La Sostranienne (112km)
Saturday September 2nd saw me leaving home to go to La Souteraine, 50 kilometres north of Limoges, the pottery capital of France. The weather forecast was OK, but knowing this area of the Creuse, nothing could be taken for granted and rain could arrive without warning. Signing in was a formality on the Saturday afternoon, having paid up early in July. Just give your name and number and you receive a ‘T’ shirt gift with a number to attach to your ‘maillot’ or jersey.
Up very early - 5:30 - on the Sunday race day for a hearty breakfast of muesli…by the ton. Good carbohydrate in this stuff, but to me it's like munching wood shavings – dry and hard to get down. Drank lots of water to hydrate and fill as many cells as possible. It was still dark and cold as I went down to the start area and joined some 1,600 riders from all over Europe, taking part in either the l’Ecureuil or the La Sostranienne. We were allocated start areas by number designation and I joined those already waiting for the off, trying to keep warm and focused. This is where my professional road racing days of yesteryear help, as I felt the adrenalin start to rise and my concentration going into an area where its is almost impossible for someone to break in through my ‘barrier’. Now I can focus on the first part of the ride.
Top of the 5km climb at the Bois d'Echelle and still going strong...
8:30 and I was off from the second block to start. I released all the aggression which builds up at the start of anything competitive. Even at 61 years of age I am still an aggressive, competitive sort, and the jostling for position as we took a gentle climb from the start zone away from La Souteraine was quite exhilarating. By now my legs had started to work OK but as usual my mouth was dry and my lips were sticking to my teeth… like someone suffering from stage fright.
Kept pace easily with the second grupo, (most of the riders were a lot younger than me) and close riding was the order of the day as the huge start mass slowly thinned out becoming more rider friendly. Then the climbs started, like climbs I have never experienced before, but with the voice of my training partner and mate Tony ringing in my ears: “get into a rhythm and don’t try to go to fast at the beginning. On the climbs let your legs spin and don’t fight the bike or the hill - ride easy”.
Good words, but we were now on a mountain climb that I swear if I’d known about before, I wouldn’t have entered the event! Five kilometres of climb ranging from 9% to 13% with some nasty hairpin bends thrown in just to make your rhythm go to pot. With Tony still talking in my head, I just blanked out everything around me and got the rhythm of both pedalling and breathing into sync and although I did loose some places, I crested the summit, took a long mouthful of carb drink and started the descent.
Riding motorbikes for a living in the 60’s and 70’s had instilled in no fear of going fast, especially down hill. We had thin tyres in those days, not the fat sausages they use today, and I felt really at home plunging down the narrow forested road with plenty of sharp bends and quite a lot of loose gravel along with the dreaded pot holes and leaves. It felt really great and I hit a magic 74.3kph on those skinny 23mm Michelin Pro Race tyres. Not only did I make up the places I’d lost on the climb, but gained some more, out-cornering and braking many a seasoned rider on the steep descent.
There was a wonderful view off to my right, and made all the more beautiful because I was looking through a pink mist as I flew down the mountainside through forests with the cool wind blowing cobwebs from the brain and allowing this ancient osteoarthritic body to recuperate.
We still had lots of long climbs to get through, but the sun was shining, there was no wind and the company of the other riders was now to be enjoyed. Up, up was the order of the day as we slugged our way to the feeding station and some respite. What a joke! The feeding station gave a break from the long, long, climb, but we hadn’t reached the summit. So after stopping, replenishing the ‘bidons’ and cramming nourishment into pockets, it was a question of restarting on one of the steepest sections of the hill. A lot of grunting could be heard along with some gut-wrenching moans.
The course had now plateaued and we were on the final run for the finish. I had the slight embarrassment of getting cramp, my contortions and attempts at relieving the pain and locking muscles caused some hilarity from my fellow group of riders. Spinning in a low gear and doing my best to stretch or massage the rigid muscles helped and the spasms eventually past. I got my 'second wind' and on one of the longish climbs dropped my group and set off for home, picking off quite a number of riders who had bonked, either from possibly going too fast at the start or who were finding the going just a bit tough. I know I was.
With the finish bridge coming into sight, I caught another rider and we both made a sprint finish, but I just couldn’t get past him and had to settle for 142nd scratch but did finish 10th in my age group.
Roll on next year, when I plan to do one event a month from March to July, then a few more at the end of the year, possibly eight in all.