This
is a long one, so buckle in. I offer no apologies…
As usual,
it was Rupert who convinced me to enter the Oulton Park Duathlon in Cheshire. This
event had two distance options- Sprint and Standard- and was also a qualifying
race for the European Championships next year in Soria, Spain.
The
run up to the race was far from ideal but in the end that was irrelevant due to
what transpired during it. When it came down to it, I had about three seconds
to decide what to do whilst on my second bike lap and, even though it meant the
end of my race, I’m glad I chose the route that I did.
I’d
never done a duathlon before and hadn’t specifically trained for this one. However,
I was somehow persuaded (OK, admittedly it doesn’t take much) to enter it and accompany
Rupert on the long drive North to stay in an Air BnB rental. Not only that, but
I’d also been persuaded to try another first: namely putting my name in the hat
for qualification to represent GB at an age-group level. I certainly didn’t
feel confident about achieving this, but having looked at other results beforehand
thought that at least I wouldn’t embarrass myself. In order to qualify you need
to first declare yourself to the BTF by registering and paying an additional
£10. You then need to finish in the top four of your category (35-39 for me
this year) out of those who have declared.
I’d
been a little unwell all week, with what felt like the beginnings of a cold:
sore throat; cough; headache; a bit feverish; but had already paid my entry fee
and booked accommodation for the night. I’d really felt like taking a day sick
from work, but my diary was too busy with patients so I just carried on. However,
towards the latter part of the week I was showing some signs of improvement, so
felt that if I continued to get better I’d at least be able to race.
On
Saturday I was up by about 5am to take Molly & Ginger (my lovely dogs) out
for their walk, before going to spend the morning and early afternoon
marshalling in the rain at the Freak Events Team Relay Duathlon at Roadford
Lake, where my wife, Beccy, was in a team with Corinne, Ellen, and Kate from
Exeter Tri Club (they did really well by the way). I enjoyed helping out and
supporting, but it wasn’t the ideal way to spend my day prior to racing,
especially given the way I was feeling. After marshalling duties were completed
I returned home and immediately packed up my gear for the trip North. Rupert
picked me up (thankfully he was driving) and we made our way up the M5. It was
a pretty good journey and the chat was probably fairly predictable to anyone who
knows us- the upcoming race, the Therapeutic Use Exemption certificate
controversies surrounding British Cycling and other athletes, Sam Allardyce’s
questionable life choices, training, coaching…
We
arrived at the accommodation at about 7:30pm, a lovely spacious annexe to afarm house from Air BnB, where the host provided full Sky TV package, tea,
coffee, juice, and a nice selection for breakfast. I had another poor night’s
sleep due to my incessant coughing and really wondered if I’d make the race the
next day. However, after a jug of coffee, some ibuprofen and lemsip in the
morning (I didn’t need a TUE for these!) I thought I’d at least get round.
This is
a 4.3km long race track so was a closed-circuit meaning no other traffic, perfect
tarmac, and nice sweeping bends. Approached correctly you could do the whole
race without touching your brakes (transition notwithstanding) and get a really
consistent rhythm going despite the undulating nature of it. The Sprint race
consisted of a 1 lap run, 5 laps on the bike, and then another 1 lap run. The Standard
was 2 laps, 9 laps, then 1 lap.
I was
due to race in the morning (Sprint) and Rupert in the afternoon(Standard). He
had an excellent race, coming in off the run in 27th, off the bike
in 22nd, and finishing 19th overall. This was more than
enough to secure him a place in Soria as he finished second in his age-group
(45-49), only behind the phenomenal Gethin Butler (5th), holder of the John O’Groats to Land’s End cycling record. The Standard race was
won at a canter by Dave Roper, who I know a little from my brief, injury-plagued
time at Cheltenham Harriers. He didn’t even have the decency to look like he
was trying for most of it- opening up over 90seconds on the first run and never
looking like he’d let it go!
Registration
was pretty straight forward and efficient, and there were no real queues to
speak of. I tried a little jog around the carpark and felt awful, but that’s
not unusual before a race so I just ignored it. I racked my bike in the
spacious pit lanes and proceeded to the race briefing. I spent a fair bit of this
coughing my lungs up and getting strange looks from my fellow competitors!
The race
had a mass start so I made my way to near the front of the group. I’d already
seen and chatted to Sam Hopton (Sprint, 10th overall), who is also a
member of ETC and fully expected to qualify in the very competitive 25-29 age
bracket. I made sure I stayed well behind him, safe in the knowledge that he
drops me like a hot potato when running at the track!
We
started without much ceremony on a simple whistle blow, and off we went. I’m
generally fairly comfortable with my run pacing, so I didn’t worry that so many
people shot off before me at the beginning: surely they couldn’t all keep it up
for the full lap? My main concern was how I’d cope with the illness, but the
first km felt ok and my pace was round what I’d expected. The second km was a
bit tougher, but did have a bit of a climb so was to be expected. After that I felt
quite ok, though I didn’t feel confident to push it hard. I did have a very dry
throat but tried to put this out of my mind. I gradually picked off a few
people, mainly on the inclines in the second half of the lap, and went into
transition feeling relatively content, despite being pretty far down the field.
My run was round about what I’d thought I would do, so was quite happy.
I had
a good flying transition without any hitches and expect I made up a good few
places there. Out onto the bike I was kind of into the unknown: having been
able to push right to the limit at Nottingham a few weeks ago and got a few good
Watt Bike sessions in since then I’d been in half-decent form, but I was really
unsure how I’d fare given the way I now felt.
The
first lap went surprisingly well. I really used it as a tester- trying to keep
my cadence up, seeing how hard I could push. I completed the first lap with a
decent pace that I felt sure I’d be able to maintain. If I could do that, I thought,
then the second run would just be a case of suffering through it, something I’m
quite happy to do.
Just
before the half-way point round the course there is a hairpin bend called "Shell Oils Corner" as you
ascend. As I came around that and into the straight I saw something about one
hundred metres ahead that isn’t nice at any time: a fellow competitor lying on
the floor not moving, with another cyclist stopped by his side. Ahead of me a
lot of people by-passed the accident, everyone signalling to slow down and be
careful.
I suppose
I had about two seconds to make my decision.
There
were two things in my mind at that point: one was to stop and help, but what
help would I really be? There were marshalls and ambulance cover available, and
someone had already stopped. Rightly or wrongly (probably wrongly), the other thought
was that if I did stop it was definitely race over, and with it any outside
hopes of a qualification spot.
Cursing
myself as I did so, I checked my shoulder for safety and applied the brakes to pull
up on the grass alongside the injured cyclist (who I later found out was called
Nick), and the other person who’d stopped (an A&E nurse called Andrea). I
suppose he could have done worse for company.
When I
went over I could see it was fairly serious straight away: Nick wasn’t moving
or talking and had a bloodied face with damage to his bike helmet. He was lying
on his right side and Andrea was talking to him, trying to get him to respond. She
explained that when she’d arrived he was on the ground and a lot of people had
already cycled past. As an A&E nurse she felt she had no option but to stop.
I suppose similar to me she had both a professional duty of care as well as a
personal one.
Nick
had started to talk a little at this point, though we couldn’t make out what he
was saying. He was also obviously in a lot of pain so started to try and move.
My first act was to try and prevent this as we were worried about a cervical
spine injury and we made sure to keep his helmet on.
All the
while dozens of people cycled past. Most slowed down for safety but a few
idiots still hammered it through full throttle, trying to overtake and squeeze
through small gaps despite the obvious problems. I
remarked to Andrea that surely someone had alerted a race official by now, but
that’s a curious thing about crowds and numbers- it’s often assumed someone
else will do it, so we shouted to a few people to get help.
After
that we waited with Nick, tried to talk to him, and keep him calm as he became
a little agitated in his confusion and pain. Eventually an ambulance arrived. Nick
then sat up with assistance as the pain in his shoulder and hip meant he couldn’t
tolerate being on his side any more. I just hoped he hadn’t hurt his neck. The ambulance-man
suggested we move him from the track to the grass which perhaps wasn’t the best
idea as we had no idea of his injuries other than the superficial ones. He did get
up with a lot of help but was unable to stand properly. Given a direct trauma
and inability to weight bear, I questioned whether he may have broken his hip.
He also looked like he may have had a dislocated shoulder.
He
made it to the grass but had to lie down. Teardrop (pointy) helmets aren’t
exactly conducive to lying on your back, so I had to remove this for him. By
this time any protocols about protecting the cervical spine were out the window,
so I thought this was the sensible option.
We
got him onto into the ambulance via the scoop and gurney, and Andrea and I
decided to ride round together. My race was clearly over, but she was
determined to finish and credit to her for that.
I
rode into transition at the end of the second lap for my first ever race
retirement. The race organisers were there and asked what had happened. I
explained to them and they kindly offered me a place in the afternoon’s
Standard or entry next year (which I understand is to be the English National
Championships). Given how I felt both physically and emotionally I opted for
the latter. They also agreed to remove me from the start list as I didn’t want
a dreaded DNF next to my name! Silly, I know, but one of those things.
I met
up with Rupert and we spoke about what had happened. It’s a little embarrassing
to admit but I did have mixed feelings about the whole situation at the time.
You can probably guess what they were, so I won’t go into it here.
Nick
was still on-site as the ambulance couldn’t leave the venue as this would mean
there was no emergency cover available. They had to wait for one from the nearest
hospital to take him to A&E. This did afford me the chance to go and say
hello to him, but he was still not with it. He asked me where he was and what
had happened. “You’re at Oulton Park for
a duathlon, mate,” I said. “It’s a
qualifier for the Europeans”. “But I’ve
already qualified”, he replied. He was only doing this race for fun!
I
also spoke to his wife who was really lovely. She was clearly and
understandably worried and upset, but took the time to thank me and the people
who worked there.
Nick
has since found me via Facebook to publically offer me thanks, which was really
nice. It turns out he’s fractured his pelvis in two places, and possibly his S1
and S2 as well. He also has a number of nasty-looking soft-tissue injures, but I
don’t know about his shoulder. It’ll be a long road to recovery and, although
this is such an awful cliché, it could well have been a lot worse.
As
for me, well I’ve been off work ill all week since, hacking up my lungs and
feeling awful- turns out trying to race probably wasn’t the sensible thing to
do. However, I’m also glad that I was in a position to offer what assistance I could.
I’m happy that I made the choice I did, and hope I would do the same again.
Get
well soon, Nick.
