To celebrate the 11th
anniversary of my 21st I entered a local hill-climb. It’s an annual
event, which although it doesn’t really count for anything, has a lot of pride
at stake.
I had won it a couple of years ago, and indeed
still hold the course record, but after last year’s event I had been forced to
lend the coveted silver candlesticks trophy to George Thompson, I now wanted
them back. George wasn’t there, due to a clash with a cross race, but Stuart
McKeller, another former winner, and Darren ‘Sparrow’ Jessop both were and they
were keen.
As this is Lincolnshire the hill we were
using wasn’t very big, three quarters of a mile long with about 190feet of
climbing (no sniggering from the Welsh riders please) It was flat, then steep
and then a flat sprint again at the top and I think it is the transition from
the steep bit to the sprint at the top where the race is won and lost. Although it was a warm and sunny day there
was a fairly significant wind blowing down the hill towards us.
I drew number 14, which meant I started 2
minutes after Stuart at number 12 and ahead of number 16, Sparrow. I watched
Stuart go and he shot off like the proverbial scalded cat. (How do cat’s get
scalded anyway? His Lordship can’t even open his own tins of food, never mind
attempt to cook anything or make a cup of tea)
We watched Stuart go, and then James
Priestly stepped up to take his turn at unlucky 13, his number on upsidedown as
tradition dictates. He looked pretty quick too, he was out of sight around the
first bend before I even set off. I had forgotten just how much this race
hurts. The first flat bit isn’t too bad but the steep bit just seems to go on
for ages. My legs were screaming at me to slow down but in a short race like
this every second counts, there’s usually only a couple of seconds in it. The
spectators shouting ‘encouragement’ at the top of the hill didn’t really help
either...
The flat bit at the top felt really slow,
the head wind was really strong there. I was only doing 24mph when I crossed
the line, it would usually be over 30mph, I hadn’t even needed the big ring. My
time was exactly 3 minutes. I have never seen it won in such a slow time,
George did 2min41sec last year and my record the year before was 2min35sec,
this wasn’t looking good.
We saw Sparrow cross the line, he seemed to
be going quite fast, apparently the wind wasn’t affecting him. I went to check
the times.
I had done 3 minutes dead, James, whom
no-one had really been tipping, had pulled a great ride out of the bag and he
took second with 3min06sec. It was a dead heat for third between Stuart and Sparrow,
both at 3min20sec. That will do nicely.
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