A Saturday in Hell

Last Saturday, I returned to Heffon Park after a long absence to contest the D grade crit. I was determined to win, having placed several times but never getting victory. I thought it was time to win and time to move up to C grade. I was feeling strong. I’d trained well, ate well, slept well and was in a generally good state of psychic well-being. I’d said to myself before the race I wasn’t going to do all the work on the front. I would be tactical, I’d wait for my opportunity and take it when it came. Well the very best plans very rarely work out. Two minutes before the race I flatted on my warm up lap. By the time I’d changed the tube, I’d missed the first two laps of the race. Eventually, I joined the race on lap 3 under the proviso that I could not contest the win. It was to be a training ride for me. Angrily, I headed straight to the front of the pack and thought, if I couldn’t win, then I could at least ride these guys into hell. However, I think I was only person who went there in the end. For the following 8 laps (21km) I rode as hard as I could on the front averaging 36km/h. I don’t know what I was thinking.