You win some. You lose some.

This weekend saw me flying to Segovia, Spain (about an hour from Madrid) to compete in the second round of the Paracycling World Cup. After a pair of successful performances in the TT and road race in round one in Sydney, Australia – I was hoping for a repeat performance. Or at least a good enough performance to allow me to keep the World Cup leader's jersey.

While a few good teams and riders were present in Sydney, it paled in comparison to the field in Spain. Almost every country sent their best riders to compete in the second round (as most teams are European and it's easy for them to get to the race).This meant the best riders in the world were there and getting good results was going to prove to be a lot more difficult.

We (the Irish team) sent a full complement of riders, including some new faces that were trying out for spots on the squad. But with so many staff and riders, we didn't spend a lot of time preparing in Spain in order to keep costs down. I arrived in Spain on Wednesday afternoon and after waiting a few hours in the airport for the rest of the gang to arrive from Dublin, headed to the hotel. A quick dinner and straight to bed!

Thursday consisted of building up both my race bikes and then a quick drive out to the time trial circuit for a short training session and to get familiar with the course. We raced the same circuit last year so were fairly familiar with the roads. A few laps of the course was enough to get me prepared. Racing (for me) would be late the following afternoon.

The course itself is fairly flat and on long, straight roads. Wind is always a factor in this region of Spain and I can tell you - riding flat out for 7 or so miles into a biting headwind is enough to make anyone want to pack up and go home.

Fortunately the winds, while present, were fairly light on race day. I knew these would be the sort of conditions that might help me get a favourable result. I just had to keep the power on all the way.

For the days leading up to the race, I had been suffering with a tight hamstring muscle. I was lucky to have the team masseuse there to work it over every night to try and get it ready to race on. As I rolled up to the start line, it still felt tight but I hoped it was good enough to get me around the circuit.

And then….it was my turn to ride. I set off at a controlled pace - not wanting to overdo it too much at the start as this would cost me later on if I did. I pedalled my way of the main town and into the countryside. It didn't take long for my leg to start hurting and I knew I was going to be in for a long day.

At no point during the race did I feel like it was going well. In fact, I felt it was going very poorly the entire way. I struggled to get into a rhythm and felt like the soreness kept me from pushing as hard as I wanted to. I wanted it to be over the entire way. But…I kept going. And going. And going.

Every cliche in the book went through my head. I wasn't going to quit or give up, no matter what. The World Champion had started 1 minute behind me and I was convinced he was going to catch and pass me - and for the life of me didn't want this to happen. I had gone there to best him (again) and didn't want to give him the satisfaction of catching me.

As I made the final turn for the last downhill stretch of road towards the finish line I was in agony. The dry air was burning my throat, the heat was sweltering and causing the sweat to pour down my face and into my eyes, stinging them badly and making it difficult to see the road ahead of me. And still I powered on, knowing that the finish would be upon me in a matter of minutes.

Finally I saw the 1km to go sign and knew it was almost over. I made the last few pedal strokes into the town and sprinted towards the finish line. Looking up at the clock as I crossed the line I could see my time: 29 minutes. Over 2 minutes faster than the previous year! (And bang on the target time I hoped I would achieve.) But I didn't know how anyone else had done.

I waited at the side of the road for a short period of time, assuming that the World Champion would cross the line quickly after me - but there was no sign of him so I made my way back to the pit area to warm down.

I had to wait a good long while to get any results. When my coach finally came over to me he was shaking his head. "Second" he said. "By 0.4 of a second". Wow. Closest margin I've ever had in a time trial. And I was absolutely gutted. It such a small margin to lose by and there are 100 places on the course where I could have made that time up. But that's racing. (The World Champion had actually finished in 3rd place, 7 seconds behind me).

So, another World Cup and another medal. Plus more points in the bag towards the leader's jersey. But the competition was still very tight and I was going to have to beat the World Champ in the road race to guarantee that I would hold onto the jersey - and I knew this was going to be very difficult as he is a very good road rider. While I am not.

After a rest day, it was back on the bike on the Sunday for the road race. 55km of mostly flat roads with only a small uphill section to make things difficult. But again, the flat, exposed terrain meant that the wind was going to make things difficult for a at least part of the circuit. Nevertheless, it was the type of course that suited me well and I had hopes of a good result.

As soon as the race started I struggled to clip into my pedal correctly and while I pfaffed around trying to get my foot sorted, the rest of the field quickly rode past me! I felt like such and amateur. But I finally got myself strapped in and was away, easily catching up to the large pack of riders.

Up front with the World Champions and World Cup Leaders

Out of the saddle, sprinting up the first climb, I heard something pop - and suddenly my front wheel was wobbling all over the place. Damn it – I had broken a spoke! I could hear it smacking against my front forks with every rotation of the wheel, but once I sat down, it seemed to be OK. I didn't know what to do - pull over and get a new wheel or just keep going and hope for the best. I decided to keep going.

I found it easy to keep pace with the lead riders. As we came through the start/finish area to complete the first of 3 laps, I thought maybe the front wheel would hold out and I'd make it to the finish. Wrong again.

As the field powered up the small climb for the second time (and I got out of the saddle to follow), the spoke came completely loose - now smacking against the forks non-stop whether seated or standing. I couldn't stand it and decided I had to change wheels. I put my hand up in the air to call for the service car and drifted towards the rear of the peleton. The service car rolled up beside me and I explained I needed a new front wheel. We both stopped and he hopped out to give me a new wheel. He struggled briefly to get it attached, costing me an extra 10 seconds, but I was on my way again with only a short(ish) delay.

The only problem was that the peleton was now a fair distance up the road and I was going to have to work hard to try and catch up to them again. I put in a strong effort, riding my time trial pace to try and bring them back. I could see me slowly catching up to them on the long, straight road ahead. But as they hit the next town and turned into the wind, I knew I was in trouble. When I got on that same stretch of road, with the wind fully in my face and no shelter or no one to share the work with me, they began to pull away again.

I wanted to pull over to the side of the road and call it quits. But I was riding in the World Cup leaders jersey and in respect for the jersey….kept going. Coming through the finish area with one lap to go - I saw something that made my heart soar. There was my main rival - the man I had to beat to guarantee that I would keep the jersey. He had also had mechanical problems - but had pulled out of the race!! As I already had more points than him, I was going to keep the jersey for the next few weeks. I didn't even have to finish the race - but of course kept going.

I managed to catch up to a few of the stragglers and in the end crossed the line in 13th place (a little unlucky perhaps?). No points outside the top-10, but the jersey was mine nonetheless. I am convinced that had I not messed up my wheel I would have been in there with a shout for the win (or at least a podium position), but racing is so unpredictable and anything can happen.

There is one more round of the World Cup left in Canada. I had not originally planned to go and race there, but if I do, there is a good chance that I can win the jersey - and the first ever Paracycling World Cup competition. If I DON'T go - I will most certainly lose it, as the rider who won both the road race and time trial in Spain will most certainly get the points he needs to overtake me.

Mark Rohan and myself - World Cup Leaders

So, it's a tough one. We are going to try and find a way to raise the funds needed to send me there in July to go for this historic achievement. (And if anyone out there reading this wants to sponsor me - feel free to get in touch!) If not, it's been a great World Cup for me. I have seen that I can beat the best in the world and my confidence for the World Championships in Denmark this September is growing.

And now it's back home (I'm writing this in the airport waiting for my flight) for some more local races - and then the final 3 months of training leading up to the World's will begin. The hard work has only just begun!

On Top Of The World and Looking Up

Whew! What a week (or so) it has been. Last week I made the incredibly long journey to Sydney, Australia for the first round in the 2011 Paracycling Road World Cup. It's a series of 3 races around the world (the other two stops being in Spain and Canada) with the main goal to score points in the road race and time trial that go towards Olympic qualification. The points scored at a World Cup are worth double that of smaller races (and the World Championships score 4x the points!).

We only took a small squad to this race - due to the distance and expense, we decided to only send the riders who had the best chances of scoring maximum points in their category. As I was chosen, the pressure to perform and live up to (self-imposed) expectations was huge. So myself, Mark Rohan (World Champion in the Handcycle) and Cathal Miller (my roommate and mentor) made the trip together.

Things got off to a good start when, on the first leg of the journey from London to Bangkok, the BA flight crew took pity on us and upgraded us to Business Class. This meant sleeper seats/beds for the longest part of the trip. A big thanks go out to them for the service

We arrived in Sydney tired but happy to be there. We were met by a local connection and taken to the hotel. We stayed in the heart of the Sydney Olympic Park – site of the 2000 Olympics and where they would be holding the time trial on the final day of racing. It's an impressive site - especially when you picture what it was like during the Olympics. Also planted the thoughts of what it might be like to be on the London 2012 site next summer.

After a few days of training and acclimatisation, where we all tried (unsuccessfully) to get over our jetlag, the first day of racing arrived. The road races were held on a motorbike and drag racing circuit about 30 minutes outside of the city. It was a challenging course with a few slight hills, fast descents and tight corners. First up was Cathal in his race, followed by Mark in the Handcycling race. My first race wasn't until the following day.

Cathal was up against some really tough competition, but he battled hard and ended up in the fourth place (only losing out on the podium by the width of a wheel). Mark had a bit of luck and rode hard to bring home the gold.

When my turn came to race the following day, I had the benefit of riding the course with Cathal who pointed out the danger spots and places where I would need to hang on to the bunch in order to stay with them. This info proved very useful in the end. 

The race started and immediately the pace was fast - with many riders battling to get up to the front of the pack. I slotted into the middle and kept a close eye on my main competition. When the road kicked upwards, several of the strongest riders surged forward - along with the rider I had my eye on. I dug deep and followed the wheels in front of me.

After 10 minutes of riding, I looked behind me – only to see that no one was there! I had managed to get into the breakaway group. There was only myself and the rider I had been watching in this group from my category, meaning – if I could hold on and stay with them, I would finish in either 1st or 2nd place. But it was still early in the race and anything could happen.

And happen it did. Going up the main climb the 3rd time, I dropped off the pace ever so slightly and BANG - the pack was gone. At the top of the hill, you enter the 1/4 mile drag strip into a fierce headwind. As soon as a gap forms between you and the pack - that headwind makes it much harder to pedal. And that's what happened to me.

I found myself alone and isolated. I didn't know what to do - should I carry on by myself and risk 'blowing up' and losing all my energy - or carry on and try and stay ahead of the chasing pack? I was feeling good, so decided to carry on as long as I could - and hope for the best.

Solo in the Road Race

And so, lap after lap, I pressed on. And a funny thing happened. I actually started to pull away from the chasing group! I just maintained a steady pace, riding as hard as I could constantly manage, and the gap kept growing. Lap by lap I started to believe that I could stay away and hold onto second place. With just one lap to go, I found myself praying that nothing would go wrong. I had a 4 minute lead, but that could be wiped out in an instant if I crashed or flatted.  

My coach was telling me to take it easy, and save my energy for the next day as I passed him for the final time. I eased up, constantly checking behind me to make sure the pack hadn't caught me, and at last.... the finish line was in sight. I crossed over, fist pumping in the air.

I had just made my first international podium!

The next day was the time trial – 4 laps of a tight and technical course around the Sydney Olympic Park. This is the event that I have been training for and as I was racing against the World Champion in my division, a good test of my form. He had beaten me by 3 minutes last time we raced last summer in Canada, but that was on a very hilly course and I'm a much better rider now. So I wanted to see how much I had improved and what I could do on a flat course that suits my abilities.

I was one of the last riders to set off and as per usual, just put my head down and got to work. I didn't feel as good as I normally do on the bike, but no doubt the effort from the previous day was a factor. To make things worse, my power meter was telling me I wasn't putting out much power. I thought I must be going really slow. But, as I rolled through the start-finish line at the end of lap 1, my lap time was close that what I thought it should be so just kept plowing on.

Occasionally, my team car would pull up beside me and the manager would lean out the window to shout encouragement at me. And each time I dug in a little harder. At the end of the second lap my coach – who was standing at the side of the road with a stopwatch in his hands – raised a single finger in the air. I was leading – or so I thought.

Early days though as I was only halfway through the race. I was starting to tire now. Power was still reading low and my legs were aching. No bother – just press on, I thought to myself. On Lap 3 I started to catch the riders who started ahead of me. First I passed my 'minute man'. Then, my 'two-minute man'. I was flying! Push, push, push, push, push.

On the final lap I got stuck behind a handcycle for a short period of time. I had to slow up – causing me to lose precious seconds. I began to get flustered – but then an gap opened up and I went for it. Around the handcycle, down the road.... and past my 'three-minute man'! If I had made up 3 minutes on some of the other riders, I must be having a good ride after all.

I made my way around the course for the final time, pushing all the way up the final straight as fast and hard as I could. Nothing left in the legs as I crossed the finish line. Whatever the result – I had given it my all. As I pulled over the side of the road, I was immediately approached by a UCI chaperone - informing me that I had been selected for anti-doping (just part of being a rider at this level). 

Gold Medal Podium Shot

My coach came running over at the same time with his stopwatch in his hands. Counting off, I could hear him say, "Five, four, three, two, one.... you've just won!" I looked over the the finish line and the World Champion was just about to cross the line. I had beaten him by 4 seconds!

We had hoped to get within 30 seconds of his time. But when I woke up that morning I had a feeling I might actually win. Despite my low power readings (which just turned out to be a faulty power meter), and getting held up on the final lap, I had put in a solid ride – enough for my first gold medal at this level. What a feeling, getting up on the podium in the middle spot – listening to the national anthem and seeing your flag being raised. Unbelievable.

My First Gold Medal

Finally, my results gave me a narrow victory in the World Cup standings for my divisions (the time trial result was the decider). Meaning I was also awarded the World Cup leaders' jersey – which I will get to wear in the next round in Spain next month. I had gone to Sydney with the hopes of bringing the jersey home (secretly) and this was perhaps the best part of my trip. Spain will be a much tougher race and will have to battle hard to hold onto the jersey – but if I come away with it after that trip.... I will be well on my way to reaching my goals for this this.

World Cup Leaders' Jersey

And now, back to training. These medals don't win themselves!


















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