Malestroit - 'La Coeur de Bretagne' – 4th July 2010

La Coeur de Bretagne – 4^th July 2010

Malestroit – ‘Cyclo-sportife’ – 130kms

Subtitle: “Alone Again – Naturally”

Target:

Looking at previous results over this distance, my target time for the race was 4:15 – see how I did!

Arrival:

Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny, promising a hot morning in the saddle to come. I managed to cadge a lift with T.C. club mate and vastly experienced rider, Andy Shaw. He has one of those rather nifty and very useful motor-homes. It’s absolutely ideal for travelling to and from race venues – comfy seats, well appointed and roomy enough to carry bikes and race gear and afforded the luxury of for a post-race shower!

This was the 5^th Edition of ‘La Coeur de Bretagne’ - (The Heart of Brittany), and as the name suggests it takes place in the middle of the beautiful part of France I now call my home.

The event includes the cyclosportife (130 kms), a rando cyclo (a 95 kms), and a rando pedestre (a 50 kms ramble). Andy and I, along with the competitive Yves Oger (see my ‘Lamballe’ blog) were entered in the cyclosportife. A number of other T.C. club members rode in the rando cyclo.

This year the course consisted of three different circuits with the Start/Finish line, marked by one of those inflatable archways, in the beautiful medieval market town of Malestroit.

I knew what lay in store for us I had checked the route out beforehand and I felt confident that there was nothing scary in the way of hills or technically difficult bits. I knew I would be able to manage the distance and the terrain, the only thing I had not accounted for was the heat!

Preparations:

I carried three cereal bars in my back pockets and loaded the bike with two large bottles; one contained a weak solution of fruit juice, the other plain water - at least this time I was prepared (see me earlier ‘Randonée’ entry).

Our race started at 08:30, and we arrived at the starting archway in good time to pay two minutes silence in honour of a rider who had died in the previous year’s event!

I kid you not!

In 2009 a rider had died during the race, I don’t know whether it was due to an accident or an existing medical condition (that wasn’t the time to ask), but it had us all a little subdued at the start of the race.

Circuit 1 (33 miles):

We made our way slowly through the town, nearly two hundred of us squeezing along narrow roads, twisting and turning through the outskirts of the town, narrowly missing street furniture and roundabouts – I’ll never become used to this and it’s typical of all the race starts I’ve had so far.

We crawled along at about 13 mph for about a mile until we had finally cleared the town and the race was on! A gentle but steady uphill climb into the village of St Marcel (2 miles), saw the peloton fragment. I had started alongside Andy and had stayed towards the front of the race for all of a mile but was now being rapidly passed by all and sundry.

The gentle incline continued past St Marcel and on around narrowing lanes up into Bohal (6 miles). We continued uphill into Saint Goyarmard (11 miles), past the church on the sharp hill, then found ourselves on a short downhill before climbing again towards Sérent (16 miles). The general inclination for the first half of the circuit was always upwards.

Although I had ridden the course the previous week, this was different; riding at race pace makes the hills tougher and somehow longer.

The road between Saint Goyamard and Sérent is a continuous uphill slog for 5 miles and this is where I was dropped.

There I was “Alone Again, Naturally”, (Gilbert O’Sullivan c. 1970s). I swear would have started singing the song aloud if I’d had the breath, but the long, long uphill drag had taken it out of me. Only 12 miles into the race and I’d been dropped. I hung in a limbo between the front pack and whoever was still left behind me.

So, what should I do now? Battle on alone and try, probably in vain, to reattach to the fast boys in front or take it easy and try and latch on to the next group that passed came along? Of course, I might have been passed by the whole race already. Was that the case? In those situations, you can never be sure just what was happening behind you.

I continued on trying my very best when a small group blew past me; we were still driving upwards, ever upwards. I dug deep and jumped onto the wheel of the last rider and took a quick look at my trip-computer. My speed had jumped from a steady, grinding 17 mph to 20 mph. We were still climbing, but it wasn’t particularly steep so we were able to keep quite a high tempo.

This is a classic example of group riding. Not only was I now drafting behind a bunch of guys, but the psychological effect of working with others was a real fillip; I felt instantly better and the speed continued to climb.

I counted fifteen in our group. This was better, I rested at the back for a mile or two then slowly made my way to the front and took my turn in the lead; we even started to chain-gang on the way up into Sérent (16 miles).

I checked the computer again and was amazed to find that, despite the ‘Alone Again’, segment the average speed ticked off at 20.6 mph, even though we’d been travelling steadily uphill for the vast majority of the race so far. I felt quite good at this and knew that in a short while we would reach a lovely 3 mile descent that would take us into La Roc Saint André (21 miles). I took the lead again and started working just a little bit harder.

We hit 36 mph during the descent; with me freewheeling in the aerodynamic heads-down position, and the others pedalling hard to keep up. We blew through La Roc, (a lovely little town where they brew the excellent local ale Telenn Du), and soon found ourselves climbing again towards La Chapelle Caro (23 miles) and along steeply undulating, tree-lined country roads into Monterrein (27 miles).

The sun was high in the sky and there was little or no wind; I was starting to heat up and my water bottles were emptying fast.

I ate my first food bar during a descent and dropped off the back of the group as I lost a little concentration during a particularly twisty section. I had to work really hard to regain my place.

Eating tips:

When eating a cereal bar during a cycle race:

· Open the wrappers before the race; it makes it easier to get at the bloody thing while travelling downhill at 30 mph on twisting roads

· Don’t inhale in through your mouth while eating; you can breathe in some fragments of food too - not the best thing when you’re trying to fuel muscles with oxygen, not oat flakes!

· Make sure you eat regularly, before you start feeling hungry or feint – it helps, believe me

Back to the race:

We were really motoring now; all of us into our stride and of a similar standard. As always, I struggled a little on the hills, but made up time on the descents and maintained my position on the occasional flat bits. I often took a lead and encouraged a chain-gang effort. There was a good fast stretch between Monterrein, through Missiriac (31 miles) and back into Malestroit again (33.5 miles) where we flew along a quite a lick.

Circuit 2 (27 miles):

We were through the empty Malestroit streets in no time and headed out on the second circuit; towards my favourite place name in the whole world – Pleucadeuc (say it out loud – it’s great).

Before Pleucadeuc though, there was a nice, largely flat run alongside the River Oust; a picturesque river plain with tree-lined valley hills on each side.

We were through St. Laurent-sur-Oust (38 miles) in no time and headed generally south and west towards Pleucadeuc (44 miles) via the lovely little village of Saint Congard (40 miles).

The speedo showed an average of 21.9 mph for the race so far; the fastest average speed I’d set over such a distance. I felt good and we were already about half way round; it was all downhill from then on – so to speak!

A stiff little uphill climb into Pleucadeuc was followed by a fast lick down into La Bugerais (48 miles) and on into St Gravé (51 miles) - tempted though I am, I’ll not rise to any puns on this one; not after the 2 minutes silence at the start of the race.

It was around this stage that I was mortified when a large group of riders, dozens of them, blasted passed us at a furious pace. I waited to see whether there would be a reaction from my group but our pace remained at a steady 23 mph along a bumpy but flat road. I reckoned the other group must have been travelling at over 26mph to pass us at that rate.

For a second I contemplated trying to jump onto the back of the new pack, but after studying the race numbers pinned to their jerseys I realised that they must have been the leaders of the 95 kms Cyclo rando race. After the big pack had disappeared into the distance I confirmed my suspicions with one of my group and felt a little easier.

There followed a few miles of flat roads into St Martin-sur-Oust with our road-sped bubbling around the 25 mph mark with. Then we headed out into quite countryside again along undulating, dimpled roads towards Ruffiac (60 miles).

It was along this stretch that a strange thing happened.

Dropped on the hill:

I knew what was coming up between St Martin-sur-Oust and Ruffiac; a steady ascent then a nice run downhill into Ruffiac, followed by quite a fast stretch before a sharp little climb into the hilltop village of Caro (66 miles).

From its foot, I could see right to the top of the hill, which looked quite tough after the distance we’d already covered, but I knew there was a rest coming so I dug deep and drove hard; I literally put my head down and went for it!

My quads were on fire by about half way up, but I felt my group-mates faltering and I gritted my eyebrows. My heart was pounding and my breathing rate nearly maxed out.

There was one of those false brows near the top where the hill looks to have finished, but continued upwards for another couple of hundred yards albeit at a shallower pitch. This nearly did for me, but the descent arrived just before my blackout. I tucked down into the aerodynamic position again, whooping in the onrushing air. A well-marshalled left-turn at the bottom of the hill barely slowed me down and I drove along a flat road at over 25 mph.

I finally found the time to look around me and was astonished to see that the fifteen-strong group that had been together for the past fifty-odd miles had been whittled down to just eight. I’d actually led the way to the top of a hill, and had broken the group up with an attack! I had actually climbed the tough little hill faster than some other cyclists! I was elated for a bit and also stunned, but managed to keep the pedals turning.

The remains of the group formed another chain and drove onwards, but I started feeling the effect of my attack and had to rest at the back for a couple of miles ahead of the hills into Caro. I managed to wolf down my last cereal bar without incident and we settled down into the final circuit of the course.

The trip meter showed an average speed of 21.3 mph. This was nothing to write home about for real cyclists like Andy and Yves, and even though we had slowed down since the last speed-check, it wasn’t by much and I was really pleased with myself.

Circuit 3 (23 miles):

At Ruffiac the marshals pointed us towards Caro (66 miles - we’d looped back on ourselves), and on towards Monteneuf (73 miles). I ran out of water before we reached Monteneuf which meant, of course, that I started feeling really thirsty. The temperature had been climbing steadily all morning and by 70 miles it was really hot!

I was sweating profusely (must have been a lovely sight), but as there were only a few miles to go I knew I would survive.

I managed to blag a swig of water from one of my generous companions on the run in to home, but a raging thirst was occupying my thoughts for the final 10 miles or so.

On the way in to the finish, between Monteneuf and Ruffiac, we began sweeping up riders and our group grew again in size. By the time we’d climbed through Tréal (75 miles) there were about a dozen of us and when we powered through Ruffiac for a second time (78) we’d picked up a couple more for the fast lick down a long straight drag into the finish.

Sprint finish:

The final run into Malestroit was just about needle straight for the last 3 miles; straight and flat or gently downhill.

The speed ramped up as we closed in on Malsetroit with riders jockeying for position. Little breakaways were formed but sucked back in. I tried an attack with about half a mile to go, but was passed by chain of three going hell-for-leather. I managed to attach to them; legs pumping, quads burning again.

The speed wasn’t much 27/28 mph, but it felt fast to me after all the ground we’d already covered that day.

The guy in second place of our little breakaway jumped clear and burned it to the finish, but I saw him change gears and was ready for him. I was in my top gear (52/12 – for the techies amongst you) and we had a rare old battle for the last 500 yards or so. I never did manage to attach to his wheel and the beggar beat me in by a couple of bike lengths, but I didn’t mind; really I didn’t.

I was quite tired at the finish, but mainly thirsty. I managed to cadge a bottle of water from a marshal and glugged the whole thing down in three long pulls. I don’t normally drink water you understand, but it was hot and I was absolutely parched!

I made my way to where we’d parked the RV and ran into Andy who was already showered, changed and looking rested and as fresh as he did before the race.

“I was getting worried about you,” he said, “was thinking of sending out search parties!”

I think he meant well, but you can go off people you know!

The official race results:

Race distance – 130 kms		Total number of finishers – 198 The Website states that nearly 300 riders started so quite a few must have pulled out due to the heat!
Name	Time	Race Position	Percentile	Average Speed	Comments
Andy Shaw	3:13:00	18th	9%	25.6 mph (40.4 kph)	Say no more! 1.5 minutes down on the winner.
Yves Oger	3:13:00	25th	13%	25.6 mph (40.4 kph)	Finished in the same group as Andy
Kerry Donovan	3:52:29	166	83%	20.97 mph (33.6 kph)	Interesting – my best ever average speed, and my favourite race, but my worst result! Shows you how fast the others were – or rather how slow I really am.