First podium

I scored my first time-trial podium finish last week. Although the use of ‘podium’ makes it sound a bit more glamorous than it actually was – more like having a quick scan of times on a clipboard and heading home thinking you’ve done ok. Then looking at the results on the club website the next afternoon and realising you’d somehow ended up in 2nd place. I actually started reading the results from the bottom up (old habits die hard). By the time I’d got to the top 5 I thought my time was missing!

One of my goals for this season – my second year of racing TT’s on a proper TT bike was to try and get around Bristol South’s Chew Lake course in under 20 minutes. Over the rolling course of 8.3 miles this requires an average speed of 25mph / 40km/h. My PB from last year was 20:40 so I’d hoped it would be achievable. I trained quite hard through the winter, trying to use the TT bike on the turbo trainer at least once a week to get used to riding in a more aerodynamic position. It got to the point that I was sick of threshold riding on a TT bike before the season had actually begun. My first race around the lake in April resulted in a personal best of 20:14, tantalisingly close. I got a bit held up behind traffic too, so was convinced that the sub-20 was just around the corner. My next race in May resulted in 20:18, despite putting out a bit more power (325 watts vs 320 watts) and feeling like I’d ridden harder too. Going hard doesn’t seem to equal going fast.

Last week was the annual 25 mile TT around the lake – 3 laps rather than 1. I’d never raced a 25 before so had no idea how it would go. All of my duathlon races are of a one-hour duration and I’ve run quite a few 10K’s too at around 40 minutes, so felt confident about managing my effort for the distance. I decided to aim for around 290 watts but mostly just ride on feel. I’d also read some 10K running advice which was to run the first two-thirds with your head and the final third with your heart. I decided to apply this logic to a 3 lap cycling race.


Last few moments of shade before heading out to race

Despite the 7pm start, the conditions were baking hot. There didn’t feel like much of a need to warm up, more of a need to keep hydrated and out of the sun. My concessions to the conditions were to replace the visor on my helmet with sunglasses for better ventilation, and to ride with a bottle on the bike. I was the 9th rider off and immediately tried to rein it in, asking myself the same question that I would repeat for the next hour: “Can I maintain this for another x minutes?”

It wasn’t really until halfway through the second lap that the first proper challenge presented itself. Everything was going well, I felt comfortable and was going quicker than expected when I caught my minute man. I’d overtaken a few other riders but I’d expected my minute man to be faster than me so wasn’t expecting to catch him. About a mile after overtaking I glanced behind and saw he was close behind. Not close enough to be gaining any kind of slipstream advantage, just close enough to rattle me and make me think I’d slowed down. It got to me and I tried to increase my effort. I can’t be the only person who suffers from this – despite it being a race against the clock, and a race against yourself it’s very difficult to not be influenced by overtaking or being overtaken. My heart rate began to rise and I started to feel the effort. I started to feel differently about the “can I continue this” question. I eased off and told myself not to look back.

A few miles later I looked over my shoulder as I came out around a parked car and saw empty roads behind. I felt relief.

I felt fine coming through to complete the second lap, like I could have kept riding all night. It was a great feeling. It’s a rolling course with a couple of rises that take about a minute to crest. I stayed in the saddle on these but came out of the aero position and onto the handlebars for on each lap so that I could stretch my back and neck, but more importantly to take a big glug of water.

Halfway through the final lap I was starting to suffer from pins and needles in my left hand and arm, but more painful was a tightness in my neck on the left side. It became a real mental challenge to keep going hard and I tried to just focus on my legs and relax the rest of my body. Knowing that I only had 10 more minutes made it manageable and I pushed on.

I crossed the line in a time of 1.01.26 with lap splits of 20:15, 20:32 & 20:39, the consistent pacing giving me great satisfaction. The time of the first lap also gave me lots of confidence that a sub-20 really should be achievable having got within 15 seconds on the first lap. Either that or I only have one race pace and I should just stick to 25’s!


Finish line wreck 

I felt completely trashed at the finish line. After hanging around and receiving some much appreciated praise, I felt my body beginning to seize up so I clambered awkwardly onto my bike for the short 5 mile ride home. It required a huge effort and I contemplated phoning my wife to come and pick me up, unsure if I was going to make it. It was fairly pathetic and probably harder than the race itself!

Results (top 5):

Pos: Name: Club: Lap 1: Lap 2: Lap 3: Actual Time:
1 Nick Livermore Bristol South C.C. 0.18.35 0.18.59 0.19.43 0.57.17
2 Mark Jerzak Chew Valley C.C. 0.20.15 0.20.32 0.20.39 1.01.26
3 Daniel Burbridge Bristol South C.C. 0.19.45 0.20.19 0.21.24 1.01.28
4 Nicholas Creed Somer Valley C.C. 0.20.54 0.21.04 0.21.25 1.03.23
5 Dan Hopes Rapha CC 0.21.41 0.21.58 0.22.01 1.05.40

I’ll be back this week for the one lap version and another crack at sub-20. Surely it’s within grasp …

Burnham-on-Sea Parkrun

I decided I needed some 5K race practice to develop my running at the distance and to benchmark my current race pace. So I headed to Burnham-on-Sea for their weekly Parkrun – a free 5km timed run. There was a huge turnout – probably a combination of the fine weather and a flat course.


I was aiming to try and beat 18:30 – 6 minutes per mile pace (3:42 per km). I took my place on the front line for the start, expecting to be running near the pointy-end of the field but was immediately surprised by the pace from the gun. The first rule of Parkrun is to sprint the first 100 metres! It was do-or-die in order to keep ahead on the narrow footpath.


100 metre dash … 

My pace for the first km was 3:36 which felt too quick so I eased off a touch. For the next 3km I settled into a manageable pace of 3:43/km. I’d worked my way up to 5th place by this point.

The final km was tough. I began to feel like I was overheating, from a combination of the sun and my thumping heart. I took a few glances over my shoulder and saw 6th place close behind so dug deep and kept going. Crossing the line was a huge relief, combined with the immense satisfaction of clocking 18:28 (5:57 per mile / 3:42 per km). And keeping my position – nothing stings like being beaten on the line.


Finish line pain face

After the disappointment of last weekend’s duathlon I decided that when things go well, I need to enjoy the satisfaction of a success. The failures hurt, so the successes need to be celebrated.

Big thank you to all the organisers of the event, if I do a few more then I will make sure to volunteer one week. Parkrun only happens as a result of people volunteering.

Darley Moor Sprint Duathlon 2018

Failure is apparently the seed of growth and success. It’s also bloody frustrating … especially when it’s caused by your own mistakes. I committed the mother of all cock ups at this weekend’s Darley Moor Sprint Duathlon and accidentally went around for an extra lap on the bike leg. I’d been in quite a good position in the race, but immediately lost a lot of places. I dug deep and carried on to finish the race, but it ended up being a hugely disappointing result.


I’ve been doing a lot of racing this year. A mixture of cycling time trials, running races and Sprint Duathlons. They are all relatively similar, sustained threshold events. The difference with the duathlon is that there’s a lot more to think about than just running or riding as hard as you can.


I wasn’t quite able to hang onto the front group for the first 5K run. It was a windy day so  it would have been useful to hang in the pack, but my brain started sending some pretty negative messages so I dropped the pace and let them go. With cycling, when I’m pushing harder than I can sustain, I tend to feel the lactic burn in my legs or a shortness of breath. But with running, my brain just starts yelling at me to stop. I’ve read stuff by other people saying that the key to success is pushing harder than you thought possible. But surely this is all relative? How do they know how hard I’m already pushing? Maybe I’m already pushing my body harden then they could ever achieve. Personally I think it’s more about pacing yourself for the length of the event and not pushing yourself into the red. And trying not to think too hard about all of this mid-race!


Most of my training is done solo. And most of my cycling races are also solo – with time trials, each rider sets off at 1 minute intervals and rides alone. So I found it a mental challenge to block out the panting, gasping and heavy-footed crunching behind me as I led the second group around the gravelly 5K running route.

I completed a relatively smooth transition and then set about overtaking people on the bike. The 20K ride was 8 laps of Darley Moor race track. Unfortunately my bike computer was playing up – I left it running on Auto-Pause when I dropped my bike into transition pre-race to avoid any mid-race button pushing. As a result it failed to pick up my heart-rate monitor and power meter, but most unusually it failed to record the full distance of the course. I should have relied on my ability to count to 8, but I got a bit confused and decided to go around for another lap as the distance on the bike computer was short. As soon as I saw a few bikes in transition I realised I had made a mistake but there was no turning back, so I continued on for another soul-destroying lap.


After another clean transition I headed out for the run. I’d lost about 25 places and seriously thought about just stopping. But somehow a ‘DNF’ seemed worse than a poor position so I kept going. I overtook a few runners and finally caught up another as I approached the finish. However, his family were all there shouting encouragement for their Dad to finish. Rather than ruining somebody else’s day I decided to abstain from the battle for 31st place and showed mercy by allowing a distance of a few metres between us. It made me feel slightly better.


The look of pure disappointment on the finish line

There were some real positives from the race. It was probably the biggest duathlon race I’ve been in and, until the mistake I was in the race. I was one of the fastest on the bike leg and my running is reaching a competitive level. My transitions were smooth and I felt like I paced it well. These are the things I need to take forward for the next block of training. On to the next one…

Bournemouth Bay 10K Run 2018

Running has been making a resurgence in my life lately. I tend to pick up the running during the Winter when the prospect of riding on cold, wet and slippery roads can seem less appealing. But this year I have experienced a renewed enjoyment of running as my fitness has improved.

Before I became an enlightened cyclist, I ran for exercise. Nothing too serious, just a series of 10K’s, half marathons and a marathon during my 20’s. My 10K PB was 40:12 – missing out on a sub-40 minute by 12 seconds had been hugely disappointing and always felt like unfinished business. However, a series of knee injuries and then the passing of time had made that goal seem out of reach to someone rapidly approaching 40. Until last year when I surprised myself by running 41 minutes on a hilly 10K. I decided to reignite the sub-40 10K goal.


This weekend I ran the Bournemouth Bay 10K. It was a bit of a family running festival with a total of 6 of us taking part in either the 10K, 5K or Junior 1K, the latter being my four year old daughter’s first ever race. We were all told in no uncertain terms that “it’s not a race, it’s a fun run”, presumably unless she won. The competitive streak is strong with this one. She ended up sprinting the first 100 metres, trying to match the older children before stopping, crying, hobbling, hopping, having a meltdown, refusing to continue and eventually crossing the finish line on my wife’s shoulders. All fairly standard four year old behaviour.


Real super-heros don’t wear capes – they carry toddlers

There was a field of 1000 people running the 10K. I arrived a bit late at the start line and ended up about 10 rows back so had a bit of a slow start as I weaved my way forward. I usually set off too fast in races so this probably prevented me from repeating my daughter’s race tactics. It was a flat 5K along the beach front, before climbing 35 metres up the “zig-zags” pathway to the cliff tops and then along the roads above the cliff before heading back down to the beach front for a 2km return to the start line. I settled in with a group of 3 at a pace that felt right. Due to my start position I had no idea how many people were ahead of me, and no particular interest either. I was focussed on keeping my pace below 4 minutes per km. I hit the 2km marker on 7:30 and despite feeling ok, decided to rein it in slightly – 3:45/km was faster than I needed to run and potentially risked blowing up. I let my group go and ran solo.


Puffin on the beach

I reached the zig-zags and the 5km marker at a time of 19:15 (3:50/km pace). I’d caught a runner from a local club so decided to use their local knowledge and pace up the climb. It felt a little slow but I was unsure how long the climb would last so stayed cautious and stuck at the pace. Near the top I overtook. I came past another couple of runners along the cliff top road.  By this point I knew that I would easily beat 40 minutes and started thinking about beating 39. The downhill section was a gift – a long and easy descent on wide, closed roads. It felt like I was free-falling, my main concern was slipping on the wet tarmac or running too hard and hurting my knees. For the final 2km I raised the pace, hunting down the sub-39 time. This was the first and only time that I looked behind during the race and was relieved to see a long gap to the following runner, removing the unpleasant chance of being overtaken just before the line. With a hundred metres to go I heard the encouraging shouts of my family and saw the finish line clock which confirmed that I had the sub-39 in the bag.


Finishing time – 38:53

BB10K Result

In another couple of years the veterans podium could be calling …

The final race of the day was the 5K, featuring my Dad and brothers. My Dad’s original idea was for all of us to do the 10K, but in the end he decided that the shorter distance would ensure that they’d beat my time. It seemed like a slightly unfair handicap, and despite my time being a bit quicker than they were all expecting, I had to concede this particular race to them!



Victorious in their quest to beat 38:53 in the 5K

Gent-Wevelgem Cyclosportive 2018

I headed down to Flanders to ride the Gent-Wevelgem cyclo on Saturday. The sportive largely follows the route of the Gent-Wevelgem pro race on the Sunday, the main difference being that it starts and finishes in Wevelgem and goes nowhere near Gent. Presumably ‘Wevelgem-Wevelgem’ doesn’t have quite the same ring to it!


Today’s menu will mostly feature cobbles, bergs and dirt roads

I’d been quite ill for most of the two weeks prior to the event, to the extent that I’d written off any hope of riding the full 135 mile / 215km distance. Fortunately I was feeling better by the time we headed out to Belgium and decided that the cycling-downtime might actually serve as a useful pre-event taper.

The furthest distance I’d ridden on a bike was 125 miles (200km) on the warm and sunny, pan-flat roads of the Loire Valley. So this ride would be a step into the unknown, especially when combined with the cobbles, hills and dirt-road sections.

We road as a four man chain-gang for the first 60 miles, heading North towards the coast along narrow farm tracks and country lanes. It was an exciting route of short, straight stretches followed by sharp ninety-degree turns, interspersed by rumbling across cobbled village squares.



We turned South to work our way along the French border and were met by the wind. The more experienced member of our group shouted at us to “echelon the f**k out of it”, probably the funniest and most repeated quote of the weekend.


The flatlands and headwinds were eventually replaced by the greater challenge of the ‘bergs’ – the hills. We had 12 in total to conquer, the most famous of which being the cobbled climb up the Kemmelberg. Individually, none of the climbs were too bad, mostly just short and steep hills. But within the context of such a long ride they began to take their toll. We broke up on the ascents and regrouped on the other side of each one. I was either 3rd of 4th in our little group so had the added nasty challenge of always having to fight to catch back up with a couple of riders who were rested and ready to burn again. The disadvantage tends to compound in these circumstances.


The Kemmelberg – avoiding the larger gaps in the cobbles

The bergs finally ended, but the final 25 flat miles were a battle to keep going, We still had our headwind so it was infinitely preferable to be in a group than riding solo. But I constantly felt the stretching of that invisible piece of elastic connecting my bike to the one in front. Over the last 12 months I’ve had more races and more hard training sessions than in all my previous years of cycling added together. I’ve been forced to quit a few times, and despite the macho-BS of statements like “pain is temporary, quitting lasts forever”, there is still a certain truth to it. Giving up can really sting afterwards. With this in mind, I just kept pedalling.


The feeling of relief and accomplishment at the finish line was fantastic. Plus the sun had unexpectedly come out so we stuffed our faces with frites, burgers and beer and enjoyed the warm glow of the first sun in six months, combined with the pumping Euro dance beats. Party time.




Bristol South Road Race 2018

I entered the Bristol South Road Race a few months ago. It was one of those spontaneous mid-winter decisions taken while browsing the following season’s race calendar. The race starts less than 5 miles from my house and is on familiar local roads so I couldn’t think of any good reason not to enter. However, as the race drew nearer and with my place secured, I began to think of several:

  1. I had never been in a road race before
  2. The race was Category 3 & 4, therefore the field was likely to contain a lot of better and more experienced riders
  3. The course is brutal (8 laps over rolling terrain with a significant hill)
  4. The race was on Mothers Day so asking my wife to look after the kids would mean  spending all of the credit in my cycling brownie points account
  5. The race was the same week as my duathlon race
  6. I was scared, mostly of crashing but also partly of just being crushed by the opposition

To add to the list I woke on the morning of the race with a sore throat and what felt like the onset of a cold so considered withdrawing. But in the end, I decided that I’d already lost too much sleep over the race to be a ‘DNS’ so whatever the outcome I would just try to enjoy the experience and not worry about the result.


Following the riders’ briefing at the HQ I scored my first newbie notch by being a bit slow to collect my bike and head to the start line. The result being that I started near the back of the 80 man field. Despite the start of the race being neutralised, the concertina effect of the peloton meant that we were constantly braking and accelerating at the back. There was a fair bit of shouting and jostling but it was less scary than I was expecting. I just held my line and tried to remember to keep breathing.


The view from the back

The biggest surprise was how quickly the field was decimated. Less than 10 miles into the race I looked behind expecting to see 20 riders and realised I was at the back of the pack. It wasn’t long after that my own race ended. We were halfway up Stowey Hill for the second time when I realised that I was following riders who were being dropped from the peloton. I moved past them to try and regain contact. But by the top of the climb there was still a small gap in front, then I was hit by the headwind. The gap grew. I gave it everything but could only watch the field gradually leaving me behind. Suddenly two of the other dropped riders came past me shouting so I dug even deeper and caught them. We rode as a three man chain-gang for a few miles, taking turns fighting the wind but the peloton remained tantalisingly just out of reach. Eventually we received our sign that our race was done when we were overtaken by the motorcycle outriders, marshals car and ambulance. I stopped pedalling and relaxed.

Realising that I had a fair bit of time before the race ended, I unpinned my numbers and headed off for an enjoyable warm-down cruise around the lake before then heading up to the finish line where I met the majority of the field cheering on the few remaining riders.


Andrew Kirby wins by a healthy margin

The race was won by Andrew Kirby – after mistakenly celebrating a lap too early he incredibly managed to ride on solo for another lap and hang on for the win. Second place was Ollie Bratchell and third George Jones. All three in their teens or early twenties which made me feel like a bit of oldie. What is wrong with the youth of today – wasting the best years of their life!


With Will, celebrating being in one piece ahead of our trip to Belgium in a fortnight – funds are urgently needed in the personal brownie point account! 

Getting spat out of the back of your first Cat 4 race is apparently a rite of passage. The fact that this race was also Cat 3 and over a hilly course meant there was only likely to be one outcome for me. My first priority was to avoid any crashes; my second was to try and finish. I think in the end there were only 15 or so finishers so I’m mostly just happy to have survived in one piece. I’m taking a few weeks break from racing now to focus on some training and some enjoyment. Next on the agenda is a lads’ weekend in Belgium to watch some of the Classics and ride a cyclo-sportive.

Royal Navy Duathlon Championships 2018

This week I was a guest at the Royal Navy Duathlon Championships which took place at Merryfield Airfield in Somerset. The race consisted of a 2.5 mile run, 10 mile cycle and then a slightly shorter 1.5 mile run. After all the recent cold weather, the temperature of 8°C felt tropical as I set up in the sunshine. However, the sun briefly disappeared and it started to hail and I found myself questioning the wisdom of entering so many early season races. Fortunately the sun soon returned along with my positivity, to the extent that I decided it was a prime moment to expose my milky-white legs to their first dose of Vitamin D for the year.


Checking how long I had before applying the Factor 50

At the start I took my place at the front, mostly due to the width of the track allowing the field to spread right out. But also partly as a show of intent to my Dad who’d travelled to watch the race. He told me he hadn’t travelled all this way to watch me plodding along at the back. I think he was joking!


If everything else went pear-shaped, at least I could say I experienced the front of the race


Go time

With a field of around 100 people I was hoping for a top 20 finish, but had no real idea of the caliber of the competition. Certainly the quantity of military and triathlete national team kits were enough to indicate the seriousness of some competitors. After the first 100 metres I was in 6th position as the field began to string out. A group of four elite-looking runners were disappearing in front of me, pursued by a solo runner, then a gap and then me with a fair bit of heavy breathing and foot stomping for company. I dared not look back.

It was a windy day and as we came around the first bend and into a headwind, I considered dropping back a couple of places to benefit from some wind protection. But then decided that the feeling of being overtaken might have a net negative effect on my pace. The first test of heart vs head in the race – heart won this time. I held my position without letting the gaps in front grow too large. Within the last few hundred metres, two runners came past me but I was able to stick to their pace and we entered the transition as a threesome. It was feeling good to be in an actual race rather than just a personal time trial.


Transition 1 

My transition was methodical rather than quick, but definitely better than my last race. My first lap of the three was again my slowest, whether this was due to my pacing or from being above my cycling limit after the run is hard to say. But after being overtaken by a couple of riders on the first lap I managed to hold my position for the rest of the ride.

Duathlons are peculiar races in that they have 2 false finish lines where I naively hope that the pain will lessen once that leg ends, only to find that it actually increases.


I ended up in a battle with these guys for most of the race




Considering a flying dismount before bottling it


Stopping during a race, however briefly, is generally a bad move 

My final transition was representative of someone who just hasn’t practiced the discipline. I came to a complete stop to dismount, too afraid of crashing spectacularly. I marvelled at someone else as they came gliding past with one foot on the pedal before effortlessly breaking into a run with their bike. Note to self – practice this fundamental part of the race.

I exited transition alongside a competitor doing my perfect pace so I decided to sit on his shoulder rather than hurt myself trying to overtake. We overtook one person. I considered passing him but just the thought of increasing my pace hurt my chest and lungs. With the finish line in sight I decided it would be ungentlemanly to overtake him, having benefitted from his pacing. In the end this proved inconsequential as he stretched away in a sprint for the line. I could hear heavy breathing behind me, and with my Dad at the finish line counting places I decided to cement my position and also charge for the line. I held on for 12th place.


The pleasure and pain of giving everything

I was really pleased with this race and result. Not only am I beginning to feel like I may be at my highest ever fitness level, it was a great experience to have been in a proper race – one where I was mostly aware of my placing throughout. I’m looking forward to pushing on and increasing my fitness further.

However, if I want to continue with duathlons (or enter a triathlon) then the race results confirm that an area in need of work is my transitions. I was 9th fastest in the runs, 10th in the cycle but ended up finishing 12th overall.