I'm not the most outgoing person, and I have struggled to find friends during my years of elementary. Because of this my dad threw me into a great diversity of social experiments (Well, I don't think they are really called that, but it sure felt like it), to make me gain "important, social competences" as I think he phrased it.
Okay, okay. Social experiments was harsh. It was more of "hobbies" that I didn't really have, or cared to get. Boy scout, swimming, football, handball, ice hockey and the list goes on...
Fortunately he purchased an old racer for me when I turned 12, and just like that a passion was born. At first it was just me, my bike and the road. A lot of road. A lot of hours and a lot of pain. No, not like in "No pain, no gain". I was horrible at handling my bike and crashed more often than not. I was known as "The Strawberry Crust", because of my roadrash and ever-healing wounds.
When I turned 14 I was allowed into a cycling club, but having 30km to the usual gathering point for the twice-a-week roll-around, gave me a bit of a challenge. It took me quite a while until I got used to rolling 30km, then having a 35-50km training route and then 30km back, but in the end I think it made the difference. I never was a huge talent, I still struggle to find me way around a group of riders, I don't really go uphill that well, nor sprint fast or anything else. But the added kilometers gave me a bit of a physical advantage, despite me not being that big.
At the age of 18 I decided to go full throttle in the chase to make cycling a living. I still don't have any friends by the way...
Edited by SotD on 30-11-2017 09:42
If you can do it as good as with your MG HQ, this will a great story
Thanks a lot. I hope it will be a good one - I don't have that much experience with these story setups, so it will probably change a bit up here and there.
I had my name on a website for a year or so. It is supposed to make teams aware of the upcoming cyclists on the market. A lot of information about Watts and stuff, whereabouts, what roads the riders travelled and how fast. I wasn't contacted for a year.
But then, suddenly. A small team - In Great Britain, called. They would like to see me and invited me over for a 4 day "Trial", I think it was called. I had to pay all expenses myself, bar the accomodation. I accepted, without second thoughts. I always wondered why the scandinavian teams hadn't atleast just sent me an email, but the talent pool is big, and I'm certainly not one for the cover of the magazines.
They ended up offering me a spot at the team. 2.500€ pr. month, and then helping me with equipment. It's a start...
I have arrived at a team with relatively young riders. The team is called ONE Pro Cycling. Never heard about it. Most riders are in the region of 23-27 years of age, but that said I am still clearly the youngest rider in the team. The only rider at my age is Tom. Tom Baylis. He is one year older than me, but we share a lot of interest (he says), so I hope he will help me establish myself at the team. Tom is a classical British rider who originates from the track.
It’s January 22, 2017. My legs are itchy, my head is heavy and my mind uncontrollable. Today is the first time ever I get to ride as a semi-professional rider. I have had some training races here and there, and some motion-races back in Sweden, but this?! This is new!
The race is not big, and I doubt anyone ever heard about it. I certainly haven’t. It is called “New Zealand Cycle Classic” and is a 2.2 race. That is a low level. But for me, it’s huge. And despite me not having any sort of external pressure I feel a pressure I haven’t felt ever before. It’s my own fault. It’s me, and only me. Even my dad doesn’t call me to say good luck. I don’t even think he knows it is today.
We arrived a couple of days ago, as we had to make sure our bikes made it here. Fortunately, everything went well, and we came to the hospital well and early just in time for dinner. Tom and I shared a room – or a closet as he described it. We didn’t talk much, but atleast we heard a little bit of music, together. Tom liked music. I nodded along to the music. “It’s good, right?”, Tom asked. “It’s really underground. It’s going to be huge, I think”. I told him, that he did great to find such a nice band, before they got big. I lied. I hated it. I don’t like music much really. I like the quiet.
Oh, and the stage. 120 riders started the race. A short prologue. Some people would surely hold back and save their breath. Not me! I would not be last. I was. Not as in “somewhere in the rear”. Last. Dead last.
It’s OK, though... It isn’t. I feel like a complete failure.
I felt sick when I got up before the second stage was about to start, and it didn’t go any better once we started racing. I don’t remember ever feeling this weak. My body didn’t register the surroundings and I struggled like a horse trying to thread a needle.
I was told to relax, and save some energy for the later part of the stage. Our sprinter, Steele von Hoff (I heard of him before actually signing the contract by the way) wanted to win the stage. I felt like he didn’t like me, and most of the others didn’t either.
The stage had some small lumps, and I was extremely lucky to survive them. I positioned myself at the very front of the pack, before starting them, and ended out as one of the last riders surviving them – This despite the lumps being 1-2km long. It was really bad. The lumps were almost over, as Steele told me to help bringing back the escapees. There was a little less than 45km to go, and it was all flat from here.
Once I hit the front it all went from bad to good. Yeah you wanted me to say “from bad to worse”. Shame on you! It was good. All tensions and nerves was away. I was back on my racer. I was 16, and the road was all mine. I went into the mill and started rotating with a few others, but my pace got higher and higher. In the end it was just me against the breakaway and I had no intention of letting them go.
I reeled in the break with 15km to go, and decided to put the hammer down in order to avoid any unnecessary soldiers of fortune. We were going faster, and faster, and faster. In the rear they dropped like flies. The pack was reduced to 50 riders in a heartbeat, and Steele was in a great position. I blacked out…
I don’t recall exactly when I lost contact, but I looked at the sign saying 3km to go. I was almost going backwards, and the riders who lost contact slowly passed me. I got myself back, and followed a local rider to the finish line. Before crossing the line he gave me a pad on the shoulder “Congrats mate. This win was yours in the making! You shredded things”. Steele had won. I had no clue.
A smiling Steele von Hoff approached me. “Next time, you don’t have to burry yourself like that. Things were under control. Thanks, though. I’ll buy you a beer when we get back to the hotel”. I slept like a child that night.
Needless to say, the remaining 3 stages of the race were horrible. I was lucky to survive the race. I think I fetched a bottle at one time during stage 4. I’m not sure though. In my head there was just one little clip played on loop “You shredded things”. That was the coolest thing ever. Oh. And I won 6€ from the race. My first ever winnings. I bought an ice for that. It tasted like… Succes?
I was in my first break of the day, today. In a race called Porec – Tar, in Slovenia. The race itself is considered flat, but it is quite lumpy and eventually ends in an uphill sprint. Not really ideal for me. But then again, what is? I’m really struggling to see where I should excel in this sport, except for the fact that I’m a reasonably strong rider. I guess that is a good start, but I guess I didn’t see myself as being a domestique for 15 years.
We were 4 riders in the break of the day. One was from Colombia, one was from India and the final one was from Italy. So there wasn’t much chit-chat. Just my kind of group! The Italian seemed the strongest, but it was hard to tell as they all rolled around.
We had around 5 minutes to the peloton with 100km to go, and then further back a group of 25 riders already lost contact. With 85km to go the peloton decided it was time to start reeling us back. I felt like that was quite early in the proces, so I put the foot down a little bit. The Italian was the only one willing to join my tempo, while the others just tried to keep up. Once we reached the small lumps the Colombian dude joined in on the work, though, while the Indian guy didn’t really do anything for a while.The gap of 4 minutes stayed for a while, and with 65km to go the peloton slowly started to chase us down again. As I waved my hand around for a while the others started to help. Up the small hills, the Italian started to feel the pain and with 50km to go – or so, he began “Il elastico” on us.
40km to go, and 3 minutes. All 4 riders in front still intact, but feeling the pace at this time. I looked over, at the Italian, who shook his head. He was fried, but so was I. I already knew it. I had no chance to win this one, even if the peloton decided to let go. Obviously they didn’t. It was a game of cat and mouse, and with 25km to go the gap was now just around 2 minutes. They could reel us in at any moment, but unlike myself in New Zealand, these guys knew what they were up to.
We were within the final 20km, when I had to deny helping. It didn’t feel good, but I didn’t have anything to share. I knew that if I was to put in anymore effort I would have to go 15km alone, behind the pack, just emptying myself to get to the line. So instead I became a leech – And I didn’t like it, one bit. With 10km to go I grabbed my last powerbar, and decided to put down the throttle to help the others have a shot at the win. It was probably too late. The pack was a mere 40 seconds away.A few seconds later it was all over. 6km to the line. We could see the gate for the final 5km, but it was over. I found a little bit of extra effort and tried to stay among the leading riders – just to see what I could get. It went surprisingly well, and I managed to get into the bunch sprint for some reason. I didn’t have a chance to win, but I ended up getting 13th. A huge result considering the circumstances.
I checked the results when I got back. The Italian rider did the best (after me). He finished 50th. Oh yeah!
I still felt very new to the team, and I think a lot of my team members felt it aswell. Not that I was new, but that I felt uneasy in the group. I usually trained for myself or with Tom, and whenever I rode races, I tended to stay for myself after briefing to "geek out" the routes myself.
I am a bit nerdy when it comes to such things, but mostly I just don't feel like being center of attention. Not that I usually am. I have always been known as a bit of an outsider. "The Awkward Kid", I remember hearing a few times in school breaks.
Steele had invited a couple of guys over to his place to watch a game of football. It might have been a qualifier for England... Anyway - Tom was invited, and he asked me to come. I didn't really feel like it. Steele hadn't invited me, and it felt a bit weird tagging along a team member without an invite.
I reluctantly agreed, but didn't quite get the welcome I had hoped for. "Ohh, you brought Magnus?" Steele said when he opened the door. "Ehm, come on in. We are eating in a few minutes". We entered, and waved at the table where 4 other guys from the team already sat, laughing about something.
During dinner, Steele asked me what I liked. Bluntly I answered "Well, pancakes are pretty good, but lasagna is probably my favorite". There was quite for a while, when suddently Mark started giggling in the corner, before coming to a sudden hault again. Steele was refering to the choices of drinks he was getting from the fridge. Coke or Diet Coke...
I felt sick after the last race. I think I got the flue. But I can’t really use it as an excuse. I’m riding in Taiwan now and the weather is killing me. It’s so hot and the humidity is unbearable. Nothing like Sweden!
I talked to my dad yesterday. He was as understanding as ever. “Why don’t you just go out there. Put some effort into the saddle. It has always worked”. It wasn’t a lie. But neither was it what I wanted to hear when I felt under the weather.
Well. He was the reason why I was in the breakaway on stage 2. I was clearly ill, and struggled to find any sort of tempo. Not hitting the break in the first try didn’t really help either, but now I was there. In a group of 6. There was two Cat. 3. Climbs on the menu and I decided that they should be mine. I was probably the worst climber in the group, but that definitely shouldn’t keep me from trying.
Up the first climb it was evident that if my “business” should work I should have the final KOM as my goal of the day, despite being almost 60km from the finish line. The first climb was a relatively consistent ride. 7km with an average percentage of 6%. Not easy, but luckily easy to read. I had two options. Either rely on my sprint at the line or try to control things in the last kilometer to keep the others from overwhelming me. I felt that my kick wasn’t going to do the trick, so I put on the hammer with 1,5km to the top.
I managed to pick up the first points, but where out of breath. I tried to “leech” my way to the next line, but immediately as we were going up again I had to give up. Instead I was picked up by the bunch. I decided to sit with Steele and try to aid his way to the line (it was a flat finish). He finished 2nd, and I managed to stay with the peloton.
The calender almost said May, but it was still cold outside. I had asked my sportif directeur to try out the last cobbled race of the season. I never rode them before. It wasn't really because I had any expectations that I would be able to do well, but seeing as I still felt very uncertain in my role and possible career plans, I asked for this opportunity.
"Sure, it's not like the others are interested in going. Most of them are just using the cobbled races to get a bit of extra physique into their palette of qualities. I am sure you can finde 4-5 riders that will happily let you take their spot!".
And so it came to me starting in the 206km long race with a total of 16 sections of pavées. I was told that I could do whatever I liked, so I decided to just sit in the peloton and get a feeling of it. There was 84 riders in the pack.
One by one, they started to attack, and the peloton didn't really look interested. 11 riders were going now, so I decided to jump aswell. I got away, and we had a 12 man group against a peloton of just 72 riders.
I felt OK. Not good, but OK, and the pavées didn't make me crack like I had imagined. On the 4th out of 16 sections one of the riders dropped, and the next pavée saw another drop. With around 100km to go we had a gap of almost 5 minutes. But then a major crash in the pack happened at sector 7, which gave a bit of leeway for the (now just 8) riders in front.
At the 10th sector 3 riders put down the hammer, and I went on their tails. There was a gap behind me, but also I was struggling. There was a short 5km flat part before the 11th sector. I took a deep breath and went deep, and decided to help putting pressure on the others - atleast so they wouldn't see that I was almost cracking aswell. The remaining riders dropped and the 4 of us got a significant gap with 40km to go. There was 3 minutes to the peloton.
The last pavée was 20km from the finish line, but there was a few bumps on the road afterwards. I survived the pavée, but with 15km to the line my tank was empty. There was still 3 minutes to the pack, so I decided to sit up and let the others do the work. They were reluctant to do so, which gave me a very sought-after breather.
There was just 25 riders in the chasing peloton and I was sure that the stage would be between the 4 of us, so I wanted to save as much energy as possible and started to interfere on the work, by taking my turns, but taking down the pace or dropping back for a bottle of water. It clearly broke the dynamics and the others seems annoyed with me.
With 3km to the line I dropped back a bit, allowing the others to believe that I was cooked. I was. But not entirely. I took my gel, and with 1,5km to go I went by them on a small hill. I wouldn't call it an attack, but I decided to go full throttle in the hope that they couldn't follow the uphill pace. It didn't work, but 10 meters from the top, I sprinted and got a gap. They didn't catch me on the downhill and by that - My first ever win. And that a freaking cobbled one-day race. Wow!
Kristoffer Halvorsen won the sprint for 5th, and we spoke after the race, where he told me that this was a very nice win for a rider with no wins on the palmares. I had to agree. It was big for me. Very big!
Life of Magnus | Part 9 - Trying to go for the KOM
Today we were to start a race called “An Post Rás”. It is 8 stages and there was quite some names in the bunch I could recognize, such as Leigh Howard, Lars Petter Nordhaug, Rinaldo Nocentini, Stefan Denifl and Michel Kreder. I was told, that I could do whatever I wanted to on the first stage, which was 138km long, and had little challenges on the course.
I looked at the road map and decided to give it a go from the gun, as there was two categorized climbs, which could give a total of 16 points for the KOM jersey. I initiated the attack, and was feeling good already from the start. I was joined by another 4 riders. The first KOM sprint came after roughly 30km of riding, but it was hardly an upwards sprint, so I failed to make the most of it. I secured 3rd and hence still a chance to take the lead.
The stage was being controlled, but it didn’t seem like the peloton really though much of us, so once we reached the bottom of the final climb, I decided to give it a go. It was about 30km from the line, and the climb was a bit less than 5km. When there was 2km to the top, I managed to sneak away and I took my last gel of the day to get the energy to kick a whole before the descent. I got the 10 points, and the 1-2 from the first KOM sprint swapped positions giving the race a 3-man-leadership of the KOM competition with 12 points. Winning the highest categorized climb, though made the jersey mine – atleast for a while.
The downhill went well, and I managed to establish a gap of almost 3minutes with 20km to go. I tried to save my energy as good as possible. It wasn’t easy, but they had given me too much leeway, and I took my first stagewin in a GC race ever.
I know now, that I can win due to breakaways, and both on flat cobbled roads and on flat roads with a bit of climbs. I have to try a bit more, to see where I want to take it from here. Also, these next couple of days will be very exciting. Having the leaders jersey is really something new for me, and could tell where I stand and what areas I need to focus on.
Life of Magnus | Part 10 - Experience of being a leader
It was really something to sit there in the saddle before stage 2, with a leaders jersey on. It was not exactly a race that the media cared about, but for me, it meant that responsibility came with what was now on my chest.
The race itself was pretty easy, and as such not a problem to cope with. I was safely positioned in the 80 man peloton, as Leigh Howard sprinted to win on stage 2, 3 and 4. But it wasn’t really those stages I was worried about. Those were basically just me trying to survive without spending too much energy.
Stage 5 was not my cup of tea, though. It was relatively easy, a bit lumpy, but easy. But it ended in an uphill sprint. And a pretty stern one. Just 1-2km or so, but with percentages of ~8-9%. Really too steep for me. Leigh Howard was just 27 seconds off the lead, after winning everything on the previous stages, and he should like this finish. As should Lars Petter Nordhaug. A group of 4 riders managed to escape, and build a rather big gap. I think it was as big as 7 minutes at one point. With 100km to go it was stabilized at around 6 minutes, and I felt like my team mates could bring things back.
I asked a couple of the guys if they could get the breakaway a bit closer with 80km to go. Luckily it was some young and inexperienced riders I had with me, so I wasn’t too shy to ask. Still, it wasn’t a very good feeling.
Egor Silin won the stage. I picked the right wheel with 1km to go. If only I could have followed him. I couldn’t. I felt pretty fresh, but my legs just didn’t perform. I lost 1’30” and was degraded to 7th in the GC. Even my teammate Samuel, who had worked for me all day ended up infront of me in the GC. Oh well…
- I don't have that much experience with these story setups, so it will probably change a bit up here and there.
