Heroic A3 Dave Smith is led by new best friend forever Eugene McGettigan as he battles gravity, age, crashes, being "shite", burning factories full of lazy workers, wrongly placed flags and the general savagery of Donegal (Photo: Jim Halferty)
By Dave Smith
Heroic A3, aged 49¾
I’m almost 50, I’m 82 kg, why would I go anywhere near the Rás Dhun an nGall?
Here’s why, in a simple way: You have a factory employing 100 staff. Only 40 ever do any work, the rest sit and watch.
One day the 40 put in a massive shift to clear a big order. Next day they’re exhausted and can’t do much.
To save the factory and their jobs, a few of the lazy 60 have to get off their arses, learn what to do, contribute and make a difference.
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Some of them get good at what they never normally do. They even enjoy it. Next day they’re keen and contribute meaning 60 workers are now active.
You pin your numbers on and you take your chances.
The pattern continues. The factory becomes more efficient – never with 100% contribution but maybe 95 when the shit really hits the fan.
And that’s why I go to Rás Dhun na nGall; to give usually inactive muscle fibres, metabolism, blood chemistry and so on a good root up the hole and to force adaptation and improved efficiency. After I get over the trauma.
Enough cute analogies. How was it?
It was fierce as you’d expect.
Stage 1 started like a rocket fueled rat up a drainpipe; 6km on the hammer, then into the first climb and the pace stayed mental.
Due to GPS error from a messed up journey, I had stomach cramps, and tailed off a bit to let the sammiches settle, then I rounded a rise and there were bodies everywhere.
Awful picking your way around lads lying moaning in the road. Speedy recovery to those worst affected.
The beauty of Donegal is much easier to appreciate when you're eating an ice cream rather than your handlebars.
I got in a wee chase group but failed to make it back on, so plodded to the finish, my GC hopes in tatters!
The TT route had been changed, so I drove the new course first thing in the morning, noting the flag on top of the hill.
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Mental note not to blow my doors off before the final 800m ramp.
Managed to get my start time right, unlike last year (!) and headed off up the road at an uncomfortable but manageable pace, only to find the flag at the bottom of the ramp.
Which of course was a wonderful thing for a big unit like myself to see, but also meant I had failed to pull back any of the 25 minutes or so on GC up the final 800m!
Ah well. I could just attack early on stage three.
Data shows I was at 1,069 watts on the flat when the first crash happened 4km in.
I slid on two locked out wheels and stopped, just missing two lads lying in the road.
I braced myself for the hit from behind that never came, picked my way round the carnage and saw the bunch get their heads down and hammer.
I chased, alone, in pairs, in a group. About ten of us worked together well, I did a pull up a drag out of Glenties and of course pulled too hard and they all cruised past me as I coughed up a lung.
To cut a 70km story short I did a two up touring TT with my new best friend Eugene from Errigal. Top man.
Legs were a bit sore that evening. Music festival was on in Ardara. I could hear two pubs through the bedroom window.
Fortification comes in many forms when you've had enough of suffering.
I assume it was two pubs as it would be unusual for one pub to have a country and western band play the same time as a Trad session.
Ear plugs resulted in ringing in my ears. Hello 3am. It’s hard to beat Donegal, but it’s not hard for Donegal to beat you.
And it did. Precisely 3½ minutes into stage four and I was banjaxed.
I’ve never gone out the back so quickly. My factory had been burned down.
I wanted stop every team car and explain: “I know this looks like I’m shite, but I’ll be 50 soon you know, and I’m 83kg, and I’ve never been a pro, and….”.
But if they read this they’ll know I was just training another 20 or 30 factory workers. These legs have some big orders coming in.
So I rolled back down the hill, pulled off the numbers and did a wee tour, shouting on the proper racers.
I was loving Donegal, as it should be enjoyed - at touring speed, in the sunshine, with a Magnum dripping chocolate onto my shoe.
Another quality weekend pretending to be a racer.
It’s a race beautiful in its savagery. Give it a go next year. It bites, but by God it feels good.
- Dave Smith has been involved in coaching cyclists in all disciplines for more than 25 years. A former GB national and Olympic road coach, Dave has trained Tour stage winners and Olympic medalists, world champions and numerous national champions. In addition he has applied his quirky and counter intuitive thinking to help dozens of regular cyclists, polo players and F1 drivers. He rides about 250 miles a week on and off-road in all weathers.
- Website, VelocityandVitality.com
- Twitter, @ffflow
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