Alpine Classic 2009

This year's AAC report has gone multimedia, about 10 years behind the rest of the world.

I imagine that somewhere inside every Alpine Classic rider who sets him/herself a specific time objective is a taskmaster who (in some cases only) might behave a bit like this ...








Most of you have probably seen a lot more versions of the clip used for that report than I had (10 years behind the times again). Its subject certainly had, and was not entirely happy about things ....





OK, OK I know that's enough. No more.

Mike's Magic Moments : Alpine Classic 2008

I tried setting the video recorder to catch some cycling shows while I was up at Bright, but as usual got the programming wrong and recorded parts of an SBS late night movie. The following came up during one of the ad breaks .....


[Usual impossibly smarmy SBS voiceover:]

Smear chamois cream on your jocks before a big day in the office? Scoff carbo gels and Power Bars for morning tea? Can't wait for the day you can buy a full carbon fibre lounge suite? In other words, are you the sort of cycling fan who just can't get enough cycling stuff of any description, any time, any day of the week?

Then "Mike's Magic Moments" is the DVD collection you simply have to have. Specially released by SBS Cycling Productions, this lavish 78 DVD set features the best interviews, commentary, analysis, insight, and pungent no-holds-barred opinion from Australia's most respected cycling commentator, Mike Tumbleonarse, over the full length and breadth of his stellar career. No serious cyclist or cycling fan's collection can be considered complete without Mike's Magic Moments, yours for a special introductory price of only $2.50, that's right only two dollars fifty for 78 DVDs!! And at that price you'll also never need to buy drink coasters again.

As a small taste of what you'll get, here are two short clips from one of Mike's personal favourites in the Collection, DVD number 63, "Mike Lights Up Bright" featuring Mike's interviews with a couple of the big stars at the 2008 Alpine Classic. Slip on your lycra, tighten your helmet, sit back and enjoy the experience:





[Clip 1:]

Mike Tumbleonarse: And one of the biggest secrets at this year's Classic, which I can now reveal for the first time here on SBS Cycling Productions via this exclusive personal live interview, is that Lance Armstrong, seven time Tour de France champion, was part of the peloton at this year's event. Lance, welcome to Australia, welcome to Bright, and welcome to my show. I guess this is a very exciting moment for you?

Lance Armstrong: What, being on your show?

MT: Obviously, but also being in Australia. How do you like being here so far? Does it make you sorry you didn't also concentrate on the Tour Down Under as well as the Tour De France?

LA: Not really.

MT: Great. I love a rider with a sense of humour. Now Lance, since this will be big news around the cycling world, perhaps you can explain why you've switched bike sponsors now that your career's finished? Were you secretly unhappy with the Trek Mad 1 you used to ride in the Tour? I have to say, I wouldn't be too happy riding something called a "Mad 1" myself.

LA: I haven't switched bikes. I still ride my Trek Madone. I'm very happy with it.

MT: But Lance I had exclusive inside information from the Audax organisers that this year you'd be riding an Italian bike, an .. (checks notes) .. an "Incognito"??

LA: I was riding incognito – that doesn't mean my bike, it just means I wasn't advertising my presence on the ride.

MT: So you're not allowed to advertise now that your professional career is over? You've switched back to amateur status?

LA: No, that's not …. Let's just leave that, everyone knows I'm here now. What else did you want to know?

MT: OK, but I'd still like to know more about how Incognito bikes compare with Treks. Perhaps we can come back to it later. Lance, with your famous pride in performance, how did you feel about being thrashed around the course by some skinny half-literate 18 year old kid?

LA: Well Mike it's a cycling challenge event not a race.

MT: Isn't it?? If it's not a race why would anyone bother entering? Why did you bother entering?

LA: The organisers asked me to. Anyway, let's move on, I'm a busy man.

MT: Yes, me too … Um Lance, this is very hilly course – I know because I rode the first 15 kilometres yesterday myself and believe me viewers those climbs are astronomically steep – and obviously weight is critical. So I'd like to take you back to your weight loss treatment in the late 1990's …

LA: My weight loss treatment???

MT: Yes, (checks notes) … I understand you had extensive treatment including chemotherapy, radiotherapy, and orchidectomy, and you lost over 10 kg, helping transform you into the superior climber you subsequently became in the Tour.

LA: Are you serious, they were treatments for my cancer!!!

MT: Oh. So how does being treated with orchids help cure cancer?

LA: What???

MT: Orchidectomy – I assume that means being treated with some extract from orchid plants. Are you a believer in naturopathy?

LA (through gritted teeth): It .. means .. removal .. of .. the .. testes, I had ….

MT: Testies?

LA: TESTICLES!!!

MT: But they don't weigh very much, wouldn't you have done better with liposuction or something? My sister-in-law …

LA: Can we just drop this topic and get back to something non-personal please? Maybe something about the Alpine Classic??!!

MT (Flustered): Right, OK. Lance - I understand Delta Goodrem accompanied you up to Bright for the long weekend. What did she think of the Classic?

LA (through gritted teeth): I … said … something … non … personal !!!!!!

MT: Yes, of course; if I can just clarify that wasn't about you Lance, it was about what Delta thought of the race - I mean challenge. I know my viewers would be very interested in her opinion …

[SUDDEN CUT TO BLACK]






[CLIP 2:]

MT (with black eye): And now viewers, a very special exclusive with the first French professional to have ridden the Alpine Classic, Alain … (checks notes) … Euroneil, that's right Alain Euroneil from the Hawthorn cycling team flew all the way from France to Bright to compete this year.

AE: Ees pronounced `awthorn, as in zee `awthorn Team, Mike. If it ees OK I can ask what ees `appening wiz your eye?

MT: Nothing, nothing, live TV, rushed schedules, make up issues, you know. Nothing to worry about. Now Alain, tell me what attracted you and your Awthorn team all the way from France to the Alpine Classic here in Bright?

AE: Well Mike I am always liking to ride on ze most beautiful parcours, and always I am 'earing how beautiful ees ze parcours of ze Alpine Classique in Bright, so I am coming and `oping to do somesing special on zis parcours for my many fans. I am sinking `ow beautiful it would be to ride a PB, zat for me would be specially beautiful `ere in Bright on zis parcours.

MT: So you ride a "Parcours" bicycle – that is a French bike I assume? How does it compare with the Italian “Incognito” machine?

AE: Non non non - eet means, um, ze route, parcours zat is meaning ze route of ze Classique. I am loving a beautiful route.

MT: Well I'd ask you more about that but after interviewing Lance I'm off personal questions. Let's get back to the ride – what do you think of the course? Tough, eh – I know because I've ridden some if it myself!

AE: Eez nice – `ow you say – course. Some climbing, some descending. Ees pity zere are not really any Alps, but is still being quite beautiful I sink.

MT: And how did the ride go for you, Alain?

AE: Well Mike, ees a little difficult, I am trying to do somesing special for my many fans, but even early in zee ride I am not `aving good sensations in my legs. And later not good sensations in – `ow you say? - ze derriere - anyway I am sinking maybe preparation was not enough especially wiz very long flight to Australie. I am also being a little bit un'appy wiz organiseurs

MT: Why is that Alain?

AE: Well at first I am loving French theme for zee ride, French food, crepes, a little wine, some camembert in ze park, you know zat ees truly a beautiful gesture to make me feel at `ome. But zen zere are appearing at start of ride very silly people in berets and jerseys with stripes talking in worse French accent than Gabriel Gate and I am sinking zis eez perhaps making fun of French people and French accent and zis ees per'aps some distraction of my focus on doing somesing beautiful for my many fans. And zen like I am saying, my sensations in legs and later derriere are not so good for me, so I am getting un'appy and not sinking so much about `ow specially beautiful it would be to win.

MT: Anything else, Alain?

AE: Also on some climbs I am seeing organisers by side of road removing riders from ze velos and spraying in ze faces wiz – ‘ow you say – zucchini spray?, and zis is very disturbing for me

MT: Zucchini spray??

AE: Mais oui, just like we are seeing your gendarmes at ze tennis on ze TV – zucchini spray!! Ees shocking!

MT: Oh, I think you mean capsicum spray, Alain. But I don’t know why the organisers would be doing that rather than leaving it to the police though. Still, little jokes and misunderstandings aside, overall everyone thinks the organisation here is world class …

AE: Per'aps, but zen at checkpoints when I am not `aving good sensations in ze stomache and I am sinking per'aps a croissant, une baguette or even un digestif might `elp, but zey are serving up English muck. "Cream rice" – sacre bleu, zat is pig food to French people. And on La Grande Bouffelo – `ow you say Mount Buffalo – it ees worse, somesing call "trifle" which only English people are eating, in France we would not feed even to pigs, so now my mental sensations are not so good and ees very difficult to do somesing beautiful for my many fans.

MT: But you still achieved a PB for the ride?

AE: Of course, ees my first time `ere so yes I guess I am achieving ze PB.

MT: Fantastic, that is just a wonderful effort, something for all of France to be proud of. Just one last question, Alain if I may

AE: But of course

MT: I can't help noticing your hairy legs. I thought all French professionals – well all European professionals really – rode with clean shaven legs?

AE: What!!! (looks down) – quel horreur, mon dieu, zut alors, croque monsieur … zees morning I am shaving like normale, ees mystery. (ponders) … I am sinking now it can only be testosterone my DS is giving me for recovery – is testosterone making `airs growing very quickly Mike?

MT: I'm not sure Alain, perhaps you'd better ask Lance about that …

[ENDS]




postscript

Alain Euroneil may have achieved a PB but sadly his distant Australian relative Allan O'Neil had to be content with an 8:57 time, due to not having good sensations in the legs – make that the entire body – most of the way up Mount Buffalo, (as well as longer time at stops in order to scoff down delicacies such as Creamed Rice and Trifle.)


Both Alain and Allan plan to return next year in the hope of doing something beautiful for their many fans.

A Straight Ride Report (?!) - Alpine Classic 2007

(Written in haste for the Eastern Veterans CC newsletter)


I happily (?) completed my first 4 or so Alpine Classic 200’s without giving a tinker’s toss about my time, just finishing the damn thing on a very limited training time budget being challenge enough. But in 2002, just after descending Buffalo, I happened to hook up with a rider who encouraged a few of us to work hard into Bright “so we can break 10 hours”, which we managed by 5 minutes or so. I completely blame that anonymous person for leading me astray into a minor obsession to beat 9 hours for the 200.

In 2003 the bushfires put that plan on hold for a year; in 2004 a combination of spending way too long at checkpoints and a deathly-slow grovel up Buffalo (basically not being fit enough) saw me do no better than in 2002; in 2005 I got close with 9:03 (which would have been well under 9 without the Dingo Dell magical mystery tour kindly added by Audax for the 2004 and 2005 editions); then in 2006 I was grimly hanging onto the schedule as far as Eurobin Falls, but with 42 degrees showing on the bike computer I decided that discretion was much the better part of stupidity and pulled out just before my brain melted.

Enter 2007 and it’s a moot point whether the apparition of Comet McNaught over Bright is an auspicious or baleful omen. Ironically, my training schedule has been limited by the time demands of writing about training for the Audax website (http://www.audax.org.au/alpine-training.htm). A short hitout up Tawonga Gap in Thursday’s mid-afternoon 33 degree heat had been a total shocker, lowering the confidence level markedly. Onto ride day and as usual I sleep only patchily before the 5am wakeup and meet my mate Steve 10 minutes late after faffing around with food, clothing, bottles and other paraphernalia.

After the standard messy ride out to Tawonga Gap we cruise steadily up the climb, almost get skittled by one of those dreaded riders who leap out of the saddle unannounced and instantly move their bike about a metre backwards and sideways in the process, and then regular as clockwork we go over the top at 7:20. Normally I descend OK but today I’m getting passed and can’t manage a clean cornering line to save myself. On the flats the aim is to lurk in a group but I end up hiding second wheel into the (unusual) cross-headwind and doing more work than I’d like. A quick splash and dash at Mt Beauty and we settle into another cruise up Falls with about equal numbers of riders falling away behind us and pulling slowly ahead. No dramas so far and we arrive at Falls a bit ahead of schedule at around 9:40.

The planned 5-8 minute stop somehow morphs into 15 before we’re ready to roll and I try to sort out my descending down the steeper bit of Falls. I decide that while a light carbon fibre frame is the ants pants for getting up the hills, my compliant old steel machine definitely felt more secure on the corners, especially after juddering scarily around a rough-as-guts left hander not far from the bridge. How can I arrange a quick bike swap for the descents in next year’s edition?

Back to Mt Beauty with no further dramas and Steve & I pull into the servo for water and a quick clothing adjustment, along with about 50 bearded Harley riders who must have just missed running over a flock of cats (at least I assume that’s the drift of their conversation about “having no pussy on the bike”). We leave them to their feline discussions and embark for Tawonga Gap.

Normally this is where it all starts going pear-shaped for me but with temperatures 15-20 degrees lower than last year we can hold a steady pace of 13-14kph and the heart rate is still under control. About halfway up the climb I notice that the guy riding off my right shoulder is on a single speed setup with what looks like a 52-21 combination. “It takes a bit of practice” he comments without leaving me any the wiser as to why you’d want to practice that particular form of self-torture. He also claims that 52-21 is much easier to pedal than a 42-17 (both 67 gear inches) and now I know he’s definitely mad. (Mate if you’re an Eastern member and reading this, I’m only kidding!).

Over the top we’ve already made up for the lost time at the Falls turnaround and I’m finally regaining the hang of descending. The hoped-for peloton of large muscle bound rouleurs fails to materialise after the drop and Steve and I can find only one strongman to work with back to Bright, so feel compelled to take our turns on the front (into the wind of course). Now the HR is sitting on 160-170 rather than the desired 130-140 and I’m thinking this is not a good tradeoff for the 3 minutes saved. But vanity prevails over sanity and we push most of the way back into town, arriving at 11:45.

Here the planned sub-10 minute stop time again blows out by about 5 minutes and then a little more as I pull up outside the accomm on the way out of Bright to quickly greet the family and get stocked up with jelly snakes and flat coke for the Buff. However this second stop works out nicely when a group of 6 comes by just as we get rolling, this time Steve and I stick resolutely to the back of the bunch and enjoy a solid tow and tailwind to the tollgate. By now 9 hours is looking in the bag unless I completely blow up on Buffalo, which probably mean it’s about a 10% chance.

But wonder of wonders the man with the hammer stays hidden in his cave or wherever he lurks and doesn’t come swinging for me this year. I may be stuck in the 25 but I’m feeling OK and holding the prescribed 13 kph quite comfortably. The irony of Buffalo in the 200 is that it’s the one hill where you urge your heart rate upwards, not downwards (which would mean fatigue and an inevitable grovel), so I’m actually pleased to be sitting above 165 most of the way to the water stop. Just up from here I do my Good Samaritan act for the day and inform a tired-looking rider that he’s set out for the top minus helmet. My reward is the continued non-appearance of the hammer-man and although an attempt to push harder on the last couple of k’s to the Gap collapses pitifully just before Devil’s Elbow, we reach the top having climbed Buff a good 15 minutes faster than previous years, and the only thing that will stop us comfortably breaking 9 hours from here is a puncture or a crash.

Neither of those inconvenience us after a quick refuel at the Chalet, and a third of the way down we (guiltily, your honour) pass the slow-moving car constituting the only obstacle to a quick drop. By now I’ve got the descending thang sorted and am really enjoying it. A string of riders appear ahead of us on the final climb after the toll gate which encourages Steve and I to crank hard up the hill and form a group of 5 or so for a final push into the headwind home. The last 10km fly by at 33-35 kph and we stop the clock at 8:35 elapsed after a very satisfactory day out in the hills.

Next year, the 140 beckons. After all, following 5 years of effort I think I deserve some sort of reward.

(Although …. - he suddenly thinks to himself - …… with a ride time of 7:52 this year it might only need a little pushing on the first three climbs plus the return of my inner short-stop Nazi, and sub-8 might be achievable?? …… no, No, NO!!! – that way lies madness ……)

AAC Training Final Part - How Not to Ride Your First AAC 200

I began this series with the throwaway line that in pre-world wide web nirvana, a blog used to be "some unspeakable mess you carefully avoided on the footpath".

Rereading the nonsense that I've since contributed to this little cul-de-sac of cyberspace, I'm not sure that the original definition doesn't still stand.

Certainly anyone hoping to glean worthwhile training tips for their 2007 Alpine Classic tilt would have been sadly disappointed by their visit to this page. But it's never too late to get things back on course, and here's a red hot training tip from someone who knows all too well:

If you haven't started training yet - don't bother, it's too late!

So because it's too late for any further training advice, I thought I'd bring this series to a mercifully quick end with some on-the-day do's and don'ts, particularly slanted at those of you about to embark on the big adventure of their first ever AAC 200km. A lot - in fact all - of these pearls of wisdom are gleaned from the harsh personal experience of my own initiation into this fold more than a decade ago, or at least the little I can remember of it:

• Don't drive up the Hume late the night before with a grizzling baby in the back seat in the middle of humungous thundery downpour with nearly-bald front tyres on the car. You'll have enough near-death experiences on the ride itself.



• Don't assume that said grizzling baby will sleep peacefully through the night (or in fact sleep at all)



• Don't put your bidons containing specially prepared isotonic carbohydrate replacement sport drink in the fridge the night before assuming you'll remember to retrieve them in the morning (especially after a sleepless night)



• Do remember to retrieve the bidons in the morning



• When you get to the base of Tawonga Gap and realise you have no bidons on your bike, don't ride on for another 2km wondering whether or not to go back for them



• If you do go back for them, adding a mere 25km to your ride, don't then try to catch the 6:20 bunch you started with before the top of Tawonga Gap



• If you do try to catch the 6:20 bunch, don't expect to be successful, and do expect to do yourself some serious damage in the process



• Don't assume that it never rains during the Alpine Classic



• When it starts pouring with rain halfway up the Falls Creek climb, don't ride on getting soaked to the skin because you can't be bothered stopping to put on your spray jacket (assuming you were smart enough to pack such an unlikely item in the first place)



• If you do ride on getting soaked, don't expect to arrive at Falls Creek without the beginnings of a case of hypothermia



• Especially after all of the above, do expect to arrive at Falls Creek feeling like death and wondering how on earth you are possibly going to make it back to Bright (to then pull out of the ride of course).



• Don't assume that wild vibrations in your bike as you start descending from Falls Creek are due to a wheel about to come off your bike (although it might be a reasonable idea to stop and rule this possibility out). They are more likely related to uncontrollable shivering caused by that oncoming case of hypothermia.



• Don't necessarily assume that the miraculous fact that you manage to stay upright on the descent and more miraculously get back over Tawonga Gap means that your body has suddenly come good, and rescind your previous resolution to pull out at Bright. It's probably just adrenalin-related delirium.



• If you are sufficiently delirious / stupid after all the above to decide to push on to Buffalo, don't spend an hour sitting at the Bright control before continuing.



• If you do spend an hour sitting at the Bright control, don't expect to feel any better for it. Your body will just thankfully assume that the pain is over and go into shutdown mode.



• Don't be surprised that it is possible to climb Buffalo at less than 9km/hr



• Don't assume that the weather cannot get any worse than the heavy rain and fog you experienced as you grovel up Buffalo at 9 km/hr



• Don't start the descent from Buffalo in cold driving rain, gusty wind and bursts of hail as a cold change comes through



• If you do start the descent from Buffalo in those conditions, don't bother trying the Tour de France trick of shoving a newspaper up your jersey. The newspaper just gets very soggy and cold (and they only do it in the Tour de France for the television cameras anyway.)



• Do stop on the descent from Buffalo when your hands are so frozen that you can no longer tell whether they're on the brake levers or not



• On second thoughts, do stop on the descent from Buffalo before your hands are so frozen ..



• If after all the above you somehow make it back to Bright before the organisers have packed up and gone home, don't assume that no future edition of the Alpine Classic you are crazy enough to enter could seem so hard as this first one. The fact is they nearly all do, just in different ways.

Anyway, whether 2007 is your first, tenth, or two hundredth time at the Classic, I'm sure you'll have a memorable day. Good luck and I'll catch you on the road sometime.

AAC Training Part 6 - A Date with Donna

Imagine you're a fine upstanding citizen of a small but respectable hamlet with a proud history set in an idyllic sylvan location. Far enough from the big smoke to avoid most of the hustle bustle and generally more venal aspects of city living. A place where you can breathe clean air, drink pure forest-filtered water and just relax, enjoy nature, and contemplate the benefits of simpler slower lifestyle.

Then imagine that a statuesque madam reputedly endowed with "ample contours" and "thrilling curves" sets up shop outside town - just down the road from the Hospital if you don't mind! - and starts attracting all manner of suspect "visitors" intent on conquest. Which intention this shameless siren is apparently all too willing to accommodate, judging by the flushed glows on the sweaty faces of these uninvited interlopers as they gather afterwards in search of post-conquest refreshment, filling previously quiet and reputable establishments with unsavoury raucous groups, brazenly sharing and comparing every last detail of their liaisons, heedless of who might overhear them. Blatantly egging one another on to depart post-haste for a second "back-to-back" conquest, leaving disturbed and puzzled townsfolk shaking their heads at the mental picture of various unnatural activities that must be taking place on the outskirts of their village.

If you can imagine all that, then you have a pretty good idea of how the good burghers of Warburton might feel around this time of year, when every second Alpine Classic cyclist you meet seems to be just returned from or just departing for their annual "Date with Donna".

Yes, if Marilyn Monroe was "that kind of woman", then Donna Buang is "that kind of mountain". Which is not to say that she's easy, though she draws admirers like moths to a candle. Even perfect model citizens like yours truly find themselves futilely fighting the urge of her call at this time of year. (But beware her cold shoulder - more than one hopeful has been thoroughly frozen out by Donna after a badly timed attempt.)

Now, before Phil and his editorial committee start getting concerned about where this episode of the AAC Training Blog might be leading to and what NetNanny rating it may require, let me change tack and put all the above nonsense down to some as-yet unexplained hold that Donna Buang seems to exert on the imagination of cyclists with literary pretensions.

The more practical riders out there can tell you all about the excellence of Donna Buang's gradients and total vertical metres of ascent as training for the trials of the Alpine Classic, and the perfection of her descents for honing those essential high speed cornering skills. One or more "Double Donnas" has to be regarded as just about essential to any serious AAC Training Programme. (Yes coach, I promise I'll do mine soon)

But what I really wanted to highlight here, via a couple of examples from the cycling canon, was Donna Buang's unusual ability to inspire variety in a written medium - the email group ride report - that generally bears the same distant approximation to literature as a Kylie Minogue CD does to music (and embodies about as much variety to boot.)

In a vain attempt to protect myself from (quite justifiable) charges of flagrant plagiarism, I will suppress real names from the following excerpts - even though I did write one of them myself. The few of you out there reading this know who you are anyway!

Religious Epiphany

Sunday 7.30am, the 12th day of Christmas and a bright star shines above the small town of Warburton guiding worshippers wearing lycra and riding carbon/titanium/aluminium camels, coming to pay homage to their (hill climbing) mecca, Donna Bethlehem (Buang). In Biblical-gaga scriptures it has many other names: DB, Donna, Le Alpe de Buang, The Don and the road to the summit is called a few names as well, mostly four-lettered.

A congregation of riders meet for quick warm up round suburban Warburton then it's to the climb. Saints or sinners, it is our day of reckoning. I pray, set the cycle computer at the 60km sign, pray again and pedal. A__ confesses he has sinned on his training schedule and fears the wrath of 'The Don'. I spot D__'s friend M__, recent scriptures report of his sandal n toe-clip ascent of Hotham and figure that as Jesus wore sandals and had many followers I would become one of M__'s. Maybe he would share his divine powers? I looked around and see the three wise men A__,P__ and D__ climbing steadily, leading a flock of followers themselves.

At Cement Creek the gradient steps up, it should be christened Cement Legs because that's how I'm starting to feel. M__ say's 'have faith, if we keep this up we'll get there in under an hour'. We join up with Z__ and some road warrior brethren and levitate towards the top. The hellish pace is taking it's toll and I start to see a white light, imagining the tower at the summit has a tractor beam pulling us up. But the beam must be calibrated for carbon or a higher grade of aluminium than my Avanti because I get dropped: M__ is parting the air like Moses and the red Sea, sandals or not, I lose faith. It's tempting to stop at the spring and cool off with some holy water but the lure of the forbidden fruit of a sub-hour time is to tantalising. Lead into temptation I reach the top a minute and a bit over the hour, M__ did 1hr 55 sec - we have witnessed a miracle. Later hear that altar-boy B__ did 56 minutes. The prodigal son, or does he have the devil in him?

Descend, eat and start up the mountain again. It's not fun, every pedal stroke hurts but then think it's good prep for the Alpine. This thought cheers me up immensely but not as much as finishing, descending and getting off the bike for the day. I'm sure the feeling will be the same at the end of the Alpine.

Godspeed to you all,

S__

Moving from the sublime to the ridiculous, we then have:

Military Precision

Field Operations Report, Command Post Warburton

Operational Objectives:

Capture and hold high ground + observation tower at Mt Donna Buang, commanding approaches to Upper Yarra Valley.

Units Engaged:

First Irish Light Horse commanded by Brigadier O__

Primo Gruppo del Carabinieri d'Italia commanded by Generalissimo G__

HM Fourth Sussex Armoured commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel J__

Missing in Action:

Oakleigh Commando Group commanded by Corporal B__ (under investigation for possible desertion in the face of enemy fire)

Tenth Camberwell Infantry commanded by Major H__ (decimated prior to battle by unknown viral / chemical warfare agents)

Field Dispatches:

Following short parade and brief training drills, main engagement commenced at 0831. Heavy fighting on lower reaches of battleground against stiff enemy defences caused significant separation of allied forces, Irish Light Horse becoming isolated at front of formation. Somewhat easier progress made following capture of enemy forward outpost at Cement Creek. Irish Light Horse continued foolhardy charge at front whilst Carbinieri and Sussex Armoured consolidated rearguard positions. Main objective reached by Irish Light Horse at 0936, at which point desperate enemy unleashed biological Weapons of Mass Destruction in form of genetically engineered armour piercing marchflies. Bloody fighting ensued as Irish Light Horse (fortuitously assisted by chance encounter with South African Irregulars commanded by General G__ "Zulu Warrior" S__ and Australian Army Reservists under General C__) sought to repel WMDs whilst awaiting reinforcements from Carabinieri and Sussex Armoured. Despite eventual arrival of said reinforcements at 0950 approx, increasing hostile attack from WMDs necessitated rapid retreat and regrouping at base camp. Second assault initiated promptly but immediately apparent that enemy had been able to reinforce defensive placements in the interim resulting in far slower progress than on initial advance . (etc etc etc)

I could go on but I'm sure you get the general drift. Anyway, you shouldn't be reading this rubbish with less than three weeks to go to the Alpine, you should bloody well be out training! Preferably on Mt Donna Buang!! But it seems appropriate to finish with a final Donna-inspired limerick, returning to the same dubious theme with which I started this instalment:

The cops nabbed a lady named Donna

Who'd let legions of riders climb on her

When presented in court

Her defence was quite short

"Shaved legs are my weakness, Your Honour"

AAC Training Part 5 - Brain Strain to Explain Training Gain at House of Pain

Welcome to my secret world of hurt:

There might be an AFL venue somewhere (Subiaco?) with the moniker "The House of Pain", but I personally struggle to believe that the upstart claims of some manicured footy ground match those of my crumbling local velodrome, which just happens to be the venue for a lot of my recent - and painful - AAC training. As preparation for a 200km event with four massive mountain climbs, you may well wonder about the sanity of training on a flat 300m concrete track. I know I certainly do. But I'll do my best to explain, beginning with some basic scientific principles (pay attention now, there's an exam on the way out).

The pointyheads in sport science research have discovered something called "specificity" (just don't point your mouth in anyone else's general direction as you practise uttering that word). The drift is that to enhance your performance in a given activity, you need to tailor your training to that activity. (Why it took three generations of PhDs in Exercise Physiology to come up with an unpronounceable replacement for the term "common sense" might be fruitful ground for research in its own right) Training in some alternative discipline doesn't generally "cross over" well. Sadly, going to the gym for sessions of leg presses, squats, and other unnatural contortions is likely to improve your endurance cycling about as much as Britney Spears doing yoga will help realise her long-held ambition of becoming a brain surgeon.

So in general, if you want to get properly prepared for an event like the Alpine Classic, there'd better at least be a bicycle involved.

More specifically, the ideal training for our pet event probably involves living in Bright and riding the 200 km route weekly for a year.

But apart from robbing the big day of that epic quality that we all enjoy so much, there are a few practical issues with a training programme quite that specific. Aside from seasonal firefighting duties as a CFA volunteer - regular work but not too well paid - there are a limited number of jobs in the area for starters. So those of us forced by economic necessity to live and work in flatter parts of the world have to make do with less specificity (or is that "more generality"?)

And if we're stuck in flatter parts and busy with all that working and living, there are issues in finding time to visit any sort of mountain to work specifically on climbing specifics. So, irrationally determined as I have been to better my AAC PB, I began my own personal sport science research programme with the help of those 21st century oracles, Google and Wikipedia, to discover what form of training close to home, and manageable within a rather limited time budget, might possibly improve my pathetic climbing ability but avoid falling foul of the specifics of specificity.

To cut a long story short, the rough consensus seemed to be that something called "threshold intervals" might be the answer. This basically means finding a long flattish course with no traffic lights (which is where the velodrome comes in, and you smarties in the front row can put your hands down now please), getting on your bike, warming up, then riding at just about the highest pace you can hold for a duration of 20 - 30 minutes or so. Then resting a couple of minutes (cardiac defibrillation optional) and doing it again. If you're really insane you can even throw in a third repeat. Or throw up, depending on how hard you did interval #2.

The theory behind this apparent lunacy is that climbing well is all about "sustainable power" - which I had previously thought was a solution to global warming - and that these threshold intervals somehow increase your maximum sustainable power output, which further means that when you climb at a lower speeds than maximum (which you do in the Alpine unless you're Lance Armstrong or certifiably insane or both) you can do it more easily and for longer, ie sustainably. More to the point, with higher sustainable power you'll arrive at the business end of the 200km route having a slightly lower chance than usual of being reduced to grovelling up Buffalo at the speed of an arthritic snail. In my case anything that reduces that chance from its normal level of 99.9% has got to be worth trying at least once.

Or so I thought until I actually started trying it.

What I discovered is these exercises are called "threshold intervals" because they drive you to the threshold of madness - or probably beyond, since I'm still doing them. Basically, they hurt. A lot. I haven't personally experienced childbirth, and I know it goes on a bit longer than 20 - 40 minutes, but at least in the delivery suite there's a team ready on hand to provide nitrous oxide, epidurals, and other analgaesia of your choosing. On a velodrome you're on your own and the best you can do to drown out the shrieking from your legs and pained rasp of your breathing is to turn up the MP3 player's volume another notch or two. And hope its selected playlist doesn't finish early, exposing you to the dire aural risk of your tweenage daughter's Delta Goodrem tracks on top of the physical torture you are enduring.

Things were definitely easier back in my pre-AAC days when I could cruise along Beach Road in a bunch, maybe go to the front for a couple of k's, finish off with a coffee break, and claim afterwards to have been on a "training ride".

But as I steel myself for yet another of these sessions I console myself with a couple of thoughts:
- regardless of any improvements in my sustainable power I'm definitely well-prepared for sustainable pain, something the AAC never seems to lack
- if the fires don't go out and Phil ends up having to shift the event to the Wangaratta Velodrome I'll be the best (and most specifically) trained of the lot of you

AAC Training Part 4 - A Pain in the Arthurs

Lest anyone imagine I never do any training at all, (and because I've been struck by a bad case of "writer's blog" and can't come up with anything more imaginative) I'll recount a moderately recent training ride (meaning any ride undertaken since the last edition of the Alpine Classic: for AAC tragics there are only two types of ride - the AAC itself, and AAC training rides)

Although you might have called this one a training ride for an Alpine Classic training ride. Let me explain.

A few years back, some friends and I decided that after 10 or so outings we had exhausted the possibilities of BikeVic's Around the Bay in a Day as an AAC training ride. This followed the ATB's notorious Big Wet edition (ie it rained all day long - remember that rare meteorological phenomenon anyone?), and as far as the AAC was concerned we struggled to comprehend many "training benefits" in queuing for ferries at Queenscliff getting soaked to the skin in a howling gale with the mercury hovering on about 10 degrees, shivering uncontrollably while our brown paper lunch bags rapidly disintegrated. (Not that the AAC lacks opportunities for extreme discomfort, but it's generally discomfort at the other end of the Celsius scale.)

So we decided after much discussion to drop the ATB from the AAC training calendar and insert an alternative ride which we very imaginatively titled the NATB (there's a prize for the first person to decode what that stands for and email the correct answer to i_guessed_it@not_around_the_bay.com ). Without divulging the patented secret ingredients of the NATB's composition, I can say it is over 200km and involves more hills than the ATB, and that the chances of finishing it in any sort of fit state with little or no training in the legs (ie my usual ATB preparation) are correspondingly lower. So much lower in fact that I usually feel the need to train for this AAC training ride.

Thus I found myself rolling out one late September morning headed along the Bay for Arthur's Seat, which (I was told) is a smallish hill outside Dromana. Our cartographic expert had informed the bunch that the distance was "about 140km", which I felt I might just manage given a long enough lunch and coffee stop at Dromana and strict avoidance of anything that looked remotely like the front end of our group of about 12 riders.

Once we'd got the racers in the group under control and informed them that any "easy pace" didn't mean anything (just) under 40kph, the kilometres clicked by fairly smoothly, although I was a bit surprised when 70km came and went and we didn't seem to be anywhere near the turnaround point. Still, I never was that good at maths.

We finally rolled into Dromana with the bike computer showing something like 80km and the pangs of a caffeine craving asserting themselves vociferously. But before that dragon could be slayed there was the trifling pimple of Arthur's Seat to be despatched.

Well if Arthur's Seat is a pimple I would hate to see a full grown boil. This "smallish hill" outside Dromana may not rise quite as many vertical metres as the least-huge climb in the Alpine - Tawonga Gap - but it does so in well under half the distance. Without getting into the advanced trigonometry of all that, take it from me that it is STEEP. And after 80+ km on untrained legs, IT HURTS. The resident racers in the bunch rapidly disappeared around one of many hairpin bends leaving the resident laggards to grovel in their wake. It was immediately clear that this was excellent AAC training indeed - learning to overcome that overwhelming urge (which generally strikes me about 1.5km up Buffalo) to stop being a goose, turn around, and point the bike the way the bicycles were intended to be pointed - downhill.

And even when the pain of the up had finished, there wasn't much joy in the down. The steepness and hairpins mean the best that can be said about descending Arthurs Seat is that it's a good test of your brakes and the heat resisting qualities of your chosen wheel rim material.

Once this was thankfully all over, with something like 90km on the clock to this point, my craving for caffeine was approximately equal to Paris Hilton's daily craving for yet another shopping-cum-photo opportunity. Luckily the rest of the bunch were at last happy to oblige. Then after a suitably long and restorative coffee and carbs break it was back in the saddle for the return to the big smoke.

As we rolled out of Dromana and I pondered the calculus of what shortcut could possibly get us back to Melbourne inside the specified 140 km total ride distance, I became aware of another part of the anatomy protesting with equal stridency to my weary untrained legs. The pain of Arthurs Seat had now transferred itself to my seat, and I was being cruelly and constantly reminded that preparation for the Alpine Classic's day in the saddle requires toughening up a lot more than just the legs.

It's probably best if I now draw a discrete veil over the balance of this so-called training ride, except to say that:

• I was entirely successful in my ambition of avoiding the front of the bunch


• there is a shortcut enabling a return journey from Richmond to Arthurs Seat with only 140 km of riding. It's called a "train". (Had I been out solo I might well have tried it, but out in a group the thought of losing any remaining credibility as a cyclist outweighed the Nike-like shrieks of "Just do it!" from my nether regions)


• I now have a pretty good idea of how that "small pimple" outside Dromana got its name. The story begins something like this: "Once upon a time, there was a lazy untrained cyclist named Arthur .." And finishes with ".and after he'd avoided sitting down for a week or so, they all lived happily ever after."

AAC Training Part 3 - Doing Our Bit Against Global Warming

Everyone else is banging on about the Greenhouse Effect so I don't see why I shouldn't as well. We Alpine Classic riders have a very direct interest in this after all: I don't know about you but I certainly don't fancy the thought of climbing Tawonga Gap in 45 degree heat. At 6:30am.

And I'm sure Phil and his fellow AAC Committee members want to avoid difficult decisions like shifting the event to Queen's Birthday Weekend, or relocating the whole shebang to the freshly de-glaciated mountains of Greenland.

Even our previously ultra-sceptical PM has been heard talking about climate change in public!

I actually have a theory that John Howard has known about global warming all along, but that he wants it to hurry up and defrost those icy Canberra mornings that keep threatening to freeze his bits off as he power walks around Lake Burley Griffin. Who cares if Lake Burley Griffin dries up over summer? - Parliament's not sitting then and our PM stays well clear of Canberra. And last time I looked there was still plenty of clearance between Sydney Harbour's high tide mark and the ground floor level of Kirribilli, so nothing to worry about there either.

Now, we might have got a different point of view and some earlier action out of Johnny H if he'd become a convert to cycling and entered a few recent AAC's. (But I'm not sure the sight of our PM decked out in cycling gear would have done a lot for the sport's image, if his choice of power-walking clobber is anything to go by - just imagine him wobbling along dressed in an Australian cricket team tracksuit and an early 1980's stackhat)

No, I think this is a case where we cyclists have to take responsibility for our own self-interests, so I've been doing some intensive research into how we can introduce a bit more environmental responsibility into our training for the big event, and come up with the following ideas:

Cycling To Work

Obvious you might say, but the real attraction for me was when I realised I could count the 10km ridden to and from work as "AAC training", instantly trebling or quadrupling my weekly totals, even if the biggest hill is a 5 metre pimple. Only problem is it can get a bit hot for riding around this time of year, compared with the air-conditioned car.

Which train of thought led me to a more hair-shirted suggestion:

Turn Off The AirCon

Apparently air-conditioners use lots of power, which results in lots of CO2 emissions, which accelerate global warming, which causes more air-conditioners to be installed! This must be one of those positive feedback loops the climate science pointyheads go on about. Now, turning off that aircon would be uncomfortable, especially if you're on the indoor trainer 'cos it's too hot for riding outdoors, but perhaps it would actually give us an acclimatization opportunity for the next AAC!

I'll let some of you folks out there try it this year and if it seems to work, or at least doesn't kill you, I might even have a go myself sometime in the future.

Wind Generation (I)

Some crowd of deluded greenies has installed a forest of windmills not far from a coastal road where I (very occasionally) train, completely wrecking the bucolic rural views. Damn shame they let them build it there if you ask me. However by a process of word association, wind generators made me think of wind trainers and the brilliant idea of connecting one up to a generator to power the household while I'm training! We could even look at going totally off-grid. But I wonder how my family would feel about getting only one or two hours of electricity per month?

Wind Generation (II)

This one occurred to me as I pondered my dietary and carbo loading strategy for the Classic. I had earlier read in the appropriately named Stern Report that methane's impact on global warming is about 220 times worse than poor old CO2, which clearly doesn't deserve the bum wrap it receives in the press. It struck me that as the early morning posse of Alpine Classic riders heads off for Tawonga Gap each year, all fortified with as much high carb food as they can eat, global methane emissions must go through the roof. Clearly some of the princely budget of 0.000000005% of GDP that the government has allocated to greenhouse strategies could very usefully be directed away from low emission coal and into low emission carb research.

Cycling to Bright

You've all seen - been part of even - the cavalcade of high powered, expensive and mostly imported vehicles headed up the Hume to Bright each Australia Day weekend. Some of the cars those bikes are mounted on are pretty flash as well. And as I reflected on the greenhouse impacts of all this driving, I recalled an arresting image after one recent AAC of seeing a lone, grey-bearded rider plugging gamely up the road to Wangaratta the following day, complete with tent and camping gear on his bike. "Of course", I thought, "Phil and the committee should make it mandatory for all participants to cycle to and from Bright for the Classic."

And it would also modestly increase the event's degree of difficulty, something I'm sure many riders have been yearning for immensely.

Carbon Offsets

My final flash of inspiration arrived after I'd spent a hard day reading about "carbon sequestration" and "carbon emission offsets" as ways of combating global warming. I thought I'd relax by perusing the pages of a glossy cycling magazine, poring over pictures of bikes I can't afford. Then I realized that we cyclists all have the perfect way to offset the unavoidable CO2 impacts of our daily activities: Just go out and buy a new carbon fibre bike every year!!

Tie up in that new frame the same amount of carbon that you contribute annually to CO2 emissions, and bingo, you're carbon neutral! And as you parade that flashy new machine before friends and family you can say that you really only bought it for the environmental benefits. Everyone's happy!

I got really excited by this idea until I did some calculations and discovered that:

a) my shed (let alone my budget) isn't quite big enough hold 1,500 new bikes every year; or

b) I'd have a fair bit of trouble pedaling to the top of Buffalo on 13 tonne bike. Even one made of carbon fibre.

AAC Training Part 2 - Training and the Art of Negotiation

OK, so after much cogitating, pondering, drafting, cutting, pasting, and polishing, you have finally produced a genuine work of art that you can be truly proud of - your own personal Alpine Classic Training Programme ©. A gilded path to personal salvation, leading you in carefully graduated stages over just a few short months from your previous status of couch potato with a pushie somewhere out in the shed, to cycling Master or Mistress of the Universe, bestriding the Alps like a lycra-clad Colossus (and in under 8 hours too!)

As much as it might now feel appropriate to sit back, wipe the sweat off your brow, rest on your laurels and admire this splendid achievement, the sad reality is that you now have an even more difficult and challenging task ahead of you. Likely to test you just as sorely as that final climb up Buffalo in 42 degree heat (oops, sorry Phil - make that 37.9 degree heat.) Requiring the application of a combination of strength, skills, endurance, and character that only a select few possess.

No I don't mean getting out on your bike and actually following that training programme. If it was as simple as that, Phil and his committee of fellow sadists would long ago have had to dream up a more demanding route involving Hotham, Feathertop, the Bogong High Plains Road and the Omeo Pub in addition to all the usual climbs. Anyone can get trained up for a mere 4 mountains, 3800-odd vertical metres and a piffling 200km, given the time to train properly.

And there we come to the nub of the issue, the real challenge of the Audax Alpine Classic. Negotiating the time to train for it.

Now, if you're under about 30 years of age and / or enjoying a carefree full-time student lifestyle or similar, odds are you have no idea what I'm blogging on about here. "Negotiating" probably just means debating with yourself whether you'll get up early and go riding, or stay out late, get up late, and then go riding. Or whether you should really allow yourself that tempting slice of cheesecake at the mid-ride coffee stop.

But if you fit the profile of the more typical Alpine Classicist, then you have one or more Significant Others to consider, not to mention some form of paid employment (undertaken in part to support your continued acquisition of ever more high tech cycling equipment manufactured from new and exotic space age materials, in the vain pursuit of technological compensation for your falling level of performance, arising from insufficient time to train regularly, because you are too busy working hard in order to save money for that next frame, groupset, or biometric performance measurement system.)

In these circumstances finding the time for lazy 150km training runs is a bit of a stretch in itself, but the major hurdle is justifying why spending that time riding could possibly be more important than finally getting started on that long neglected piece of home maintenance, running the family taxi service, or spending quality time with those Significant Others on mutually beneficial cultural, recreational, or educational pursuits.

And I doubt you need me to tell you that this can seem a challenge fit to test the ingenuity and eloquence of a brace of SCs. However after conferring with some experienced AACers it seems there are some long standing techniques, forged in the hearth of many years' trying - with apparently mixed success - to prepare properly for the AAC and related activities, which it might be helpful to sketch out for a wider audience. Of course we won't give away all the details and intricacies - part of the challenge of the AAC is working this stuff out for yourself.

"Next Year I'll Only Do the 100/130/140"

The general idea here is quite obvious: you're not really looking to train more in total, just to borrow training time from next year (which you won't need since the 100/130/140 are mere doddles in comparison to the 200) and spend it this year instead, so as to really have that one solid crack at a good 200 time before you're too old / busy / sane.

I should know this one well, and in theory be capable of carrying it off with perfect sincerity, since I wholeheartedly swear this to myself each and every time I get about 2km up Buffalo in the 200. Unfortunately in my neck of the woods, coming from a serial breaker of such promises, this nowadays gets about as much credence as a politician promising to put long term statesmanship above short term political advantage. But perhaps your electorate is more credulous than mine.

Weekend Breaks Within 150k Of Home

Here's an opportunity to please everyone, even the bank manager. Forget those expensive holidays to Queensland, Fiji, Nepal, or Kazakhstan. (It's such a pain to organise bike transport on planes anyway). No, it's time start doing the right thing for global warming and holiday (much) closer to home. In fact within manageable riding distance of home.

Beyond Blue

OK, we're starting to get a little more desperate with some of these strategies. But Phil tells me that a good proportion of AAC entrants are 40-something males. Who are more than averagely subject to various forms of mid-life crisis and depression. Experts tell us that exercise is an ideal preventive for such problems. And a few hours off training every now and then has to be more acceptable to everyone than purchases of red sports cars, or worse.

Sort Out the Shed

In particular, see if you can make enough room to set up a wind trainer, bring that old TV back to life, and hook it up to that superannuated VCR for late evening / early morning viewing of past Tour De France editions as you pedal away.

Negotiate With Your Employer

When all that "spare" time you thought was "free" for training turns out to have been booked for activities you never suspected you were doing, and protestations of your need to get fit are falling on deaf ears at home, it may be time to turn to a more benevolent listener, such as your boss. It's amazing how much quality L4 / E3 work you can get done in an extended lunch break or with one or two late starts a week.

Gross Underestimation Of Training Ride Distance & Time

This is not really a negotiation technique at all. At heart it is a barefaced lie resorted to only by a cyclist desperate to get in those few extra hills or k's - ie just about anyone a few weeks out from the AAC with numerous blank spaces glaring at them from that training diary's last couple of months. Still, it may work on one or two occasions, providing you are able to credibly blame it on an unbelievably bad run of punctures, or your training buddies' frustrating slowness or insistence on that second or third coffee at the halfway point.

Finally, even if only a few of the above techniques - or any others you are able to dream up - bear but a meagre harvest of training fruit, leaving your actual AAC preparation an emaciated shade of the grand plans you started out with, don't despair. Your ride next January may be a little more painful than you'd hoped, but you'll have a much better stock of excuses for why you could really have done much better.

AAC Training Part 1 - The Ideal AAC Training Programme

Remember the good old days when a "blog" was some unspeakable mess you carefully avoided on the footpath, not a new-fangled term for jill or joe public's unedited electronic ruminations? When a school report was a smallish single sided card with As Bs and Cs, not 15 pages of computer-generated jargon-laden totally meaningless gobbledegook? When "10-speed" meant your bike's entire number of gears, not just the number of cogs on your freewheel?

Well thank goodness we're past all that because back in those days most riders didn't have "training programmes", they just went riding. But these days everyone and their dog has a training programme for just about any physical activity short of lying on the couch.

And seeing as our esteemed Ride Director Phil has rashly invited me to contribute a "blog" about training programmes and suchlike leading up to the Audax Alpine Classic, I've actually got something to "blog" on about.

Yep, I'm fully in support of the idea of a training programme.

In fact I'm even in support of the fact of a training programme.

I'm just not quite so sure about the actual training bit itself.

But fortunately I'm writing this at a time of the year when all that actual training bit (for this blogger at least) lies somewhere comfortably distant in a hazy future of sun-dappled late spring and early summer mornings, with the rude reality of burning legs, dripping sweat, tortured breaths, racing pulses, dead roads, block headwinds, and cliched phrases yet to impinge on loosely imagined visions of powering effortlessly up hills, swooping down descents, knocking off 150 k's and knocking back 3 or 4 lattes while still getting home in time for breakfast.

No, we can leave all that uncomfortable training aside for the moment and concentrate our efforts on crafting the perfect training programme for the AAC.

Even this is an enterprise not to be embarked on lightly. A good training programme can't just be dreamed up and written down in a few minutes over a post-social ride coffee or two. Like a fine oil painting, it needs to be blocked out, gradually detailed, refined, retouched and then left a while in the artist's studio to mature. Yes, a solid month or two's work can go into pondering the pros and cons of routes, distances, intensities, vertical metres climbed, number of coffee stops, number of secret K's not to be included in the programme (more on those in a later edition) etc etc etc. Anything to defer the start of the actual training bit just a little longer.

You can even get some advice and inspiration from a well qualified outside source (and you can stop reading right here if that's your bent). Of course this adds further dimensions of complexity and nuance. There are a lot of training programmes out there. Do you go off-the-shelf, made-to-measure, bargain basement or something else?

Like Dan Brown and the Da Vinci Codes, borrowing someone else's tried and proven formula has its appeal, but you've got to be careful here. (And I don't just mean doing a better job than Dan at making the end product worth the non-refundable hours of your life spent reading it.) I'm a sometime member of the Hawthorn Cycling Club and under the "Who's Who at Hawthorn" web page, various characters have submitted training programmes as part of their personal profile. I've been pretty impressed - not to say intimidated - by some of these efforts. To give just a couple of examples:

Monday: Local Area (Wallan) - Strength/Recovery
Wednesday: Ford Circuit - Endurance/Sprints
Thursday: Local Area (Wallan) - Strength/Recovery
Saturday: Race Northern Combine
Sunday: Local Area - Recovery/Endurance/Strength

or

Mon, Fri: recovery
Tue: hills
Wed: long recovery
Thu: intervals
Sat: race
Sun: hills
(nb "recovery" here = any ride shorter than 100 km at less than 30 kph average speed with no more than one Category 1 climb)

Exhausting business just reading those. Poke about a few other cycling club websites and you'll come across similarly scary stuff, like "300-500 km per week" and so on.

Now in their defence, most of these guys are serious club racers looking to put some silverware in the trophy cabinet alongside the Under 13 Athletics medals and what have you. Whereas we all know that the Alpine Classic is not a race, it's a personal challenge (which is what I'd label any sort of event, race or not, where I have no chance of finishing near the pointy end - ie any sort of event whatsoever). Undertaking personal challenges is about higher things than trophy cabinets and bunch bragging rights; it's about discovering yourself as a person, defining your relationship to the Universe, growing as a well rounded human being - at least that's what I tell my long suffering spouse and kids as I haul them up to Bright for the annual AAC pilgrimage.

An Alpine Classic Training Programme therefore needs to take in the bigger picture, it needs to ebb and flow with the rhythm of the seasons, and it needs to reflect your character and individuality.

So in submitting my own humble profile to the Hawthorn site I like to think I took all that new-agey stuff on board and reflected a more "holistic" view of what a training programme is all about:

Jan: Ride Alpine Classic 200 km. Resolve never to do it again.
Feb: Recovery
Mar: Recovery
Apr: Recovery
May: Recovery
Jun: Recovery
Jul: Watch Tour de France. Recover. Think about training.
Aug: Post entry form for Alpine Classic 200 km. Resolve to start training when the weather warms up.
Sep: Really get serious about thinking about training.
Oct: (Not) Round the Bay (perhaps)
Nov: Recovery
Dec: *&#! Alpine Classic in 7 weeks!! Start training.
(nb "recovery" here = basically doing nothing)

And I am happy to report that at the moment my training programme is solidly on track.

Catch you next time

The Alpine Dream - Alpine Classic 2006

I hadn't realised there was extensive TV coverage of this year's (rather warm) Alpine Classic until I went back into Bright later that evening. Wandering into the now-deserted Bright International Media Centre I came across part of a script for one of the shows featuring the Classic, blowing around the floor in the hot wind. I understand the telecast won't be repeated, so for anyone who missed it live, I have scanned the script in and posted it here:

The Alpine Dream
With Dr H G Nelson and Rampaging Roy Slaven

HG: And a big welcome back to viewers from around the world joining us in the exclusive resort setting of Bright, holiday destination of Australia’s well-heeled rich and famous, the Athens of the South. This weekend we focus once again on Australia’s Premier Festival of the Pedal, the Celebration of the Cycle, the Parade of the Pushie. It’s the Audax Alpine Classic and here with me to provide comment, colour, movement, emotion, pathos and above all gravitas, it is of course none other than the Lithgow Legend, the All-Seeing Sage of Audax – welcome back into the saddle - Rampaging Roy Slaven!

Roy: Yaaiirssss, thank you HG. It’s just great to be here in Bright again. If there’s anywhere in Australia – in fact make that anywhere in the world HG – that rivals Bright for class, refinement, gentility, sheer je ne sais quoi – then I’m certainly yet to hear of it ..

HG: … Well there is Smiggin Holes …

Roy: Of course there is. But really HG, Smiggin Holes is your winter playground and Bright is your year-round resort for the glitterati, so personally I put them in separate categories. In fact I’d like to see Bright launch a bid for the Summer Olympics to follow on from the Smiggins winter tilt. How good would that be? You’ve got all the facilities here and ready – track and field at the footy oval, gymnastics and Greco-Roman wrestling at the Wandiligong Community Hall, sailing on Lake Catani, swimming and water polo at the Porepunkah weir, and so on. It’s all ready to go – come on Jaques Rrrrrroggggue – what are you waiting for? – announce it now!

Anyway back to the business at hand, the Classic. Now, you hear people rambling on about your Tours de France, your Giros d’Italia, your Paris-Roubaix. Well, to me they don’t rate a candle, not a burnt out matchstick, to this event, the Alpine Classic. All those Euro-trash, hi-tech, shaved-leg, substance-abusing, carbon-fibre eating overpaid poncing primmadonnas of the pedal prancing up and down the Champs-Elysees in garish lycra. THAT’S NOT CYCLING! - IT’S VAUDEVILLE, A HIGH SPEED MARDI GRAS, CABARET ON WHEELS!!

(Pause)

No, give me a hairy pair of legs like gnarled old tree trunks, a sagging pair of baggy knicks, a faded woollen jersey, a dentist’s mirror stuck to the Styrofoam helmet, a proper cast-iron pushie with mudguards racks and a K-Mart dynamo generator. That’s what we want to see, that’s the spirit of Audax, that’s what this event is all about!!!

HG: You’re right there Roy. This sport does risk going the way of irrelevancies like the America’s cup, Formula 1, golf, tabletennis, beach volleyball – the human spirit overwhelmed by technology. Back to basics I say. But tell me about your early days as a wheelman – I hear you were pretty big on the Lithgow cycling scene.

Roy: Well, of course that’s for others to say HG. But I can tell you that even this Alpine Classic is a bit soft compared to what we Lithgow Wheelmen got up to. Gears and brakes for starters – never had ‘em in Lithgow …

HG: … so that would have been your track racing wouldn’t it …

Roy: … track racing, road racing, mountain climbing, your proper long distance events like Paris – Vladivostok – Paris, herding the cattle, delivering the milk. You name it, didn’t matter – same bike for the lot. None of this specialisation rubbish.

HG: And you’ve got a few ideas for this event, based on the way it was when you kicked off the whole concept back in Lithgow

Roy: Yes HG. I’d like to see it run in winter. At night. Nude.

HG: Well it would have to be in winter if the Bright Summer Olympics were on, to distinguish the franchise, wouldn’t it. But nude as well? At night? That’s increasing the degree of difficulty, that’s going to raise the bar a little isn’t it?

Roy: Shrink the bar more than a little I would have thought HG – that’s what we found on those Lithgow winter nights anyway. Still, a bit of shrinkage makes the seating issue more straightforward.

HG: I see what you mean there Roy, I think. But look, we’ll have to come back to these bold ideas a little later in the show – it’s time to get onto this year’s edition and the issue of the moment, the talk of the town, the buzz around Bright is about just one thing at the moment – the weather. It’s an inferno out there Roy, 41 degrees here in downtown Bright and God knows how hot up there on the slopes of Buffalo. How will this play out Roy, what will it mean for these riders today?

Roy: Nothing, HG.

HG: Nothing!!!

Roy: Nothing. That’s to say, it should mean nothing HG, to a true Audaxer. Complaining about the weather would be like complaining about the bike seat being only a tenth the size of your arse, or the fact that someone put a few hills in your way, or your pushie didn’t come with an engine and a chauffeur. Just get on with things and suffer in silence. What else is this event about?!

HG: I see Roy. All the same the organising committee here have published some hot weather guidelines, which I thought it would be worth running through for the viewers out there. They’re employing a highly sophisticated system developed by the Australian Association of Sports Scientists which uses something called the Wet Bulb Globe Temperature or WBGT for short. Now as near as Roy and I can make out – and we’ve studied this carefully – this involves getting under the shower in your bike helmet, running outside in the nude and standing in the sun, reciting Advance Australia Fair backwards while thinking of a number between 1 and 1000, multiplying by the square root of two, subtracting the digits of your birthday in reverse order and adding back the number you first thought of. If you can get through all that in under 28 seconds and haven’t been arrested for insanity or indecency, you’re right to go.

Now Roy and I thought that was all a bit complicated so in consultation with the Smoko Institute of Biometric Analysis we’ve come up with a more practical measure called the DWAT, which is short for Dead Wombat’s Arsehole Temperature. All you need for this one is a dead wombat lying in the sun by the side of the road – plenty of those in these parts – and a rectal thermometer …

Roy: Standard part of the Audaxer’s cycling kit HG

HG: … of course. Now you simply insert the thermometer into the appropriate part of the dead wombat – helps if it’s not squashed too flat – wait 20 seconds, and read off the result. And if your reading’s over the threshold temperature …

Roy: 57 degrees, which is technically known as the Furry Underground Creature’s Khyber Indicates No Go for Heavy Outdoor Toil – an easily remembered acronym HG

HG: … the event’s off – what could be simpler? We put it to the test a bit earlier with Fatso the Fat-Arsed Wombat and fortunately it proved conclusively there was no need to pull the pin on today’s event.

Speaking of which, we’re starting to get some pictures – sorry, I should say vision – coming through right now. What have we got here? – looks like four old blokes by the side of the road doing something with sticks. Talk us through this manoeuvre Roy …

Roy: Well obviously HG they’re about to start a fire and boil the billy, as you do halfway up Buffalo in the Classic. Forget those substance-laced "energy drinks", "power bars", "carbo gels" and the like. They’re just overpriced rubbish. A chipped enamel mug full of hot billy tea, ten spoonfuls of sugar, a touch of eucalyptus and you’re set to climb anything in sight.

But perhaps my analysis may have been a bit premature there. This bloke’s not unstrapping the billy from the packrack after all. No, it’s the blacksmith’s kit he’s gone for HG. Looks like we’re about to see some on the road Audax-style bike repairs …

HG: Cracked forks perhaps. This could be a very special moment we’re about to bring you viewers.

Roy: Watch this closely and learn, kiddies at home. You can try this out the back of Dad’s shed when you bust your new tricycle. Now, see how one of these fellas has grabbed the nearest road sign for a bit of reinforcing rod? Superb work. I love a good bit of improvisation HG.

HG: Sheer poetry, Roy. Can’t do that with carbon fibre! But while that’s going on we’re cross-cutting to some on-road action featuring a few of the favoured riders. Who are these old blokes in the red and yellow jerseys?

Roy: Looks like it says "Eastern Veterans" there on their kit, HG. German colours, obviously, so these would be your returned soldiers from the Russian Front who’ve taken up long distance riding in later life. Good on ‘em I say. Great gesture of international reconciliation to see them making the long journey down under to participate alongside our boys from the Yackandandah RSL Cycling Auxiliary.

HG: And now here are some of the younger lads, mere pups in Audax terms. Some more than slightly carbon-fibre-eurotrash looks here I’m afraid though. Take this bloke with the white earphones in … what’s this, getting real time strategy from his Directeur Sportif? Not on I say. Look up his number Roy so we can report him to the event director …

Roy: Let’s see, HG: "Gasparini". "Angelo don Gasparini" of the "bicigaga" team. How do these people get let in to start with? Italian, obviously. Pure eurotrash, as you just said. Could be mafia as well.

HG: Let’s see who else we’ve got here on this rogue "bicigaga" team Roy: "Marqués".

Roy: Spanish eurotrash

HG: Carbon fibre frame, garish lycra, the lot. Still, looks like he’s recording a good time, Roy – 7 hours 45 minutes.

Roy: Of course he is, but so would you HG on that sort of gear – and I’m not talking about his bike.

HG: Also on the team we have Christiansen …

Roy: Danish Eurotrash! Save us HG. Probably a bodywaxed adult film actor off the bike to boot …

HG: Could be right Roy, but it actually says here he’s pulled out at the last minute. Who else have we got – let’s see - van der Valk …

Roy: … stop it, HG, you’re making me puke … Where are the locals? What’s happening to Australian cycling? Aren’t our own lads good enough any more??

HG: Here’s one onscreen now: O’Neil. But Christ Almighty, look at the kit and the bike!

Roy: Italian! Carbon fibre!! EUROTRASH WANNABEE WANKER !!!! And I know this bloke too – only last year a cast iron bike and a simple aussie club kit were good enough for him. But no, just ‘cos he misses some self-imposed, arbitrary, meaningless, who-gives-a-stuff, that’s-not-the-point-of –Audax nine hour time target by three irrelevant minutes, suddenly that’s all out the window and he’s jumped onto the technology bandwagon. If I was running the event …

HG: … as you should be, Roy …

Roy: … as I should be HG, then this bloke and all his type would be out on their waxed arses.

HG: But hang on Roy, this O’Neil character’s pulled over to the side of the road and hopped off his fancy bike just above Eurobin Falls …

Roy: You sure that wasn’t Eurotrash Falls HG?

HG: Well it would be appropriate in the circumstances Roy. And look! - now he’s turned around and headed back to Bright – looks like a clearcut case of cheating here Roy

Roy: Anything to get under 9 hours. I don’t know what this event’s coming to …

HG: And now we’re getting reports of large numbers of riders stopping at Bright and refusing to continue up Buffalo – including at least half that "bicigaga" mob and more than a few Eastern Veterans

Roy: I predicted this HG.

HG: But I thought you said the weather wouldn’t be a factor Roy?

Roy: No HG, nothing to do with the weather. My sources tell me this is a planned protest against Dingo Dell being dropped from the route this year and replaced by a turnaround point at some clapped out overblown faux-European Chalet full of out of work off season eurotrash ski-instructors. And I support this protest HG! What could be more Australian than Dingo Dell? A Chalet is just soft!! In fact I’d have moved the checkpoint to the top of the Horn and made the riders climb the summit carrying their bikes. That would be a proper challenge. These Audax organisers have just lost the plot …..

Clarke & Dawe - Alpine Classic 2004

I had grandiose ambitions of riding the 2004 Alpine Classic in a time somewhere between 81/2 and 9 hours elapsed. History records that I didn't quite meet that target, although mysteriously I can remember very little about the day itself. However on returning to Melbourne and unpacking my reeking bag of fermented sweaty cycling gear, I came across the transcript of a John Clarke / Brian Dawe interview that shows how I could have redefined "failure" as total success:








BD: So tell me how you enjoyed this year's Alpine Classic, John

JC: Great descents, Brian, always love those descents on the Alpine. I did better than ever on the descents this year. Took some of those corners just beautifully ...

BD: But it's not really about the descents is it. Isn't the whole point of the thing to do well on the climbs?

JC: Well that just shows you've got the wrong end of the stick as usual Brian. You should get out of your ivory tower and talk to some real cyclists. That climbing stuff is just a distraction. The sooner they organise lifts like the skiers have, the better. That's the way to really popularise the ride I reckon, especially in this hot weather. Difficult to descend well with all that sweat running into your eyes ...

BD: All the same, tell us how you went on the climbs

JC: Can't say I noticed mate, I was just thinking about the next descent. They're all so different you see: a bomb run down the back of Tawonga, sweeping curves on Falls, fast and twisty over Tawonga again, a bit of everything on Buffalo. Too much to think about there to worry about the bloody climbs

BD: But I did hear that you were putting in some training on climbs this year, Arthur's seat repeats, Donna Buang, ...

JC: Rumour and innuendo; never train for the climbs, doesn't help your descending one bit mate - a bloke might lose weight and slow down on the descents

BD: And you were publicly quoted as stating that you were going for sub-9 hours this year ...

JC: ... which I achieved very comfortably thank you very much ...

BD: ... but I have the certificate here in front of me saying 9 hours 52 minutes!

JC: ... another Audax stuff-up. Look here at this monitor: "Riding Time 8:53". Is that under 9 hours or is it under 9 hours? Almost as bad as them getting lost on Buffalo and taking the wrong road for the Chalet. Did you know the idiots confused Dingo Dell and the Chalet!! Anyone could have told 'em what a chalet looks like and it's not some bloody carpark out the back of nowhere near a forlorn looking ski lift. Added on at least 15 minutes! They couldn't organise themselves out of a paper bag. Fortunately as you see I still broke 9 hours.

BD: But that's riding time. Alpine Classic times are always elapsed times ...

JC: Yes, elapsed riding time, 8 hours 53. Are you deaf or just stupid?

BD: No, elapsed time is the total time from start to finish and it says here that you started at 6:20am and finished at 4:12pm which is 9 hours 52 minutes

JC: Geez you're a bit obsessed by this time business aren't you? Do you work in the public service or something? The idea's to have fun mate, especially on the descents. Did I tell you about those descents? They're ...

BD: I'm sorry John we'll have to leave it there