To finish off “cycling holy week” this Sunday I took part in the first prem of the year, Klondike Grand Prix. Prems are such awesome events, 140 elite riders on fully closed roads. Klondike takes place on the undulating North Yorkshire coast and snakes around the terrain with several lag sapping climbs each lap (totaling over 3000m of ascent). With a planned total distance of 170km I had no idea if I could get around.
Before the race my Grand Parents asked me “what would be a good result for you?” without hesitation I replied “TO FINISH”. I’d done 3 centuries this year so far, but working full time I’d been struggling to get in long (5 hour+) rides recently. I’ve been racing for the last 3 weeks and was coming into some form now so was hoping I’d be able to finish.
The first hour was hard as the break tried to get away. The group would splinter and regroup, I was quite savagely fighting for position at one point. Brushing shoulders with a rider who wouldn’t let in. I eventually subsided and let him win to discover it was in fact Connor Swift, current national champion…. Doh!
I didn’t know the course at all, and with such big laps it was hard to get a hang of. This meant I was really struggling to move up and when I got there I found it really hard to hold position. I kept getting swamped and had to expend energy moving back up. I was also really attentive with the winds. There was quite a crosswind on some exposed sections and it could easily split up again so I would use (waste) energy to stay safe just in case.
As the break actually got away I was quite well placed (in about 15th wheel) and probably could have made the effort to get into to but there was no way I’d have the legs to hold on. I simply didn’t have the racing endurance so remained where I was.
The break was allowed to get a small lead and our pace became more consistent. The pace on the hills got knocked off and I could focus more on self-preservation; trying to keep on top of nutrition. The pace was still high and not easy by any means but it wasn’t on the limit. The slight lull gave me chance to appreciate the crowds.
Every little town/village we went through was absolutely lined with people. There were several thousand people en route banging drums, cheering, yelling, holding signs. It was such an awesome atmosphere. When we hit the KOM point in Saltburn, the crowd was stacked 2/3 rows deep of people. I really enjoyed it and appreciated the support.
My grandparents were on the KOM point but didn’t see me at all! I’m sure they cheered hard though.
Once the break started to get chased down, the battle of attrition was on. Whilst none of the climbs were THAT hard, the volume of short effort after short effort was beginning to build. After 3 hours, I was finally getting to know the course. There was quite a technical descent into Saltburn and I found it much easier to move up to the front on the longer climb about 5km before it. I could make the effort then and hold it through the corners giving me a much easier time on the climb and over the top where the pace really lifted.
As we were finishing the final large lap the race just went ham and kicked off. The KOM point was absolutely hammered and the race got torn to shreds. I was ever so slightly out of position and ended up in the second group on the road. There were maybe 20 guys up the road but my group had some firepower still and within 5km we were back in the front.
I was actually feeling pretty mint still; I was obviously fatigued but not completely wrecked just yet. So much so that I was actively following moves and even ended up in a counter attack. I was actually leading a prem…
But then disaster struck. My chain came off again. Not again. I thought I’d got it fixed but clearly not. Still, I jumped off, put it back on and began the chase back in. I was still within the convoy of cars and gradually worked my way to the peloton. I was blessed by the bunch easing off on a longer climb but had to dig hard to catch them. I’d been going over 140km now so it took a massive effort to get back in. It was one of my last matches spent because I can’t align my bike!
Fortunately, as I said, I was feeling good. I’d caught them right before we ascended the steep climb out of Skelton. This meant I was almost right at the back of the peloton at the worst possible time. The race completely shredded on the ascent. The pace was mental and I was desperately trying to get back to the front so I could be in the front move. But I just couldn’t get there.
I was feeling awful now, I’d just had to make two massive efforts deep into the race and had ended up in the second group on the road. We took a little while to gather ourselves but team Spirit Tifosi also missed the move and started to chase. I eagerly sat in trying to rest and praying we would regroup.
The front group was not far away at all, only 15 seconds ahead but we were husks of ourselves and just couldn’t shut down the gap. Spirit Tifosi didn’t ease the chase at all and the gap was holding through the winds and narrow roads.
We were deep into the final lap and I was pretty wrecked. I was having a hard time just holding the rider in front’s wheel, he was a dwarf to be fair. But my bike handling and thoughts weren’t quite as lucid anymore. I wasn’t quite sure how far was left but knew that the final small lap had two major climbs remaining. Each one to me was a virtual finish line. If I could get over those then I’d likely be able to make it to the end in my group.
The first one came and I was still doing alright, tired but nowhere near getting dropped. It was at this point I should have eaten. We descended to the next climb in Saltburn and once again our group kicked off. I managed to stick at the front and hung on with the leaders as our group snapped in two. My power meter was dropping out so can’t give any data but trust me it was hard. I made it through; final virtual finish line complete.
Spirit Tifosi still kept pressing on, with me and Andy in tow. The other group was still in sight but we weren’t catching them, the gap must have been 40s or so. At this point I put my map screen on as I expected us to retrace our steps back to Guisborough. Instead we turned the exact opposite way to what I thought, starting to do another lap. Had I miscounted? We’d done over 100 miles now, where is the finish?
We still kept on the course, making our way around the lap with no signs of turning home. HOW FAR WAS LEFT? I was in bits. There was no way I could do another lap. The worst bit about this was that I knew we had 2 MORE climbs to do. How could I get up those?
We hit the first and I hung on. Then the second steeper one (where the race had split up) hit. I was going blind now and my vision blurred. Why hadn’t I eaten? I was beyond exhausted. My entire body was cramping and seizing. Yet somehow I stuck in there. Hauled my frame over the crest and had a final swig of my drink. But still… WHERE WAS THE END?
I had to ask a guy “how far’s left?”
“about 10km” he said.
Oh my days. Can I make that?
I just cleared my head, sat in and clung on. The k’s ticked off and before I knew it there was a sign saying 500m to go. .. I tried to snake everyone and move up but could barely pedal and once the sprint opened I had nothing.
My group was fighting for 25th place. I managed to come 40th, which is still my best Prem result and we were only 3 minutes behind the winner. I’d done it, managed to stick with the chase group. It had been a cracking race to be fair. Had I not had to waste a match chasing back I, I like to think I’d have been able to stick with the front group when it split. I certainly should have eaten more too. I will next time. But it was great to be almost at the pointy end of a prem.
A final humorous anecdote was that as I was cooling off riding back to the HQ, I hit a massive patch of gravel. I didn’t see it at all until suddenly both my wheels slid out. Some-bloody-how I managed to unclip, slide the bike and hold it up. #epicsave! Johnny McEvoy laughed and told me it was an awesome save but it would have been tragic to crash 200m away from my car.
Before the race my Grand Parents asked me “what would be a good result for you?” without hesitation I replied “TO FINISH”. I’d done 3 centuries this year so far, but working full time I’d been struggling to get in long (5 hour+) rides recently. I’ve been racing for the last 3 weeks and was coming into some form now so was hoping I’d be able to finish.
The first hour was hard as the break tried to get away. The group would splinter and regroup, I was quite savagely fighting for position at one point. Brushing shoulders with a rider who wouldn’t let in. I eventually subsided and let him win to discover it was in fact Connor Swift, current national champion…. Doh!
I didn’t know the course at all, and with such big laps it was hard to get a hang of. This meant I was really struggling to move up and when I got there I found it really hard to hold position. I kept getting swamped and had to expend energy moving back up. I was also really attentive with the winds. There was quite a crosswind on some exposed sections and it could easily split up again so I would use (waste) energy to stay safe just in case.
As the break actually got away I was quite well placed (in about 15th wheel) and probably could have made the effort to get into to but there was no way I’d have the legs to hold on. I simply didn’t have the racing endurance so remained where I was.
The break was allowed to get a small lead and our pace became more consistent. The pace on the hills got knocked off and I could focus more on self-preservation; trying to keep on top of nutrition. The pace was still high and not easy by any means but it wasn’t on the limit. The slight lull gave me chance to appreciate the crowds.
Every little town/village we went through was absolutely lined with people. There were several thousand people en route banging drums, cheering, yelling, holding signs. It was such an awesome atmosphere. When we hit the KOM point in Saltburn, the crowd was stacked 2/3 rows deep of people. I really enjoyed it and appreciated the support.
My grandparents were on the KOM point but didn’t see me at all! I’m sure they cheered hard though.
Once the break started to get chased down, the battle of attrition was on. Whilst none of the climbs were THAT hard, the volume of short effort after short effort was beginning to build. After 3 hours, I was finally getting to know the course. There was quite a technical descent into Saltburn and I found it much easier to move up to the front on the longer climb about 5km before it. I could make the effort then and hold it through the corners giving me a much easier time on the climb and over the top where the pace really lifted.
As we were finishing the final large lap the race just went ham and kicked off. The KOM point was absolutely hammered and the race got torn to shreds. I was ever so slightly out of position and ended up in the second group on the road. There were maybe 20 guys up the road but my group had some firepower still and within 5km we were back in the front.
I was actually feeling pretty mint still; I was obviously fatigued but not completely wrecked just yet. So much so that I was actively following moves and even ended up in a counter attack. I was actually leading a prem…
But then disaster struck. My chain came off again. Not again. I thought I’d got it fixed but clearly not. Still, I jumped off, put it back on and began the chase back in. I was still within the convoy of cars and gradually worked my way to the peloton. I was blessed by the bunch easing off on a longer climb but had to dig hard to catch them. I’d been going over 140km now so it took a massive effort to get back in. It was one of my last matches spent because I can’t align my bike!
Fortunately, as I said, I was feeling good. I’d caught them right before we ascended the steep climb out of Skelton. This meant I was almost right at the back of the peloton at the worst possible time. The race completely shredded on the ascent. The pace was mental and I was desperately trying to get back to the front so I could be in the front move. But I just couldn’t get there.
I was feeling awful now, I’d just had to make two massive efforts deep into the race and had ended up in the second group on the road. We took a little while to gather ourselves but team Spirit Tifosi also missed the move and started to chase. I eagerly sat in trying to rest and praying we would regroup.
The front group was not far away at all, only 15 seconds ahead but we were husks of ourselves and just couldn’t shut down the gap. Spirit Tifosi didn’t ease the chase at all and the gap was holding through the winds and narrow roads.
We were deep into the final lap and I was pretty wrecked. I was having a hard time just holding the rider in front’s wheel, he was a dwarf to be fair. But my bike handling and thoughts weren’t quite as lucid anymore. I wasn’t quite sure how far was left but knew that the final small lap had two major climbs remaining. Each one to me was a virtual finish line. If I could get over those then I’d likely be able to make it to the end in my group.
The first one came and I was still doing alright, tired but nowhere near getting dropped. It was at this point I should have eaten. We descended to the next climb in Saltburn and once again our group kicked off. I managed to stick at the front and hung on with the leaders as our group snapped in two. My power meter was dropping out so can’t give any data but trust me it was hard. I made it through; final virtual finish line complete.
Spirit Tifosi still kept pressing on, with me and Andy in tow. The other group was still in sight but we weren’t catching them, the gap must have been 40s or so. At this point I put my map screen on as I expected us to retrace our steps back to Guisborough. Instead we turned the exact opposite way to what I thought, starting to do another lap. Had I miscounted? We’d done over 100 miles now, where is the finish?
We still kept on the course, making our way around the lap with no signs of turning home. HOW FAR WAS LEFT? I was in bits. There was no way I could do another lap. The worst bit about this was that I knew we had 2 MORE climbs to do. How could I get up those?
We hit the first and I hung on. Then the second steeper one (where the race had split up) hit. I was going blind now and my vision blurred. Why hadn’t I eaten? I was beyond exhausted. My entire body was cramping and seizing. Yet somehow I stuck in there. Hauled my frame over the crest and had a final swig of my drink. But still… WHERE WAS THE END?
I had to ask a guy “how far’s left?”
“about 10km” he said.
Oh my days. Can I make that?
I just cleared my head, sat in and clung on. The k’s ticked off and before I knew it there was a sign saying 500m to go. .. I tried to snake everyone and move up but could barely pedal and once the sprint opened I had nothing.
My group was fighting for 25th place. I managed to come 40th, which is still my best Prem result and we were only 3 minutes behind the winner. I’d done it, managed to stick with the chase group. It had been a cracking race to be fair. Had I not had to waste a match chasing back I, I like to think I’d have been able to stick with the front group when it split. I certainly should have eaten more too. I will next time. But it was great to be almost at the pointy end of a prem.
A final humorous anecdote was that as I was cooling off riding back to the HQ, I hit a massive patch of gravel. I didn’t see it at all until suddenly both my wheels slid out. Some-bloody-how I managed to unclip, slide the bike and hold it up. #epicsave! Johnny McEvoy laughed and told me it was an awesome save but it would have been tragic to crash 200m away from my car.