Wicklow 200 2019 (Prologue)

I don’t do mornings, never have and I never will at this stage of my life. So, when the clock goes off at 5.45am on a Sunday morning, my immediate reaction is not pleasant.

As a musician, on a normal weekend, that ungodly hour of the day wouldn’t see me long in bed. Here I am, getting up in what most people would consider still the middle of the night.

We’re in Dublin for the weekend, as I’m taking part in the annual Wicklow 200. It’s Ireland’s premier cycling challenge and widely considered the hardest. It’s 200km in length, which isn’t any particular problem, but it entails almost 3000m of climbing, which is a problem.

The route takes in some of the most iconic climbs in Ireland and the finisher’s medal at the end is well deserved and hard earned.

I’ve worked hard for this event, having trained throughout the Winter in all kinds of weather. Frost, snow, hail and of course rain, this is Ireland after all, have made no difference. If you don’t put in the miles, you won’t finish the “200”, in fact you might as well just stay at home.

One of my hero’s , Sean Kelly is on record as saying that the best way to learn how to ride your bike in bad weather, is to just ride your bike in bad weather.

For the first time ever, I’ve also prepared my bikes myself. I got into the habit during the Winter months and I take great satisfaction out in the garage on a cold night working on them and having them running well. So many people train for an event and never think of looking after their bikes.

I believe that a new chain, bottom bracket, tyres, tubes, brake pads and having your gears indexed properly are the “minimum” you need to do. Remember that on the Wicklow Gap or Slieve Mann, you will easily reach speeds of 65 or 70 km per hour on the descent. There are many sharp corners as well, so it’s not the time to find your brakes are not working as an example. If you’re not suitably skilled, bring it to your local bike shop and they’ll have it running like new. I cannot stress the importance of this enough.

I always bring a second bike. The horror of walking down stairs on the morning and realise you have a puncture is enough to start you off on a poor footing, so I always carry a spare. My second bike is normally used for Winter riding, but it’s meticulously maintained and the gearing is almost exactly the same as my “good bike”.

The booth of the car is a bit like something you would see on the Tour De France. Spare tubes, helmets, glasses, shoes and tools are all laid out, so all I need to do is put my hand on stuff and it’s there.

My bikes are loaded onto the roof rack the night before, locked and secured. We are in Dublin after all.

Actually, excuse me while I go off point here for a few moments. On Saturday evening, I took a quick warm up spin in our capital city. Starting at North Bull Island in the north of the city, I rode the handy 10km to O’Connell Bridge in the centre of the city. It’s an immaculate cycle lane for most of the route and at one stage, where I needed to cross a busy round about, a man in a car stopped to wave me through. Onto the quays and more cycle lanes, down past the Jeannie Johnson famine ship, past the Samuel Beckett Bridge and in no time, I’m at the heart of the city.

To people from down the country, nightly news reports would make you ask, why would anybody go to that place. Sure it’s all murder, drugs, gangs, lawlessness and so on. My experience is standing with my phone, taking selfies, surrounded by tourists, shoppers and people going home from work, all smiling, content and happy. The news programmes don’t report that stuff very often. I’ve never had a bad time in Dublin, quite the opposite in fact. Of course, the reports of people enjoying themselves aren’t quite as newsworthy as murder and mayhem.

On Saturday night, we all went to the cinema and I’m a bag of nerves. That’s what cycling does to you, it gets into your head and “the bad person” as I call him, tries to tell you that you can’t do it. I’m trying to raise funds for the Irish Motor Neurone Disease Association, so there’s a little added pressure. Many of my friends have donated and I don’t want to let them down.

AS quick trip to a fast food restaurant, into a late night supermarket to pick up a few bits for breakfast and it’s back to the hotel for final preparations.

Everything is laid out, ready for an early start. Sleep doesn’t come easily that night as all I can see is the suffering that’s coming up in a few short hours time.

I’ve a slight sore throat and a cough, but even if one of my legs was hanging off, it wouldn’t stop me heading to that start line in a few hours time.

In no time at all, I hear the clock buzzing. It’s time to do this thing.