Lap the Lough 2019 - The Return...

Some background...

When I first started this blog it was mainly off the back of an interesting year in procycling, where so much had happened that worthy stories and memories were hidden by more recent and equally headline grabbing ones and I wanted to simply use this space to aid my recall. It may have deviated from that, primarily due to my irregular approach to adding to it, but I feel this post may hark back to that initial aim as a personal aide memoire. 

So what has this got to do with Lap the Lough? Well, every year between 2011 and 2016 I was on my laptop as the 31st December clicked over to the 1st Jan, which is when LtL entries would go live. I would invariably go for the option with jersey and sign up, knowing I had a full 8 months to prepare.  However, starting with 2017, something changed. I took a bit longer than usual to decide to sign up. Then, after I did, I was asked to go on a training course in Dublin that same weekend, which while, it would have had me home on Saturday night, gave me an excuse not to do it. The following year I didn't even sign up at all- how did I go from uber-fan to "meh"?  

It was probably a combination of things, some personal and some to do with the event itself.  Redundancy from a job I had done for 10 years, helping build a project up to punching above its weight, meant motivation was lacking for a while, even after I found a new job. I also had a volunteering role that reduced time on the bike, But primarily it was the route change in 2016 that did it for me- normally, due to the flat nature of the parcours, if real life did get in the way, you could still make your way around. However the move to Dungannon meant a long climb into the town for the last 2 miles that was a real morale buster- to my mind LtL has always been about people who wanted to do big miles, since every other sportive was focussed on the mountain goats. It was great to have one that was not about smart-arse organisers trying to put a "sting-in-the-tail". While not adverse to the odd bit of vertical (after all the Billy Kerr, Tour of the Orchard County, ABC Sportive and Causeway Coast all have sizeable lumps), LtL was primarily for the person who wanted a challenge but wasn't necessarily a club rider.  Having to stop for a brief rest on the climb in 2016 less than a mile from the finish wasn't great for the old self -esteem. So for the next two years I stayed away.

However 2019 dawned with, initially, a stirring of old interests. LtL announced a new start/finish in the Moy, and I wanted to do some more fundraising. In an attempt to convert a spark into a fire (if not a conflagration), I found old habits dying hard, so at the start of January I clicked on the early bird offer.

 The 2019 Experience...
So how did 2019 shape up for me? Firstly I need to be clear- (caution- a wee bit of foreshadowing!)- nothing I mention is the fault of the organisers. They do a fantastic job setting up and running a very complicated event particularly when you have to work with humans (and let's be honest if the last few years in politics have shown anything it is that there are many more eejits than we may have initially believed possible). However I knew within 15 minutes of starting my ride with 2,499 of my closest friends that my LtL hiatus will probably be re-instated.

Is this the face of a man having an enjoyable day?

• The Start 

         LtL always have the good sense to stagger start times- it isn't the most sensible thing to fire off 2,500 cyclists of varied ability and aims onto narrow country roads at once. The faster riders go off first (those who average 18mph+), followed by the medium folk (14-17 mph- my category) then the slower groups. In theory this cuts down on too many incidents with faster riders trying to push through and get past denser crowds at the start and also allows for solo riders to hopefully find themselves in a group who can ride together at the same speed. 
However, human nature being what it is, and peoples inability to  read email instructions or ability to assume they don't apply to them, means the middle groups tend to have club riders who were too late for their start slots, and too-eager tootlers starting together with us. The end result meant that my bunch of about 15 saw a group of fellas tearing off the road ahead of me and another group with flat-barred bikes and t-shirts dropping behind leaving me on my own- I knew then a long day was going to get even longer.

•  Group Riding Skills (or lack thereoff) 

This isn't a new issue for LtL though it seems to be one that affects it more than other sportives I have taken part in- probably because of the unique nature of the event that makes it attractive beyond the usual target groups. So-much-so I crafted my own take on the Velominati Rules specifically for sportives . While the groups seemed to fragment earlier this year meaning actual close-pack riding was limited, there was still a severe lack of awareness among many of the participants about what was going on around them. Warnings weren't called or passed back, people would turn to look at the person next to them to have conversations (nb it is possible to chat to other people while riding or driving within having to maintain eye contact) and overall just no recognition that events like this can throw Newton's third law of motion into disarray- for in a peloton, every action has a much larger as opposed to equal reaction.  In fact Sunday's event had me questioning some other fundamentals of physics- for example the conservation of momentum. On a number of occasions I was behind some groups on a descent and could see the road going upwards straight away. Rather than try and build up speed and use that to get up the hill, those at the front pootled along, preventing those of us behind getting the extra assistance from gravity before it turned against us. The accordion effect in cycling isn't simply limited to the work of the late Yvette Horner.

There were also two contrasting other groups, each of whom caused their own problems. One were those who were inconsistent in their riding- I would try and sit in with them, prepared to take a turn, but they couldn't hold their line, were inconsistent and dive-bombed each other on corners, while seemingly being oblivious to overtaking motor vehicles. In this case I ended up using more precious energy because it was safer to get away from them and ride on my own. Having to choose between riding in unsteady groups and getting a bit of shelter, or sitting on my own in a headwind for 39 miles on the way back was not a nice choice to have to make.

Conversely the other issue were the disciplined club groups. They were intent on drilling it in pacelines. That was fine if they started with the other clubfolk, but on too many occasions they came up from behind overtaking slower people and not always taking into consideration the conditions when doing so. I lost count of the number of potholes I was nearly forced into as a club come steaming past just as I was about to move out around them.  
As an example- the route covers some of my local roads so I knew that around an approaching blind bend lay a sudden, steep hill and I began to adjust my cadence and gear selection appropriately. Just at that a club group came thundering past, only to almost come to a dead stop as they suddenly met the hill. Not only did they struggle to get into the proper gears, this caused those of us behind to lose our rhythm and suddenly it became a bottleneck.  

• The most hateful stretch...

Again, this seems like an opportune moment to re-emphasise that none of these issues are the fault of the organisers- they are at the mercy of individual's own decision making processes and personalities when it comes to how they ride. They are also limited in relation to topography- if your event is based on the premise of circumnavigating a geographical feature then options can be restricted. So that leads on to what, for each year, has been the most horrible stretch of the parcours. That is from the lunch stop in Clotworthy House to the far side of Randalstown.  By the time most of us reach Antrim, traffic is busy. Leaving the grounds, just as your legs are getting used to going around in circles again after a short break, you are immediately trust onto a busy A-road with really grippy asphalt, and drivers who seem to have an aversion to putting any of their wheels over the white line to overtake. It is constant traffic and then over a roundabout  before heading into Randalstown. Then we begin a long, draggy climb which seems to have been very badly patched  after some roadworks to make it that more difficult. As soon as the climbing stops we are on to narrow roads, which would normally be fine to ride, but when you have impatient drivers, fed up being held up with scattered cyclists, using any amount of space to squeeze past (this year I was actually touched by a car overtaking me at the narrowest point of the road) any relief is soon lost. It is also about then that we pick up the cross-headwind that will be pushing against us the whole way back.

• Take Me Home, Country Roads...

This has been touched on under some of the other headings but was important enough to justify its own section in relation to my experiences. Over the past couple of years the roads around the Loughshore seem to be deteriorating quite badly and repairs seem to have been contracted out to Les Amis de Paris-Roubaix. While car drivers will only notice the worst of it, from a cycling perspective, especially in groups (and extra-especially with groups who don't always call out warnings),  it is very clear on a bike. There are potholes, collapsed edges, roughed up or sunken asphalt and other obstacles that I don't remember from as little as two years ago. This. added to poor group riding, makes the event even more tiring than it should be.

In Summary...
I am aware that this reads like one long whinge fest- however to bring it back to my point in the opening paragraph (while you ask why I just couldn't do that in the second paragraph to save you reading through the rest)- this blog was supposed to help me remember cycling related stuff and I now have one thing I need to be reminded of . And it is simply this- when the registrations go live again in January I can look back on this and remind myself the event probably isn't for me any more.

 Yes, I have some responsibility in that my training wasn't what it should be, but as noted above- sometimes real life has an ability to intrude on the best of plans. But even in years where I haven't been as active on the bike I enjoyed at least parts of it- this year I found the whole day unenjoyable from the start. When asked by a work colleague how I got on, I described the last 40 miles as being like a "dark night of the soul". A wee bit overdramatic perhaps but when you find you're asking yourself where the easiest place to give your wife directions to come pick you up  is, particularly in an event you once knocked off in less than 4 hours and 50 minutes one year, it doesn't sit well. Yes I completed it, but rather than pride it is annoyance that I did it so badly. Was it the physical or mental aspect that made it most difficult? Had I already convinced myself in the run up that I was going to struggle and it became self-fulfilling? I kept thinking about the training I hadn't done as opposed to the training I had and really the fact that people were so generous in their donations was the main thing that dragged me to the line.

So congratulations are due to many people- those who organised the event and also to those who took part, especially for the first time and with limited experience and made it around. Feedback on the LtL FB page is very positive and maybe it is only because I spent the whole day on my own (normally not an issue for a socially awkward individual like me!) rather than with a group that I was so aware of the other things listed above.  But on reflection I have to face up to the fact that LtL is no longer for me and will be looking back on this in about 5 months when the temptation to sign up for 2020 hits again.

I will end on two things- firstly  special thanks to all my sponsors- you were all very, very generous and that was the one thing that keep those pedals turning- I raised over £400 for Craigavon Samaritans and that money (while well-earned!) will go to great use.

Secondly, if you are thinking of signing up for an event next year and haven't done one before then don't let my moaning put you off- I have gone to great pains to highlight that Lap the Lough is a genuinely great initiative and don't want to put anyone off doing it.

Suffering for a cause...

****Note- this is a slight reworking of a piece from a couple of years ago-  2 years after I last did a bit of fundraising for Samaritans by dragging my extra kgs around Lough Neagh, I am doing it again****

We're cyclists and we are in love with pain. From the very first coverage of the classics and Grand Tours, tales are based on adjectives that wouldn't look out of place in a realistic, gritty war novel. Since the first bike races were held to sell newspapers, and they were the only way to keep the public informed, dramatic tales of suffering and heroism became the norm, the more evocative and entrancing, the more copies of your paper would be sold.

The semi-religious, semi-martial mythologies of the convicts of the road shaped how the narratives around bike racing were formed, even today with our more cynical and media-savvy populace. "Calvary", "Enfer du nord", "Fight for Pink"- these motifs are still drawn upon as journalists and authors try to give the general public at least some semblance of an insight into the men and women who make their living hauling 6.8kg of carbon fibre up mountain passes or across unforgiving cobbles.

And so- this is quite a tenuous link to what I really want to write about tonight. Yes there is some heroism in suffering, particularly when it would be easier and more tempting just to step off the bike- both literally and figuratively. And there is always room for heroism and dealing with pain alone- however we have to remember that there are limits. Limits where even the most ardent, most competitive cyclist knows that they have reached and maybe it is time to turn around and ask the directeur sportif to let them into the car. Even the best don't go beyond their limits without the support and safety net of a team. And this is not just about physical pain and exhaustion- any sportsperson will tell you the mental aspect is as important, if not more so, and needs careful monitoring and conditioning, just as muscles and the cardiovascular system do. If you read anything about Team Sky and British Cycling success stories, every rider and staff member will mention the role of Steve Peters and how he was as important as the aerodynamists or interpreters of training data.

And this Sunday I will be going through the physical suffering to try and help alleviate those whose pain isn't so visible. I will be doing Lap the Lough to raise funds for Craigavon branch of Samaritans. Yep I know it is only 90 miles (I will be adding a few extra on to make the ton) and many people will see this as no more than a normal Sunday run, but I have to admit that work and other commitments (including those linked to being a Samaritan volunteer) mean that I am already trying to work out my pacing strategy (not helped by the changed route- thanks folks!!). My training has been derailed for one reason and another so it will be a long day in the saddle- a few events that I normally use over the summer to get the legs working were cancelled or postponed this year so I am short in miles - and I only wish this was me getting my excuses in early!

No matter what time of day or night, or what time of year there will be Samaritan volunteers listening to callers or replying to e-mails or texts sent  by people who want to be listened to. In some cases they are ready to step off the bike, but in many other cases they simply want to be heard. My Lap the Lough adventure will go a small way to make sure Craigavon branch is able to offer that opportunity to be heard- to be the team car handing out energy gels and bidons to ensure the person can make it that bit further,  and hopefully closer to safety so that when they do climb of the bike it is into the safety of a team bus, and not an abandonment with no one around .



I'm not a natural fundraiser- I really hate asking people for money particularly in these tight times, but if you would like to ease my physical pain and the mental pain of many, many others my fundraising page is here. And if you can't give that is fine- you can do your bit by simply spreading the word that Samaritans exist, they can be contacted on 116 123 (free call) or e-mailed at jo@samaritans.org .

 (Please note that if you do want to contact Samaritans use those details rather than just through this blog.)