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Last Updated: 2 Apr 2018 - 8:45:17 PM |
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| Gerard Cromwell |
There was a time when I thought that Peter Parker used to hold his own private winter training camps in my garden shed. Whilst I never actually found a note reading “From your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman” attached to the handlebars of my bike, his trademark spider-webs were surely a telltale sign. More often than not the stiff March or April breeze, depending on which month I decided to embark upon my anti-winter training would blow these off. No need for a wash just yet.
This year though, Mr. Parker hasn’t visited. My bike is cobweb free. Maybe he hasn’t realised I moved house last year, perhaps he’s too busy making Spiderman 2 or could the fact that I’ve been on my bike regularly for the first winter since 1991 have anything to do with it? Surely not!
Getting out in the winter plays an important part of your overall season preparation. But it’s not as easy as it seems. Neither is having kids! When my two finally decided to sleep through the night at some stage during the winter, I decided to make an effort to train properly. It went pretty well actually, even if my 16-month-old reneged on the deal quite a few times. At one point I thought they had a plan to sabotage Daddy’s return to the low flight of competitive cycling. If one slept all night, the older, usually more dependable one would crawl into my bed and keep me awake with either slaps to the head, cold feet or never ending stories of the three little pigs, punctuated by “Daddy, you know what?” at half four in the morning.
About a month before the season, I was going well. Well, weller than I had gone in a long time. About 12 years to be exact! Then the kids struck again. One got pneumonia, for the second time in two months, the other got a chest infection and promptly passed it on to Daddy. Well, “sharing is caring” as Barney says. So, Daddy spent the first ever club training camp watching the rest of the lads get up in the morning and head off into the sunrise. I did make it out for the last spin but the week and a half off the bike and the antibiotics took their toll. Oh well, at least I got sick early enough to get over it before the season started.
A week before the season and I was back training, going well again. ‘Bob the Builder’ decides too well perhaps and it’s time to take some more antibiotics. I finished them in time to start in Navan but the combination of this and having to spend the previous week walking around outside, in what had to be the coldest week of the last few years on nights meant that I suffered a bit. That’s in the C race by the way! What is it with people who don’t work nights? They hear you were in bed until 2pm and the first two words out of their mouths usually challenge your parentage and your willingness to be physically active. (Work it out yourself). You try to explain that you only went to bed at 9.30am and actually only get around five hours sleep a day, and can’t work out why the kitchen isn’t tidied. Oh yeah. There’s nothing like being woken up from a hard days night by a mini Darren Clarke in a nappy with a belt of a plastic golf putter in the face. FORE!
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| First face of the season, Gerard at the start of the 'C' race in Navan |
So Navan didn’t go as planned. Well actually it did. You see all I had planned was to finish the race. I hadn’t ridden the first month of the season in over 12 years so would have been happy enough had a visit to the doctor with my youngest the day after, not only revealed he needed another course of antibiotics but so did I. Another week of inactivity but I decided to ride Bohermeen anyway. Wasn’t going too well. “I had nay got the pooower Captain!” as a certain Scottish member of the Star Ship Enterprise might say. Managed to get 10th at the end. The lads were going well. Seven prizes in four races. Not bad. I always find Bohermeen is a bit of a false course. Its flat terrain lulls you into the sense of security that you’re going well. Newbridge would soon change that!
A letter from my daughters playschool after Bohermeen had me asking myself if I had chicken pox before, as there seemed to a bout of it going around. Not only had I got them before but she had too. Good! Couldn’t face any more sickness. Managed a few spins on the turbo trainer this week, for the first time in ages. Although I still prefer the road, babysitting and shift work doesn’t give me time. I was working 3pm-12am all week, except Friday. Friday was my day off. Oh did I mention that I had to be back in at 12.01am for nights on Friday night after finishing at 12am Thursday night. Twelve hours and one minute, all to myself. Days off are great aren’t they?
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| Good competitive racing in the 'C' only events as seen here in Bohermeen |
Woke up Sunday morning. Couldn’t remember if it was night or day but knew it was raining. Drove to Newbridge to race. I suppose it’s a bad sign when you see an echelon of guys huddled up against a stone wall, trying to get some shelter from the lashing sheets of rain and gale force winds, before the start. What was the actual race going to be like? Spent at least half an hour contemplating asking for my sign on money back and going home. The clouds parted and the sun came out just as I got out of the car, so I continued getting changed and picked a good spot behind a wall to shelter. Three hills and one lap later I was making my way back to the greyhound stadium and the sanctuary of my car.
Now, I don’t know whether I’m going bad or it’s just the weather. It’s a dilemma. Maybe I’m turning into a fair weather cyclist. Not a good thing to be if you happen to live in Ireland. I’m hoping that the lack of sleep, courses of antibiotics etc., are the reason behind my poor form. Probably not though. I suppose I’ll find out again at Batterstown. Only thing is I’m on nights again. Hope our strike comes off on Thursday. Knowing my luck it won’t and my recovery from Batterstown will incorporate nine hours of work and any thoughts of sleep will have to hold off until the next morning. Active rest I think they call it. My daughter brought home a St. Patrick’s Day flag from playschool. “Daddy, now when you finish the race, I’ll be able to wave my flag.” Even a three-year-olds imagination is not vivid enough to conjure up images of Daddy winning. She also handed me a note from her teacher. “Dear parent, there has been a case of Scarlet Fever in the classroom, which your child may have come into contact with...” Here we go again!!!!!
Irishcycling.com would like to thank Gerard for his riders report.
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