VC Astar's Anderside Classic RR - a TRUE Classic Road Race if ever there was one.

The Anderside Classic...maybe I'm sentimental as this was the very first Scottish Road Race I rode, along with the late and great Russell Thompson, 18 years ago! And it has captured my attention every year since..
Over recent years though, due to roadworks etc, its been held on the pig ugly A77 Stewarton course. Ive spoke to organiser, Ali Ogg many a time and asked 'Whens it going back to the OLD course'  and this year....it finally did!

I spent the previous evening in typical fashion, a glass of wine and a couple of Leffes. Stirring up some banter and controversy on the Braveheart forum, trying to defend the fact that this IS a classic race and riders need to man up and get entered into it. Apparently its changed course too - due to resurfacing, we dont have to suffer up the dreaded 'Graveyard climb' after 70miles in our legs. Ive literally seen guys go backwards on this! No - we have another 12% beast to tackle instead. Great.
A very late meal. Hell, I even had chicken breasts stuffed haggis to get a bit of Scotland
coarsing back through me veins again! Bath at 1am and bed. All set.

With my teammate bailing on me at 9pm, Looks like I would be travelling alone but there was NO way was I missing this today. Lovely warm sunshine all the way up and about 16c - even at 8.30 am. And then we hit Ayrshire. Dark Clouds loom ahead. Wind picks up. Its not for just a bit of a laugh or to hack off the countrysife purists that there so many wind turbines round these parts - its bloody windy. ALL OF THE TIME. But sun was still peeking out. All good.

First 10 miles went off OK, a lap of the Drumclog circuit (of Drummond Trophy fame) which saw the recent winner of the Drummond (UK Pro - Dave Clark Five) puncture before the climb. Game over for him then. Bunch was a little edgy and nervous, knowing whats to come. 10 more miles til the Transmitter climb, a 2 mile beast of a hill. With 2 riders up the road since early on, 2 more clipped off the front. I launched the first of 2 moves to get away. Instantly chased down and caught. A mile or so later, and the bunch feeling the full teeth of the headwind on the main road, just sat up. I rode off the front in pursuit of the two chasers. Boy did I suffer to get across. Now, my last 2 races Ive felt pretty fatigued and empty legged, no real reason. But I was 4 secs of my '10' pb a week past friday and I actually did some intervals last sunday! So I convinced myself "I MUST be Fit now and Ive TRAINED for this race!" Despite both riders looking back and seeing me struggling to bridge across, neither had the sense to ease up. I put in one almighty effort which nigh on killed me. Phew! Made it. Totally goosed and made me totally ineffective at doing any turns. I knew today was race #3 of crap legs.Bunch catches us. One of the two escapees turns on me and goes "Thats it! THAT was our big chance to get away today. ALL because YOU didnt work" Rigggghhhhtttt. Now anyone who knows me or has raced with me will know, that, when able, I will graft my damn arse off to the point where I wheel home last man and barely able to speak. Ive never shirked work in all ma days....erm...apart my 15 years working for BT where again, anyone who worked with me will agree, I did absolutely bugger all except IM me teammate about cycling and go for 2 hour dinner breaks to the pub!
So - 3 distinctly average riders (I dont know what the other two have won in their days, but Im guessing its bugger all and I will be first to admit to have won naff all myself too) were
supposed to just 'ride away' from a bunch of 40 riders containing some top notch guys into
a strong headwind were they? Yeah, of course. But we didnt and it was all MY fault. Damn!
hahaha.

Priestlands is 5 miles away, the turn off for the Transmitter climb and the Anderside wouldnt be a classic if it was a nice day, so we were all mighty relieved when torrential rain started pelting at us to the point where we could barely see. But at least we nice and clean now. What a load of Horseshit! Literally...

One of the first times I rode the single track Transmitter climb, Brian Smith rode it. Then a
Pro for a US team and riding it as training. The road snakes to the foot of the climb with a
central band of grit,stones, mud and manure. I was at the tailend of the strung out bunch, but for one man. I looked behind me and was mortified to see the twice British Professional Road Champion covered head to toe by manure from my back wheel, I couldnt tell if he was angry or not due to the twin circles of dung that used to be his specs!

This year was no different, except the downpour had watered it down a bit. You couldnt just
smell it, you could actually TASTE it. Lovely. And how nicely brown our arms now looked. And then the climb. Now this year, I have noticed that I can at least still climb a bit. Usually on climbs lasting about a minute or so. Today was no exception - I was climbing comfortably. After 90 seconds, not so much! First time up here in 96 I was 3rd over
the top and made it look easy. Every year Ive ridden it since, its seemed longer, steeper and caused more and more swear words to be uttered. Im passed and dropped by Stu MacGregor and Dave Clark Five. "Go on Madmicky" shouts Ali Ogg over the top. I'm now on me own. Race over. Its a solo slog for 60 miles now. But I forget how many riders cant seem to descend or get round corners and this is a fast, twisty and technical descent. I Pass two guys who have come off on bends and holding blood spattered limbs at side of the road. Proper race this is! And by the bottom Ive caught 7 riders back up again.

Dave Clark Five is keen to race and hammers away on the front, some of us dig in and work with him. Fair play to the lad as quite a few of his ilk would have punctured and just gone home in a huff.

The 20 miles between Sorn and Strathaven has to be one of the finest stretches of road racing in Britain. Windswept, quiet roads, moors, single track climbs and stunning scenery. We turn left onto what MacGregor describes as the 'Dreaded moor bypass climb' - a hilly singletrack road of stones, gravel and potholes. Class
But whats this? Resurfaced!? No potholes, no stones? Our Pro boy has whittled our group to just 5 and I find myself off the front for a while with Mr Five, but my legs aint liking it so much so I decide to go easy on him today and allow him to ride off. The 4 of us remaining drive, big ring over the moors past HM Dungavel prison and Im convinced my back tyre is going soft. I stops and watch as the group, now swelled to 7 disappears. Sure enough -
a slow puncture. At EXACT same place where I punctured and 'borrowed' a tube from 'Michael from East Kilbride' in the Drummond a few weeks ago. Remarkably the puncture is so slow it manages to get me a full 6 miles to Strathaven when I hammer after 2 cyclists
before they turn off at the junction. Its 'Can I borrow a tube' time again. 'Is that Micky?'
asks Guto Williams of EKRC! 'I was in the break with you at Crieff a few years back' - buggered if I can remember, but Im thankful of yet another puncture saviour. Continental have started doubling their shifts as my list of tubes I owe now is starting to worry them.

A slow slog down the main road and I spots about 50 marshalls at a right turn off - keep going they say (They were on the return to the main road junction) "The turn off is another mile, before Priestlands and Garvel" Im told. I picks up Nicky Cronin from Glasgow Wheelers - he had got lost looking for the turn off too...we knew we'd gone too far when we ends up in Darvel. Clearly having rode past the correct right hand turn. But.. I knew my way back over towards Loudoun Hill I told him. As we climbed up past the Graveyard climb, I couldnt help but laugh. Several detours over recently resurfaced roads later, we eventually retrace the main road having shoved in an extra 5 miles, just for a bit of a laugh. We've yet to find the REAL route.

A chat with Nicky, a fellow 3rd Cat shows just what kind of attitudes that SHOULD be taken  "I know I aint gonna win, and at some stage I know I'll get dropped, but there NO WAY am I gonna just climb off - how can I go back and tell ma wee boy and my wife, who Ive left behind all day that I just binned it. Plus - If I dont ride this race again, at least I can say "Ive done the Anderside - and Ive finished it"
This is the attitude that is lacking nowadays - its a hard sport. Riding round crappy circuits and contesting bunch sprints aint no fun at all (unless you're a sprinter!)  You will get far more benefit riding 30-50 bloody hard miles of an 80 mile race before being punted than you will from sitting in a bunch all day for 50 mile. Plus - you gotta have a bit of horseshit to keep things interesting.

We return back to the hall in Strathaven, having placed 22nd and 23rd (last two finishers) to a round of applause, a plate of sarnies given to us by Ali's wife and our £20 entry fee returned just for finishing. Love it.

So today Ive drove 5 hours, got me ass well and truly kicked, lost out on a top twenty due to a puncture, got rained on, shat on and me legs battered to bits. Do I regret it? No. Cos for the same reason why Ali Ogg and the Anderside lads and lasses have put this race on for 20 yrs, cycle racing is a passion which even I (thankfully) struggle to put into words, its in the blood and today was road racing at its absolute finest. Yes, it was hard - but its bloody MEANT to be! And hey - I got me entry money back and the lines on me arms and legs show I topped up me suntan a bit too...at least I THINK its a tan...it does smell a bit "manurey"!

madmicky

Four Green Bottles - The Story of the 2008 Easter 4 Day

They say ‘Be careful what you wish for, cos you might just get it!’   Well, after weeks of me telling the lads to stop panicking about fitness, poor results and the like cos it was "Still winter, man! And it will probably snow before we see the end of March"

Well our 4 man squad went to the Easter 4 day this weekend, where it snowed 3 out of 4 days and the conditions were what Ian McGaskill would class as being ‘Wintry’  -  D’oh!!!

All preparations were spot on. No-one forgot anything like shoes or helmets, although our lack of Ski’s, sallapets and crampons was not to be missed til later…!

We stopped for a meal at the Blue Bell Inn over the road from where Russell Thompson’s house in Northumberland was/is. We arrived in the Toon at Damian Smith ’s flat aback of St James Park and we were a bit early so popped into the Strawberry for a couple of pints. Just after 10pm Mr Smith arrived. Slight problem….. the laddo who lets the house off him, was still there, and in fact had no idea we were coming! Oops! Not the best way to start. So after a couple of calls, a very accommodating knight in shining armour emerged in Sir Richard of Guy. (thanks again bud!)

Phew! Turned out to be the most comfy sleep of the weekend as it happens!

STAGE 1  - How to Windtunnel test Deep section wheels in racing conditions!! !

We decided to ride to the start, barely 8 miles away. And we pottered up into the teeth of a gale. Chilly, but bright sunshine – lovely.

We left Kirkley cricket club and the wind had picked up, the clouds loomed overhead and the racing kicked off. Some of us struggled in the neutralized section – this was NOT a good sign!

The hammer went down as soon as we hit Dykes Neuk. We were strung out in the left hand gutter right along to Scots Gap, one after another, riders clipped up the road while we struggled to just hang in.

Onto the 7 mile course, to be repeated 6 times and with about a dozen riders away it looked to be game over. The 3 Pro team/Sponsored team/Work-Shirk Squads or whatever you wanna call em, were all represented. The Rapha Kaffas (all black kit!), The Sportscover yella fellas and the Jelly Babies/Willy Wonka squad. Plus, last time I’d seen JK, he was ahead of me, so he must have made the move too – class!

Behind it shut up shop. … Batten down the hatches would have been more appropriate, as the weather began to close in.  The wind picked up to Gale force and when we turned left at Rothley Cross roads, you were having to fight your bike to keep it upright. You went over a humpback bridge and a gust of wind just broadsided you with the force of two dozen cannons.  At least one rider got blown clean off the road and into the ditch. After a lap or two of this I’d had enough and attacked and got up the road with two others. I battered over the windswept climb, and about 8 guys joined us. 

MM Up the road at Rothley X roads

I sat up on the tailwind section for a carton of drink out of my pocket and the two guys in front eased, possibly cos they thought the bunch were closing. I refused to come through cos I was doonin me wee swally, yer ken!

Of course, the chase group disappeared, and I was no longer in it – friggin taken oot the back by Dave Coulson of the Jelly Willy team! Grrrr!!! Russell Thompson would have been spittin in his grave. He used to curse Coulson and his lack of work in breaks etc.

So that was that. To make things a bit interesting in the bunch, it started to sleet quite heavy and they cut the race by a lap. On the return leg back to the finish we were pelted by hailstones for added effect. Barely able to see, we wound up for the sprint, many many minutes down…. But – twas OK, cos JK was in the Break!

Millsy had been dropped before Hartburn at 3miles, and I wasn’t too surprised to see his bike there at the strip. Assuming he’d packed.  But, nope – he HAD finished but got TWO laps cut off instead of one. Jammy get, why didn’t I think of that?!

And there was our hero – a shivering block of Ice that looked a bit like JK, except more blueish in colour.

“Well done” I said – “Were you in the break?”  - His lips appeared to move in the shape of what looked like a laugh, and he said “No, I got dropped at Hartburn after 3miles”  D’oh! 

JK on the attack (from 2 miles BEHIND back of the bunch)

Millsy said that his carbon bars snapped. On inspection you could see the shear marks either side of the intergrated stem. He was lucky that they never broke in two. He bought a replacement and some garish looking bar tape. ‘Style’ means nowt in Dundee , apparently.

Ah well. We have 3 stages to go.

Looking round the cricket club though, I don’t see many of the 72 starters returning for a second doing the next day. What a shivering, spluttering shower of shite, man. Only person that wasn’t complaining was Wayne Randle. Everyone else looked like they’d been fighting in the Somme ! Bunch of puffs them.

STAGE 2   -  Even the Polar bears threw on a light jacket

Another bright sunny start to the day and Oh how we laughed about previous days antics.

JK has had enough, being 10 stone wet through, he didn’t relish the prospect of 3 more days like the first

If one green bottle should accidentally fall, there’ll be 3 Metro riders, left in the race

Ben Luckwell is in the strip all kitted up ready to go, except with no lid on  his nappa and in a thick and bizarrely unexpected west country accident says :-

“Oi cant foyn moi’s helmet can oi? Manager says he seen it in carrrrrr, but oi thoughts it be left here in the strip didn oi?”

10mins before the off and it starts to snow. Someone shouts after me to put on some gloves as I chase after the bunch.  The mountain course has been punted due to being covered in snow so its same course as yesterday -  round Cambo and Scots Gap.

The snow gets heavier and the flag drops, so does the hammer – we pass a snowman resembling Russell Bayliss (I recognised him by the bits of coal for his eyes. They were the same shape as his Briko’s) 

Once again we are all cuddling up to our dearest friend  - Mr Lefthand-Gutter.  We cautiously descend the 1:7 into Hartburn trying not to brake on the slippy, slidey snowy bits, whilst avoiding the messy, mucky, muddy bits!

Up the other side, total white out, cant see a thing. I was in the first 15 or so riders and getting stuck right in. It was bloody brilliant! And then some pansy’s decide to call it a day and cancel the stage. Bunch of friggin heemasex’s man. A was aboot ready to spark someone oot a was that pissed off.

The temperature hit freezing point and I had to throw on me gloves (‘Magic’ gloves  - 99p from Papershops)  We got  back to the strip, and scraped the Ice off our helmets. Some folk had it on their crash hats too…hur hur hur etc!

After we’d shovelled the snow off the car and set for home, we popped into Pont café for a cup of tea in there for old times sake, and Anna the auld Italian wifey who first served me in there 19yrs ago was still  bopping about the joint. To this day I still cannit understand a word she says neither!! Something about ‘Bloody mad’ was mentioned. Dunno if she was talking to herself or about us five idiots.

Our hopes of going to the Newcastle match were dashed by ‘Sorry – we’re sold out’ so we went to the Trent Hoose for a couple of pints instead then popped back again for more beers after wa tea and met Russ, Andy and JK etc.

STAGE 3  - The Ryals – How to climb a vertical wall using a Bicycle and a Dildo.

After several beers, a few bottles of Leffe and a bottle of wine, I felt a bit rough the next morning.  Tim on the other hand, looked mega-psyched up. We left and rally drove at excessive speed and zero caution  across to Stamfordham. Much better day. Sunshine, clear skies, not so windy but with some parts of the course with large banks of snow either side of the road – class!

I’d instructed Millsy to stay close to the front but within a few miles it was every man for himself again.

The Jelly Bean soyder drinker got up the road with a couple of guys, and I tried to jump across with Chris Mather from the Azzurri. As soon as we got pulled back, Tim shot away.

Tim on the attack in arctic conditions

He got into the break of a dozen guys and was working hard with all the Raphas and Bristol Ben, Dave Cook etc.

Behind was another call of ‘Right lads – that’s the break gone, get the tabs oot. Anyone got a light?’  Damian rode tempo on the front for almost a lap. He must have been thinking. “I’ll teach that Tim Allan not to leave a big jobbie in my toilet”  …..the break doubled its lead

I hadn’t felt too good up the brick wall that is the Ryal’s on the first lap and had a bad feeling about lap two,

The riders left in the bunch from the sponsored teams got on the front and simply powered away from us mere mortals who have jobs to go to on Tuesday.  I latched onto the back (of the bunch) and simply faded away!

But as I struggled up the 1:6 bit, there was guys coming backwards – literally. With some of em, it was like a battle of Gravity vs Gears, and gravity was winning! Sean Polson from  the STD Cyclesport team rode onto the snow on the verge and had to get off.. One guy from the Sportspages team actually rode smack into a parked car!

This perked me up, and I got it in the big blade and hammered over the last part of the climb (1:7) and got back on again.

Tim Allan had brought some drinks with him, all of which tasted like the water I’d wrang out of my socks on day one. And some of the stuff he brought was called ‘Protein Slam’  these were 7inch clear plastic tubes full of red syrupy liquid, and they basically looked like geet big dildo’s!!!

I was fiddling round wi mine before the start, trying to figure out where to insert the batteries. I wasn’t too keen on shoving a 7inch tube of sugar up me sphincter, but -  Hey! If it gets me up the Ryals nee bovva, then Im ya man!

Tim remarked that you were meant to simply unscrew the top and just DRINK IT. Far less messy I suppose, especially after havin eaten Tims special chilli the night before. :-s

WARNING : Causes madness and insanity!

Well I downed one with a lap to go, and within milliseconds I was like a 3 yr old after they’ve had a Fruit Shoot and a tube of Smarties! I went completely apeshit. I barged to the front and started hammering away, followed by about 3 attacks off the front.

I successfully clipped off alone on the little clicks before the Ryals – “I aint getting dropped on no hills, fool”  as B.A. Baracas would say (he wasn’t riding the 4 day this year, but I BET yer, he would have said that if he was)  I had a canny lead approaching the foot of the steep bit, but me being a complete pleb of a rider, they were on my tail by top.

I big ringed the Prime again and kept it going over the top. Ashy and another guy got over to me, but we were only able to hang on for 3 miles. Waste of time. I was about 4^th in bunch sprint, and Tim was 11^th or 12^th on the stage and moved into 17^th on GC.

No sign of Millsy though. He had got dropped after about 10 miles of lap one. Probably deliberately in case someone saw his ‘Red/White/Black paint splatter bar tape that he had on his blue and black bike.

If the marshals had buggered off, then he could have ended up anywhere in Northumberland and spent the night huddling together with a herd of sheep to keep warm, so I set off looking for him. I did 11 miles with no sight nor sound of the youngster, so you can imagine my surprise to see his bike at the strip on my return. He HAD got lost, but came back through Matfen on the last lap.  Goodness knows how. He must have necked one of Tim’s Dildo Drinks and short circuited his young brain!!

STAGE 4 – Sunshine on a snowy day

And so, we got to the last stage. Put back 30mins to let ice on the roads melt, it was gonna be another one of THEM days!

Allan was keen to have a go today after spending the previous 3 days training on his own. The bunch staggered giddily out of Stamfordham and some southern puff from the Sportbilly team remarked how cold it was. I retorted with “Cold?? Yer joking aren’t yer? This is friggginn waaarm this, man”  Wayne Randle then spotted my lack of gloves and burst out laughing.  He must have STILL been laughing a mile or so later. In fact laughing so much that he fell off his bike and crashed oot the race.

It started to snow and I attacked right from the gun and Millsy joined me. We lasted quite well, cos it must have been a good 25m before we got caught. Sorry, by 25m, I mean METRES, not miles. The bunch busied themselves into a paceline up the right hand side of the road, with Allan keen to stay far on the left. I shouted at him to get sheltered and be quick about it…. I didn’t see Allan again. 

He says he didn’t even finish a lap….

If one metro rider calls it a day, there’ll be 2 Metro riders left in the race

We rode round the Quarry and on the descent to Matfen a soft little move of about 10 guys, dangled invitingly off the front.

On the long tailwind, straight section after Matfen the bunch just sat up. So I did what I know best, and attacked. Young Craig Stevenson came with me. 

So it was us two against the break

~  In the Black corner, we have a Rapha Pro, Ben Luckwell and 8 other riders, In the Red, Yellow and black corner, we have Micky Mallen and an U23 rider who cant come through.  Ding Ding! Round One.

SMACK! Micky is down, he’s hit the canvas on the first punch. Fight Over!

We got close, verrrry close, to getting on, then they must have put the hammer down, cos they simply disappeared.  Two strong lads came over to us to make a 4 man chase, and it started snowing again. The break had gained about 16 minutes in the space of 10miles or something ridiculous like that  but the four of us, likewise had quite a large lead on the bunch.

About 9miles of effort came to nowt cos Cooky and two Rapha kaffas were trying to limit their losses by working on the front.

No amount of Dildo Drinks or Extran cartons could save me legs today  and my many efforts reduced me to just hanging in for the next two laps which were split between dark skies/heavy snow showers, and bright sunshine!  On approaching Stamfordham with a lap to go, Tim remarked that he was gonna climb off cos he was getting cold (I’d put some gloves on for a wee bit) and that the racing wasn’t hard enough for him and he’d ‘Had enough training over the last 4 days’

I thought ‘Nahhh – he’ll just be winding me up’  Sure enough, that was him

If one Metro rider packs cos he’s cold, there’s just ONE Metro rider, finishing the 4 day.

Last lap was fast and bloody hard going. Cooky and a few others were constantly attacking through the snow. No time to get cold, Tim!! I was just hanging in there. A Jelly Bean attacked through the corner at Matfen and I got dropped. Some young lad came round me and I got a tow back to the bunch. I tried to jump away before the finish, but there was nowt there, me legs just laughed at me! And I staggered over the line at  the back of the bunch.

26^th overall I think.

The finishing miles of stage 4 - Temperatures plummeted and GLOVES became a essential, even for me!

Any fitter for it? Dunno.  Glad I rode? Damn right!!  We coming back next year? Try and stop us!

Howay the lads

MM

The Mighty Metro 4 Day squad 2008 (minus JK)