On
Sunday morning I spent an hour at Wormbridge, which is on the road from
Abergavenny to Hereford, in support of my nephew’s cycling time trial debut in
the Welsh Championship 12 Hour. Most riders would progress to the 12 hour
discipline from 10 miles, 25 miles and then longer distances but we’re not particularly
impressed by mere speed merchants and Chris went straight to the day long
event, the ostensible purpose of the project being to replicate the photograph
of him, aged 7 or 8, handing up a bottle to me in the 1996 edition of the
Western Time Trials Association, with the roles reversed 21 years later. There
is not much that our family doesn’t know about organizing, timekeeping and
riding 12 hour cycle races but we haven’t had a rider since my last effort and
so man hands on misery to man, as Larkin said in his poem, and it was good to
have someone to pass it onto.
We
stayed in the Raglan area, near the start and finish of the race in an idyllic
but impractically remote converted barn some way behind the back of beyond and
after visiting the local castle on Saturday, were up with the dawn chorus at 4
a.m. to get to the start. From the beginning, there were two events going on
within the same race. Not necessarily the women’s and the men’s, the tandems
(of which there were none as it happened) and the solo riders but those who
were in contention for the top prizes and those who were riding a 12. The point
of the latter option might be lost on some people but some sport, and
especially occasions like this, are about much more than the dreary tyranny of
who won. Personally, I don’t want to hear about the challenge, the ‘journey’ or
personal development either. It’s just there so you can do it if you feel like
it. It’s not supposed to be easy and it wouldn’t be any good if it was.
Dan
Colman, the next big thing of Welsh cycling, made an early statement of intent
by setting off like a scolded cat, piling up fast 10 mile times one after the
other with the likes of Dean Ware, Tom Glandfield, Gavin MacDougall and Victor
Chetta posting times in behind him that may or may not provide a platform to
challenge from later in the day.
But
as a one-time rider myself who needed to train hard to be good enough to take
part, never mind be competitive, I’m often more interested in the stories going
on below the top few places on the leaderboard and, on a similar theme, it was
good to see Janet Tebbutt, if only in passing from the car, once holder of the
ladies Land’s End to John O’Groats record in the 1970’s and my all-time
sporting hero ahead of better-known figures like Derek Randall, George Best,
Alex Higgins, Basil D’Oliviera, mavericks for who winning didn’t seem to be the
only reason to take part. There was a captivating contest going on among the
ladies who brought some genuine class to proceedings with their panache and
style that had absolutely nothing to do with being female and everything to do
with being accomplished riders. One gathers other favourites throughout the
day, mostly those riders who have the time to acknowledge your support although
there’s no reason why they should. One motivation for being a lone
long-distance cyclist might be to have twelve hours to yourself and so cheers
of encouragement from lay-bys might not be what they came for.
But
all day is a long time and what looks like an emerging pattern by lunchtime
can’t always be relied upon to provide the result at the end. The impetus can
swing away from the early pacesetters and the afternoon is where the actual
outcome is decided. Colman didn’t slow down by much but MacDougall and the
eventual winner, Victor Chetta, had more saved up than we knew about. Heroics
elsewhere included a superb ride by Suzannah Minns at long last putting a gap
of some significance between herself and her nearest pursuer who had served up
a resilient battle from one minute behind all day long.
Chris
had gone very much to plan although I know it’s easier to make a plan than
deliver it when one’s chain comes off three times and you buy the losing ticket
in the traffic light lottery and have to stop at them on both the outward and
return parts of the trip to Hereford. It was hotter than ideal although
windless (which might not be as ideal as it sounds in the heat) and although
dual carriageways probably do provide better time trial results than B roads
and country lanes, they are also a dystopian nightmare from a future we’ve now
arrived at and the old course we had based on Sutton Benger, Malmesbury,
Cirencester was more pleasant both to ride and spectate on. I was concerned he
wasn’t taking enough of the water offered but it transpired that he couldn’t
take any more. By mid-afternoon my thoughts had turned to my own hydration and
promised myself some cans of lager at the end so please note, anyone who visits
Raglan on a Sunday night and fancies a can of lager, it’s like Stairway to Heaven and the stores are
all closed.
Among
the reams of e-mail advice I provided in my role as self-appointed Svengali, it
must have said that from 8 to 10 hours is the hard part. Once you are down to
less than two hours, you can think you’ve cracked it. So those were the
difficult moments although I doubt if packing was ever a serious option. No
more serious, it seems, than having another go at it is having achieved this
first success which may, or may not, have won the trophy for best novice.
Before we know that, we will need to know who the first time at the distance
novices were. But he did finish first, being the earliest starter of those who
finished. In a 12 Hour, though, it is distance covered that wins the money, not
who finishes first.
But
what a sensational return to the classic sporting event it was. Twenty years on
and it is still there, diminishing year by year with fewer and fewer riders
apparently interested in guts, composure and determination and preferring
lycra, sunglasses and expensive equipment to show their friends. Well, frankly,
that won’t do but there still are enough stamina merchants to sustain it a while
longer and a few athletes who can turn up and ride it like it’s a ten mile
blast and see how long they last. Top marks to Chris and all my new best
friends I met on Sunday. It’s going to have to be quite a concert that denies
the Welsh Championship 12 Hour the prize for Best Event of the year on this
website come December.
