It is true. I have been sneaking in some extra nocturnal activity in recent weeks. I’ve been serenaded by a captivating vixen with sweeping curves, ample proportions and a warm welcome. Her name is DISC.
What DISC stands for is irrelevant needless to say, it is what DISC comes to mean for those who ride her that is fundamental to the DISC experience.
Like most modern indoor velodromes, DISC seems cavernous, the track impossibly steep and long. Watching the cyclists circulate seemingly effortlessly around the track becomes hypnotic. "Why don’t they fall off the banks ?" your minds screams. Going into a bend 6 deep, they look like they’re stacked on top of each other.
But most of all, it is the sound. The sound of rigid frames and wheels, tyres pumped to impossible pressures, thick track chains fixed between the front chain ring and back cog without any gears or freewheel. These whirling masses of humanity and machinery rumble around the wooden boards of the velodrome amplified by the size of the group that forms. You hear and feel them as they ride around.
Watch long enough and the rhythm of the track begins to make it’s presence felt. There is an ebb and flow to the sweeps, bends and straights. The good riders know them intimately and harness the rhythm for maximum efficiency. Poetry in motion.
Having taken the girls out to DISC as part of the CC junior program, I had watched and listened with increasing fascination. My chance came when Leon organised a Bandido come try track day. Simply awesome! Lots of advice given but only three things stuck. DON’T slow down in the bends and DON’T stop pedalling. The third thing was "have fun". I didn’t need to be reminded of the third. It came naturally.
Having had that experience, I looked forward to a chance to ride the boards again. Recently, I discovered that Leon and Bob had been riding regularly at DISC on Thursday nights and I went over to have a look. I’m a terrible spectator and had to take a bike. A rumble around whilst the real trackies (these are different from the Morwell trackies apparently) warmed up was bliss. What a phenomenal resource a world class wooden velodrome is.
Jack coaches Leon on the finer points in wearing a beanie in order to cope with less hair than your father.
I retired from the track and joined Leon’s father, Jack Sims or as I prefer to think of him, "Lord Jack", in the stands. Jack comes to watch most Thursdays. From the stands, he keeps a regal eye on riders, many of whom, he has known since they were kids. He is quiet and observant. If he has a piece of advice based on his observations, you’d be a fool to disregard it as it comes from a place of wisdom and experience. He still rides 5 days a week on the Northcote track with a few of his mates who like Jack, aren’t that far past their 21st birthdays. Without much provocation, Jack will raise his beanie and show you a lush mop of hair that he loves to taunt Leon with. He has a wicked, dry sense of humour. Along with advice, Jack also dispenses a pretty mean sandwich which he brings for Leon most weeks. There isn’t a person at the track he doesn’t know and if a new face appears, he makes it his business to know who they are. He’s not the only one though as it is almost impossible to sit incognito as most people will take a moment to introduce themselves and say g'day.
"Don’t forget to warm up" says Bob walking the talk
I’ll write more about some of the other riders another day but for now, the only people relevant here are Leon and Bob who knew that I wouldn’t be able to sit watching for too long. There was no overt pressure but merely quiet and considered comments and observations about what was occurring, who was who and did I bring my license. Seriously, no pressure!
One more night of rolling around during the warm up and watching was all I was to be afforded. It was time to bite the bullet and bring my license. Strategy simple. Hang out the back, roll around and get a feel for it and learn. My coaches were giving me plenty of sage advice about the subtlety and nuance of racing and preparation. Bob urging me to stay warm and jump on the rollers with my bike. "Bob, I fell off in my loungeroom the last time I tried rollers. I’m not falling off in front of this mob!". Their coaching was brilliant. I learned about strategy and technique. I probably should have asked them the fundamentals though. When I lined up for my first race and the commissaire explained that it was a scratch race and did anyone have any questions, I chipped in "what’s a scratch race?". It was a very clever tactic on my part as my fellow competitors now downgraded me from being a competitive threat to a physical one! One point to the Crankster!
My first race went something like this.
I stuck to my strategy and rolled right off the bike and fought to get back on.
All good.
It was just like a paceline on beach road.
I can do this.
Whoa horsie!!! They’re slowing, no they’re going, s%#t they’re slowing again. This horse doesn’t have brakes.
OK, getting the hang of the surging.
Stop staring at the wheel in front, Luke, feel the force....... concentrate.
Moving to the front and swinging off..............er up. Strewth it’s high up here and they look little down there.
Don’t stop pedalling.
A couple of laps to go, moving to the front. Ooops, forgot about ‘hanging out the back strategy’. Too late, I’m here now. Keep going.
Is that one lap to go or two? Better go just in case. They’re chasing so must be last lap. Nope, they were just covering me thinking I knew something they didn’t.
Second point to the Crankster.
Last bend, ease up a bit to watch how the finish unfolds. Very different out here than watching it from the stands.
Cross the line without falling over and forgetting to pedal.
Hi five the coaches who look pleased and relieved that they weren’t inadvertently responsible for any carnage.
Having learned from my previous race, I decided to ask Bob what happens in the next race so that I wouldn’t look like a right Bourke in front of everyone again. It was a points race and Bob suggested that I roll around and watch how it plays out. If I wanted to have a crack at one of the sprints, grab the first one as everyone is still cold and a bit lethargic. I listened intently and forgot to everything he said. The first sprint went past me without me batting an eye or so they thought. Having totally discounted me as a serious contender based on previous faux pas, I snuck around and pinched a second. Hide again, recover and hit them again on the second last sprint. Nabbed it. No one more surprised than me.
Sweeeeeet.
The ‘derny’ 
Bob Beattie behind the derny with Leon Sims on his wheelThe last race terrified me. It was the motor pace.
In short, a small motorbike that makes a postie bike look like an overweight Harley, spins around the track. Everyone lines up behind it and does a lap before pulling off and going to the back. The pace gets faster and faster each lap. Bob’s advice was to start in the middle and don’t get caught at the bike with three laps to go. If you do, don’t go to the back. As the laps counted down, it looked increasingly like this was to be the eventuality. Thankfully, all of those sneaky little Sims attacks on our beach road rides prepared me for a bit of ‘argey bargey’.
"Think fat and wide" was my mantra as I hung on to some space. Leon and Bob’s voices were in my head (seriously scary) sounding like Obi Wan Kenobi "chase wheels young skywalker", they urged. I did until there were no more wheels to chase. Crap, now what do I do.
"GO and don’t look back" I thought.
So I did.
Leon asked me what the highlight was of my first night at track. The highlights were many and varied. Sharing a lovely glass of pinot with Bob and Leon afterwards certainly is up there.
However it was the wry smile and thumbs up I got from "Lord Jack" as I rolled past the finish that is etched in my memory of my first track race.
Thanks Leon, Bob and "Lord Jack".
Coach Bob and Leon
Lord Jack, the coach's coach,
2 comments:
That fellow in the Belgium jersey is rather handsome - isn't he???
Handsome!! Strewth, that bloke has got it in spades. So much so, that with that pose, he's the new pin up boy for next year's mardi gras!
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