The suicide break, cramps and hanging on for grim death: the Tour de Barelang 2015
The Cat 2 Mavs pre-race with Lizzie
So I took part in a wee bike race over the weekend, the Tour de Barelang, a tough slog over many, many hills and 135km in the tropical heat of the Indonesian island of Batam. I was racing for a seven-strong squad from the Specialized Mavericks in the Cat 2 contest, which featured 100 riders and some quite formidable teams.
With two sprinters and a couple of escape artists in our team we had a number of cards to play. But our basic plan was to keep things together and just follow moves until the turnaround that came with 55km to go.
I followed one such move about 25km into the race and before I knew it I was in a four-man break that the peloton was allowing to get away. Then after a few clicks I found myself alone after cresting one of the hills. I knew it was fairly stupid to keep going solo with such a long way to go, but I thought “what the heck” and got on with it. I knew the rest of the Mavs would slow things down a bit at the front so I settled in a rhythm of spinning up the hills then hammering it down the other side. Before I knew it one of the race commissaries drove alongside and told me I had a 90-second gap.
Even though there was some 90km to go and I was riding straight into a headwind, that’s the kind of situation when weird fantasies of grandeur start to form in your head. But of course I was reeled back in after baking like a madman in the exposed heat for an hour but worse, I was cramping and I NEVER cramp. I tried to hide it when back among the peloton but when a crash occurred in front of me and I had to take evasive action and unclip on the red roadside gravel, both calves seized up and I struggled to get going again. When it’s a case of be dropped or fight through the cramps there’s really only one choice. So I chased back on, but I was kinda cooked.
Of course I was reeled back in after baking like a madman in the exposed heat for an hour, but worse, I was cramping and I NEVER cramp. I tried to hide it when back among the peloton but when a crash occurred in front of me and I had to take evasive action and unclip on the red roadside gravel, both calves seized up and I struggled to get going again. When it’s a case of be dropped or fight through the cramps there’s really only one choice. So I chased back on, but I was kinda cooked.
Hiding amid the bunch, the u-turn crept suddenly appeared a couple of clicks before I expected it and I was badly out of position. Sure enough as I rounded the turn about 40 wheels down, the field ahead of me was strung out and I had to kill myself to get near the front. Luckily the pace slowed a bit and I got a brief chance to recover.
But then the first of the return hills appeared and like the auld eejit I am I decided to attack it. I created a wee gap then sat up to see who was coming. I smiled when I saw the mighty Ironman triathlete Mark Jansen was one of the first to appear. Even though he was making his debut in bike race I had thought pre-race that getting in a break with him would be a good scenario given his huge engine.
A few minutes later on another short but very sharp hill I kicked again but this time I kept going when I reached the top and sure enough when I turned round Mark was with me along with Craig Cameron and the gap was a bit bigger than that created on the previous attempt.
I knew immediately it was game on, even with over 50km to go. Mark was up obviously up for it too and while it took a bit of cajoling of Craig to get him going, soon he was committed and we were away.
With two sprinters and a couple of escape artists in our team we had a number of cards to play. But our basic plan was to keep things together and just follow moves until the turnaround that came with 55km to go.
I followed one such move about 25km into the race and before I knew it I was in a four-man break that the peloton was allowing to get away. Then after a few clicks I found myself alone after cresting one of the hills. I knew it was fairly stupid to keep going solo with such a long way to go, but I thought “what the heck” and got on with it. I knew the rest of the Mavs would slow things down a bit at the front so I settled in a rhythm of spinning up the hills then hammering it down the other side. Before I knew it one of the race commissaries drove alongside and told me I had a 90-second gap.
Even though there was some 90km to go and I was riding straight into a headwind, that’s the kind of situation when weird fantasies of grandeur start to form in your head. But of course I was reeled back in after baking like a madman in the exposed heat for an hour but worse, I was cramping and I NEVER cramp. I tried to hide it when back among the peloton but when a crash occurred in front of me and I had to take evasive action and unclip on the red roadside gravel, both calves seized up and I struggled to get going again. When it’s a case of be dropped or fight through the cramps there’s really only one choice. So I chased back on, but I was kinda cooked.
Of course I was reeled back in after baking like a madman in the exposed heat for an hour, but worse, I was cramping and I NEVER cramp. I tried to hide it when back among the peloton but when a crash occurred in front of me and I had to take evasive action and unclip on the red roadside gravel, both calves seized up and I struggled to get going again. When it’s a case of be dropped or fight through the cramps there’s really only one choice. So I chased back on, but I was kinda cooked.
Hiding amid the bunch, the u-turn crept suddenly appeared a couple of clicks before I expected it and I was badly out of position. Sure enough as I rounded the turn about 40 wheels down, the field ahead of me was strung out and I had to kill myself to get near the front. Luckily the pace slowed a bit and I got a brief chance to recover.
But then the first of the return hills appeared and like the auld eejit I am I decided to attack it. I created a wee gap then sat up to see who was coming. I smiled when I saw the mighty Ironman triathlete Mark Jansen was one of the first to appear. Even though he was making his debut in bike race I had thought pre-race that getting in a break with him would be a good scenario given his huge engine.
A few minutes later on another short but very sharp hill I kicked again but this time I kept going when I reached the top and sure enough when I turned round Mark was with me along with Craig Cameron and the gap was a bit bigger than that created on the previous attempt.
I knew immediately it was game on, even with over 50km to go. Mark was up obviously up for it too and while it took a bit of cajoling of Craig to get him going, soon he was committed and we were away.
Burning the last of my matches to force the break
Once again I knew that the Mavs would be playing a spoiling game behind and with Mark part of the sizeable 4T2 squad they wouldn’t be contributing to the chase either. We worked extremely well together for the first 20km or so, with Mark’s pulls probably a bit longer than either Cameron’s or mine. But he’s a big powerful beast so fair enough I thought.
The gap grew to three minutes 30 seconds and we were quite confident of going all the way. Then shit hit the fan for me with 30km to go when I realized I was nearly getting dropped after each of my turns. I was completely cooked and the cramps returned whenever I tried to stand up. I did my best to hide my situation and rolled through rather than take an extended turn, but eventually I couldn’t even make it to the front. My breakaway partners quite rightly thought I was at it, but my legs were really gone. I hoped by missing a few turns I’d recover but I didn’t and eventually I waved the white flag and promised not to sprint if they didn’t drop me
The gap grew to three minutes 30 seconds and we were quite confident of going all the way. Then shit hit the fan for me with 30km to go when I realized I was nearly getting dropped after each of my turns. I was completely cooked and the cramps returned whenever I tried to stand up. I did my best to hide my situation and rolled through rather than take an extended turn, but eventually I couldn’t even make it to the front. My breakaway partners quite rightly thought I was at it, but my legs were really gone. I hoped by missing a few turns I’d recover but I didn’t and eventually I waved the white flag and promised not to sprint if they didn’t drop me
Mark and Craig pressed on strongly with the former still super solid and doing most of the work but the Anza man began to pull away slightly on each climb. But the gap was shrinking and with some 15km to go it was down to 90 seconds and before long the tell-tale sound of the siren from the police car escorting the marauding bunch was getting louder. Squeaky bum time. With 10km to go I was asked to take a turn. My first attempt failed miserably as my calves screamed at the extra effort. But with the clicks counting gradually down I did manage to make a few contributions to the collective effort.
Then the Barelang Bridge and the finshing line atop it at last appeared round a bend. Craig, a renowned sprinter kicked first and Mark followed. Me? Shorn of the wheels I’d been struggling to even draft, well I barely managed to keep the pedals turning as the slope of the bridge injected one final dose of pain into my shattered legs. I somehow made it to the top, though, and the first emotion was relief that the ordeal was over. I’ve won the odd race in my time and climbed a fair few of the big climbs in the French Alps, but I’ve never suffered as much as I did in the last 45 minutes of this race.
I was happy with my third place but that joy was soon tempered when I discovered the Mavs had lost the team prize by half a second. If only I’d pushed a little bit more on the bridge, especially as the team had done a great job behind in attempting to slow the chase.
But as one of the Mavs said, we’ve won a fair bit over the years, so it wasn’t the end of the world. And besides, our all-conquering Cat 1 squad had completely dominated their race, taking 1st 2nd, 3rd, 5th, 7th and 8th, so it was a great day for the team.
Big shout out to my Cat 2 teammates Pony, Mr Glass, Fiddler, Toad, Bigish and the visiting KKB, and also to Cycosports for putting on another great race.
Footnote: I was awarded the Rapha Most Combative Rider award, given to one man or women across all four categories. Maybe I deserved it, but not having contributed much in the last 30km of the race, I felt slightly like a fraud.
Then the Barelang Bridge and the finshing line atop it at last appeared round a bend. Craig, a renowned sprinter kicked first and Mark followed. Me? Shorn of the wheels I’d been struggling to even draft, well I barely managed to keep the pedals turning as the slope of the bridge injected one final dose of pain into my shattered legs. I somehow made it to the top, though, and the first emotion was relief that the ordeal was over. I’ve won the odd race in my time and climbed a fair few of the big climbs in the French Alps, but I’ve never suffered as much as I did in the last 45 minutes of this race.
I was happy with my third place but that joy was soon tempered when I discovered the Mavs had lost the team prize by half a second. If only I’d pushed a little bit more on the bridge, especially as the team had done a great job behind in attempting to slow the chase.
But as one of the Mavs said, we’ve won a fair bit over the years, so it wasn’t the end of the world. And besides, our all-conquering Cat 1 squad had completely dominated their race, taking 1st 2nd, 3rd, 5th, 7th and 8th, so it was a great day for the team.
Big shout out to my Cat 2 teammates Pony, Mr Glass, Fiddler, Toad, Bigish and the visiting KKB, and also to Cycosports for putting on another great race.
Footnote: I was awarded the Rapha Most Combative Rider award, given to one man or women across all four categories. Maybe I deserved it, but not having contributed much in the last 30km of the race, I felt slightly like a fraud.
Photos courtesy of Tony Rose and Rhys Cheng