It was great to be standing on the second tier of the Surfcoast 100 Masters podium at Anglesea. The race was a key part of my training program in more ways than one, the biggest factor was completing a 100km race, a distance that I had not hit for quite some time.
The start was as casual and cheery as a race start can be, until the gun went off… There was a good size field with plenty of people well versed in MTB racing by history of their successes, and no one seemed to be leaving to chance missing out on early dibs on the track. A long, rolling power line track was used to get the bunch strung out with the first real pinch delivering the frenzied sounds of Shimano vs SRAM as chains climbed cassettes. It was good to see the enthusiasm of riders wanting best position into a tree-tunnelled, single track run that slowly wound its way back to the main start/finish line. This was only the prologue section to string out the masses before crossing the start line of the 25km circuit. The pace was on, the four laps would be plenty of work.
My plan was to hold a high pace through the opening lap. This found me working with another rider, Thomas, for the next 30km. From where I was sitting our similar speeds suggested that there was no point trying to move past. After the first couple of kilometres we fired up some conversation - it wasn't any problems-of-the-world solving, in-depth stuff, more so introductions and where each other mainly rides or trains. We still had a long way to go, so it seemed we were both content with sharing the load for a while. Although twisting through single track doesn't offer any appreciable advantage for the second rider it will always give a firm comparison of two riders' strengths, whether it's climbing, descending, or cornering, and also highlights technical ability. Thomas was descending faster and I was back in touch through the climbs. It was good then to have each other at hand for the open, flat fire road across the back of the circuit as we progressed solidly onward. This is one of my areas of weakness, and once again I rode away with another lesson. The lesson was to learn the fine line between enough exertion and digging that little bit too deep, specially when you're taking a turn at the front.
Heavy rain during the week had left some generous sized puddles (and in some cases pools) of water at several areas of the course. They were the kind of puddles that just look black and give no indication of depth or treachery. One of these near the closing 5km of the lap caught me getting a foot out to avoid sprawling across the track, fortunately Thomas, hot on my rear wheel, was keeping an eye out and avoided any contact. It gave us both a laugh as well as notes to selves which line to avoid in the coming laps.
By the middle of the second lap it was becoming clear that Thomas was a consistently stronger and faster rider as gaps started stretching from 5 to 10 to 20 seconds to… well, I was on my own. Once or twice he looked around to keep me in the picture so at a point where a couple of switchbacks turned back on each other I thanked him and settled my pace down a little.
From the third lap my legs were screaming for some kind of relief. This was not in my schedule but became one of those unplanned situations that needed to be dealt with. I expected there would be some hurt but was hoping it wouldn't come as early as it had. My nutrition program was on track so I put it down to going out a bit too hard for a bit too long and so I had to take responsibility for my own actions. Over exerting from that point was going to lead to clear disaster. I still had a full cassette of gears to play with and continued on, preserving energy where possible, knowing how good I would feel for finishing the entire distance.
On sighting the last climb of the last lap I pushed out whatever the legs had left to crest over to the downhill approach of the finish line. It was that easy… 100km… done.
Those last two laps were a real test of motivation over fatigue. Hanging onto second place in Masters was a pleasing reward.
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