquaBlue Sport Ridley Noah SL. This thing is complete with all the trimmings, full Dura Ace groupset, carbon frame and Knight Composite wheels. The bike is quite possibly more expensive than most of the cars that will pass me during the day and maybe, the only one of this spec in the entire country.
Leaving Cahir can be an achievement in itself, as recent legislation making it law to allow 1.5m of overtaking space doesn’t seem to have filtered down to most motorists yet. I’m reminded of this on the outskirts of town, as a Bus Éireann driver makes his presence felt, skimming past me, through the “traffic calming” area. I often wonder if these people have any idea what happens in the event of them killing somebody.
Immediately, the wind is playing havoc with my deep section wheels. One of the perils of these wheels is that they are so light, the slightest breeze will take you out and you can be on the flat of your arse in seconds. The wind is switching from side on, then into my face, everywhere but on my back, where I would like it to be. Throw in a few showers of really cold rain just make it all more pleasant and my apparent easy day will be anything but.
My first big challenge is The Colonel’s Hill, near Knocklofty. It’s only about 700m in length, but it reaches a gradient of 10% in places and my gearing of 38 X 28 is much more suited for a rider of a better and younger ability. I have an added problem of a little Jack Russell, who takes exception to my presence, just on the hardest bit. Normally, I’d tell him to piss off or a splash of water into the face normally sends them packing. However, on this occasion, my heart rate is at 175bpm, my legs are burning, I haven’t the strength to react and eventually, the little guy gets tired of barking at me. Cresting the top of the hill, I’m a bit proud of myself, as this is the first time I’ve pushed a big gear up there.
The road to Dungarvan is about 30km and once I reach “Beary’s Cross” all the climbing will be complete and I can enjoy the spin down to “the sea”. The drags out from Ballymacarbery are tough and the wind continues to whirl around, going everywhere rather where I want it to be. It’s uneventful however and within an hour and a half, I’m heading down to town.
People often ask why cyclists don’t use the bike lanes in towns. There’s a simple reason why and it’s because the lanes are in very poor condition, with moss, stones, leaves, glass and of course, this is Ireland, so expect plenty dog shit. The stones cutting into and damaging my tyres remind me that maybe I should have checked the pressures before I left home. With that in mind, I called in to see Cian in Cycle Sports. “They’re low enough” he informs me, meaning that they are flat. I always enjoy calling in to Cycle Sports, as they are among the nicest people you could meet. So, after a good chat with Cian about all things cycling, I’m on my merry way again. The Waterford Greenway is all that lies between me and Waterford.
The Waterford Greenway, has surpassed all expectations already. With well over 250,000 visitors last year, it has been a runaway success and I for one am delighted. However yesterday, I practically had it all to myself, with only the occasional joggers or walkers for company. Out over Clonea, through the Durrow Tunnel, the Ballyvoile Viaduct, Kilmacthomas, the Kilmeaden railway and eventually, the sight of the River Suir bridge in Waterford comes into view. However, all is not well in the camp and I’m suffering much more than I expected. All my supplies are used up and my muscles are starting to tense up. Energy levels are gone and I’m actually wondering if I can get to Waterford at all. The Greenway is well signposted with markers regularly posted, to let everybody know how far they have left. Once I saw the 6km marker, it was actually like a knife through my heart.
When you are totally wasted, another 6km feels like a lifetime and you need to dig in to get to the finish. Despite having one of the best bikes in the world, it comes down to one thing, a will to get over the line and it all becomes a case of “mind over matter”.
The Greenway ends at the Quays in Waterford and I stand waiting at the pedestrian lights to cross the road. Immediately, the shadows and flashing lights begin in my head. Anybody who has been there knows the ominous signs of a migraine attack. As if my day hasn’t been miserable enough, fate has one more kick left for me. The scariest thing about a migraine attack is that it is quite possible to forget where you are and you get very disorientated. Immediately I stop, get off the road and phone the lads. They are just across the road at the City Square, so in a few seconds, my bike is packed away into the car and I’m safe and sound. Thank god the attack didn’t occur further out the Greenway, it would have been a long walk out to the road.
So, with almost 97km on my legs, I’m out battered, tired and very, very ill. We headed down town, to get some food and some medication for my headache and I was never so happy to see the back of the day.
Still, it wasn’t all bad, as I managed to push a World Tour bike for almost 100km and I got there in one piece. However, despite saying to myself that I would never do it again, I’m here today planning my next training spin.
I might have no ability, but I sure have that ability to suffer, so it’s not all bad. Wicklow will test every bit of that tenacity and masochism to the last. With just short of three months to go, it’ll take a little bit of effort too.
The Unknown Bike Rider 