Casalserugo MTB race & Mur-Fo climb, June 13, 2010.

Saturday's Ride & Sunday's race reports, June 13, 2010.

Saturday
This little pocket of hills that we are happily ensconced nearby to, the Colli Euganei, are turning out to be a real treasure. While we ride regularly with a local group, at 8am (can you believe it, as most of them are on the pension, while in their 40's & 50's) MBW and I get out on our own to make our own discoveries. Last week we found a hill that taxed us both, not in it's length, but in it's aggressive style. From the cobblestone start outside an ‘Osteria' in Arqua Petrarca, it is straight into it. Passing homes in 17^th century buildings, the odd bar and Pizzeria through the town, there are no switchbacks, and just three corners in it's 2.1 kilometre length and rise of 250m. Breasting the halfway mark, where the houses have thinned into olive groves and vines and the views become worth of note, it takes on a false flat for 200 metres and then descends for 200. So the 250 metres ascent is really contained in not much more than 1.5k. It stops at a boom gate, and the final 200 metres were included in the MTB marathon I raced last Sunday, when the boom was of course open, and the road turned to dirt shortly after.

It will have a local name, but half the fun is making your own. We've christened this one ‘La Mur der F'Olle'. Which is kind of French really, and translates as ‘The Wall of Flaming Olles' or something similar. You can abbreviate it too, while struggling past the expansive views, into ‘Murder F'Olle', or, more simply, Mur-Fo. As in, ‘that Mur-Fo's a killer'. And it is, we rode it three times yesterday, as MBW was obsessed with climbing 1000 metres before we were allowed to stop for coffee, let alone think about returning home. By the time we did arrive ‘a casa' we'd ascended 1300, so all was OK. And yes, we have timed the Mur-Fo, but they can remain contained, for the moment.

It was a great morning's entertainment, and to quote James Taylor, after three efforts, I nearly wore the anodising off my levers, feverishly searching for the extra gears I needed, but didn't have.

Sunday
A local MTB race. How local? I could ride to the start in less than 3 minutes, from my door. Bonus! Just one worry, it's an MTB race, and we know from our ramblings that the nearest hill is 11.5k away. This area of Veneto is flat, I believe it was flood plains until the 17^th century, when a whole lot of draining and levee bank constructing went on. (Who knows how, the backhoe wasn't invented until the 20^th century, surely?) Anyway, back to important things, where were they going to get the hills? Reading the race flyer, it sounded like a dirt crit, with many laps over an hour or less, so I thought I'd give it a crack. At race entry, I casually asked about the laps. ‘Three' I was told. OK, this is no dirt crit, better do some reconnaissance.

A practice of the 11k loop revealed all. It was tracks on top of levee bank after levee bank, linked together by lengths of bitumen road. Under 20 metres of ascent per lap, I kid you not. As I have never rated myself as a climber, I thought I just could pull off a ‘class' win here.

I made an error in hesitating on my way to the start line, and this placed me on the third row. Not too bad, but I prefer to start on the front. There's about 40 in my start group, bang goes the gun, and after 200 metres we're into the single track and I'm in 9^th place. Good start. It's rough ground under freshly mown long grass, and after 500 metres a gap opens in front of my wheel. Yells ensue from behind and one goes past. My race plan was not to go flat out if placed well (another goes past) but if needed, what the heck. I rang the message through to the engine room, ‘full speed ahead'. No response. Another goes past. I checked my heart rate, only 178, should be plenty of room for improvement here, so sent the message through again. No response, and another two go past.

By this time we're onto a bitumen road, and it's obvious the race plan for my group is to catch the group who started 1 minute in front of us. I wish someone had let me in on the joke. The pace was startling, like they had been waiting all year for this race, and by the time we had traversed the first levee bank I was last wheel in the second chase group of ten. I managed to hang in there for awhile, but during the second lap I experienced a ‘crisis of confidence' and slipped back to a third chase group.

During the third lap my engine room finally responded, and I started moving to the front of my group, encouraging all to work and chase, as we could see the next group along the levee bank. Fat chance of that. I rallied one lieutenant and we did a bit o' work, but it was not getting through to the gang out the back. Circling around the front I may have cut one rider off a little, and I think he called me a ‘Porco Dio' or similiar. Why is it always the riders at the back complaining about getting cut off? Isn't the answer obvious? If you're on the front, no one CAN cut you off... He wore a bandanna anyway, so, I rest my case.

My lieutenant and I did break away, and reached the finish together. Well, almost together, I was happy to let him get home first, but on the second last corner he swung wide, so I cut under him, taking the direct line into the final corner. Somehow, in that last bend, we made contact, and I didn't fall off. He did. I apologised after, but it was no big thing.

For the entire race, any time we hit the bitumen, one of two things would happen. Either everyone would soft pedal, take a drink and look at each other, or some animal would move to the front, select eleven, and try and ride everyone off his wheel in half a mile, all the while grinning ferociously, like a lunatic under a full moon. Talk about ‘Wacky Races'.

Post race, freshly cooked gnocchi with a tomatoe sauce was included, and we paid 2 Euro 40 for a half litre of red wine to consume while the presentations were done. In the raffle draw we won a double mavic wheelbag (a very useful prize). Not a bad day out, for a ten euro entry fee.

In the final wrap up, I placed 8^th, in my age group, of nine. (So much for a class win!) Race length 33k, 50m ascent, 1h 14mins, average heart rate 170, maximum 191, temperature 29'-34', average 29'.

See it all on Topbike TV, on digital channel 44, later in the year.