2013

Howdy folks. Been a while.

What can I say? I've been busy don't you worry about that! I've been writing my fingers to death, just not here. So this is brief, and to the point, without the linguistic break dancing that I usually like to dot around the place like a stoned poet with a thesaurus (wait, I just did it again didn't I?)

NEW BIKES OH HELLS YEH !!!!!!!1111ONE!!! ELEVENTY BILLION AWESOME

The Lovelock househould now has an even greater array of carbon, steel and alloy triangles with wheels and all the trimmings. Thank you Avanti, the Corsa is going down a treat.

Our team had an official launch yesterday. It was a nice fun affair. We got to stand around feeling a bit akward in lycra whilst busy people in the AMP building shuffled past and looked on with curiousity.

Then we at salmon. Oh, so much salmon. I've seen enough anoying adds for fish and krill oil in my short life time. Let's just say, you can take your tablets and stick em'. I've got a new approach

And of course some more stuff that is new, shiney and great

I know it's a bit tiring at this time of year when new teams and new riders are bomboarding your social media accounts with a blitzkrieg of pictures and cheesy sponsor plugs. But here's the deal;

We LOVE what we do. We are so, so, so lucky to get the chance to live out our dreams and put off 'real' life for a while. So we are generally thankful and show our appreciation. So don't worry, it'll tone down. But we just want to support those who support us, and we sure as hell hope you want to support them too!

Back on the article front, I've jumped on board at The Roar sports website and have started posting regular articles here. So far there is

What does a cyclists Mad Monday look like?

The National Championships: it's all in the timing

New calendar postion heralds a new beginning for Suntour

I am also going to be doing some semi-regular articles for Wade at Cyclingtips. Here is round one;

Who's found a home, Who's left Hanging?


So it's nationals coming up, and the battle to regrow skin after a recent touchdown at the Williamstown support bay crits

Yet another brilliant pic from Fyxo, you'll have to click through to see the full size pic and remaining blood and gore

 And as the brilliant Paul Ambry (who does the sensational cartoon backrgounds for my blog) noted, I even got a chainring behind the ear. How does that happen?

 See you all at nationals!

Over, and out.

Blake's Manor

Situation: Genesys Training Camp; day 6

Weather: Filthy, bordering on horrendous

Motivation levels: Beginning to wane

The saving grace? Blake’s Manor

There were six of us out riding around the windy flats near Deloraine, Tasmania. Nearle, Dyball, Jai, Sammy D, Matt from Launie Homes and myself. About an hour into our ride we saw some pretty horrid looking black clouds coming in over the Tassie highlands. We pulled over and chucked on our rain jackets, extra gloves, head warmers, pretty much anything we could.

It was a smart move.

Five minutes later the scene had certainly changed. Ben Dyball was busy grovelling along in the gravel shoulder after being blown off the road by the increasingly strong wind (like seriously, seriously strong*)

*We are talking 170km/h wind gusts that ripped roofs off houses in Deloraine that night

Then came the hail. Oh the stinging hail. It hurt. A lot!

We cowered amongst a cluttering of trees trying to work out how best to ameliorate this truly shitful situation. The initial equation involved us riding up a climb to the Great Lakes which would see us gain another ~800-1000m of elevation. Given the temperature was hovering around the mid-single digits whilst we huddled, shivered and contemplated the crapulence of our situation; there was no doubt that tackling that climb would result in

1)      Snow

2)      Hypothermia

3)      Insanity

4)      A rather low level of satisfaction

5)      All of the above. And some.

So to Deloraine we soldiered.

Now on our training camps, and races, accommodation is always a highly variable theme. Given we end up staying in some tourist areas in ‘off peak’ season, or in other areas in ‘on peak’ season; for a given cost, we could be in a caravan park, or a chalet. Sometimes we score some really, really nice spots to stay.

Anyone on the team will happily regale you with tales of Toowoomba. Four people to a space so small it truly was a stretch of the truth to deem it a 'cabin'. All piled on top of each other. Only separated by our own sweat, dysentery and the dirt and sand that was just everywhere.

But fear not, because in stark contrast came our deluxe lodgings at San Remo. This stroke of good luck saw us start Tour of Gippsland in luxury villas with ceilings even higher than our enthusiasm to sleep beneath them.

Needless to say, we were all hoping to score a gem for the night. We were cold, miserable and hungry. Let’s be honest, caravan parks are fine. At that point in time, all we really needed was a warm shower. Heck, we’d have had one in the main street of Deloraine if that was our only option.

But then there came, Blake’s Manor. You. Little. Beauty.

Probably best not to wear our muddy shoes in here...

On arrival it appeared we’d slipped back into the days of ye Olde England. We had arrived in the palatial surrounds of something out of Downton Abbey. Certainly, no complaints here.

Certainly comfortable

But what’ that say you? Free food? Oh, well of course, many motels give you some tea bags and cookies!

Oh no, not just ordinary cookies!

Oh really, do tell?

We started with; fresh baked macadamia cookies. Brilliant. To which we then uncovered some local chocolate truffles. Oh how swell. Nevertheless the local cheese platter went divinely with the flagon of port. But only trumped by the delicious iced cupcakes. Truly satiating.

Anyone for cheese?

But wait, I know you want more;

Local Bacon, six rashers.

Local Eggs, times six.

And a fresh, baked, loaf of bread. And don’t you dare forget the fresh butter and Jam.

Yep. It was a feast. Of glorious proportions.

Here's hoping for warmer weather come Tour of Tasmania...

It equipped us with sufficient nutrients and motivation to tackle the dastardly climb we had avoided. Albeit in the car.

A good night’s sleep, surrounded by an abundance of pillows, teddy bears, tassels and all manner of opulent furnishings left us with the nobility of kings. Until we returned the next day, to our more customary abode of the Hobart Airport Caravan Hotel Caravan Park.

Accommodation on tour or training camp is about taking the ups with the downs. At the end of the day, we are lucky to have someone else organise and pay it all for us. And even luckier, to get to dot around the country and see places we’d never see. Even if it means rain, hail, snow and a lot of washing.

A clear and frosty day up on Mt Wellington, Hobart.

There’s always light at the end of the tunnel. Sun on the other side of that grey cloud. And in this case, a hefty dose of fat, sugar with just a sprinkling of alcohol at the end of a despondent day in Deloraine.

Yep, I’ll take the good with the bad, because the good, is just that good.

Jono

Fortnightly Roundup

Wow, what a busy time it has been!

Since we last spoke I got my full dosing of double stage madness at the Tour of the Greater South Coast. It was wet. I was windy. It was madness. Madness I tell you!

But it was a lot of fun. We worked out arses off and came away with the win.

The South Coast Tour was markedly different from the Tour of Gippsland or the current Tour of the Murray River. Both of those tours are more about accumulating time bonuses continually to build your lead throughout the race. Given the morning crits will have sprints every second lap or thereabouts the oppurtunity lies for a quality sprinter to win 3-4-5-6 or more sprints and go away from each morning stage a good 20 seconds or more in front of their rivals.

But, and yes there is a bit but, you still have to survive the arvo road stage.

At races like Gippo and Murray where it may be easier to control (cross wind pending of course) you can let your lead rider, such as AJ Giacoppo for us, go nuts in the morning, and then sit back a bit more in the arvo.

But at South Coast, with some big and hard arvo road stages, combined with some good bergs and some solid wind, it was a balancing act of sorts. An act that we got right, but only just.

On the 4th stage which to us looked like the true queen road stage we had a solid 100+ kilometres heading in through the southern grampians to finish in Casterton. To those who have raced the Tour of Coleraine in the past, you know how windy, dead and lumpy this area is.

Even with a clear plan to control and mark the right moves we let Darren Lapthorne escape our grasps and he ended up with an awesome solo win. We'd been warned! He was the man to watch, and Drapac were certainly going to throw it all at as.

From my point of view, I had a simple task. I had to try and tag moves, fill gaps etc, if there was a break that did not have the riders we wanted in it, then I had to get my chase on. But you can't chase everything, so it's often much easier to tag on the back and follow moves.

Cue day three. The day of madness.

Forecasts were for gale force winds. Snow in the grampians down to ~700 metres. Sideways rain. Horizontal hail. It. Was. Chaos.

We fronted up at the circuit at Port Fairy. We performed our obligatory get to the start line about 3 hours before the start, just so we could start on the front... and we shivered. It was cold. Miserable. Filthy.

It was a true laugh to be on the start line whingeing my arse off with Jordan Kerby who exclaimed that he was from QLD, he doesn't ride in this shit! (only to go up the road and nearly win the stage!)

Anyhow, we got through that stage OK. We had to work and try to bring back Kerby and the ol' Ox Gordan McCauley but we couldn't do it. But no big losses.

It was the arvo stage that really concerned us. The wind was getting stronger. The rain was setting in.

We had seen the roads we had to race on. There were plenty of potholes (which would come as a mystery surprise under the blankets of water that now covered the road). There would be a ripping cross or tail cross wind. It was going to be an absolute balls to the wall smashfest.

Then came possibly the most memorable moment of my season.

CSV promptly came and informed all the teams that the days racing was cancelled. The police had decided to cancel the stage citing rider safety.

Now here we had and huddle of hardened cyclists, layered up with all sorts of thermal clothing and windstopping devices. Everyong was gripping their caffeine or sugary fix of choice, just mentally preparing for the big afternoon.


Then, like night and day, the grown men were reduced to near tears of happiness. Group hugs. Exclaimations of "Thank f##k for that" and similar were exchanged. Phew! Dodged a bullet there!

The rest of the tour was not quite as dramatic, better weather, more hard racing, and yep, AJ got the win. But it was the solid weather and tumultuous times of the first three days that stick in my mind!

You can have a peak at more NRS highlights over here

Now I am down here in Tassie enjoying a solid training camp. Emphasis on solid.

But more importantly, how good is it to see Joel Pearson on the top step?

This guy is an absolute legend. After I messed myself up in China he really looked after me, especially helping carry me from my wheelchair to the airplane seat on our return flight!

Then about a year later he put me in touch with ACJ, one of the main men behind the Orange Army, and I was lucky enough to get a gig with Genesys. So it's not just good. But great, to see the double warny winner, do stuff like this

Stage 4, Tour of Murray 2012, 'Killer' Pearson just keeps on, keeping on

Over, and out. Time for a brew ride.

Jono

Irony

Withing 48 hours of my slate clearing über whinge it appears that sweet poetic justice has delt me a cold hard slap in the face

Egg, meet face. Face, meet egg.

I wrote that post from the comfort of knowing I was not racing in the next NRS race, the Tour of the Great South Coast.

Warnambool. Port Fairy. Portland. Casterton. You know it's going to be hard down there.

Having had a team camp in that general vicinity not so long ago, and with the lashing wind and dancing rain still haunting my every waking moment, I took a bit of extra joy in rubbing some salt in the wounds of those racing.

I mean, I had to put a positive spin on not getting a ride, right? Right.

Well. A team mate is sick. My role in keeping the bench warm and hurling criticism from afar is over. I've been thrown into the field ready to tackle an armada of double stages! Oh the delicious irony.

But. In all seriousness. I want to race. This is gonna be one of those 'sweet merciful crap' this is so horrid kind of tours that you just have to be a part of it. Just so you can say, you were a part of it.

Five hard days, a lot of wind. A sizeable amount of rain. And a lot of good bike riders.

Time to go have some fun.

Everyone Hates Double Stages

Everyone hates double stages.


Of all the over generalised, unqualified, far sweeping and ill considered statements that can be made, I guarantee you beyond the shadow of a doubt, that this statement, is in fact 100% correct

There is nothing that fills a cyclists face with a more puerile expression of hatred than the intermingling of the terms ‘criterium’ and ‘road race’ on the same course mocka.

Just imagine. You’ve had your pre race feed. You’ve had your pre race coffee. You’ve had your pre race shit. You’ve kitted up. You’ve appropriately smeared your groin with chamois cream of choice. You might have heat cream and/or oil on your legs. You might have sunscreen on your face. You are ready. You are motivated. It’s time to race.

You race. You get rained on (sideways rain nonetheless). You get sweaty. You get filthy. You get hungry. You get thirsty. You get tired.

But thankfully, it’s all over. You can get changed. You can get clean. You can get dry. You can get warm. You can get fed.

But wait,
THERE’S ANOTHER GOD DAMMED STAGE STARTING IN 1 HOUR AND 30 MINUTES

The Dilemmas arising are suddenly overwhelming.

If you are lucky and it doesn't rain then it's only the stench of tepid sweat, grease and the bacteria currently copulating in your knicks that need concern you

Do I get changed? Will I get colder by getting naked in the street or will I get warmer by getting dry clothes on? Maybe I’ll just jump in the van and crank the heating. Will I have to perform the ‘standing on shoes whilst changing pants so that my white socks don’t get wet dance’? (Yes, yes you will)
 
Do I have enough dry kit? Oh no, I forgot my plastic bag, damn, all my clothes to put on after stage 2 will be wet

But chances are you'll be unlucky. If you start the day wet. You end the day wet.

 My bike is filthy. The jockey wheels are squeeking. The brake pads are full of grit. My shoes are wet and the only thing lower than my morale is the pressure in that rear tubular I just flatted.

I need to eat, but what do I eat? How much? I don’t want to have a hunger flat, but I sure as hell don’t want to have salad roll reverbs on the first KOM of the afternoon stage.

I need to drink, I sure as hell don’t want to cramp in the arvo stage. But on the other hand, needing to pee when the race gets thrown in the gutter is not much fun either. You think they stop for a 'pisso' in Aussie racing? Good luck with that!

Maybe I’ll just have a coffee, it’ll warm me up and pep me up. But what, no caffeine after midday? Yep, you ain’t gonna sleep tonight boy.

There is no nice way to put it. Double stages suck. You can try and spin it however which way you like, but no one enjoys double stages. They are a given evil. A necessity to surviving as a cyclist in Australia.

As ex-Australian Road Champ, Darren 'Lappers' Lapthorne once said

"I'd prefer riding the Melbourne to Warrnambool 5 days in a row compared to a week of double stages!"

Some people might just call me a whinger.

But that’s the whole point. I am whinging, and god it feels good.

And you. Yes,  you.

You know exactly what I’m talking about. Because;

Everyone hates double stages

Studiously avoiding Winter

Can only last for so long.

It seems a bit of Borneo there, a touch of Japan here, all mixed up with some sprinklings of Queensland over the past 8 or so weeks have kept me hoping that I could just bypass winter.

But no, not to be!

Riding down Punt Rd this morning at 6am it really hit me. This. Is. Winter. Pitch black, wet (although not raining, luckily) and lonely.

It really got all fun and wintery when I stopped for a leak to see that my 'mega' saddle bag had fallen off with my rear light attached. Dayam! How long had I been trundling along down Punt/Beach Rd without a freakin light, in the dark!! Sheeeeeet. Not a great feeling.

Also not great was the fact that I was now short of the three tubes, two levers, ten patches, two CO2 cannisters, insane multi-tool (including a chain breaker and quite possibly a kitchen sink) and spare $20 note that I had travelling along with me in my now gone saddle bag. Bugger. Thankfully Uncle T at Crino sorted me out again so I'm all good for tomorrows trundle

Then the real risk; to keep heading on down to Mt Eliza, on wet roads, without no recourse for a flat tyre? Heeeeelll no! Back home I went. Puncture fairies, Murphy's Law, Jesus, whoever it is up there, was just waiting to smite me should I try my luck.

To be honest with you, the time spent up in QLD & NSW was not really avoiding winter. It was a bit like being at the snow. At the start of the last day of the North Western Tour, I eyed the apparent temperature in Gunnedah to be a shivering -6 degrees. Meanwhile I finished the day sunburnt around my sunglasses such that I now possess an impressive goggle tan. I am still getting asked what the snow was like. Additionally, the resulting red nose and general aroma of  "post race haven't showered and have been crammed in the team van for 4 hours goddamit I am stiff and sore where is maccas?" had me hobbling around like a drunk frenchman

Results wise both races were good, but not great. We took Teams GC at the North West Tour but only finished second in Toowoomba. Our new recruit 'Jumpin' Jai Crawford was kicking arse up the pointy end on the hilly stages but was not quite on form to match Marko who is definitely the man to beat when the road points upward. On a personal level I snivelled a couple of top ten GC results so that'll do for now!

Off for some dinner now and of course following that it is time to watch the tour! Time to wear a groove in the couch.

Jono

Tour of Japan, stage 5 madness

So the tour of is over and in between long bus trips and tasty bento boxes there hasn't been much time to think anything let alone even write anything. So the best most memorable events must get blogged first

So check THIS out.

That is Shawry's garmin/strava file from what was far and away the most ridiculous race of my life. It bordered on insanity.

Rumour has it when Kristian House won the same stage in 2010 for Rapha Condor he said it was the hardest stage of his life and he was glad it was over. Well back then they raced 98k.

We raced 148k!!!! (This point needs a severe and comprehensive exclaiming.)

Have a look at what Wurfy wrote about it

Or maybe peek at the youtube video

And don't miss all the purty pictures that Cycling iQ has posted

Just look at it!

Or maybe just trust me when I say it was ludicrous.

Like a roller coaster ride for road bikes. The course twisted, turned, climbed, dropped, cut back on itself and managed to give everyone motion sickness, whip lash and the urge to cry. You would come out of a corner with G forces throwing the rice in your stomach around like clothes in a washing machine only to whip out, up and around onto 'yet another' climb that not only sapped (these climbs were especially potent 'sappers', one would almost deem them to be 'grippy') all your energy and momentum but every time made you contemplate why on earth you were doing this.

But each lap you would remember why;

-You would pass your soigneurs handing out drinks.
-You would see the time gap to your team mate suffering out in the break (thanks Shawry)
-And you would look back and see your DS bored out of their skull in the team car

After 4 hours I can safely say all riders went through every stage of the emtional cyclist mental scale

1) Apprehension of the extreme fisting your are about to endure
2) Slight excitment whilst pondering the 'epicness' of the ride
3) Denial after the first lap; "Surely they didn't mean 12 whole laps?"
4) Frustration after the 2nd lap; "This is going to be a long day"
5) Contemplating death on the 3rd lap
6) Contemplating death of the 4th lap
7) Laps 5-11: See Laps 3 and 4
8) Lap 12: "Thank you sweet jesus that is over. Someone find me a corner of the bus to die in. Wake me once we get to Tokyo."

The whole day was rather analogous to the famous Milgram experiments

Give a normal person the authority of a UCI endorsed race organisor, and they can convince a bunch of directors to do absurd things to a bunch of cyclists under their control.

Or maybe we wanted to do it? Maybe we are just masochists.

Me?

I just like that fact that I get a tuna sandwich and some free sashimi after the race. How cool is that!