Demian Seale

I’d love to call someone a blackguard. You blackguard! You chimp! You weasel! … BLACKGUARD!… You hear me? And then start weeping and maybe fall on my knees. I felt like that last night. Let me explain…

I’d made the special effort to get up to Nanaimo for their annual 40km TT. Oh it was to be a wonderful affair. My first race of the season, warm, warm night and very still — perfect conditions.

As I pulled to the start line and the (wonderfully nice, not at all a blackguard…sadly) marshal gave me my count-down “30 seconds!” I politely interpolated “is the 40 km turn around marked?” He answered, his mind — I think — more on his watch than on my question (and understandably, this is one of the first things I should have established) “oh yes, the 40km turn point is marked by a large orange cone and an orange spraypainted circle.”

Hearing him say this I switched my cervo to read power, speed and time, rather than power, speed and distance. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, now that I think on it. Anyway, Gillmore, although signing up before me, had managed somehow to get right behind me — someone explain to me how this happens unless one asks for the arrangement. At any rate, I was quite motivated to not let him pass me until near the end, as I would be his minute-man; and I didn’t want Don to put much more than a minute into me — this would indicate I was going well for my first race, I felt.

So I pass the 20km turn around point; and it, indeed, is marked very clearly with an orange cone and large orange crescent of spraypaint. I think “whew, won’t have to watch my cervo, the 40km will be just as easy to spot.” I get about another 7km down the road — perhaps 8km — and it hits gravel. I cursed, then laughed as I turned my bike around. Why does sh** like this always happen to me? It could be that I’m stupid… Of course, on this road, 40km is made of two loops of the 20km circuit. Live and learn.

At any rate I ended up doing about 34km in 49-something, certainly not very good numbers. However, the course was extremely difficult. I would say it is just as hard as Race the Ridge, perhaps harder. Up, down, up, down. I decided on a pacing strategy that would see me hammer up the hills and then take it somewhat easier downhill.

It was interesting to have the powermeter for pacing. It’s easy to see, even in a time trial, that my weakness is acceleration and leg speed. While it was very easy for me to hold FTP or even push well beyond it on the hills, going down the other side it was very difficult for me even in the “12″ to spin it out. Near the end of the race I noticed I was sloughing off on the downhills (sometimes as low as 260 watts!) so I made sure to really lock in on the 12 and hammer. It made a huge difference.

All in all, I am really happy with the result. I wish I’d figured the course out; however, I am really happy with my time; and moreso, with my bike position. It really fit like a glove. I was stretched out nicely, and the back of my helmet was digging into my back, tucked down well; my back was virtually flat, and in this cramped position I was still able to hammer it pretty good. I don’t think the position can be improved unless I really wanted to go for a serious ‘Flandis’ which, finally, I’ve decided against.

I’m not ‘afraid’ of being the one guy out there in that position. In other words, I’m not afraid of being ‘the maverick’ time trialist with the weird position; rather, I’m afraid, at least in Canada, there’s a serious reason *why* such a position is rare: because the UCI has banned it. I don’t really relish practicing all year in one position only to race another in the “important” time trials, the sanctioned events where I can score points for upgrade.

I’m really glad I’ve decided to do this now, rather than later; because, as my mechanic lowered the bars, of course, he extended the length the cable must travel from the shifters to the derailleurs: I needed entirely new cables installed. What if it had been provincials? I’d have had to pack it in right there.