Looking back, I can’t seem to find where I wrote my targets for 2010. I know one target was a 100 mile sportive (which I’ve already done), another was the Mountain Time Trial, and another was a time on a 10 mile TT - which was either a sub 25 minute or a sub 24 minute. I’m sure someone will correct me either way, but I was fairly sure it was the official target to get a sub 25 and an unofficial (tell your friends only target of) sub 24.
Last night, I wasn’t confident. I’d weighed in at 16 stone exactly in the morning, some 4 lbs heavier than my lowest weight so far. I’d been struggling with a dodgy stomach for a couple of days, my diet hadn’t been great despite the support of Kerry signing me up to Weight Loss Resources, a couple of jobs had been dragging at work and really getting me down, and I’d had a few bad night’s sleep - all leaving me thoroughly tired, worn out and feeling a bit low. Add to the equation that on the actual night I’d struggled to find the race HQ, and my phone had died out on me on the way, which didn’t help when trying to get directions, you could say I had pretty bad preparation. Despite all that, my beloved told me I was going to do a sub 25 tonight.
“What the hell do you know?” I thought to myself.
I warmed up on the turbo beside the boot of my car (trying to look like a proper racer for once) whilst being waited on hand and foot by my own personal soigneur. As I’d found the HQ late, and because there weren’t that many riders signed on at this point, I’d be going off 18th, leaving me just over 20 minutes to warm up, which isn’t much for me. I was fearful of another cramp spoiled race.
The 20 minutes flew by. Kerry had gone off to find the finish line with Peter Schultz so I finished my warm up before hurriedly getting to the start line - just 30 seconds before I was due to go off. I wasn’t confident, and didn’t expect much, so I was utterly relaxed and looking forward to the race. It had been a fortnight since my last time trial, so I’d been waiting for this one.
The course is essentially a loop on the A192 from Nelson Industrial Estate to the 3 Horse Shoes roundabout and back, twice. It’s apparently quite a quick course, but a couple of false flats leading up to the roundabouts would have me struggling. I purposefully put myself in my biggest gear and pushed a slow cadence, rather than a lower gear at a high cadence, just to see what the difference was. It seemed to working - my speed was notably high (except when going round the roundabout to Dennis Fuller shouting his lungs out at me!!!)
The first lap went quick, or at least it felt quick. Crossing the finish line for the first time however, my Garmin didn’t fill me with much confidence. It looked like I was on for a 26 minute plus ride. 2 things went through my head - do I just use it as training or do I go for it now and see if I can claw back the time in the second lap. I heard the familiar voice of my fiancee shout “Go on James!!!” and my heart jumped. Sod it then, let’s go for it.
I pushed hard, maybe not to my limit, but hard enough for it to hurt. Around the Three Horseshoes roundabout I backed off and sat up, frightened of losing the bike on the wet tarmac and slick tyres. For the final straight back I stuck the bike in it’s hardest gear, put my head down, and went for it. By the time I hit the middle roundabout for the 4th and last time, my Garmin was telling me I’d got less half a mile to go with the clock at just under 24 minutes. I knew then I was on for my sub 25. In the distance I could see the high vis jackets of the time keepers and just behind them, the blue jacket of Kerry. Knowing she was there waiting for me gave me the strength to bury myself and for that last half a mile I gave it everything - with my heart rate hitting 200bpm.
Crossing the finish line was one of the most extraordinary set of mixed feelings I’ve ever encountered. The pride of knowing I had gone under 25 minutes regardless of the margin, the suffering from the last mile’s effort, and the joy of seeing my fiancee waiting on the finish line all combined was too much - and within metres of the line I had stopped at the road side, fallen from my bike and collapsed in a hyper ventilating heap of pure elation and exhaustion. I tore my helmet off and lay there for a few blissful minutes, the damp of the grass soaking through my jersey and the sunlight blinding me as I tried desperately to catch my breath. From out of nowhere Kerry had piled on top of me as excited as I’ve ever seen her - trying to tell me what my time was, bless her. The whole episode was a blur, but a blur that will remain etched in my head forever. I’d gone under 25 minutes for a 10 mile time trial, my Kerry had been there to witness and celebrate it with me, and I’d done it feeling tired and ill on a course I’d never ridden before.
I’d done it. I’d fucking well done it.
To some, a sub 25 is nothing - it’s a mere formality. A bare minimum - failure even. But to me, it’s a major, major achievement. When I first started this whole cycling to lose weight trip, I could barely manage 5 miles on the turbo trainer. Now I’ve gone round a 10 mile time trial course in less than 25 minutes. That’s progress. So Kerry, you were right. Andy Fuller, you weren’t talking shite. To everyone who told me I could when I said I couldn’t - you were right and I was wrong. Thanks for believing in me when I didn’t.
And to those who doubted me… well?
Now what, though? Well, now there’s a new official target of a sub 24 minute 10. Wish me luck on that one!