As part of the Super UCI World Championships in Glasgow – the locks and highlands of Perth & Kinross an hour north hosted the 2023 Gran Fondo World Championships.
Also known as the Age Group World Champs.
Starting in Perth on the edge of the River Tay (the largest river in the UK by discharge) and finishing up the kilometre-long driveway of Scone Palace – the tough but fast 159km course took in some challenging roads winding its way through the region’s scenic highlights.
Qualifying & Training
Back in April, I secured my spot at Worlds by winning the 35-39 category at Nationals, but it wasn’t until 9-weeks out that I decided to pull the pin, book flights and confirm my spot at Worlds. The final course was also a deciding factor, as without any major climbs, but with still enough elevation to make it tough – I saw it as something potentially suiting me.
Training got underway in earnest through the mild Wellington winter, with an 8-week program designed on intervals.icu asking for plenty of erg sessions on the JetBlack trainer – helping to make up for lack of real-life racing. During the short but committed training block, I noticed a good improvement in both power and endurance, after a brief period off the bike following Nationals. A new FTP result only a couple of weeks before flying out also had me in a good headspace.
With the training now banked in the legs, race day nutrition plan sorted (three bottles – two double strength), bags halfway packed and the body clock being pre-adjusted to UK time – all that was left was a final ‘race simulation’ the Saturday night before Monday’s flight. Waking up Saturday morning I had a sore throat developing and throughout the day questioned whether it was in my head, or if I was actually getting sick. When it came time to put the headphones in for the final ride that night, I was noticeably wheezy, achy and knew it was now inevitable. By the time of Monday’s flight, my girlfriend Rach had raided the local pharmacy so she could get some sleep, but I was still a full-blown streaming, wheezy, sneezing hot mess – negative for covid at least!
The recce
After 36 hours of hellish travel punctuated by nasal spray, litres of water and both melatonin and cold & flu tablets – arriving at the hotel in Perth Tuesday afternoon, I was thankfully feeling on the mend already (or I’d had enough nasal spray and pills to dry me up for days…). Stripping off compression socks and leggings, I was keen for a wander around town, but my priority was simply to recover as much as possible before Friday’s race.
Wednesday morning started off with a brisk walk to a fantastic massage from The Treatment Room, before a gentle 45km roll in the afternoon – spinning the legs to recce the last 20km of the course. An attempt at speed into the tricky 90-degree right-hander through narrow gates, onto the 700m driveway sprint and finish outside Scone Palace, showed me I didn’t want to hit it at speed in a bunch.
Climbing out of bed Thursday morning the body was feeling even better again, before heading out to meet Kyle (another Kiwi racing in the 35-39’s) for a recon of the opening km’s – and to open the lungs slightly. While riding back into town a Dutch bloke (Tobias), came up behind us and asked “Do you also ride on Zwift?”, “Do you know Aaron?”, before we quickly worked out we’re NZBRO teammates and race together virtually in the WTRL TTTs!
Without enough time (or a fit enough body…) to get around the whole course, I organised a rental car for the afternoon which proved invaluable. Being able to drive the course, checking out the climbs and key points along the way, really helped me know where I was on the day. As well as locating the top of the two good climbs, it gave me a chance to stop and take in some of the towns and scenery that would all be a blur the next time through!
The Race
On race day I woke up to a reminder it would’ve been Grandad’s birthday, feeling slightly nervous but excited to get the race underway. My wave wasn’t starting til 10:45, so I had plenty of time to return yesterdays gutless rental before riding back to the hotel for a late English breakfast. After one last final check of the bike, bidons and drop-bag, the time had come to make my way to the start. Favouring starting near the front (and out of early road-furniture trouble), over having warm legs, I ditched the drop bag and entered the start pens just before 10:30.
The first few kilometres through town were swift but uneventful, with an early soft attempt from two riders to get away unsuccessful. Just on the edge of town at the 4km mark however, a second group of three riders managed to get clear – with Kyle sticking to his pre-race plan of having a dig in the early break. At the front of the bunch watching them go, my plan quickly became to jump on the next wheel trying to bridge, but the opportunity never arose – the group of three was away.
The peloton continued rolling in a stretched-out line slowly chipping into the headwind through the winding backroads, until the 28km marker and the start of the first little climb. Positioning myself within the first few riders at the bottom to buy time on the ascent if needed, a spectator sitting on the bridge helpfully called out “3 RIDERS, 4 MINUTES” giving us our first time-gap indication.
The pace up the short climb was ‘fairly sedate’ with no major pushes, meaning I was able to keep my front positioning (4:21 @ 4.8w/kg), but I could feel the lungs were struggling and snot rockets becoming more common at that intensity. The climb took us off a valley floor and onto a 15km section of exposed highland roads, still slightly climbing, with the wind now directly on the nose.
Having a countryman in the break made things a little tricky, but knowing only 3 men would have a hard time staying away I rode this section strongly – doing my best to motivate a sluggish peloton and force a tough race into my favour (15min @ 4.3w/kg). Nothing of note happened until three of us (myself, an Aussie and an Italian) slipped clear about 4km from the summit and the peloton didn’t like the look of our 200m and growing gap – closing it down just as quickly as it opened.
Going into the first good decent of the day I positioned myself right on the front – keen to keep the pace high and test the cornering nerve of riders behind. It kind of worked, with post-race footage from riders at the rear showing gaps opening before the feedzone that were never to close again (I even managed to jag a cheeky downhill KOM 👑).
Following the first feedzone in Aberfeldy at the bottom of the descent, the only flat section (6km) of the day past Castle Menzies had the peloton ‘resting’ and chatting about the possible success of catching the break. The Dutch guys weren’t so sure…
The next hurdle I literally needed to get over though, was the biggest climb of the day. 7km at just over 4% with steeper kicks and ramps to really grit the teeth on. Starting once again at the front I found myself sliding back pretty fast once a little French bloke with climbing wheels (and clearly climbing intentions) took the bull by the horns and tightened the screws – forcing a season-best 5min power out of me on the lower slopes (480w, 5.5w/kg). After a flatter section two-thirds of the way up, the next ‘steep’ kicker around the 65km mark was enough to snap the elastic and see a gap opening between me and the front group – still 2km from the summit. Going over the summit gasping for air with a climbing time of 15:33 (424w NP) the lead group was still visible on the road, but exactly a minute ahead. The chase was on.
Ripping the descent (and collecting more virtual 🏆’s in the process) my mind was firmly on getting back in touch with the now select group. Picking up another rider on the flat before Tummel Bridge was a welcome relief and we worked well for the next couple of km’s, picking up a few more before finally making the rejoin along the narrower road surrounding Loch Tummel.
It felt like I’d only just made contact and was still re-gathering my breath, when up the next rise a massive acceleration tore down the length of the bunch – and I was out the arse chasing again. This time thankfully with a little more company, but the gap was open and the faster bunch weren’t to be seen again.
Approaching the next feedzone at the base of the climb out of Pitlochry (94km) the pace had been steady and our group slowly growing in size. Taking a sharp left onto the steepest ramp of the day, I can only imagine it’s the closest I’ll ever come to racing an infamous Belgian Berg – lined with fans, supporters and families holding out bidons and cheering their lungs out. It was brilliant!
With everyone now aware we were racing for the minor placings, the rest of the climb was thankfully tackled at a more sedate pace than the one that had me gasping earlier (6.4km @ 4.3w/kg). Once over the final summit, it wasn’t so much a descent on the cards, as much it was a prolonged 60km fast downhill tailwind run to the finish.
My mind now switched from surviving the climbs, to how I could beat the now rather large second bunch on the road. With the legs feeling good (tailwinds are known to have that effect…) and plenty of fuel left in my last bottle, it was just a matter of biding my time before making a move.
That move came just following the last feedzone in Blairgowrie, after noticing some riders complaining about being unable to hold wheels or close the small gaps occasionally opening. It took a few tries from myself and a Dutch rider also playing aggressively at the front, but finally with about 15km to go when a German jumped across to us, we were away and the gap slowly opened.
Knowing I wanted to beat these blokes in a sprint, but not knowing what they had left in the tank – I made sure to soften them as much as possible, riding the last few km’s and gentle ramps as hard as I possibly dared. Coming into the final kilometre and tight right driveway turn I’d made sure to position myself on the back, so rather than lead it out I was going to be reactive for a change. The Dutch rider was the first to jump, with the German and I both safely surfing his wheel, but when the German tried to kick over him about 200m out I knew it was time to light what little afterburners were left (50s @ 531w avg, 1027w peak).
The result: 40th. 4:04:58. 5:47 behind the winning break of seven (who successfully attacked causing the acceleration while I was struggling to regather myself around Loch Tummel) and 2:15 behind the next group on the road containing the remainder of the top 10 and early break of three. All things considered, not a bad result with the legs feeling fantastic all day but the top-end HR and power just not quite there when pressed. Still – an elated feeling and a performance I would’ve been proud to share with Granddad…
The Review
Without getting too much into a shoulda coulda woulda, looking back there are things I would have done differently and lessons have been learnt. Starting with the period before flying out, I should’ve put myself into isolation instead of attending a family birthday lunch with two cute, but crook wee nieces. I know this had an impact on my performance on the day. The second and third lessons are more tactical ones. In hindsight, it would’ve been a better move to trust the body and go in the early break – meaning a higher but more consistent intensity, and the opportunity to climb slower while staying at the front of the race. I also should’ve done less work on the exposed 15km section before the first feed, putting some watts back in the bank and saving a touch more to stay with Frenchie when he drove the pace uphill. Nevertheless, I loved and learned a lot from the experience, coming away with a newfound appreciation for the challenge of the Gran Fondo World Championships. Next year it’s in Denmark – even flatter and faster, with hopefully even more wind 😉.
Some key race moments from 2nd place’s perspective
Holiday Snaps
Kai pai! 👏🏼 👏🏼
Doing the mahi 💪 getting the treats 🏅
Nice meeting you in Glasgow Tom. Great story and a fantastic result. Well done!
Cheers Blake, great meeting you too!