Well as always, I didn’t pre-enter this and in fact, had no intentions of doing it: I just haven’t been feeling up to racing… mentally more than anything else. It takes a lot out of my brain, trying to stay calm, collected, and confident, it’s usually worth it afterwards, but I haven’t quite mastered the control of my pre-race anxiety and I (thought I) had proved enough to myself.
I’d told myself I’d go on a long ride instead because it has better training benefits, right? But of course, James told me on…. Thursday (?!) that he was going to be racing at Hillingdon on the Saturday, and I now had no excuse not to race as I had to taxi him there anyway, which would have meant getting up early to ride beforehand and I was looking forward to a lay-in to be honest.
Naturally I decided the morning of race-day that I may as well do it, so we packed up our things and headed over.
I didn’t feel particularly nervous, I guess because I hadn’t had weeks of worrying in anticipation. I’d also had a chat with a friend about why I get so nervous, and she said something that sat with me throughout the race: ‘Do it for you, nobody else, it’s your life.’
I’d also had an informative chat about cornering with an ex-car racing driver a couple of days before, which changed the way I look at corners and circuits, and I needed that, although it’s still a work in progress.
I didn’t panic when warming up or getting ready - ok maybe a little - but I didn’t turn in to the demon that poor James usually has to manage. I also wasn’t feeling 100% energetic… hormones and the menstrual cycle do that to me, and I’m still learning to manage those around race-days (if anyone has any top-tips send them my way, please, thanks).
The time seemed to fly by and before I knew it, I was on the circuit doing a few sighting laps and starting to feel a little more anxious. The field was stacked with quality riders, and I’d just done my first week of intervals for a while (because I hadn’t planned to do this race) and my legs felt gym-heavy.
I’d planned on sitting in and helping my teamies.
We sat on the start line for quite some, not helping with nerves, but eventually got on our way. I had a bit of a slow start… rusty?
My teamies went to the front on the first lap and dominated the peloton: I made my way up to be of service. Coming into the home straight I’d made it to the pointy end and my brain suddenly thought ‘bugger it, let’s set the tone and speed this up’. And off I went with a little dig on the front, stretching the bunch, and from then on, attacks just kept coming.
Teammate Detta got away and we tapped through as the bunch had a little panic at her riding out of sight. Then, as we came round for a prime (a cash prize for the first rider to cross the line on the next lap) Detta was swallowed back into the bunch. Someone shouted at me to ‘GO’ and I can’t explain how disappointing my ‘GO’ was… I got out of the saddle to sprint and just had no explosive energy in my legs, swiftly feeling knocked down a peg and back into my saddle. This worried me… how on earth was I going to sprint for the finish if I couldn’t even sprint for a prime?
As I trundled away in the group, watching attacks, chasing attacks, and remembering this was for me, I also worried about disappointing people with my performance and thought about how I’d done nothing spectacular this season, with the occasional ‘how long have we got left?’ thought bouncing through.
More than half-way through the race we came along the home straight and I was on the front. Someone yelled ‘ATTACK’ and I remember looking to my left and for some reason thinking I must get to that wheel… and I did. I looked behind and we had a gap, and as I yelled that to the girl who attacked, she flicked her elbow to ask me for a turn, with some miscommunication around the side she expected me to pass her on, she peeled off, I nearly crashed and had to brake and lost some momentum on the rise. I went through for my turn and dug a little deeper because of the loss of momentum.
I decided I would get round the bends before flicking for a turn, and once I reached the back straight, I flicked my elbow… and nothing happened. I checked over my shoulder, only to find I was ALONE, with a gap, out in front of the race. Immediate panic set in…. and indecision about whether to push on or sit up. I continued. I checked my Wahoo and I saw there was just over 20 minutes of the race left to complete.
I chatted with myself about the process. I worked out where I had time to fuel on the circuit and where I needed to dig a little deeper with a surge. I knew I just needed to keep going. If they caught me, I’d sit back in the bunch and wait for the sprint – what did I have to lose?
I convinced myself I was doing this for me, and my mum. I didn’t need to please anyone else… although that would be a huge bonus. The truth is I had dreamt about winning this race exactly like this the night before. I wanted so badly to be strong enough to win from a solo break, I just didn’t believe I could.
This was just like my effort up Coll de Rates… a hard effort, but I decided it just needed to settle into a steady pace I could hold. I decided 40kmh was what I needed to hold for most of the circuit. I was also spurred on by the idea that staying out front would mean I wouldn’t have to sprint on my rubbish legs.
As I came round for the second lap on my own, people were actually cheering for me… little old me?! People knew my name… ha, madness! I was also given a time gap by Stephen: 30 seconds! That’s when I knew I could win this race if I could avoid blowing up.
The gap seemed to stay the same for most of the race, it went down a few seconds while the bunch chased me, but then went back up. I was comfortable… I could keep this pace up and I was happy on my own, not worrying about what was going on around me. I checked behind a lot to make sure I was living in this experience, and I couldn’t see the bunch, which was reassuring.
Each lap the grimace on my face got a little sterner. I was getting tired, but I was feeling comfortable: it was my brain that was struggling most, because I so desperately wanted this. There was also nothing I could do to speed up the race… it was going to be a 20-minute effort, regardless of my pace.
But it was amazing to have people cheering me on. I felt on top of the world.
I couldn’t take my eyes off where I was going, it was as if wearing blinkers. I knew if I lost attention I’d slow up and or let intrusive thoughts take over, so I just kept going, haunted by the idea of getting caught.
3 LAPS TO GO… the relief when I saw this board was one I have never experienced before. It was as if someone just said here’s a million pounds and, lo and behold, I found some more dig and some more energy I didn’t know I had.
I always go harder when I know I’m near the finish, it’s like my sneaky little body holds something back, knowing it’ll need it. The gap went back up a little, although I wasn’t aware of this. I came through for my last lap and boy did I push that bit harder, I was so close, but I still didn’t believe it!
As I came into the home straight on the last lap I was astounded. I thought about sprinting, but I couldn’t even get out of the saddle, so I just dug in a bit more. I whooped with about 100m to go… I’m not sure why, it just happened and then I realised I should keep going all the way. Only, I didn’t stop at the line, I just kept going like Forest Gump on a bike.
Part of me thought ‘Oh, I can’t stop here because the sprint will happen soon’ and part of me was just too plain gobsmacked to find the brake levers.
I could have cried with joy. I had not only surprised myself, but I’d also won a race, a Nat B, and I know I’d made my mum and James proud. I was ecstatic.
After the race various people congratulated me, James told me about the gap and how impressive it was to go from the break, he’d watched most of my teamies support me and be just as happy as me.
Oh and I won a prime… pretty cool - wasn’t even thinking about it, just happened to be out front.
James told me the commissaire had said – ‘This will be a no hands celebration for Dannielle,’ to which of course James responded – ‘No chance, she can’t ride no hands yet.’ And I can’t!
The atmosphere was amazing. I found a skill I didn’t know I had, I found a joy I’d been looking for and confidence I’ve been literally digging holes searching for. My teamies were amazing, they were just as happy for me as James was and I can’t thank them enough for helping me stay away. I needed them. That’s what a team is, no matter who wins from your team, you support them and you’re happy for them – it’s a family. I’ve put in a lot of work to help my teamies in all my races (if I’ve been up there) and I love being a part of that.
Be a team player, grow a family, see you all soon!
Eat cake, ride bikes, be happy :)
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