Diary of a Medic-on-a-bike: Ras na mBan – September ’11

This was the event of the season: the 25th anniversary of the “Ras”; five days, six stages , six stages, based in the spectacular Ring of Kerry, in Ireland.

Rather than boring you with the details of each stage here are 10 lasting memories…

1. Nerves

I’d been worrying about this race for weeks. Just looking at the route profiles made my legs feel heavy. Reading through the list of names on the start sheet was enough to give me palpitations! With teams from Holland and Germany, as well as the Irish National Team and several big names from Wales, who I’m sure will be competing in the olympics, this was going to be a tough race.

I’d done well on Stage 1 last year. Would I be able to match that performance this year? Would I manage the climbs on my new standard double chainset? Last year I’d crashed. One girl had suffered a severe head injury. Would I come back in one piece?

Thankfully, once the race was underway the adrenaline got going and I started to enjoy things. Day by day the nerves melted away. What was the big deal?!

2. Sneem Hotel

This has to be one of my favourite places in the world. Based in the village of (you guessed it) Sneem, on the Ring of Kerry, the hotel looks out over the sea. It was a fabulous base for the week’s racing. We were looked after really well and the food was great!

3. Beautiful scenery

Ok, so I was supposed to be focusing on the wheel ahead and keeping my mind on the race. In fact, I was doing this but occasionally, in moments where I ended up in a small group, I glanced over to the side of the road and was treated to fabulous views. According to Steve and Jon, the scenery was stunning and watching some of the “Youtube” videos of the race, I realise just how much I missed!

4. Awesome routes

In England, most road races are based around a short circuit (8-10 miles or so) and we race around this 5-6 times. It was an absolute joy to race on some fantastic courses: large loops, or “out and back” rather than multiple laps of a small loop. Fun.

5. Hills

Lots of them. Mostly Cat. 2 and 3 climbs but Stage 3 took in two Cat. 1 climbs. These were my sort of climbs – the kind where you can pick a gear, get in a good rhythm and spin. I admit my descending was atrocious, though… a combination of slippy roads, picking a line and then being blown off course by the wind and perhaps being more tense than usual because energy levels were low. It was a little frustrating to drag a group of riders up the climb and then be dropped on the descent. Certainly room for improvement!

6. Rain

This was encountered pretty much every day. Usually the “soak you in seconds” variety. Not particularly pleasant but makes you feel especially hardcore. We even had hail on one stage. There were some beautiful rainbows to make up for the wet stuff. The main problem was trying to scrub the sticky black Irish mud off your legs…

7. Team

Sometimes when I’m tired out, working long shifts, ill, or just busy, I wonder why I carry on training to race. It would be so much easier to just go out at the weekends and pootle along to a coffee stop; enjoy the scenery. Racing is addictive – the adrenaline, the endorphines, the competitive drive… But above and beyond that, there is something really special about belonging to a team, being in it together, encouraging each other, sharing the moment, having a good giggle. The team is like my second family. We’re nearly as close as sisters.

8. Coughing

I was feeling under the weather before we even arrived in Ireland, then there was a hint of a sore throat, then after some of the best racing I have ever done, I woke up in the middle of the night coughing. A simple cold turned into full blown bronchitis. I was determined to keep going and to finish the race. Stage 4 was pretty abismal – I was out the back before we even reached the first climb! Stage 5 my throat was so sore that I was in agony as we stood waiting in the rain for the start of the time trial. It seemed foolish to carry on but if I couldrace then why shouldn’t I give it a go? I was not going to settle for a DNF on the results sheet. However, Steve and Jon were understandably concerned and were not going to let me start stage 6.

One of my medic friends (also a keen road racer) came to the rescue with some sensible, unbiased advice. After scaring me about the potential risk of sudden death from myocarditis, I came to the conclusion that it would be safe to race the final stage. After a couple of mugs of hot chocolate, some paracetamol and a reasonable night’s sleep, my chest was feeling quite a bit better the following day. I was also feeling brighter and had my racing head (and legs) back again. Despite coughing all the way up both climbs, I finished the stage (and finished well), thus completing the race.

9. A real celebration of women’s cycling

Cycling is a sport which is largely dominated by men – especially at a local, club-based level. So imagine the excitement of being surrounded by women cyclists; being addressed as “ladies… and a few gentlemen” (I’m so used to being factored in as “one of the lads” when we’re cycling); and not being the odd one out because I ride a bike…

Then, on Friday evening there were some after dinner speeches. A previous winner of the famous Irish “Ras” stood up and explained how he had been very concerned when he had heard about plans for us to race over the Healy Pass; how most of the men had hit the deck when racing over the pass in previous years; how he had been so impressed that not one of us had come down and how each and every one of us had completed the stage; how he couldn’t believe how much the standard of women’s racing had improved in just one year; and how excited he was that we were actually racing: this wasn’t just a leisurely ride in the countryside. That speech should have been recorded.

10. Steve

Steve is the team’s soigneur, mechanic, masseur, driver and surrogate Dad. Always there to support and encourage, I could not have managed the week without him. At the end of each race, he was there with a warm jacket, a word of praise and a hug (if required). While we were enjoying a hot shower, he would be standing in the rain, cleaning sticky black Irish mud off our bikes. Later there would be the offer of a massage (rarely turned down) to help our legs recover in time for the next gruelling stage. And did I mention his fantastic taste of music – whether it be Pat Benatar’s “True Love” to get us going before a race, or the more mellow Katie Melua to accompany our drive through the Irish countryside, it always seems to hit the spot.

Steve, thank you.

Photos courtesy of Klaus Weber; photo 3 courtesy of Jill Leonard