Cambodia Diaries - 22 December 2010

I counted them all out and I counted them all back again!

If there was one constant theme throughout the running malarkey, it was the fact that something always went wrong! Be it in training, race day or both, something would go awry and which was inevitably painful and which required all sorts of hellish endeavour to get to the finishing line.

It therefore comes as both a pleasant surprise and relief to report that the 2010 Siem Reap 100km bike race was devoid of any disasters!

Truth told; I was a little upset at the way my final marathon panned out. Months of spectacular injury free training, which saw me arrive in unbelievably good shape at JFK all went to pot 2 miles into the race and what should have been a stroll in Central Park was transformed into one nasty day to get to the end.

Just over a year later and nowhere near honed after training that was leisurely in comparison, I arrived at the starting line not really expecting much. That said, unlike the other six lads in ‘the team’ at least I wasn’t out having a few beers the night before and was at least taking it partway seriously.

To be fair, those lads and I had been out riding our bikes over the last four months and had put a fair amount of time into the preparation to such an extent, that over the last few weeks we had even perfected the art of riding as a peloton. I say peloton but what I really mean was putting the slightly wider featured Craig McDonald at the front and all tucking in behind the big Scottish human windbreak.

However, as we neared race day, predictions of it ‘all going to pot’ and it being a case of ‘everyman for himself’ came to fruition but to be fair, for understandable reasons even if I was accused of breaking the peloton.

Readying for the off!

Arriving around 5.30am the starting area was pitch black and as the sun rose to cast a beautiful silhouette of Angkor Wat to our left, it also revealed that the riders in the race were plentiful and that the run to the first corner could be dangerous. I say this because in not uncommon fashion, the organisation was a bit lacking and loads of riders in the 30kms race had found their way into our starting area and thus, when we got the signal to go, it was Normandy beach landings syndrome when all hell breaks loose at the start of these races as the mentality of many is to charge.

Sensibly, we held back a bit and got into formation behind the flying Scotsman.

The plan was simple for the four 25km laps around the Angkor Temples. Mark and Rolf would likely go off fast. Craig, Nigel, Kane, Andrew and I would aim to take the first lap at 24kph pace. We would look to stop twice for two reasons; first off, we’ve hard wired ourselves into needing a Coca Cola every 35kms and secondly, I can’t go 35kms without having to get off to first rest and then stretch my hamstrings or risk them going twang. Laps two and three we hoped to pick up the pace and at the end of the third lap, Nigel and I fancied that Craig would power on and Kane the ex-Rugby League pro and Andy the ex-French Legionnaire would struggle with moving their huge frames at the set pace and thus, Nigel and I would ride with the aim to finish, stops included, inside 4 hours 30 minutes.

Race commenced, Mark went off like a train with the twin target of 3 hours 30 minutes and lapping me!

Rolf due to three nights of excess decided to stay with us and tuck in behind Craig as we let the sheer pandemonium of the start get ahead of us and from which we would slowly but surely catch people up as the day went on.

All going swimmingly until Nigel shouted from behind me “What’s our speed?”

Too fast was the plain truth of the matter, but the Scotsman was not for yielding his peloton leading duties as we raced at 28kph pace.

Around 14kms in and some action was required. Two young Khmers had infiltrated our peloton as we caught them up and mindful of the somewhat scant respect for health and safety of your average Khmer, I sensed their weaving in and out, frantic cycling to try keeping up with us as they talked and laughed amongst themselves only needed one incident to bring us all down. Those who know anything about this place will appreciate that it would not be too long before a mobile phone would ring and they would attempt to do all this whilst holding the Nokia in their hand.

Accordingly, I whipped round the side of them, burst past Craig and Rolf, issuing the call to ‘burn them’ as I took the lead. If 28kph was not the desired or agreed pace, then 32kph was lunacy. But in leaving the young Khmer accidents in the making, we regrouped. Or so I thought.

Kane and Andy were having none of this and had slowed down to a more agreeable pace. The boys were on old, heavy bikes and having not really gone to great lengths in training, they decided to pace themselves.

Nigel however, was having all sorts of issues with his front tyre and which he was to rue not getting repaired before the race started. At around 18kms, I responded to a loud distress call from behind. Nigel’s tyre was flat and that was when the fun started for him as I left him the pump and went on.

And from that point until around 85kms, I cycled on my own.

The legs, decided that today was not going to be a day when things would go wrong. They just worked and as I slowly but surely caught and overtook more and more riders who had sped off at the start, I got into a wonderful, pain free rhythm, all of which avoided being lapped by Mark and aiming to finish as planned.

Aside of handing the pump over, the only other stop was around 60kms to stretch the hamstrings and take on board some sustenance that I thought would be better done whilst stationary as opposed to risking disaster by trying to open the wrapping and eat on the move.

I completed the third lap in around 2 hours 45 minutes and which included the prospect of running over a coach load of Korean tourists stood in the middle of the road as I hurtled towards them. Thankfully, the little Korean I know i.e. shouting “Get out the f…..g way” worked. This being a tourist sight, we all had to encounter traffic, tourists not looking where they were going and wedding parties posing for pictures.

At around 80kms, I could feel the calf muscle starting to cramp a bit and so out of necessity I eased off the pace a bit and around the 85kms mark, Craig and Rolf, still in formation, eased past me.

But there were to be no disasters, no last minute mishaps and in crossing the line in 3hours 51minutes, I was chuffed to bits. Craig finished in 3hours 41 minutes after Rolf cruelly eased past Craig towards the end to beat him and Mark finished in 3hours 13 minutes.

Nigel however, was having all sorts of issues and ironically for the country director of Save the Children, he was himself saved by a child. Repeated stops to pump up the tyre saw one of his client base suggest that Nigel should leave the bike with him and take the errant tyre to the repair man. Whereupon a friendly policeman put Nigel avec wheel on the back of his moped and sped into the unseen parts of the UNESCO site to a wizened old man who got to work on the dud inner tube.

Once fixed and all the folks suitably recompensed, Nigel got back to work and started to chew up the ground.

Meanwhile, at the finish area, we were all waiting and I was not unnaturally anxious for the remaining three of the team to return home safely.

To the question of where were Kane and Andy, Kiri and Jenny their respective other halves replied: “Stopping for coconuts!”

Knackered!

The Bounty Bar Brothers – serenity in motion!

Seemingly purveyors of one of nature’s best isotonic drinks were doing great trade as the big lugs regularly stopped for one along the way. Nigel, now with a front tyre and a purpose was peddling furiously. We know this because as he flew through 90kms, Kane and Andy were moved to later comment that they watched him fly by as they polished off some coconuts.

Nigel came in 4hours 40minutes after starting and the Bounty Bar brothers meandered in, 11 minutes later…and then we went for a few beers.

(l to r) Andy Coconut, Mark, Scottish Windbreak, Me, Kane Coconut and Nigel
(Rolf off to the airport when picture taken!)

The following day was the turn of the runners. Alas, Stewart my protégé had an awful day. Blighted by illness in training and mixed with a day of no luck which was summed up by being wedged in a tunnel by a coach (don’t ask) and a shoe lace breaking, he came home in 1hour 50 minutes, some 20 minutes outside his target.

Catherine managed the feat in 2 hours 28minutes, a time which would have been quicker if she had not stopped to marvel at elephants! Such was her experience that the next morning on the bus back to PP and despite aching knees she asked: “Jean, what is in a triathlon I think I will do one next”

However, before I wish you all a merry Christmas and best wishes for 2011 and all that it will bring us, can I leave you with this thought:

From the start of my training until the race was over, I racked up 1,706kms or 1,060 miles during 31 rides over the course of 4 months, in often blistering, muggy heat. According to an internet forum Mark and I joined, that effort amounted to the burning off of a mere 319 donuts….enjoy your Christmas dinner!

Cheers

JHx

The Chaps, friends and a coconut!