The 2012 Club Road Nationals in the Hawkes Bay was the team’s final race before winter, and was one of the more fascinating, finely balanced races of the season. Mike, Tristan, Chris and I had been given the duty of covering attacks in protection of our team leader Andy, who after Silver last year, really wanted Gold.  Tristan had given me a leg up in my tasks with the loan of a pair of deep section carbon clinchers to use for the day.

As the most populous team in the field, we knew we had to be represented in anything that went away. And when Mike fortuitously slipped away after only 15km in a group of 4, we were happy to see what kind of response came from other teams. The calm, cool weather, and the course, whose terrain lacked a single defining difficulty, provided conditions for a successful breakaway, and the leading group of 4 quickly built a 3 min lead within 20km of setting off. The bunch was resided to getting through a few more kilometres before expending a lot of energy, laps 2 and 3 were relatively pedestrian. Clicking through half way was seemingly a psychological switch from which to launch into some aggression. With the lead group having gained over 5min, strong attacks began from several riders looking to define the race by leaving the field and mopping up the breakaway en route to victory. And this appeared to have been executed when Dan Barry, who after probably 10 attempts, slipped away in a group of 3 with 75km remaining. We grew increasingly anxious as the gap grew; we had covered almost all of his attacks but ultimately failed to keep him in the main field. Having let a race favourite get away, the day appeared to be slipping away.

Patience it seems was the order of the day. The fifth lap of six was the defining lap of the race. Attacks came on every rise during the relentless 15km section of the 29km lap. The peleton’s resolve was whitling away, as was Barry’s dangerous breakaway. The critical move came from Sam Horgan who rolled of the front on an innocuous, slightly downhill part of the course, taking Andy and Brad Tilby away with him. The response from the peleton was somewhat delayed, and with so many riders looking after their own ambitions, I could see the chase was far from concerted. It then left the question with 3 dangerous riders together in pursuit; how fresh were the front 4 riders. With one lap to go, their lead was still appreciable, but could they still influence the result. The peloton eventually switched off their chase, and the infighting for the U23 podium began in earnest. Nothing managed to stick and it was evident that everyone was pretty tired. We reached the top of the course and bumped into Josh Page who had been out ahead and looked good to contend the medals however he was rather poorly and not interested in latching on to the bunch despite my encouragement. I later learned he had an unexpected excursion from riding the bike to empty his stomach contents. Shame, because up until then he had done everything right. Meanwhile at the sharp end, Sam, Andy and Brad had finally found the front of the race and continued forth. They were unable however to shake the two Dans (Warren and Molyneux), who had been out front all day. As they went to the line, Dan Warren, after 160km in the lead, edged out Andy for the Silver medal, while Horgan just had too much for all of them and took the race by over a bike length.

The peloton approached the line about 1min 30 sec later, after having met back up with Mike Naylor within sight of the line after his 160km escape, Nice ride Mike, even if it was a bit heart breaking to catch him so close to the finish.

The distance (174km) was likely the main contributor to the calculated effort from the bulk of the riders. While the course and the calm conditions meant the race didn’t really smash to pieces, the best riders did successfully define themselves be it through hard fought heroics, or podium positions.

I love the moment on the start line before any big race where you are completely alone in your thoughts. You ask yourself if you are ready. You have goose bumps on your arms. You have no place to run, no place to hide, its business time. On the start line of the 2012 Elite Road Nationals, this moment is shattered for me when Mike slaps me on the back and reminds me I told him 6 months ago I was going to medal in this race! Stretch goals or the dreamer’s disease, I’ll let you decide…

Races tend to follow patterns, but with the established hierarchy of NZ cycling missing (Roulston, Hendy and Julz), it was a nightmare trying to anticipate who was going to control the race and how it was going to play out. I guess most riders felt the same way because when the gun sounded the speed immediately ramped up to 55km per hour as everyone wanted to be in the early break. The unknown question was “if the break established who was going to chase it?”. At this point I realised the race was going to be loose without rules.

The first time up the much vaunted Dyers Pass climb, Paddy Bevin was pushing 600watts (as reported on his SRM live feed) to try to establish the break. Only Lap 2 and the bunch was tapped! The early pressures up the climb contributed to a group of 10 guys slipping off the front of the field around the back of the circuit as everyone grabbed a quick breather. I was right there when the move went, I watched as prerace favourites Paddy Bevin, Josh Atkins, Paul Odlin and Robin Reid moved away. I had to decide if I wanted to go or if I wanted to stay with the bunch. I decided to wait, I thought it was too soon for me. I’m not sure I chose wisely.

The next 6 laps followed a pattern. The break would ride consistently and extend their lead on the flat section of the course each lap to approximately 1min 30secs. Whereas the bunch knew if a small group of strong riders could bridge to the front, it would be game, set and match. The result was the bunch would attack itself on the flats and go like crazy up the hill. The sight of Vink dancing on the pedals up the climb to the tune of 600watts became common place (worse still, post-race photographic evidence showed he was smiling!)… Each lap, the pressure on the climb caused the bunch to fragment into 3-4 groups of 8-10 riders. Every lap a few more riders would slip off too far and not make it back. At the halfway mark the break was down to 8 guys with a bunch of 25-30 guys trailing by a minute. WWR were well represented with Mike, Andy, Tristan and Greg.

Lap 7, the race turned on its head. 3km before the climb, a small group attacked off the front of the bunch. At first 5 guys slipped off, then a further 10 powered off the front including Bauer and Vink. This is the biggest problem with NZ racing, guys hesitate and look to other riders to take responsibility. In the space of 1min, my race was almost derailed as I sat boxed in and watched helplessly as 15 guys started to disappear. Reading the danger, I went past Mike, shook my head and said “this is bad, this is really bad, we need to go across on the climb, we need to get across fast”. The pace up the climb on lap 7 was electric! The bunch blew to pieces. By the top, a group of 8 guys including race favourites Vink, Bauer and Yates had established a small lead. Mike and I hung tough and were able to latch onto the chase group of 7. The race was over for everyone else.

The next lap saw a furious pursuit with 3 groups of 8 riders were spaced out over 40secs. I was in the 3rd group on the road with Mike, Scott Lyttle, Joe Cooper, Shem Rodger, Jesse Sergeant and Chris Macic (good company). We were riding strongly and clawing our way back into the race, km by agonising km! As we crossed the start / finish line, the front 2 groups merged with our group trailing by a further 15secs. We were still 10secs adrift at the bottom of the climb. Riding up the hill the crowd was going mental! Dudes were blasting you with water pistols, BBQ smells carried the air, music was blasting, people were going crazy and while I might have been delirious I’m sure I could hear a GFT chant ringing out over it all! I gave everything, cresting the hill with Shem, Joe, Mike and Scott. We set about chasing again. This time we caught the bunch around the back of the circuit. When the dust settled, the race was back together and the bunch was down to 18 guys. Mike and I were clinging on by our finger nails. Unfortunately for me, I burned all my matches during this 2 lap frenzy and the next lap up the climb the elastic broke, my day was over. Mike lasted 1 more lap and was pulled from the race with an agonising 2 laps remaining. For the third year running, a WWR member was the last rider on the course not to finish.

The final 3 laps witnessed Mike Vink do something special. He went on the attack and challenged the field to catch him. They couldn’t, he won! The strength and determination of this young man was phenomenal. He demonstrated iron will and a total refusal to lose. Following Atkins’ win in Southland and the final results at Elites, the young guns have arrived. Not only have they knocked on the door, they have smashed it down. They are fearless and race with reckless abandonment. Guys like Vink, Atkins, Bevin, Avery, Bennett and Williamson look ready to carry the expectations of NZ cycling for years to come. Throw into the mix the exceptionally talented junior graduating class of James Oram, Fraser Gough, Dylan Kennett, Hamish Schreurs and Dion Smith, and it’s reasonable to proclaim NZ road cycling might be about to enter into a golden age.

Overall, WWR had a mixed day at the office. Andy (sick) and Chris did not perform to their expectations. I strongly believe if Andy was healthy, he would have medalled in the Elite race. He’s a tough bugger and this was a strong man’s race. Tristan racing in his first Elite Nationals put in a really creditable performance. Judging by the look in his eyes after the race, he’ll be back next year to settle unfinished business. Mike and I had very similar races. In fact it was unusual if we were more than 3 wheels apart all day. Overall, we were both satisfied with our performance, we climbed with the best and we fought all the way. In the end we were just outridden by some pretty good bike riders. That’s racing.

Camaraderie

noun: comradeship, fellowship, companionship, friendship

1. Mutual trust and friendship among people who spend a lot of time together

Maybe it could also be defined as one of the hardest things to get find or inject into a team environment.

Money can’t buy it and you can’t force it. With encouragement and time it can happen but it’s never guaranteed. Its unique attributes mean that it just has to grow on its own.

Sport is full of camaraderie, a team’s success, or failure, is defined by it.

Comradeship can make amazing things happen and any team manager of any sport would certainly know its importance, and would be prepared to do a lot to instil it within their teams. If only it were that easy…

It’s Monday and I’ve just finished my first day back at work. It’s quite the contrast to last week, my aching legs and weary body have been a reminder of what I’ve been doing. The Tour of Wellington finished up with the always challenging street criterium yesterday. I was on the sideline shouting encouragement, and a lot of advice, to my (team) mates.

A sport so simple in principle (ride faster than everyone else) can be a brutal and amazingly hard to be successful in. Decisions made in split seconds will define you, or leave a bitter taste for weeks, months or years. I could have… I should have… next time I will.

“I just should have come round earlier” was going through my mind. The Wallaceville circuit the day before had been my last stage of the tour (and the last stage for General Classification).

I’d had a pretty good tour sitting around midfield, although I felt like I had a bit more in me and had hoped to make up some time on those in front of me on the last road stage. Waking on Saturday morning my legs still felt the same as they had when I went to bed 9 hours earlier, sore. It was reassuring that they freed up after 20 minutes of riding and I thought that I was up for a good day on a course that should suit me.

Unfortunately towards the end of the first lap, coming out of a left hander, the rider in front of me let a wheel go. Calmly I waited for him to accelerate back onto the back of the peloton, the acceleration came and I thought all was well in the world again. However moments later as I looked around him I realised that I had made a fatal mistake. I should have rolled over him coming out of the corner. Without even noticing the gap had grown, hugely. I gave it full gas to try to get across. My legs winding up felt pretty good, but they faded a bit earlier than I thought they might, another rider rolled over me to try to do the same, then another… the gap wasn’t closing… A big surge on the flat then into the climb and I was struggling. By the time we hit the gradient of the climb the pace of the peloton had lifted again and hopes of us rejoining were looking bleak. That was the last I saw of the bunch, they were quickly hidden from view by the race convoy of cars, station wagons, vans and ambulances as they streamed past the fading racers.

I pushed on, and tried as hard as I could to get back but to no avail. In front of me the bunch slowly splinted as the laps counted down, behind me riders retired from the race, spent from three very heavy days of racing. It was hard not to do the same, but the desire to get onto the bell lap drove me on. However with three laps to go, I started to fade, exhausted my body had little energy left to give. I was passed by the front of the race on my 7^th lap of 8. So close, but still miles from where I needed to be.

It was hard finishing, despite being lapped I did finish the distance. To say I didn’t want to be there anymore is probably one of the biggest understatements I could ever make.

Why?

Comradeship. Being passed by your (team) mates and knowing that you couldn’t be there to help them left me feeling gutted. Not being able to be in the mix in front of our absolutely amazing supporters that were scattered all over the circuit, and online, providing support and encouragement was devastating. That time on my own on allowed me a little bit of head space, when I wasn’t concentrating on breathing or pedalling, to realise how strong the bond of the team, and its supporters, has grown over the past months.

We have had an amazing time since the team was kicked into life with a roar at the Rice Mountain Classic. Sitting back and reflecting on what we have done, and achieved, brings about an immense feeling of pride. The environment at every race we’ve attended has been absolutely fantastic and we can’t express how much we have relished the ongoing support we’ve received from everyone to date. It’s all contributed to what defines the team, our team.

I believe you can often get more from having a bad day than a good day. I’ve been happy with my form and am already looking forward to some more events to try my hand with. I can’t wait to roll out again with my mates, in training, at races and all the fun times that we have in between. I’m sure there are still more successes to be had before the summers out.

Comradeship is very difficult to instil in a team. Ask me how to do it and I’ll be able to offer some suggestions. Ask me how we did and I’ll tell you that it was always just there. Ask me what it looks like and I’ll point you to a ton of photos that we have on line , and in particular two photos of the team at the tour de vineyards (one, two), it’s a feeling that just can’t be described.

It costs nothing to get that feeling, which is hard to believe because it’s absolutely priceless.

The 2011 Tour of Wellington is all finished.  Check out these amazing photos from Joe Kelly of the boys at work and jump over to the team’s Facebook page for more great photos, updates, and insight.

Many thanks to all of the people who gave up their time to help the boys in this years tour.  Joe Kelly the photographer, Gary the chauffeur, James, Janine and Ross for handing out bottles, Nathan for his physio expertise, Mr and Mrs Hagan for their picnic making abilities, and for all the people who came out and cheered the boys from the side of the road.

With the Tour behind us we’ll be looking ahead to the upcoming races.

James Coyle’s race report from the Elite race at Taupo

Recently I completed the annual round-Taupo race in a little over 4hrs. The race marked the completion of a 6 month personal odyssey back into bicycle racing for me. I wanted to mark the end of my racing season with a bbq for the people I have met during this time, but I have too been to busy to organise one so far, so I thought I would write this post instead.

I’m no Joao Correia, but growing up in Rotorua (home of 1994 Commmonwealth Games Road Race gold-medalist Mark Rendell and other assorted nineties cyclists who turned pro) I trained a lot as a junior in high school and raced sometimes. I was average back then: Although a 65-67 kilo grimpeur, I lacked the strength to stay in the bunch when the bigger guys started pushing hard gears over rolling or flat terrain. Lack of success in hanging in there meant I never developed the bike racer’s commitment to constantly fighting for every advantage possible needed to succeed, or riding till think your heart and lungs will explode, then riding some more. Truth was, I probably just didn’t do enough intervals or enough races to properly get the hang of it.

Anyway, 11 years, 11 kilos, university and a couple of careers later something urged me to get back on my bike with the objective of being able to race again. I didn’t want to win the Nationals or turn pro or anything, I just wanted to say that I had raced hard and to have the feeling of staying among a bunch travelling at 40km/hr+ for the duration of a race. I decided to dedicate about six months to training and racing, with the objective of riding a competitive time at Taupo (the perennial mecca for middle-age white guy’s trying to recapture their youth).

At 78 kilos, losing weight was of course priority number one, but justifiably so. You don’t have to have invented the VAM formula to understand what a difference one less kilo (let alone eight less kilos) makes to your ability to ride at a certain speed uphill and to sustain it. I certainly found this to be true. The consequential dieting required an amount of self discipline outside of the discipline needed to get up at 5.30am to go training in the mornings. It was made harder by the long-ish hours required in a law office (although they were pretty good about it) and you are tired alot.

However, it began to feel worth it once club racing started in August and national-level racing started in September, where I was firmly in B-grade. At the end of September I rode the Taupo-Napier of which I was terrified. Matt Yates finished 25 minutes before I did that day, but this fact was massively outweighed by the fact I had just raced a 140kms. I was very excited because I had never done this before. Riding a 140kms is easy. Racing the same distance is an entirely different proposition. In all, I competed in 16 Club races or National points races in the 4 months prior to Taupo.

Possibly my biggest regret, but equally a race from which I took great satisfaction, was failing to podium at the Martinborough fun ride. Laugh all you like, but the Wheelworks big guns – Hagen-das, Naylor and Taylor, Kendall and Coombes (I think) were busy crushing K2 that day. With the exception of Craig Lawn (who disappeared up the road early anyway), I had the field to myself with only the elder statesmen of Wellington cycling, the Meo-GP team, to worry about. I felt strong and rode in two breaks. The second break was too far from the finish and we got caught in headwinds. I know I could have podiumed if I had stuck to my original plan (to break away up a short hill at 5k out, that the bunch had slowed on all day).

Taupo itself was a bit of an anti-climax as I got sick two weeks before and training was difficult. Still, being on the start line with a list of riders who I am used to watching in Europe on tv was reward enough for the last 6 months. As was trying to look pro as I slooped by the SkyTV moto early in the race.

Next year is going to be taken up with some other things, but at 30, I think I can still keep improving for a few more years after that. I’d like to ride the Tours of Wellington or Southland as a domestique at some point.

Above all, the moments I will remember the most during my short racing season (I know the “season” is really only starting for elite riders) were:

* The moment mid-race when you’ve surivived early on and now your bunch is monstering the course at 50km an hour, and you are sitting in feeling great;
* Hilarious car journeys out and back to races with the Wheelworks team guys (Tristan I expect the UCI will ask you revisit your policy on team vehicle names when you go Pro-Tour);
* Sitting on the wind-trainer out the back of the house in the rain late at night in the dark in the middle of winter listening to the I-pod waiting for the weather to get better and the racing to start; and
* Attempting repeated hill batterings with Naylor – him succeeding, me usually losing my dignity by the 5th or 6th rep;

Divine genetic decisions blessed me with a somewhat pathetic engine meaning that I’m never going to ride to the level of some of the guys in the Wheelworks team. But the fact is that I love riding my bike and most of the time, I just enjoyed trying to hang on behind, while they lit up races and animated training rides. I admire their ability tremendously.

‘Till next year.

- James, who loves bike riding

Chris Kendall’s Race report from this weekend’s Festival of Cycling in Christchurch

Its not about the result. Sometimes its about setting a plan and sticking to it regardless of the situation that unfolds in front of you. But when the ship looks like its sinking its hard to stay put with confidence while others around you are diving into deep water in an effort get to the shore before everyone else.

I’m a pretty good swimmer, I’ll always get to the shore if I decide to jump in, I just need to get the timing right so that I have the best opportunity to get there before those that jump early. Its about timing, patience and looking after yourself as best as you can. Its something I’ve been trying to work on recently.

Its required me to hit the reset button as part of my training and racing. I’ve done the form finder loops, clocked up some hard miles, worked on my strength and speed, now I’m working on my mental game. Speed and strength are easy, mental well that’s a different story.

I’ve raced my mountain bike for nearly ten years and the mental challenges for that are pretty simple. Push yourself as hard as you can for about 2 hours and leave everything you have on the trail. It gets more complicated than that when the heats on and there are lots of riders around you, but its always about pushing as hard as you can to ensure you’ve used every ounce of strength and energy to get your best possible result. This crosses over well to the road in ITT’s (a mountain bike race is essentially the same as two 40k ITT’s back to back) but doesn’t really help you in the chess on wheels that is a road race.

I’m learning my limits on the road, and have been frustrated recently with some results that haven’t reflected my current form. This has been as a consequence of my enthusiasm more than anything else, I’ve just wanted to show how well I’m riding by riding as hard as I can. Unfortunately that doesn’t always work.

The Festival of Cycling in Christchurch on the weekend was a course that I thought would suit me, and I was hoping for a good result. It’s a shortish (76km) course with a flat first fifty kilometres and a rolling last thirty. More than anything I knew I would have to use my head to do well on this course. It was a great test for my ability to follow a plan.

The plan was simple, stay out of trouble, stay off the front as much as possible and stick with everyone once we hit the hills.. Easy.

It was a fast start, rolling around the base of Banks Peninsula at around 50km/hr. Unfortunately this was a little too fast for some resulting in a big pile up after approximately 5km. Memories of my only Tour of Southland came flooding back all to quickly as bodies and bikes hit the road bouncing into the path of those that had nowhere to go. I have no idea how many came down (it looked like half the field, but wasn’t), but I was lucky enough to have lost position corners earlier and managed to narrowly miss the crash through some very evasive action.

The race didn’t stop, which meant that those of us behind the crash had to motor to get back on. This was particularly difficult given there were attacks happening non-stop on the front which kept the peloton speed high. I pulled a couple of times to help out but was conscious of how fast we were travelling (50+) and didn’t want to drag everyone else back on the before blowing a foo foo valve and riding the rest of the day on my own. Thankfully there were some small rollers which slowed the peloton down enough that we could almost make contact, before finally getting there as we crossed Colombo Street. Tucked in behind Hayden Roulston as we passed Princess Margret Hospital the pace started to lift again as more attacks tried to establish a winning break. However nothing stuck and we ended up hitting Gebbies pass in a large bunch.

From here it was everyman for himself as a group of 7 (I think – I was cross-eyed when they went for it) established the winning break. For the rest of us it was about getting to the finish to scrap for the remaining top ten places that were on offer.

I managed to hang in there to be in the second group on the road at the top of the last climb up Evans Pass. I’d followed my plan and was still feeling pretty good, despite the presence of some cramp creeping in. With 7 flat kilometres counting down very quickly the attacks were many, with the pace high all the way to the finish. I followed two moves but realized it was a little too much for me to handle all the way to the finish. With 1.3k to go there was one acceleration to many and at 55kph a gap opened that I couldn’t close, It felt like a parachute opening. I did get a second (it might have been the eighth actually) burst of energy out of the hair pin corner with 1.1 k to go but quickly faded into the head wind wind trailing the bunch by about 20 seconds across the line.

I would have loved to have been in for a chance with the sprint but I threw my dice with 7k to go. I’m happy with that. I’d done everything I had said I would do and was stoked to have been there when the fireworks began (admittedly this was 2 minutes behind the leading riders on the road but one of them has at least a couple of shinny medals).

So its not always about the result (31st overall, 14th open men: for those of you it does matter to), sometimes its about executing a plan to give yourself the best possible chance of a result.

I know that I’m riding strong at the moment. I just need to know the schedule of the boat for next time or maybe which way the tides going so I can decide about swimming….

Andy Hagan’s race report after 7th place in the Elite field around Taupo

The team strategy was simple. Work hard to get at least one, and hopefully more, of the team off the front and into the break. You have to make the race at Taupo. The course and the field – a combination of elite racers out to win, and others less motivated, or just looking to go sub 4 hours – lend themselves to a race that is usually defined by a shitfight to get a group off the front followed by the bunch shutting down and those lucky or good enough to make the front fighting out the win. We knew this. Confidence was high that this task would be completed by following the moves until the break went. If we missed it we would just shut it down – we thought. The team was feeling good.

Arriving at the start at 6.15am on a beautiful Taupo Saturday the first cracks in the aura of confidence began to appear. There’s Julian; Gordy just rode past; Pure Black have heaps of guys; Bevin’s here; were thoughts going through my head. The field was stacked with quality guys. The significant prize pool no doubt motivating many.

Taupo has a bitch of a start. The first 40km is basically a constant barrage of short steep power climbs – not my forte – and the early start means it’s hard to get a proper warm up in. Down the hill and up the other side out of Taupo and I could already feel the lactate building, with not only the hitters, but the lesser lights, climbing past me. Confidence hit number two. We had agreed that we had to be vigilant and at the front from the start, and here I was 3/4s of the way down the field already. This is hurting.

Still I persevered, the fact that I could see Greg and Mike where they should be further up motivated me to move up too. As the race went on I warmed into it and did indeed move up. Executing the plan was next on the agenda. The guys, Greg in particular, were doing a great job following the early moves allowing me to take it (relatively) easy and watch the action from a good position. Constant attacks up the hills were followed by others shutting it down and another going. The pace was high, so high that it was hard just to follow the peloton let alone the moves. We covered 41km in the first hour over very hilly terrain. So much for “Well just get someone in the break and that’ll be it”. Still we were executing close to what we planned, with a Wheelworks rider in most of the moves.

After 40 odd minutes, and a long section of climbing, it became apparent that people were getting tired. Gaps that normally would have be shut quickly were lingering. Time to be vigilant. Sure enough, up one of the tougher pinch climbs a Pure Black rider attacked, a few followed. Next thing I knew a couple of Subway’s, Yates and some other big names were going across. Time to go. NOW. As we crested the top of the climb I managed to bridge across using maximal effort. I hung on down the other side and braced myself for another full on sprint to hold the group. At the top of the next pinch I looked back to see that the 14 or so of us had opened a significant gap. This was THE move.

The next 10-15km was full on, max effort to sustain the lead. Around me were pro riders, Olympic medallists, and world champions. With it being threshold effort just to hold the group, and all the big names around, it was pretty daunting. The confidence slipped a touch more. I can’t hang here, although never did my determination to try slip, and never did I miss a turn (in fact I probably did more than was fair). If I get dropped at least I made the break I thought.

Soon though, the gap was confirmed, and the intensity eased. I began to feel more comfortable. Even on the climbs where Michael Vink in particular was pushing the pace. Still, my belief in myself wasn’t what it normally is, even though I had begun to realise I’m good enough to be here. I began to second guess things that are second nature for me normally – lapping through, following wheels and the like suddenly seemed more complicated. “If I get dropped on Kuratau it will still have been a good day” was the thought rather than “how can I win this”.

The hills around Taupo are incessant. You climb 1,700m plus without ever going higher than 600m above sea level or below 350m. Each one saps a bit of strength. We reached Kuratau quickly though. That climb was good for me. I went up second wheel behind the aptly named Aaron Strong without too much difficulty, grabbing a bottle and appreciating the support of Tristan and Jules on the side of the road.

Hatepe was the next obstacle after the long flat section after Kuratau. We got no time checks during this period which told me we had a good gap. I found out later it was 10 minutes plus. Everyone knew this would be the place that it would go, being the last major obstacle on the course. After a nervous approach, with people jettisoning water, bottles and even food to cut the weight, Jeremy Yates launched the first major attack taking five others with him. I hesitated a moment too long, with hindsight my lack of confidence in the presence of these others probably caused this. The normal go they’re hurting was replaced by hold on. I found myself in a chase group of five. Upfront were Yates, Mike Northey, Tim Gudsell, Joe Cooper, Aaron Strong and Patrick Bevin. Behind I was chasing with Roman Van Uden, Glen Chadwick, Justin Kerr and Michael Vink. Greg Marfell, Peter Latham and Sam Bewley had fallen further behind on the climb.

Over the top and along the flat approach to Taupo the five of us chased hard to closed the gap, succeeding just before the airport climb after taking advantage of the convoy at the very end. I’m in at the kill, stay calm, use the teams, you have a chance.

Pure Black were keen to shut it down, with 3 versus 8 much better odds than 1 versus 5. Roman attacked with Justin Kerr as soon as we bridged. I thought about going but recalled that there were still 9km to go. Subway will shut down the move. When your solo in a group with teams represented you have to gamble a touch as it is too hard to follow everything. There were still 3 Pure Blacks and 2 Subways.

A few moves followed, with lulls and sprints and the looking at each other that comes with a flat run in at the end of a long race. Roman and Justin stayed tantalisingly close but still ahead as the line moved closer and closer. It’s not up to me to chase it down. Unfortunately for me, there was too much looking and not enough sprinting and it became clear the lead two would take the major silverware.

Round the final bend and we lined up for the sprint for third. I rolled in mid group for seventh, with Roman winning a few seconds ahead. Justin Kerr and Patrick Bevin rounded out the podium. All in all I was really happy with the result, perhaps rueing my slight lack of confidence at some key moments, although in the end it didn’t matter too much. Both first and second places were filled by riders that, like me, were caught on the wrong side of the split over Hatepe.

The main bunch rolled in a few minutes after us with Greg, Mike and Dan there. Chris came in in the next bunch, having been shelled after following a move early in the race. This to me is the very essence of teamwork, as his effort (as with the others’) allowed me to rest early on knowing Wheelworks was represent in the move.

In the Woman’s race Janine performed brilliantly, meeting her pre race goals and finishing 17^th in another quality field. I’ll leave her to tell that story.

The rest of the day was very enjoyable. The prize giving was held in beautiful weather and was very entertaining. No car though. A special “shout out” to the guy hyping up the BMX guys. What a legend. Although I’m not sure that the crowd knew what to make of his obvious talents. A team barbeque rounded out the day.

John-Joe Fraser deserves a special mention also, completing the solo as a tribute to his wife Patricia who was killed training for the event. He received a deserved standing ovation when collecting his award and spoke with unbelievable composure during what was an obviously emotional moment. The guts and courage he showed makes completing a bike race look trivial.

CHECK OUT THE STATS:

By Chris Kendall

I am not Fabian Cancellara… Now repeat… I should have had this written on my stem yesterday.

Unfortunately I don’t think I would have read it many times anyway,  as I was already looking 115km towards the finish line as soon as we started yesterdays road race.

I was surprised to find that I had good feelings in my legs and was relatively fresh, with a very poor warm up, a long ride the day before and a restless nights sleep I had feared the worst and was pleasantly surprised to find otherwise.  However good legs are only going to be helpful in a road race if you use them…. but not too much. 30km after the start, and after attempting three breaks, my good legs were turning bad and I was starting to realise that 115km is a long way. The bunch was still together, despite me thinking I was riding people off the back (I am definitely not Fabian Cancellara), and I had realised that hiding in the bunch would have been a much better idea. Queue crosswinds. No long after I had realised the error of my ways when I saw Tosh, Backy and Meo moving up from the back of the bunch. Alarm bells sounded, I hadn’t even realised two of those three were there, and I knew it was best that I move from my brief moment of protection from the wind to the pointy end again, something big was probably about to go down. Impeccable timing meant that I was at the front, along with the rest of the boys, to drive it hard in the crosswind and turn this fun ride on its ear. In the traditions of HTC and CSC we managed to gap it with the leading bunch shelled down to 13 just before Alfredton.

There was little respite from there with a few keen to keep turning the screws to ensure that there was to be no more fun had at this ride. By now I was really struggling, and my early antics and general bad timing had meant that I hadn’t eaten anything since kilometre zero, one hour and 20 minutes later I was feeling the pinch. One thing stood between me and my energy boost (aka GU and a muesli bar) and that was the two longest climbs of the day, which showed up sooner than expected. As we hit the bottom of the first hill I put the unconsumed gel back in my pocket and stared blankly at the wheel in front of me, I knew my heart rate monitor was blinking numbers at me that I really didn’t need to see, and I thought my head was going to explode. The crest of the hill could not be seen and I was drifting. I hate power climbs, and this was the perfect shelling ground for those that had power in greater reserves than me. As the bungee started to stretch to breaking point the crest I had been praying for came into sight, I grabbed another gear, gritted my teeth and gave more than I had to get back to the last wheel.

The descent was heaven for crossed eyed climbers that were about to drop of the back, but it was simply a roll onto the next climb. Crap. At least I’d eaten my gel now. The second climb didn’t seem as bad as the first, but that was little consolation. The head wind was slowing progress of the boys on the front and assisting me at the back a great deal. This was just as well given the previous kilometres were now really taking their toll. At the back I could see others were struggling and drifting, the fact that they were in front of me was of major concern. I got a second wind and started to close the gap again, only to see it open just as quickly as it had the first time. As we approached what I thought was the summit I gave it everything I had to try to get back to the shelter from the wind in the shadow of the other riders. It wasn’t the summit. There was still more to go, more that I didn’t have. Tosh slowed to an almost complete halt beside me and I was struggling not to do the same. Its agonising seeing those in front of you drop of the pace, especially when all you think you need is someone to help you claw back on the climb. Once we hit the descent the gap was growing  and the winds ensured it would not be closed again.

I had nothing left in the tank but continued to push on just in case the front group, or the wind, eased a little. But it didn’t. Suddenly 60km to the finish seemed like a lot further, and more intimidating, than 115km was at the start of the day. So in the wind and the rain Tristan and I rolled through, picking up some of the other shrapnel that had been discarded along the way, it took the best part of half an hour before were we caught by the second bunch on the road. Time enough to get some much needed food on board.

From there it was a solid ride to the finish, but not the same pace as those in front. My good legs did come back and with a few big turns to make myself feel better about the morning’s stupidity we were home.

Meanwhile at the front of the race Andy Mike, Greg and Dan were rolling through like the Magenta express in the final selection of eight riders. Despite best efforts to tear everyone apart through the rolling terrain at end of the race Andy couldn’t quite make it work and came in second to Lawny, the fun ride hard man, who completed a clean sweep of sorts in the Taupo lead up races.

I was disappointed in my result, but more disappointed in my tactics. I am not Fabian Cancellara, but its easy to think that you can do what he does, especially when you feel like you’re a motorbike at the start  of the day. The hardest thing about racing, and the toughest lesson to be learnt (or be taught by others), is that the strongest rider doesn’t always win. It is the one that uses their strength most effectively. Most days you’re better to wear the invisible cloak, particularly when you’ve got good legs, Oscar Freire and Thor Hushovd are two great exponents of this. It’s something I thought I had learnt along time ago. Sunday was definitely a refresher course; hopefully I’ll have the nous to remember that for next time…

Till next time.

Kendall