Since
first riding the track at Awaba a few months back I had this course in mind as
one which might suit my capabilities – lots and lots of climbing with few mega
technicalities, although it did occur to me that compared to Taree or Nowra it
was on the rough side and was certain to dish out a hammering on the hard tail.
I
travelled to the event in the early morning with the Salmon collective – Ben
would also be running solo and Mikey would be teaming up with a work mate in
the pairs category. Although Ben and
Mike are both pretty competent bike handlers I filled them in on what I knew of
the course, including the insanely steep descent to the bowels of a gully known
as “the chute”.
The
form. The Masters field was, again,
going to be a hard one to crack. Mr
Adams (round 1 winner) was signed up, along with Messer’s McAvoy (who I pipped for
the first time last week at the Kowalski – although he was treating it as a
leisurely training ride), Welch (10 min behind me last week and in a bit of a fatigue
slump), Israel (3 min ahead of me last week) and James (6 min ahead of me last
week). Fortunately for all of us Adams
was a DNS.
My
self-seeding nightmare continued although I managed to slot into the first
single track sector with a lungful of dust maybe 20 spots behind Welch, but by
the half way point of what is a longish 12 km loop he was well out of
sight. I ended up riding the first few
laps with Mr Clutterham, who used to live in the same townhouse complex I call
home. Matt was riding well after having
a bit of a horror show at the Dargle12hr solo a month back. We swapped lead a few times and chatted
intermittently when suddenly Welch appeared on the horizon at about the 2 hour
mark. Slowly but surely we gained
contact then sat in a conga line for some time, with Phil at the head of
affairs.
Eventually
I decided it was time to pass but made a hash of it, almost knocking both
myself and Phil off our bikes. I
apologized profusely then got back to the business of holding a rhythm. Soon after Mr Israel was also gobbled
up. On the main climb of the course a gap
seemed to open and on the next lap I got a bit of a shock, sighting glimpses of
Mr James up ahead, betrayed by his canary yellow shoes and socks. Soon enough I was cruising past as he
conceding that a lack of taper had left him cooked and it would not be his day. The only man up the road at this point would
have been McAvoy himself.
I
eased off a little bit as the pace had been pretty intense and it was
reasonably warm with little breeze getting through the trees. I had abandoned my sweat-flecked glasses after
the first lap – a sign I should have taken more notice of. Now my vision was at times blurry as I
struggled to get the contacts pointing in the right direction, perhaps courtesy
of the combination of dust and encroaching dehydration. Feeding was quite tricky, with most of the
liquid having to be downed in large gulps on only a few short sections of
fire-road connecting the large sectors of singletrack. But I was enjoying being on my lonesome and
swooping through the half-pipes of eucalypt and rainforest sectors.
Adrenaline
moment of the day was rounding a corner and startling a huge goanna (as long as
I am tall) that had lumbered onto the track. Fortunately for both of us it bolted as soon
as it saw me, but along the very same single track. Although these things can move I was bearing
down on it – a slapstick Jurassic Park moment albeit in a parallel universe with
man chasing lizard. It had sense to
finally punch off the track 10 meters later just as the front wheel was close
to clipping its thrashing tail.
I
couldn’t afford to ease off for long, as occasional glimpses of Phil behind
reminded me. At best I really only had a
few minutes up my sleeve. Occasionally
Ben or Mike would make my pits more efficient by passing a bottle and giving a
time check. The most encouraging one I
got all race was “3 minutes behind and 3 minutes ahead”. Welcome news although I think the 3 behind (McAvoy)
was a little flattering and the 3 ahead was tempered by knowledge it was a lap
old.
In
any case I was chuffed to be running so close to McAvoy, and felt confident
that I had 2nd in the bag. I
shouldn’t have. With 5 hours down and 2
hours (or 3 laps) remaining the first very unwelcome twinges of cramp made
themselves known. It’s funny how quickly
dynamics can change. Only the lap prior
I felt strong and in control. Now just
cleaning the steeper pinches without inducing lock-up became a battle. So I nursed myself, guzzling liquid when I
could, but caught sight of Welch once again with about a lap and a quarter to
go. Come my last transition and the
start of my 11th and final lap I only had 30 seconds, and with about
10 km to go I eased aside to let Phil blast through. I thought this was a bit of overkill as it
should have been obvious my engine was roasted.
I suppose he was just making sure, as I have done to him on previous
occasions, but I discovered only minutes later that perhaps fear of a resurgent
Israel might have also been motivation.
I
congratulated Mike as he too surged past and let him know that Phil was only a
minute up the track if he wanted him. At
least I didn’t have to worry about the podium now. Turns out Mike did want him, catching Phil at
the death and putting a mere 10 sec into him come the line. What a ding-dong battle! McAvoy finished on top, 10 minutes clear of
the minor placing’s fisticuffs. I
eventually got myself to the end, but not before “Clutters” (5th in open
category) also blasted by in the last km to also do me by about 30
seconds. Well-done Matt! Despite having a shocker, Mr James was only 5
minutes further adrift in 5th, also on 11 laps. Only
the outright solo winner (Mr Lloyd) managed 12 laps for the day.
Well,
that was an education and a timely reminder that when it’s warm I’ve got to
manage my fluid intake and intensity a little better. Hats of to Jason for being a cut above, and to
Mike and Phil (and Matt) for pacing themselves so sensibly and saving enough to
run hot at the end when it mattered. I
think all would agree it turned out to be a terrific race. And to Phil, especially, for breaking the
drought that had been messing with his mind.
Ben
and Mikey also seemed to have had a grand day out, with a few minor offs, but
nothing involving broken bikes, bodies or bark off. Thanks guys for the joys of the car trip and
for pit-side bottles and beta. Next week
Stromlo should be fun in a less serious and more relaxed kind of way.
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