Riding The Tour of Cambridgeshire

The main feature of the day for me were the spectators on the route. This was what made the Tour of Cambridgeshire such a stand out event. As a cyclist I’m used to being, at best, ignored by the great British public and at worst, well, let’s not go there, but this was something else. All the way around the route we were cheered by the good people of Cambridgeshire. Whether it was a group of neighbours, the odd man and his dog on a lonely corner, or entire villages, everyone was unfailingly supportive of the event.

I was torn between waving and cheering back, or putting on my best ‘look at me’ suffering for your pleasure face. It was fantastic and the applause kept up all the way around the course. At one point I found myself off the front of the bunch through the village of Yaxley. It wasn’t actually an attack, just a chance to relieve the cramp that had been threatening to strike. However, with the crowds applauding and cheering, I put on my best Tommy Voeckler face and gurned my way through the village until I was out of sight of the inhabitants whereupon I promptly sat up and waited for the peloton to sweep me up in its free-wheeling embrace! Showboating? Oh yes!

Riding along a disused military runway was another first for me

With the miles clicking down and the finish getting closer, there were a few attempts to get away, which were promptly snuffed out. After this, the speed dropped as everyone started to entertain visions of crossing the line with their hands in the air. It was at this point that I realised I wasn’t entirely sure just how long the Tour of Cambridgeshire was! The race notes had said eighty-three miles, but others in the bunch said seventy-six, who was right? Surely the organisers?

Not everyone was there to race, many were happy to enjoy the closed roads and soak up the cheers from the crowd

Well, after a surge leading to the false finish, we all realised it was eighty-three miles; lesson learnt, read your race notes. I managed to wiggle my way to the front for our group’s sprint, not entirely sure of the finish, it was a little twisty in the last kilometre with a headwind and there was a small crash that stalled us on one of the bends (hope they were all ok?).

Collapsing to the ground after the finish I watched other riders coming in, in various states of elation, everyone seemed to have had a great day out. With so many riders finishing fast the marshalls were kept busy moving people out of the finish area. Unlike a sportive, this was a race and people were coming in fast, so it was good planning to keep the riders moving through the finish area.

Not everyone had problems with the cable covers! Maybe its a sign of getting old

After a quick change it was time to get back to the main arena and find out if I had qualified for the World Championships – not often I get to say that! Here was one of the parts of the day that could have been a bit better thought out. Rider times and whether they had qualified, were posted on A4 pieces of paper pinned to notice boards. Unfortunately with so many riders trying to see if they had qualified the crush around the boards meant that your poor old reporter and his terrible eyesight took some time to work out if he had qualified! Bigger writing next year, or maybe a big screen or some kind of computerised system.

Next up we had to join a mob of cyclists fighting to get their gold UCWT medal. This was as tough as any bunch sprint and required the same use of elbows and cheek to get to the front, not very British I know, but I had just qualified for the World Championships and needed solid evidence to show the family.

 
Continued overleaf…
 
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