Race Report: Xterra Wales Championships 2008, Neath

Xterra Wales Race Report

After catching up with good friend Piet Wehmeyer and his British misses Charlie in a fine drizzle, who’d done the effort to travel in support of my event, I tip toed down to the water edge, went two feet in, and waited there…

Just as it may have been detrimental in perspiration context to have done a warm-up in Alabama, so the coldness of the clean clear water may have been. Eventually I got nervous and belly flopped forward to line up along all the yellow pro field caps.  A deep water start is always a mare and this was a perfect example. We ’drifted’ 30m beyond the vague start line, was called back, drifted again, called back. I was frozen but made it to the first bouy leading, but leading a whole pack round on my feet. Uniquely we ran over the a dam wall to dive into a smaller dam, 4 degrees nippier than the first, before exiting into T1 at its opposite end.
Although touching terra firma first, I again missed Stoltz’ wheel on the road, and chased 20m back, only to see him power carry him out of sight over the first kilometers of the climb. I lead two for a while, trying to find my own rhythm up. It got tossed aside as Lebrun and Lieuwe came flying by, towing two others with them.
I was off, yo-yo’d a moment, and clawed back on. It settled a little and seven of us went through on off up the smooth and wide forestry road. I lossed the sprint into the first single track, but got in second behind a German. Thereafter on the final two kilometres of ascent, I lost touch under the pressure of Lebrun and a German I didn’t know. Maybe only 15meters over the crest, and by the first gated dismount I was on.
We’d put time into the trailing four who had split on the last climb, and I was feeling better and better. Eventually I made it round the German, Jorg, and managed to ride across to a flying Lebrun. He is a renowned bike/run specialist and I felt inspired to latch onto his rear wheel.
We worked together a small bit, before starting a brilliant bit of rocky trail, crossing a rock bed from a landslide. I knew the risks and pushed through aggressively, only to feel the soft sinking sadness of a rear flat from a sidewall cut.
I tried to get the Stan’s solution to seal it, but when inflating with a CO2 canister it ripped the tear further, and I was forced to put a tube in. No mastery of my own, especially not with cold fingers. Perhaps a skill in need of refinement. I did take encouragement from the delay to passers by. What could have been?
But, the real ill fate of Neath, in a valley past inhabited by witches, was looming. My rear brake pads had worn through, and even the metal on metal had no braking power at all. My front was wearing but held enough to decrease speed when needed. Unfortunately course profile demanded brakes over the last 5km of descending.
Twice I lost control and used trail side shrub for stoppage, one spill on a wooden bridge, and then finally one descent had my number – I kept picking up speed on a gradient too steep for what my pads had left. Over twisted handlebars I flew off to the right, landing on my shoulder and head. The end of racing.
Frustrating as the latter bike course section were a fun challenge riding down crazy natural single track, formed by small streams and eroded mountain side. So riding was treacherous and exciting. Well, it would have been with brakes.
Ruth ran alongside my blooded shoulder and leg with a question mark expression. My South African mate hurled abusive support and off I went for what was to be the most brutal trail run I’ve done.
I was not the only fool’s brakes who failed. Dan and Andy who drove Ruth and I back to London had brakes fail on brand new bikes bought this week. It must just have been a combination of the mud type and continual rain. So too on the puncture front – many had to walk down the mountain as victims of the rocks. But no excuses. I believe if I were better prepared for the specific conditions both would have been prevented.
I finally passed a straggler and nearly caught Jim Thijs in the final few hundred metres, to finish a character building 3hour giant. Up front Lebrun caught sight of Stoltz on the final few kilometers, and ran Stoltz down, or rather, walked by him on the rope pulling section, and won by 50seconds. Ronnie Dietz finished third, and fellow South African Lieuwe Boonstra rounded the top five.
Most will be at this weekend’s Xterra Czech Championships for a re-run.  I think the swim is traditional short there, and the bike moderately technical, with a flat fast run at the end. Should be interesting to see how each athletes goes in different conditions. Also be interesting to race Felix Schumann again, who missed Wales.
A testing day but much personal positive in it. Thanks for the support that flowed in. And another big thanks to Piet and Charlie. Special stuff.
Oh yes, the last last, big up to Gareth for putting Ruth and I, as well as many other pro’s up in Cwmach Cottages (Spelling is correct) for the weekend. The Full English Breakfast on Sunday was top draw…

Humour out in Wales:
Ruth and I heard some announcement at a train station crossing somewhere near Cardiff on the way in last Thursday. It honestly sounded what Ruth and I thought had to be a Muslim Prayer call… It was Welsh.
They have words, long words, without a single vowel. And then some words of only vowel letters, as if to make up for the others. There is even a word that is just “y”. Apparently even the Welsh cant speak the language, and only insist on having it on all the traffic signs to niggle the English.
The drenched Marshall’s out on course don’t do the “good job” of the American’s. Instead it’s a quaint and proper British accent of “you’re doing so brilliantly”.
The last athlete to cross the line was cheered in by everyone at the evening prize giving. 7hours of race time. He was in the 70-75 year age group!
The night out in Swansea was like the opening scene of the modern Romeo and Juliet. Wind Road was like a fancy dress, only the locals say its like that every Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Guys dressed like girls, pixies, masks, winged angles – you couldn’t imagine it. More peculiar yet, the age bracket was anything from 15 to 60. Mutton dressed like lambs. Flirtatious and out on the prowl. It looks more exciting than the old age home no doubt.

(Photo’s – I didnt have an adapter for mine, so no photo’s of my ow, and working on getting some official race ones. Just for evidence sake of the text I write… Soon)