The season is in full swing, so we’ve been busy hopping around Italy from race to race every weekend, gradually gaining experience, knowledge and form (hopefully!). To put it simply, the racing here is bloody hard. A typical Italian race is hosted in a picturesque hilltop town, which the race passes through every lap at the summit of the climb. This repeats maybe a dozen times, which causes an attritional nature of racing, with only fifty or so riders finishing from one hundred and eighty starters. As my skills have developed, I’ve managed to finish these races, squeezing in to the top 40 in the second day of Due Giorni Marchigiana last weekend. The next step is to be fighting for the top positions, which is my goal for the second half of the season.
Yesterday, we were at a flat race, near Milan. This was my first time attempting a lead out against the Italian teams, for our sprinter, Karl. The race averaged forty seven kilometres per hour, so when we were fighting for position in the final fifteen kilometres, the pace was over fifty. Before this year, being super keen was enough to get to the front, but everyone here is one hundred percent committed, so aggression is needed, which I have developed more of. This means knocking handlebars, shouting and not letting anyone push you around. We laughed in the car on the way home when Karl recounted me shouting at a rider who gave me a large shove at three kilometres to go. I was so zoned in I can’t remember what I said, but the beauty is you can shout in English and they won’t understand a word. We only mustered a team of three due to injuries and the giro team being at altitude, so we didn’t have the cumulative horsepower of the other teams, but I managed to drop Karl off in to the top 10 wheels with one kilometre to go. Unfortunately he was swamped at a roundabout so only managed a top 30, but it was a good to get another race in the legs. We have another double race weekend coming up, then shortly after I’m back in the UK for a few weeks.
Thanks again to my Parents, the Lewis Balyckyi Trust Fund and Mr Zappi himself for all of their help.
Monday, 27 May 2019
Tuesday, 30 April 2019
Fatigue
As mentioned in a previous post, I usually write my blogs on rest days, where I can recover and mindfully reflect on past events. However for the last week or so, we’ve been partaking in a big training block to prepare for the Giro, so this blog comes from the perspective of a fatigued mind (and body) in the present.
Fatigue can take many forms, but my favourite is the feeling of slight delirium, which could be compared to a couple of glasses of wine. Legs become numb and the body is so entirely invested in recovering that you have little time to think of anything else. Sometimes watching T.V is too much effort, which is when music triumphs, nothing upbeat though, perhaps some relaxed Pink Floyd. For this feeling I need to be a seriously cooked unit, but it wears off as recovery progresses and by the next morning I’ve got The Strokes on, getting mentally ready for the next days training.
Going through the hard times together also makes us stronger as a team. I was ill for the first 4 days of the block (others have been too) so we can help each other through when someone is having a bad day. Meanwhile Flavio the enabler is always watching, pondering and planning our next session. I think we all have a love-hate relationship with him. He pushes you to the limit but only because he wants the best and there are days when it’s too much for some riders, myself included.
As for my condition, I’m not quite where I want to be but plans are being put in place to step up to be fighting at this extremely high level and I don’t feel like I’m that far away. A special mention has to go to my family for coming out to visit me a couple of weeks ago and topping up morale in the process. Thanks again to the Lewis Balyckyi trust fund for making this opportunity possible. Until next time, ciao.
Fatigue can take many forms, but my favourite is the feeling of slight delirium, which could be compared to a couple of glasses of wine. Legs become numb and the body is so entirely invested in recovering that you have little time to think of anything else. Sometimes watching T.V is too much effort, which is when music triumphs, nothing upbeat though, perhaps some relaxed Pink Floyd. For this feeling I need to be a seriously cooked unit, but it wears off as recovery progresses and by the next morning I’ve got The Strokes on, getting mentally ready for the next days training.
Going through the hard times together also makes us stronger as a team. I was ill for the first 4 days of the block (others have been too) so we can help each other through when someone is having a bad day. Meanwhile Flavio the enabler is always watching, pondering and planning our next session. I think we all have a love-hate relationship with him. He pushes you to the limit but only because he wants the best and there are days when it’s too much for some riders, myself included.
As for my condition, I’m not quite where I want to be but plans are being put in place to step up to be fighting at this extremely high level and I don’t feel like I’m that far away. A special mention has to go to my family for coming out to visit me a couple of weeks ago and topping up morale in the process. Thanks again to the Lewis Balyckyi trust fund for making this opportunity possible. Until next time, ciao.
Saturday, 30 March 2019
Spain => Italy
Residing in Calpe seems a distant memory now, although we’ve only spent a week on Italian soil. Forty kilometres north of San Marino, sits the seaside town of Cervia, which is our base for the next few months. The community is slowly invigorating in conjunction with the tourist flux, sunlight is claiming more of each day, and the weather is starting to become ‘hot’, at least by English standards. Living is noticeably less luxurious here, mostly due to our densely populated apartment, but I have now adapted and procedures which seemed strange now feel like the norm. We’re also attending Italian lessons every week, so before you know I’ll be able to obtain an Italian passport.
During our time in Spain, we competed in many of the local races, to hone our skills and test our legs before the internationals over here. These generally went well and I managed two top tens in my first three outings. I flew home for a few days in February to catch up with friends and let off some steam and returned with my parents to give them a brief guided tour of the Costa Blanca. We weren’t planning to race the following Sunday, but my parents were able to take me. Fortunately the three of us and and my bicycle fitted together like an unorthodox jigsaw inside a Fiat panda.
I’m very fond of these smaller Spanish races. They seems to encompass what bike racing is all about - bringing people together, creating a spectacle and challenging the riders. This weekend was no different. The race was run out of the local cafe and despite seeing very few signs of life on arrival, it seemed that the town’s entire population had come out of hibernation to watch the race. The start was fairly relaxed, but I stayed alert to watch any potential moves. In the middle section of the race, there was a timed segment, where the fastest rider would receive a joint of ham as a prize. This interested me greatly. I went fairly hard and after we finished sprinting for the ham, there were only ten of us left, so we decided to push on down the smooth, flowing descent and soon had a minute over the peloton. The gap reduced to 30 seconds and the catch looked likely but we started working again and ended up with a gap of two minutes before the final climb - five kilometres at around 7 percent. I attacked multiple times, but at one kilometre to go I finally broke free and took the win by eighteen seconds.
The delight of winning a bike race is more than just the initial rush. I was struggling to sum it up until I came across a quote in a book last week. ‘The past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later and thus we don’t have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.’ The victory was a great boost for morale, but the real challenges lie in the Italian races, where the level is as good as it gets. I will have to be patient, but hopefully I can adapt and grow as a rider and some big results will follow. Thanks to everyone who is supporting me, as always. Until next time, ciao.
During our time in Spain, we competed in many of the local races, to hone our skills and test our legs before the internationals over here. These generally went well and I managed two top tens in my first three outings. I flew home for a few days in February to catch up with friends and let off some steam and returned with my parents to give them a brief guided tour of the Costa Blanca. We weren’t planning to race the following Sunday, but my parents were able to take me. Fortunately the three of us and and my bicycle fitted together like an unorthodox jigsaw inside a Fiat panda.
I’m very fond of these smaller Spanish races. They seems to encompass what bike racing is all about - bringing people together, creating a spectacle and challenging the riders. This weekend was no different. The race was run out of the local cafe and despite seeing very few signs of life on arrival, it seemed that the town’s entire population had come out of hibernation to watch the race. The start was fairly relaxed, but I stayed alert to watch any potential moves. In the middle section of the race, there was a timed segment, where the fastest rider would receive a joint of ham as a prize. This interested me greatly. I went fairly hard and after we finished sprinting for the ham, there were only ten of us left, so we decided to push on down the smooth, flowing descent and soon had a minute over the peloton. The gap reduced to 30 seconds and the catch looked likely but we started working again and ended up with a gap of two minutes before the final climb - five kilometres at around 7 percent. I attacked multiple times, but at one kilometre to go I finally broke free and took the win by eighteen seconds.
The delight of winning a bike race is more than just the initial rush. I was struggling to sum it up until I came across a quote in a book last week. ‘The past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later and thus we don’t have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.’ The victory was a great boost for morale, but the real challenges lie in the Italian races, where the level is as good as it gets. I will have to be patient, but hopefully I can adapt and grow as a rider and some big results will follow. Thanks to everyone who is supporting me, as always. Until next time, ciao.
Friday, 15 February 2019
Here Comes The Sun
It's hard not to be inspired by Flavio Zappi. The man oozes enthusiasm, passion and patriotism to the extent that your legs can turn from fatigued to fresh, when ordinarily you'd grovel home. An anecdote of his endeavours in the Giro d'Italia or days spent in a breakaway with the great Francesco Moser is usually enough to enable a few extra coulombs of mental charge before a heavy training day.
Calpe has been my home now for five weeks and will be for another four, building up to a busy racing calendar in Italy over the summer months, including the Under twenty-three Giro d'Italia, where we shall be racing the crème de la crème. Geographically, we couldn't be in a better location - smooth roads, consistent weather and beautiful scenery. This way, we can focus purely on uninterrupted training.
Lifestyle is a word Flavio uses frequently. To achieve success, one must look after oneself all day, not just when in the saddle. Modern life provides far too many distractions that we simply don't need. You may be surprised to hear that we don't use our phones after nine-thirty in the evening and aren't allowed them until after breakfast, which is preceded by a thirty minute walk, to clear the mind and mentally prepare for the day. This is all part of the list of pernickety peculiarities that we partake in to achieve optimum health. Our way of life is refreshing for me and being a full time cyclist has been the perfect motive to prioritise well being.
However much I love cycling, there is always a limit to how much I can endure without training becoming monotonous. This often happens during the difficult days, such as the fifth day of an intensive block when the last thing you want to do is climb aboard a bicycle for another five hours. I prepare for these days by switching off from cycling completely, playing my guitar or reading, then by the time the morning beckons my passion has been somewhat renewed and the pedals turn ever so slightly more smoothly.
I suppose the most straightforward way to describe life here would be professional cycling work experience. Of course, we all want to be 'pro', but no one witnesses the years of dedication when watching on T.V. I'm far from the answer, but over this year I'll be able to understand which pieces of the puzzle I possess and whether cycling would be an enjoyable, fulfilling career.
I mull over these thoughts on rest days, when my cognitive function returns to normal, as opposed to resorting to troglodyte like instincts, thinking solely of food, water and sleep. I generally come to the conclusion of 'I'm going to give this my very best shot' and replay cliches such as 'Nothing good comes easy' before questioning why I like to push myself and deduce that 'I just do'. Perhaps the path to professionalism lies in not philosophizing, but following a preconceived idea without question?
Thank you to the Lewis Balyckyi trust fund, Flavio Zappi, all of the team sponsors and my parents for providing me with this opportunity.
Calpe has been my home now for five weeks and will be for another four, building up to a busy racing calendar in Italy over the summer months, including the Under twenty-three Giro d'Italia, where we shall be racing the crème de la crème. Geographically, we couldn't be in a better location - smooth roads, consistent weather and beautiful scenery. This way, we can focus purely on uninterrupted training.
Lifestyle is a word Flavio uses frequently. To achieve success, one must look after oneself all day, not just when in the saddle. Modern life provides far too many distractions that we simply don't need. You may be surprised to hear that we don't use our phones after nine-thirty in the evening and aren't allowed them until after breakfast, which is preceded by a thirty minute walk, to clear the mind and mentally prepare for the day. This is all part of the list of pernickety peculiarities that we partake in to achieve optimum health. Our way of life is refreshing for me and being a full time cyclist has been the perfect motive to prioritise well being.
However much I love cycling, there is always a limit to how much I can endure without training becoming monotonous. This often happens during the difficult days, such as the fifth day of an intensive block when the last thing you want to do is climb aboard a bicycle for another five hours. I prepare for these days by switching off from cycling completely, playing my guitar or reading, then by the time the morning beckons my passion has been somewhat renewed and the pedals turn ever so slightly more smoothly.
I suppose the most straightforward way to describe life here would be professional cycling work experience. Of course, we all want to be 'pro', but no one witnesses the years of dedication when watching on T.V. I'm far from the answer, but over this year I'll be able to understand which pieces of the puzzle I possess and whether cycling would be an enjoyable, fulfilling career.
I mull over these thoughts on rest days, when my cognitive function returns to normal, as opposed to resorting to troglodyte like instincts, thinking solely of food, water and sleep. I generally come to the conclusion of 'I'm going to give this my very best shot' and replay cliches such as 'Nothing good comes easy' before questioning why I like to push myself and deduce that 'I just do'. Perhaps the path to professionalism lies in not philosophizing, but following a preconceived idea without question?
Thank you to the Lewis Balyckyi trust fund, Flavio Zappi, all of the team sponsors and my parents for providing me with this opportunity.
Monday, 26 November 2018
Autumn Days When the Grass is Jewelled
It's that time of year again. The road racing season has diminished and focus turns towards next year and the challenges on offer. In certain ways, this is a cyclist's easiest time of the year - you can start all over again and lay out a structured plan to achieve your goals, knowing you have the time to get there. On the other hand, it's sub zero outside, there are no significant upcoming races to motivate you and your initial instinct is to sit by the wood burner watching T.V. comedies back to back until the spring. However, after a bike ride I know I will always return home feeling better than I did before I left.
Next year will be different, for those of you who don't know I'm going over to Italy to race for Zappi's Racing Team for the season. This means more races, more opportunities and most importantly some of the biggest Under 23 races on the international calendar. Another change this year is that I'm not at school so I can get more training done in the day. I'm still doing a few part time jobs to raise funds for next year, but I've got enough time to train properly. My typical week at the moment involves endurance rides, strength work in the gym, swimming and yoga. At this time of year I'm trying to stay as mentally fresh as possible because there is a lot of hard work to come! Physical health is so often talked about, but it is the mental state of a rider that allows them to unlock their physical fitness. I'm still getting in many miles on the bike, but I'm focusing on enjoying myself whenever possible, visiting new places and playing with my band.
I shall be based in Devon until early January, when our training camp begins in Calpe. We then travel to Italy for the race season in March. Recently, it has dawned on me that I don't have much longer left until I go on my travels, so I'm trying to make time to catch up with friends and family while I'm still here. I would like to say a huge thank you to everyone who has helped me this year, especially Team PB Performance and my parents.
Next year will be different, for those of you who don't know I'm going over to Italy to race for Zappi's Racing Team for the season. This means more races, more opportunities and most importantly some of the biggest Under 23 races on the international calendar. Another change this year is that I'm not at school so I can get more training done in the day. I'm still doing a few part time jobs to raise funds for next year, but I've got enough time to train properly. My typical week at the moment involves endurance rides, strength work in the gym, swimming and yoga. At this time of year I'm trying to stay as mentally fresh as possible because there is a lot of hard work to come! Physical health is so often talked about, but it is the mental state of a rider that allows them to unlock their physical fitness. I'm still getting in many miles on the bike, but I'm focusing on enjoying myself whenever possible, visiting new places and playing with my band.
I shall be based in Devon until early January, when our training camp begins in Calpe. We then travel to Italy for the race season in March. Recently, it has dawned on me that I don't have much longer left until I go on my travels, so I'm trying to make time to catch up with friends and family while I'm still here. I would like to say a huge thank you to everyone who has helped me this year, especially Team PB Performance and my parents.
Friday, 19 October 2018
Tarmac Reacquaintance
I was really enjoying yesterday's ride. All of the hard training for the week had been done, so Ryan and I were just taking it easy, spinning out to Ivan's for a coffee. I was only two miles from home, descending to Colliton Cross when I came to grief. There was a van parked on the edge of the road, so as I have done countless times, I checked behind and moved in to the middle of the road to pass the van, leaving a gap of around one metre.
The next thing I knew there was a massive impact and I went flying, landing in the road. The driver had opened his door at the exact moment I was passing, this happens more often in cities and is commonly known as 'dooring a cyclist'. Fortunately the driver was a genuine guy, apologising straight away and calling an ambulance. The worst thing that can happen in this situation is a 'hit and run' incident. Initially I feared the worst, I had managed to crawl to the side of the road, but this was my first crash that I didn't get up from.
Within a few minutes a trained first aider had stopped, soon followed by a doctor and even a man who works for mountain rescue. They did a great job of looking after me until the ambulance came, which took forty five minutes. After my assessment from the paramedics, I went to hospital for an X-ray, praying that nothing was broken. Most of the force had been taking by my left thigh, but I was told by the paramedics that the femur is a very hard bone to break! I was more concerned about my forearm, but I was incredibly relieved when the X-ray came back all clear. I guess I have my genetics (and eating petit filous yoghurts) to thank.
I am hoping to be back on the bike for the National Hill Climb in 10 days, but the truth is I have no idea how long the recovery is going to take. If there's a message to be taken away here, it is please double check your mirrors and blind spot before opening a door into open traffic. It really could save a life. Interestingly, in the Netherlands, drivers are taught to open their door with their opposite arm, so they automatically look over their shoulder. I shall try and get in to this habit in the future.
Now for the other sad part. I may have survived, but the bike didn't. The top tube has snapped and there is a crack in the fork. If anyone out there has a bike I could possibly borrow for the National Hill Climb, please let me know. I'll keep you updated and hopefully there will be a blog from the National. Over and out.
The next thing I knew there was a massive impact and I went flying, landing in the road. The driver had opened his door at the exact moment I was passing, this happens more often in cities and is commonly known as 'dooring a cyclist'. Fortunately the driver was a genuine guy, apologising straight away and calling an ambulance. The worst thing that can happen in this situation is a 'hit and run' incident. Initially I feared the worst, I had managed to crawl to the side of the road, but this was my first crash that I didn't get up from.
Within a few minutes a trained first aider had stopped, soon followed by a doctor and even a man who works for mountain rescue. They did a great job of looking after me until the ambulance came, which took forty five minutes. After my assessment from the paramedics, I went to hospital for an X-ray, praying that nothing was broken. Most of the force had been taking by my left thigh, but I was told by the paramedics that the femur is a very hard bone to break! I was more concerned about my forearm, but I was incredibly relieved when the X-ray came back all clear. I guess I have my genetics (and eating petit filous yoghurts) to thank.
I am hoping to be back on the bike for the National Hill Climb in 10 days, but the truth is I have no idea how long the recovery is going to take. If there's a message to be taken away here, it is please double check your mirrors and blind spot before opening a door into open traffic. It really could save a life. Interestingly, in the Netherlands, drivers are taught to open their door with their opposite arm, so they automatically look over their shoulder. I shall try and get in to this habit in the future.
Now for the other sad part. I may have survived, but the bike didn't. The top tube has snapped and there is a crack in the fork. If anyone out there has a bike I could possibly borrow for the National Hill Climb, please let me know. I'll keep you updated and hopefully there will be a blog from the National. Over and out.
Monday, 15 October 2018
Belmont and Jennycliff
Seven thirty a.m. at Cullompton services. Why on earth is Mcdonalds that busy? Mainly it's a mix of people at the tail end of a long night out (we've all been there) and workmen getting their breakfast mcmuffin. Josh Coyne was kind enough to offer me a lift up to Bristol with his coach, Nigel, both of which made fine company for the journey, which was passed by talking about watts, wind and weight, the equivalent of cycling small talk.
In the hour before the race, I experienced a mental clarity that made the whole event especially enjoyable. Headphones on, familiar warm up routine, getting in the zone. I like to spin my legs at a high cadence (100 rpm) during the intense parts of my warm up, so I choose songs that have a tempo of around 100 bpm, this way I just pedal to the beat. 'Someday' by The Strokes did the job perfectly. Considering I didn't know the climb well, I was happy with my ride. Two minutes and forty six seconds was my time up Belmont and I knew this was nine seconds quicker than the course record, but was it enough for the win? No. Sam Lindsay had gone one second faster. Hey ho, I thought, I just need to win tomorrow.
I'll keep it brief about Sunday. The weather was grim. The hill was too short for my liking. I had bad legs. I didn't win. Not one to write home about, I did however come second, but couldn't get near the time of Josh, who made mince meat of the Jennycliff course, taking four seconds off the course record. He was simply the best rider on the day. People often ask me 'are you a better climber than so and so?' and expect a one word answer. The reality is, at a high level, there are so many small variables that mean you really never know. For example, I was ten seconds quicker than Josh on Saturday, yet he was five seconds quicker than me on Sunday.
This weekend I realised how much I like winning and yet I didn't win either of the hill climbs I raced. When I have won races, obviously the feeling is great, but you never fully appreciate it until you look back on it, hence the cliche so often used in post race interviews - 'It hasn't sunk in yet'. If only it was the same when losing - 'I'm not that annoyed, but I'm sure the frustration will sink in over the next few months', said no one ever. Second place is never a nice place to finish when you're chasing a win and after this happened to me on two consecutive days, I was in a fairly bad mood for the next few hours, but all the while previous victories are still 'sinking in' and began to override any negativity.
Thanks to the University of Bristol CC and Plymouth Corinthians CC for putting on the events.
In the hour before the race, I experienced a mental clarity that made the whole event especially enjoyable. Headphones on, familiar warm up routine, getting in the zone. I like to spin my legs at a high cadence (100 rpm) during the intense parts of my warm up, so I choose songs that have a tempo of around 100 bpm, this way I just pedal to the beat. 'Someday' by The Strokes did the job perfectly. Considering I didn't know the climb well, I was happy with my ride. Two minutes and forty six seconds was my time up Belmont and I knew this was nine seconds quicker than the course record, but was it enough for the win? No. Sam Lindsay had gone one second faster. Hey ho, I thought, I just need to win tomorrow.
I'll keep it brief about Sunday. The weather was grim. The hill was too short for my liking. I had bad legs. I didn't win. Not one to write home about, I did however come second, but couldn't get near the time of Josh, who made mince meat of the Jennycliff course, taking four seconds off the course record. He was simply the best rider on the day. People often ask me 'are you a better climber than so and so?' and expect a one word answer. The reality is, at a high level, there are so many small variables that mean you really never know. For example, I was ten seconds quicker than Josh on Saturday, yet he was five seconds quicker than me on Sunday.
This weekend I realised how much I like winning and yet I didn't win either of the hill climbs I raced. When I have won races, obviously the feeling is great, but you never fully appreciate it until you look back on it, hence the cliche so often used in post race interviews - 'It hasn't sunk in yet'. If only it was the same when losing - 'I'm not that annoyed, but I'm sure the frustration will sink in over the next few months', said no one ever. Second place is never a nice place to finish when you're chasing a win and after this happened to me on two consecutive days, I was in a fairly bad mood for the next few hours, but all the while previous victories are still 'sinking in' and began to override any negativity.
Thanks to the University of Bristol CC and Plymouth Corinthians CC for putting on the events.
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