Andrew Christie – 2012 Melbourne to Warrnambool

By Andrew Christie (Twitter @andydc90) The epic nature of riding 262km in seven hours will never lose it?s appeal. This race with it?s seemingly mythological past creates tales of almost unthinkable proportions. It?s a race which I?ve now completed twice and will hopefully one day come away with my own piece of history? For me this year?s Melbourne to Warrnambool was a goal from the beginning of the year. As most competitive people do I wanted to eclipse my ride from last year. Yes, I wanted to finish it again, but I wanted more. This time I wanted to be a part of the race, not just another number pinned on a jersey flapping away in the wind as the lead vehicles drifted off into the distance. A natural progressions from being in the second group last year meant I had to make the jump and be one of the riders who made up the ?front group?. Easier said than done. But with a good few months of well structured training I went into the weekend hopeful of achieving goal number one for the year. Prior to the gun firing at 7:30am on a relatively calm Saturday morning at Werribee racecourse I unusually spent the two day?s beforehand nursing a higher level of nerves than I?d become accustom to. It was a little odd rolling down my driveway Friday morning heading out to prep the legs with a few hours in the saddle. Almost instantly without turning the crank with any vigor my Garmin handed down a truthful verdict. My Heart Rate was well into the realm?s of riding at a solid tempo, yet I hadn?t even begun the ride yet. Was this ?good nerves?? Let?s hope so. I carried this sensation with me all the way through the next 24hours until the race got underway. A feeling of fullness took hold the moment I awoke Saturday morning. Breakfast at this stage didn?t seem necessary. I was already loaded, full to the brim with nerves. Why was I nervous? I shouldn?t have been. I?d done the training, put in the hard work and all there was left to do was to ride my bicycle the way I?d ridden it all year. Simple? Of course it was. But nerves didn?t give a crap about that. Maybe it was the uncomfortable nature of spending the night in a ?dodgy? Laverton caravan park that elevated my nerves. Dirty cutlery, stained linen (I couldn?t imagine what from!) and a cold chill that remained despite the heating trying it?s noisy best to warm the thin and flimsy walls. The gas stove top might as well have been on the curb decaying away in the morning chill. My cafetiere was suddenly out of action. The blue flame which I was hoping would create my morning brew vanished and I was left without my caffeine fix. The race suddenly became an even bigger task. Filled with a sickly amount of porridge and quinoa I forced down an Up&Go upon arriving at Werribee racecourse, hopefully this would fuel the next seven hours. First things first, race numbers. Then, the toilet stop! As one other member of the queue pointed out ?If you don?t get this right, you race is F*%$^D?. Classic comment and a wonderful way to lighten the mood as we all stood waiting to ?get our mornings right?. Not before long and after a short roll around the residential streets of Werribee it was ?Go Time?. The usual ?speed count down? (basically 10, 9, 1, And away they go!) I?d become accustom to at previous NRS races opened proceedings and racing was underway. Remembering from previous editions that I?d competed in I knew the initial 50km would not win you the race but instead seriously damage your hopes of getting a top finish. For that reason I tried to remain near the front of proceedings especially upon any occasion we took a 90 degree left turn. Cross wind central would then ensue and riders would be left dangling off the rear. I luckily managed to avoid any major incident in the first part of the race. I tried a few times to make my way into the break but nothing ever stuck (not that I wholeheartedly put everything into it ? I mean we still had 250km to race!). It wasn?t until we hit a serious section of gutter action while I was following Stu?s wheel that I took an unplanned detour and went off road. I was hopeful I?d make it back into the echelon without incident but before I could say ?flat? I was rolling along with a wobble to my front tyre. Instantly I was left watching the race go up the road as I struggled to keep things level in the loose gravel. I made the decision to keep riding on the flat with my hand up hoping our Bikebug.com team car would oblige with a spare front wheel. Thankfully it wasn?t too long before I made the swap and was on my way again. It would?ve been easy to go into a panic but I waited for the next group and we steadily made our way back to the bunch. Finally making junction just as they?d decided it was time for a natural break! ?Surely they could?ve done that 10km ago? I heard a few riders murmor as we all caught our breath. From here on the race sat into it?s own groove. Team?s that missed the initial break began slogging away on the front while everyone else laid back and tried not to get caught out with the occasional burst of speed down the gutter. Feed zones at 80km had been ticked off. Allowing for me personally to take on board a few treats ? strawberry tarts if you don?t mind! Full bottles were exchanged with empty ones and the appropriate nature breaks were taken. Feed zone number two (150km) was a crucial time when you couldn?t dawdle. Traditionally a period of never ending gutter action battling the cross winds split the race up. The race winning move normally comes from the survivors of the carnage. This year was slightly different. An initial burst of excitement took hold but it wasn?t long before a calm settled in and normal proceedings continued. It was back to the chase.

The clock in Warrnambool was ticking The next moment of importance was waiting on the other side of Camperdown. Two short hill climbs sorted the field out without much trouble. I luckily managed to scrape onto the rear of the bunch over the first climb, only to then be distanced over the second ascent. At this stage I dared not panic and with two other riders made the junction back to the safety of the bunch. Just in the nick of time too! The break had finally been shut down and it was basically on for young and old. Attacks coming thick and fast. Gutters were again met with an ungrateful grimace. I was beginning to feel the sting but made it to the final feed zone at 210km. No ?treats? this time just two much needed bottles and what I thought at the time was liquid gold ? some caffeine gels!! With the kilometers now ticking off and Warrnambool seemingly getting closer by the pedal stroke I was a touch excited at the fact that maybe, just maybe, I?d get to the finish with the front bunch! With two riders off the front and a dwindling chase from the bunch the sprint for third was being lined up. Riders began jostling for position as we entered the final few rollers on our approach to Warrnambool. A few daring individuals took their chance to make an unexpected jump on the field, but with 259km in the legs no one was going anywhere.

Sprinting too early and pushing too much wind! I unfortunately found myself a little lacking in the positioning stakes so I began my sprint on the left hand side (the wrong side, as I found out hitting the wind immediately). Initially I made up ground on the front runners but the punch in my legs had left me and I watched as third spot on the podium was claimed. Rolling across the line a sense of relief and exhaustion took hold.

Nothing left Goal achieve for Melbourne to Warrnambool 2012. However it didn?t stop me replaying the sprint finish several times wondering about the ?what ifs?. But I?ve now come to realize I finished 23rd and that?s where it stops. Maybe with more experience, the finish line might come a little sooner over the next few years?