A Plus Tard
‘A Plus Tard’ - a recently retired thoroughbred racehorse, renowned for national racing.
In the words of Neil Sedaka, ‘Breaking Up is Hard to Do’
1) The Epiphany
Davina will still not believe me when I say this is my last cyclocross season; ‘’You can’t stop racing cyclocross, you love it too much, it is who you are!’’, she also added (jokingly I’m sure), ‘’It’s pretty much all you’re good at!’’
Even now it’s still sometimes a little odd being called a cyclocross rider, for 13 years I knew myself as a runner and nothing more. At no point during those 13 years (1988-2001) did I think I would be anything other than a runner. It was taken away from me though injury. I had no control, no option but to stop and walk (well hobble) away. It was devastating for me. More than just a sport, it was a way of life and a network of friends that I was forced to divorce myself from. Now, after 15 cyclocross seasons in the last 15 years, which is more years than I was a runner, I have found redemption and I realise I now feel total contentment and satisfaction. A far cry from the feelings I had when I was forced to give up running. This realisation, among other things, is the main driving force in this being my last season. I am walking away on my own terms, whilst still operating at a reasonably high level, in control, before it can be taken away from me through injury or ill health. It’s akin to a relationship break up. Sometimes it’s in your control, sometimes not. The times it’s not in your control produces the most trauma. My nostalgic mind has been equating previous break ups to my current thoughts on my last season. A decision is made by one side of a partnership to end it, looking to the future can instigate this but moving on can be tough;
Lynne, I broke your heart, goodbye pretty.
Sophie, you broke my heart, goodbye pretty.
Hayley, we broke each other’s hearts, goodbye pretty.
I was once asked a question on commitment, in a flash I instinctively modified that question slightly, so that my answer would require a similar response back. Our answers proved one thing to me: this five-year relationship was over. This would have been an emotional enough situation, if not for the fact that I was now stuck in Canada having slept the night before in a caretaker’s cupboard! OK, this story needs a lot of explaining;
Sometimes a failing relationship requires a crazy act of desperation to salvage it or at the very least confirm its finality. I stupidly thought that secretly following my girlfriend across the Atlantic on the eve of her running in the World Athletics Track Championships would be that act. Once there I tracked down the location of the GB Team hotel and with no real plan I ventured inside. There were enough people who knew me to produce an interesting murmur and chatter as I entered the conference room where all the GB athletes we hanging out. I saw my girlfriend, but it turned out I had very little time to talk to her. Word soon got through to the GB Team Manager, who went on the war path and I was given just a few moments warning of her arrival. She did not want her athlete to be upset or negatively influenced in any way prior to the following evening’s track final. With barely time for a WTF conversation, I fled into the maze of corridors of this huge hotel, before finding the afore mentioned caretaker’s cupboard. As it was late in the day I decided to hide, so I bedded down as best I could. The following morning, I snuck out and managed to fleece some breakfast from the buffet before fleeing. By now I was banned from the hotel but somehow, I met up with my girlfriend (this was 2001, were we texting back then? Mobiles were pretty primitive, no internet of course, just my trusty Nokia 3310!) with time against us, we have the aforementioned telling conversation. So, this was over, what do I do now? I spotted the girlfriend of another GB athlete, and somehow, I managed to crash on her floor at a different hotel for a few nights. I don’t know why I didn’t get my own room, maybe I had little money back then, especially after the spontaneous purchasing of the flight ticket the previous day, this was not a planned holiday. However, after the odd start, I had a pretty fun time over the next few days, albeit not with the now to be ex. I managed to bum a ticket to watch the championships in the stadium. (Ironically, I had been at the previous world championships with her in 1999 in Seville when the relationship was thriving). The Canada trip, at the very least, confirmed the inevitable; time to move on.
''Where are the girls I left far behind
The spicks and the specks of the girls on my mind
All of my life I call yesterday
The spicks and the specks of my life gone away’’
-Barry Gibb
2) The Method
Modus operandi: leave, before you are left! It can be the cowards way out however, in this case cyclocross has changed me for the good and mellowed my mind to a place I can be free to start another chapter. Should I stop racing cross? I am nervous about this decision. From here, life could be long or short, and I think it’s important now to start those new chapters before it’s too late.
Breaking up is sometimes the right way forward, although at the time it’s so difficult. Canada wasn’t the only overseas location of a break up. I was once in France visiting a lovely French Au Pair who I was infatuated with and had been dating for a few months. This visit however proved to be very different and a lot less fun than previous visits. She was no longer laughing at my jokes, I sensed the inevitable break up line. She said it, albeit in her limited English and mesmerising French accent. All that was left when she looked at me was a shadow of a smile towards me. I recall being totally heartbroken on the ferry home (and as it turned out for months afterwards).
Easy to laugh about it now but another subsequent break-up incident was also pretty intense at the time. I suspected a girlfriend of seeing an instructor at the local gym. He was a karate black belt but that did not stop me from confronting him in the gym’s changing room. Despite the fact that he could easily have beaten me up, I had the upper hand, he was naked coming out of the shower, I was holding his wooden martial arts staff pole! No words were spoken, I just looked in his eyes for a few seconds, calmly handed him his pole and walked out. They didn’t know I knew. I felt in control and now ready to move on. Break ups are essential, if one side is either unhappy or looking to the future without the other one.
Back up to present day, to this season and a very unfortunate start. With just a handful of days before my first race, an innocuous crash during a group session threw the whole season into doubt. Somehow, I broke my collarbone and five ribs! It’s crazy to think of the dozens of times I’ve fallen off a cross bike and just jumped back on. Not this time. Seven hours in casualty followed, but I am a lucky man, my friend stayed with me the whole time, even though his jokes were making me laugh too much with five painful broken ribs! The nurses wanted me to stay overnight to manage my pain relief but I was desperate to get back to my Girls as my daughter was just a few days from taking her eleven plus exam. I had to mask my pain and pretend I was ok so casualty would discharge me, then again at home I had to massively downplay the damage as my daughter was very upset that I had hurt myself. So, another comeback begins. I’ve had more than my fair share during my athletics career, to the point I had got so despondent with it all. I know comebacks are hard. Injury suddenly destroys your level of fitness and reduces you to a shadow of your former self, akin to becoming unexpectedly single again after being dumped.
3) The Corollary
In the past the aftermath of an injury has seen me retreat to the dark side (also whilst unexpectedly single). A revealing snippet from my training diary from December 2002 shows the extent I’d dabble in unhealthy activities. The entry just reads; 'In O’Neils until 4:15am’. The exact details of those few weeks will never be disclosed! But I was exposed to a different kind of lifestyle through an unsavoury group. Initially I was tempted but managed to see the light and not go down that murky path. Preferring to knuckle down and again start an injury comeback.
Now a broken collarbone is a first for me. The first few weeks were the hardest, feeling useless, tired and old. I didn’t think I’d recover to ever get back to racing again for my last season, and getting back to winning ways seemed unachievable now.
‘’Wondering what became of that boy
And the world he called his own
I'm outside in the dark
Wondering how I got so old’’
-Robert Smith, The Cure.
I was stuck in bed, awake 24 hours a day for days on end. My body was excruciatingly uncomfortable, with no possible chance of sleep. So I spent the time revising some of my Top 5s.
First off Top 5 groups:
1) Joy Division
2) Radiohead
3) The Who
4) The Jam
5) Slade
Then Top 5 songs:
1) Blancmange - Waves
2) Marmalade - Reflections of my Life
3) The Korgis - Everybody gonna learn sometime
4) Johnny Cash - Hurt
5) The Zombies - Hung Up on a Dream
Next Top 5 albums:
1) Embrace - The Good Will Out
2) The Cure - Disintegration
3) Interpol - Turn on the Bright Lights
4) Marillion - Misplaced Childhood
5) The Sound - From the Lions Mouth
Then it dawned on me. There was zero overlap in these lists. i.e. no artist figured in more than one list. From this it looks like if you shine in one area you can’t shine elsewhere. Perhaps then Davina was correct, I am useless other than when I am on a bike!! 😊 I needed to test this theory, so as I’ve been talking about the end of relationships, here’s my Top 5 breakup songs:
1) Silver Sun - Too Much too Little too Late
2) James - She’s a Star
3) Yahoo - Only You
4) Depeche Mode - See You
5) Glasvegas - Lots Sometimes
Eureka, the theory holds. Ok as it’s just been that time of year, and here is where I lose all credibility, my Top 5 Christmas songs:
1) Wham - Last Christmas
2) John Lennon - Happy Xmas (War is Over)
3) Jona Lewie - Stop the Cavalry
4) East17 - Stay Another Day
5) The Bleachers – Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call
A solid theorem, maybe I should publish? Although it falls down if I expand to Top 10s, then multiple crossovers do exist. I’ll make all my top 10s into a Venn diagram one day.
Anyway, back to my injury comeback. The five broken ribs were less of a problem, although ridiculously painful and I was unable to sleep for weeks, I knew it was the collarbone that would delay me racing the most. I just had to try and do the right thing and progress each week, one final comeback, one final hooray. Here’s how it panned out;
After week one…… I need to be lifted onto the turbo and I pedal one handed for an hour.
After week two……. As I am in a sling, Davina is ‘on hand’ to help with all my evening needs/activities!
After week three…. I perfect my slip/slump technique for getting in and out of bed.
After week four……… I ride outside for the first time with Davina as an outrider/escort deflecting any dangers.
After week five……… Eating with my correct hand again, so not spiling food everywhere now.
After week six……… To my dismay the full pampering from my Girls has seemed to have stopped! ☹
After week seven………… I ride off road, one slip and my physiotherapist will be so mad at me.
After week eight…….. I can finally wash my own armpits again!
After week nine………. Now able to tie my own shoelaces
After week ten………. Doing some great hard sessions now hopefully fitness has been retained.
After week eleven……… Keen to race but it’s a risky decision to make.
After week twelve...Annemarie Worst races after breaking her collarbone in September, must be time for me, surely?
After week thirteen……… I bite the bullet, first race back, it’s nerve-wracking but I manage to win, just.
4) The Denouement
Is this ability to win just luck or built into my DNA? To win that first race back after a collarbone break took so much more than just fitness and skill. I had no right to win it, I was dropped and the leader was away. However my will to win summons passion, passion from the heart and knowing these would be my last few races meant even more than ever, I had to give everything.
I have been lucky enough to be able to win races in multi disciplines; cross county running, track running, road running, indoor rowing, sculling, even stroking a rowing eight!
Strangely with this ability to win a race comes a curse. I recall the pressure I felt when I started winning running races. Once I arrived at a local road race in my early twenties. In a crowd of people, a fellow competitor walked past and said to me; ‘Oh shit Speedy Bean Pole is here, we don’t have a chance’. An interesting layered compliment/abuse laden remark. It heaped pressure on me, because what was I if I didn’t win……... just a bean pole.
To a much lesser extent, that pressure still manifests itself. So, with the targeted total tally of cyclocross wins just reached, it can mark the end, I’ve reached a point where I don’t need it anymore. I know my first win and my last.
This ‘last’ comeback from injury was draining and although I have missed many races in the last few months it has reaffirmed my decision to ditch this part of my life. I have these last few months spent more time with my daughter. Watching her at dance class or swim club has been a better use of my time.
So, this season’s pittance of a racing schedule acted as the equivalent of the last few dates in a relationship, I may not be this intimately filthy with you again! Inspiration is constantly needed. My third and final race was at Canada Heights, Kent. On the morning I asked myself, so how do I win this one? The answer came from looking at the start sheet. The rider listed above me was Robert Simpson, my Dad’s name. I had never heard of a cross rider with that name, so I refused to believe he even existed. I decided it was a glitch in the matrix and thus the inspiration required. My Dad, who died in 2021, was now in my thoughts all race long, doubly special as it was my 100th cyclocross win in 15 years. A fitting end to this chapter.
I was delighted my fellow racers on the podium fully embraced the occasion. Friendships found in cyclocross have been heart-warming. Experiencing the highs and lows, the selfless help I’ve had in the pits (yes I'm thinking of you Matt x), the sharing of knowledge, the laughs, have all made turning up at an event such a joy.
Nowever, this has been no dalliance, I’ve always been fully committed and faithful to cyclocross, true love, I don’t want to take part half-heartedly. All of my National medals at cyclocross have had one thing in common, the winner was always Nick Craig. A nemesis preventing me from winning a National? No, to me he has been the ultimate inspiration. From first racing him in 2010 (and nearly being lapped by him) to finishing just a few seconds behind him a few times in the last few years. I have been able to chart my progress and learn the art of this glorious sport from him.
So to summarise my 15 year romance with cyclocross;
14 consecutive National championships contested
5 National Championship Bronze medals
7 National Trophy Silver medals
100 cyclocross wins
Undoubtedly, it’s both the friendships forged and the emotions of success that has made it all so fruitful. The racing battles, the mud, every slip and every slide. I will miss it terribly, but to know at the time, in the moment, that I have just won my last race, (not battling on, only to realise that your last win turned out to be years ago), is the control needed for me to step away. Will I do the odd race now and again, sure, temptation will be hard to resist, I am ambiguous by nature. I reserve the right to change my mind, I might need a fling from time to time.
'’I still think about you, lots sometimes
A flame burns bright inside of me for you, lots sometimes
I find it hard to let go and move on, lots sometimes
I still think about you, lots sometimes’’
-James Allan, Glasvegas
So, to goodbye, and to stretch this relationship analogy of mine even more; running broke my heart, cyclocross has fixed it.
‘À plus tard’ - This can be a way to say goodbye if you're not sure when you'll see the person again.
