1)Plan your planning. Stress uses energy. To avoid stress and therefore you losing a race, plan ahead. Where is the race? When do I have to leave home? So, you should also; put your money/licence/shoes/helmet in the bag the night before. Likewise... bike washed/lubed/shoved in car the night before. Petrol tank full the night before. Track pump in boot. The night before. And a loo roll. Don't ask.
3)Put your gear (in order of putting on) out too. Socks on top of a pile with shorts, vest and arm warmers underneath.
4) You should by now have emptied a supermarket of bananas and dragon shots in the preceding days. There's nothing more satisfying than placing 14 bananas and 8 dragon shots on the conveyor in Centra and watching the bespectacled auld one trying to figure out what it's all for? A chimp sanctuary? A rave?
5)Morning of race; Flahavan's factory bowl-full of God's laxative along with the obligatory double shot from the Sage Barista. The coffee is not performance enhancing, it's merely to amp the banter in the car with your mates.
6) Jersey!!!!! Don't pin on your numbers while waiting on the microwave/ coffee machine. Get it done last night and always use too many pins too.
7)Too many bottles filled. Don't just think of getting through the race! You must drink on the way there and on the return journey or you'll resemble an old turtle the following day. You might wee in a bin at every rest stop on the M9 but the alternative, leg-locking-in-the-middle-of-a-sprint, is more embarrassing.
8)Get there early. Something always gets in the way. That could be; A] A sign on queue longer than your losing streak. B] 250 racing/ 3 toilet cubicles/ one sodden jax roll now worth more than a piece of the Berlin wall. C] An Untimely puncture. D] Changing clothes coz its colder than you thought. E] No parking available because someone read these suggestions and beat you to it. You see, you want to psyche out your frenemies by being in a healthy sweat on prominently displayed rollers as they arrive late, unable to park or poo or sign on without crying.
9)Put 20 psi less than it says on the tyre. (Note, the same does not apply to the car.)
10)Start at the front, ride at the back. You need to see who is keen/there and easing back to the last ten will give you the inventory you need. It usually goes from fittest and feisty at the front but usually not winners, through dangerous tri-athletes new to the sport, with the spatial awareness of a brick (see what I did there??) to the auld cagey ones in with a chance, all the way down to the Belgian mix. That's the last ten that either can sprint like a rocket, want to wait until the eager gits wear themselves out thinking they are at the Giro doing it for the Tifosi, or the barrel-bottomed boys that have the physique of a rugby player crossed with the strength of a sumo wrestler and a 0-60 of a dragster for that last quarter mile. Why ride at the back? Ever watch a pilot fish follow a great white? Now you have it.
11)Wear mirror lenses. So you're fecked? Nobody can see it. Blood vessels have exploded with the eye-popping intensity? Not visible. You cry tears of blood? Same. Cross-eyed from Russian pre-workout? Likewise.
12)Elbows and butt power; Ah bunch riding. Realistically you can ride any race hanging off the back like a native of Calcutta taking the train as long as you get your sh*t together for the last kilometre. Then you need tunnel vision. Keep the elbows out, don't apologise for baulking that 15-stone Neanderthal silver-back that you sat at the rear with for the last 2 hours. Yes he can bench press your Ma but can he weave like a hornet through a meadow? Hell no. Keep your butt clenched for the 90 seconds it takes to cover that last K. You will experience handlebars, fists, mitts and gear levers trying to jostle you for position but hold firm. Pucker up. You belong there. Darwin mentioned you in 'Origin of the species'.
13)Wait. And wait. Maybe wait a while. You may think you have the power output of an antelope but don't forget A4 racing is akin to the Serengeti at the height of Summer. And those 10 at the back represent Leopards, Lions and Jackals . Let them off, view them as a lead-out train and follow them to victory. Hopefully the rasher sandwiches or barrel of ale they consumed last night will release just enough cholesterol to slow them in the last 30 metres. Then, out of the slipstream like a surfer on the bow wave of the fast ferry... You jostle through for victory.
Disclaimer:
* Events may not pan out as outlined above.
**A hand of bananas and a quart of Dragon Shots may have a detrimental effect on your colon post-event.
***No responsibility is accepted for penalty points/ fines incurred while pooping like a waste-pipe in a bin on the M9.
****Read instructions carefully.
5)Morning of race; Flahavan's factory bowl-full of God's laxative along with the obligatory double shot from the Sage Barista. The coffee is not performance enhancing, it's merely to amp the banter in the car with your mates.
6) Jersey!!!!! Don't pin on your numbers while waiting on the microwave/ coffee machine. Get it done last night and always use too many pins too.
7)Too many bottles filled. Don't just think of getting through the race! You must drink on the way there and on the return journey or you'll resemble an old turtle the following day. You might wee in a bin at every rest stop on the M9 but the alternative, leg-locking-in-the-middle-of-a-sprint, is more embarrassing.
8)Get there early. Something always gets in the way. That could be; A] A sign on queue longer than your losing streak. B] 250 racing/ 3 toilet cubicles/ one sodden jax roll now worth more than a piece of the Berlin wall. C] An Untimely puncture. D] Changing clothes coz its colder than you thought. E] No parking available because someone read these suggestions and beat you to it. You see, you want to psyche out your frenemies by being in a healthy sweat on prominently displayed rollers as they arrive late, unable to park or poo or sign on without crying.
9)Put 20 psi less than it says on the tyre. (Note, the same does not apply to the car.)
10)Start at the front, ride at the back. You need to see who is keen/there and easing back to the last ten will give you the inventory you need. It usually goes from fittest and feisty at the front but usually not winners, through dangerous tri-athletes new to the sport, with the spatial awareness of a brick (see what I did there??) to the auld cagey ones in with a chance, all the way down to the Belgian mix. That's the last ten that either can sprint like a rocket, want to wait until the eager gits wear themselves out thinking they are at the Giro doing it for the Tifosi, or the barrel-bottomed boys that have the physique of a rugby player crossed with the strength of a sumo wrestler and a 0-60 of a dragster for that last quarter mile. Why ride at the back? Ever watch a pilot fish follow a great white? Now you have it.
11)Wear mirror lenses. So you're fecked? Nobody can see it. Blood vessels have exploded with the eye-popping intensity? Not visible. You cry tears of blood? Same. Cross-eyed from Russian pre-workout? Likewise.
12)Elbows and butt power; Ah bunch riding. Realistically you can ride any race hanging off the back like a native of Calcutta taking the train as long as you get your sh*t together for the last kilometre. Then you need tunnel vision. Keep the elbows out, don't apologise for baulking that 15-stone Neanderthal silver-back that you sat at the rear with for the last 2 hours. Yes he can bench press your Ma but can he weave like a hornet through a meadow? Hell no. Keep your butt clenched for the 90 seconds it takes to cover that last K. You will experience handlebars, fists, mitts and gear levers trying to jostle you for position but hold firm. Pucker up. You belong there. Darwin mentioned you in 'Origin of the species'.
13)Wait. And wait. Maybe wait a while. You may think you have the power output of an antelope but don't forget A4 racing is akin to the Serengeti at the height of Summer. And those 10 at the back represent Leopards, Lions and Jackals . Let them off, view them as a lead-out train and follow them to victory. Hopefully the rasher sandwiches or barrel of ale they consumed last night will release just enough cholesterol to slow them in the last 30 metres. Then, out of the slipstream like a surfer on the bow wave of the fast ferry... You jostle through for victory.
Disclaimer:
* Events may not pan out as outlined above.
**A hand of bananas and a quart of Dragon Shots may have a detrimental effect on your colon post-event.
***No responsibility is accepted for penalty points/ fines incurred while pooping like a waste-pipe in a bin on the M9.
****Read instructions carefully.
