About 12 months ago, just after I move up to Main 3, SBS Cycling Central ran a piece on a 2 day race in the Goldfields.  I watch the vision and though that one day it would be really cool to race. Gradually that thought took hold and started to sound less stupid as I started to get faster.  I had cycled from Kalgoorlie to Leonora 30+ years ago on a school camp and thought “big flat roads = my kind of cycling”. I had a go at a few crits over summer and then the first time I hung on to Main 2, it was on – I was going to have a crack at the Goldfields Classic. 

I registered in D Grade.  Met the SPR bunch in Kalgoorlie on Friday evening at the Camp School where we were staying in dorms and then off to find food.  After a surprisingly good night’s sleep, up on Saturday morning, off to brekkie at the Dome, registration and finally race briefing.  It was starting to sink in that I was actually about to start in my first road race and that I had 132km to pedal to Menzies.  Mild panic. 

Back to the dorms, on with the SPR kit, race numbers and a final check of the bike.  It was a handicap race so D grade was off first at 10.24.  10am and I jumped on the bike and, pedalling the few k’s into town, I felt really pumped.  On the start line and even with a freezing (thankfully tail) wind, I was sweating and my heart rate kept going up. 

3,2 1 go and we were off.  As we headed up the 300 or so metres to the first (and only) corner I thought, “this is a bit slower than I was expecting”.  Then we turned the corner and almost 50 riders took off and the speed kept lifting.  I sneaked a look down after a couple of minutes and I was doing 42km/h and still accelerating.  The pace seemed to settle between 40 and 45 km/h and I was pedalling as hard as I can remember just to hang on.  The peloton was shedding riders off the back in 1s and 2s. At about 25kms a long shallow incline saw my speed dropped to the mid-30s.  That was it, the gap widened and I was in a bunch of 1, then a bunch of 3 then 4 then 1 again.

At around 50kms in C grade came past me like a freight train. No chance to get on.  There were constant words of encouragement from SPR/Dome riders as the faster groups went past and a “jump on” for one group (B grade?).  What the hell, I jumped on and the next thing I know I am doing 55kms/h on the flat and I was hanging on!  The smile widened (or was that just sucking in air??) and the adrenalin started to surge.  Then along came another pesky little incline.  Anyone that rides with me knows I do not go up any hill at 55, no matter how shallow and how much tailwind!  Off they sailed into the distance and I resumed my solo pedal smiling that I had held 55km/h for around 2 kms.

Through the feed station, feeling like a pro as I tossed my empty bottle towards my wife Fiona and the first SPR bus. Before I knew it I was in the main street of Menzies.  I had finished my first road race at an average of 35km/h.  It was the longest distance I had ever ridden nonstop. I was buzzing.

Back in the bus, back to Kalgoorlie and off to find pasta with the group.  Early night, and up to do it all again.  Macca’s run for brekkie (the Dome was closed) and an hour and a half drive back to Menzies.  Quick lap of the town and off to the start line in what felt like an artic gale which I realised would be a head/cross wind. Crap. 

3,2,1 go. A combined D and E grade bunch took off towards Leonora and no matter how hard I tried, my legs just didn’t want to go round fast enough.  When I was dropped at less than 2kms from the start, I knew I was in for a long hard day.  I honestly don’t remember much about the next 60kms other than I was cold, other groups sped past me, I couldn’t hang on to any of them for more than a few kms and I really wanted to stop pedalling.  With about 40kms to go Greg Murray (SPR C grade) caught me and, boy was I glad to see him.  We took turns at the front and bitched about how stupid we were to attempt such a race knowing full well all such thoughts would be forgotten once we crossed the finish line.  As soon as we reached Leonora they were duly forgotten.  The smiles were pretty big! 

Overall I finished in 110^th place with a combined time of 7h00:53 (1h34:51 behind the winner) for an average speed of 33.6km/h over 235.4kms.  I was over the moon. When I covered the same distance as a 17 year old, it had taken us 5 solid days riding.  I had just done it in 7 hours! 

The racing was fast and, on Day 2, everything hurt, but I am surprise by just how much I kept smiling.  It is just addictive.  I loved it.  I’m hooked.

I have a new appreciation for those who race at the upper end of the sport.  I also got to hang out with, and learn from, an absolutely great bunch of SPR people, including some I didn’t know before the weekend.

To those that have never race before, all I can say is give it a go.  The apprehension is worse than the reality, it’s an awesome buzz and you don’t have to be first across the line (or even finish with the bunch) to make worthwhile.

Roll on next year, as I will be back fitter, faster and determined to finish with the peloton.