There was the usual mix of anticipation and pre-race trepidation as I rolled out of the driveway last Saturday morning. Rather neat to be able to ride to the start of a UCI event with the bike in race setup aided by a tail wind. Preparations were in good order thanks to Perth’s exemplary autumn weather; no missed training days since the start of the December school hols and a minimum of 350km each week. Legs never feel as light or as frisky as they should despite a taper, but would it matter? Time and 6 laps of the Kings Park course would tell.

Over 50 starters in the 50 -54 category and another 20 or so in the 55-59 group made us the biggest field of the day. Hope these old buggers behave themselves at the start now that we’re down to one lane for most of the course. The objective was clear: make the top five or six to get a direct (or belated) invite to the finals in Belgium. Said gidday to Nev, Mark, John and Frank (two older groupers) and nodded to Stu who had lined up across the other side of the road. Quickly the countdown was underway and we were off. To bet on races like this, playforms like 벳엔드 are available.

Managed to get clear air on the right hand side of the freeway entry straight away and moved up to the front and sat there on 30km/hr as we turned towards Mounts Bay. This led to someone immediately coming around me and I picked up second wheel. The first roundabout was soaking wet so the pace stayed safely down through the right turn. The expected mad dash for the Spring St. corner never eventuated as being in one right hand lane made it impossible for people to pass the two-by-two train. Everything was very gentlemanly across the timing pads for the first time with no one game to create any pace on the first ascent of Malcolm St.. This clearly wasn’t B grade interclub and no young tyros who may or may not be known as Nick were out to surprise the field by going from the gun. I tapped my way up the hill near the front and still no action. The brakes were on for the length of Kings Park Rd. and into Thomas, so I thought I’d get a turn on the front out of the way early. Being labelled a wheel-sucker can be so hurtful.

After slowing down steadily and weaving a couple of times no-one wanted to do the decent thing and relieve me of my duties. Perhaps they were watching Dave Berglund who was on my wheel. By the Saw St. lights a few had cottoned on to the whole participation thing and there was a little bit of pace-sharing going on, though only of the “not very fast” variety. Suddenly there was a lot of jockeying for position across two lanes as we headed into Kings Park for the first time. Had to keep an eye out for mother who was somewhere on Lovekin watching her little boy go around – just as she had in his first cross country race in the Under 15 sub-junior boys some 36 years before. The more things change the more they stay the same, it seems.

Lovekin Drive in the park was tackled into a side head wind, which I managed to keep out of while waiting for someone to come past. This kind fellow eventuated and towed me up the smoother line on the crest of the road to about 5th wheel and proximal to Stu, who was looking strong. The immediate descent of Cardiac hill was nervous to say the least; the firm thump of someone’s handlebars into my left hip reminded me to keep my wits about me. Thankfully he managed to stay upright and hold his line while we were 5 abreast. A few places had been lost on the downhill but the dodgy corner onto Mounts Bay Rd was taken very carefully by all concerned and the long line soon reverse-concertinaed together again. Unsurprisingly, no-one wanted to work into the easterly back into the city and the field was bowing from side to side with the pace right down. This made it easy to ride a straight line for a hundred metres or so, take on a few energy lollies and get back up to the front of the field.

This time going up Spring St I noticed some colours on the road: “Go Lisa”, “Ainsy”, “Danny Boy”. This could only mean one thing, the SPR chalk fairies had been at work overnight. This certainly gave the spirits a lift despite the tightly packed field and I managed to find Stu’s wheel for the second journey up the hill. The SPR supporters seemed to have multiplied at the top of Malcolm St during the lap as people filtered across from the group rides and coffee shops and they were getting vocal. No need to get too excited yet fellas; there’s a long way to go.

The riders themselves weren’t getting animated as we dawdled down the western side of the course again with the large peleton still there. This was going to turn into a sprint and giggle and I certainly wouldn’t be the one laughing. Be patient, there’ll be plenty of opportunities after half way to have a crack. If it comes down to a big bunch sprint, you’ll lose badly but still be able to hold your head up for ‘trying’. With these negative thoughts I slipped back through the bunch (enabling Mother to see me clearly this time). Rising through the field again on Mounts Bay Rd I noted Mark Schneider (who would finish a creditable 17th) ahead, riding easily with the bunch and looking good.

Lap 3 began in much the same vein: name spotting on Spring St., trying to look good for the cameras and cheer squad up as we rode tempo up Malcolm, then easily down the other side. But what’s this – a Glenn Parker rider sneaking off the front? By the time he had a 50 metre gap, Gary Wright, Berglund and a couple of other Parker boys were on the front blocking for him as we turned into Thomas again. No-one seemed too concerned; Hilton McMurdo was in the younger race and if this non-McMurdo guy could ride 4 laps by himself, good luck to him. This was a key moment, however, as it motivated a couple of others to have a dip into the wind on Mounts Bay Rd. One was in Wesley knicks (a sworn enemy to a Hale teacher), and I recognised him as a strong rouleur from some of our Thursday morning rides. The other was another Glenn Parker rider who clearly hadn’t listened to team instructions. As the gap to the pair grew to 50 metres or so, this began to look very interesting. The bunch weren’t chasing so I picked up some momentum and slid off the front in the outside lane checking that no-one was on my wheel. Burning one anaerobic match, the bridge was made relatively smoothly with no chasing from behind. After a brief rest for my benefit, we agreed to cooperate and soon caught the lone breakaway, making a workable bunch of 4.

Things were looking much better now, but I wasn’t completely confident in my colleagues’ ability on Malcolm St with 3 full laps to go, so it was tempo riding in the saddle again, ensuring they weren’t dropped. I was going to need them. There had been some action on the hill this time as suddenly our number increased to 8: two Parker boys, two SPR (thankfully Stu had bridged), Wesley knicks, Gary Woodland (former State Masters champion and one of the local favourites), Bill Gordin (from Melbourne) and a strong looking guy in an orange jersey with “Miller Racing” and some Australian champion rings all over the collar and armbands. This must be the Paul Miller from Kalgoorlie that Matty Upton had given me the heads-up about i.e. a guy that can roll-through indefinitely at 48km/hour (but not 50?) and then ride a lot of A graders of his wheel. Gulp.

This breakaway group was certainly large enough, strong enough and democratic enough to stay away and so it proved. Stu and I did our fair share on the hills and into the wind back into the city. On the return journey at the end of the penultimate 5th lap I noticed the roll through was becoming slower with a few guys missing turns then rejoining. Tell-tale signs. My legs were still strong (nothing over 8.5/10ths yet) and growing in confidence with one more turn up the hill to go. Plans were beginning to hatch. Make sure Miller, who was clearly doing it the easiest, is on the wheel and attack for all you’re worth on Malcolm Street. Plan A is to take him with you then work together. Plan B might see you at the top by yourself followed by forcing everyone else to chase for the entire last lap. I eased myself onto the front at the bottom of Spring St for the last time and gradually started to wind things up, staying in the saddle. Orange jersey was on the wheel. Kept working steadily until half way up the final climb without looking back. Time for 10/10ths. Throw everything including the kitchen sink at it, out of the saddle. By now the SPR cheer squad at the top of the hill was amazing; people encroaching onto the road, waving things, gesticulating, and screaming their lungs off or out, even. This must be what the roads in Belgium are like some Sundays in April.

The shadow under my wheel on Kings Park Road told me that Plan A had been selected. I tried to elbow-flick him to come through but he politely declined, saying he needed to get his breath back. Feeling a bit puffed myself, mate. Checking the gap on the Thomas St corner showed we had a good lead of over a hundred metres so now was the time for heads-down riding with my spray tan coloured companion. Despite looking comfortable, he was contributing fairly short turns before slowing down, but any rest was better than none. “Hey Mr Tangerine man, take a (decent) turn for me” was to become a theme for the last lap.

We turned into Kings Park without being caught on the long downhill but I was still worried that a group may have reformed behind and begun working together. I kept the pace as high as I could up Lovekin and tried one last attack before the top, without being entirely convinced that I could ride alone into the breeze for the last time even if I had gapped him. Miller didn’t seem too troubled by this, so I felt it politic to let him know that I was no sprinter and thus no real threat (he had probably worked this out himself with one look at my legs), but that I’d still appreciate his help to stay away from the chasing pack in whatever form it took. Perhaps he thought this meant verbal encouragement as several times he impelled me “keep pushing” into the wind without coming round. He did take a few turns to give me a breather, but he certainly wasn’t riding away from me at 48km/hr. Then again, he didn’t have to. Coming past the brewery for the last time I noticed that the commissaire’s car had pulled in behind us, a sure sign that no-one was close enough to have us in sight and a top 2 finish was finally safe. As we passed through the Esplanade lights, Miller sprinted strongly to ensure his victory and I couldn’t grab his wheel (as I suspected) as he went past.

Three seconds down at the finish, but I didn’t want him cramping my finish line photos anyway. Bill Gordin was a minute behind in 3rd place with another minute and half back to Gary Woodland who won the sprint for 4th place. Stu had hung on gamely for 6th and will surely get an invite to the World title event in Liege, Belgium (the course is 110km of the Liege-Bastogne-Liege event taking place tomorrow for the Pros) in September.

(Apologies for the length, but it was 81km and lots happened). Mike B.