A report by Phil O'Flaherty. 

Life begins... 

I was 40 on Sunday. The sun shone and the Dubs won. All was right with the world. But when I tell my grandchildren about my collapse into middle age, this is what they'll have to put up with...

I cycled out from town with a friend from Dublin Wheelers. As we pointed our front wheels towards Ballyboughil (it's even harder to spell than it is to park in), I asked him what the story was with non-handicapped races which were new to me. His advice was highly technical -   stay near the front and give it a lash when the time is right.

We arrived in Ballyboughil and it rained. A lot. I had stuffed my base layer in the Wheeler's bag which had been spirited away to a marshalling point somewhere near Dundalk. I stood in my short sleeve jersey under a tree. The tree wasn't working.

We set off after a while and there might have been enough of us for a game of five-a-side. There might even have been a few subs. 

The pace was slow enough. The first time up the Nag's Head, nothing much happened but I felt fine and some others seemed to be under a little more pressure. Phil Prendeville punctured near the flyover and I thought "poor Phil" but I also thought "I wont have to look at his arse receding into the distance up the climb".

Peter Doyle rode away from us up the hill the second time. I just stuck to the wheel in front of me and hoped he wouldn't stay away. He was reeled in near the flyover and things got a bit cagey. 

Peter asked (jokingly) whether we were all waiting for the sprint. I said I was waiting to watch the sprint. He said to me that my best chance was to have a go up the climb and to make it count. That made up my mind for me.

On the last go up the hill, I knew I couldn't attack too early or I would blow up. I left it until near the top. The pace wasn't that high and I gave it my best. It wasn't that impressive but I think I was helped by the fact that I was definitely not a marked man. Dermot (not sure of the second name) came with me but he crashed on the turn at the top - I think he's alright but his elbow looked a bit iffy at the finish.

I'm not sure how far it is from the top to the finish - someone said 10k but I think it's a good bit less than that. I got into the drops and rode as hard as I could. I didn't look back but I was expecting company at any time. I stole a glance over my shoulder just before the finish straight and didn't see anyone. Halfway up the straight, I had another look for the purposes of determining whether I could strike a pose for the camera. I was met by a view of marauding pursuers so I abandoned the Zoolander plan and pedalled like bejaysus. I had a few metres to spare.

It may not have been a vintage club championships and everything went my way. However, I promise as club champion to campaign for world peace and for freedom for Tibet.  

Many thanks to Joe, the marshalls and all those who helped out. I would also like to particularly thank the lads from the saturday morning spin from whom I have learned a lot since I started heading out last October.  This is my first year racing and I have been murdering myself with some excellent lads in Group 4. I could have taken it easier in an earlier group but I wanted to push myself and learn what I could.  Thanks for the help guys.