GEORGE BENNETT

JUMBO VISMA

If my Year 12 English teacher knew I had signed up to write a column, she would be surprised that I sat down long enough to put 500 words together on a page once a month for a year. It seems easy to give an optimistic insight into the cycling world now, sitting here in the New Zealand summer surrounded by friends and whanau (family), but I’m curious what will come out after a week of racing from Paris to Nice in 3°C with rain and getting chopped up by Frenchies. The November edition may just be the ramblings of a madman.

The start of the year in the Southern Hemisphere has its own distinct flavour. It’s the same obstacles and challenges each year, but they’re pretty unique. For a start, they come after the off-season and some patchy training. The off-season is like one of those game shows where people are allowed 60 seconds to fill a shopping trolley with all the stuff they can for free; you cross the line in Il Lombardia and the timer starts. In my case, I had five weeks to fit it all in. After being on lockdown all year, it was bloody good to push the metaphorical boat out, but at some point you need to row back in. The first few weeks back on the mountain bike (in my case an e-MTB) are nice, but as December approaches you get a structured training plan with numbers to hit. For me, that’s when things go a little pear-shaped. The Family Christmas and the Boxing Day cricket test match with the boys are fierce distractions from the monk’s lifestyle I usually live heading into a race, but enjoying those moments are maybe more important in the long run.

I feel like arriving at the Nationals or Tour Down Under with good shape is like landing a plane with one wing. There’s not time to get truly going, so you come in hot trying to get the last panic sessions in. You have no idea if you’re creeping or tracking well. It turns out this year I was a bit of both…Without big expectations I was great on the Corkscrew climb and, with huge belief and confidence, absolutely rubbish on Willunga. If I’d been average all race, I wouldn’t have thought too much of it, but it hurt not being there on Willunga. What hurt most was letting down the team and seeing a chance go past. They talk about the curse of Willunga Hill, that if you win up there it won’t be a great season. I wonder what they say about being a pre-race favourite and finishing 16th? I can’t imagine it’s great.

I’m visiting the family before I head back to snowy Andorra. Coming home from a race a broken man to mum cooking dinner is a rare treat. My nieces and nephews may well be different humans altogether when I see them in a year’s time, so I’d better make the most of the weeks at home and use the sunshine to steady the ship and get stuck into the real preseason build-up.