Kelly’s Heroes!

I haven’t become a film critic this week and will not be reviewing the Brian G. Hutton film starring the likes of Clint Eastwood and Telly Savalas.  I am referring to those absolutely mad, mad, men and women who took part in the 10^th Sean Kelly Tour of Waterford, which took place last Saturday and Sunday.

You always know that the Sean Kelly is upon us, as the weather inevitably turns nasty for Sunday’s main events. It is almost as though the man upstairs does not think the 160km Kelly Comeragh Challenge is hard enough. So, he throws some curve balls at you. This year we got incessant rain, fog, sea haar and a cruel headwind, strategically directed straight into your face on the homeward leg.

However, the day did start with the promise of better cycling weather.

My wee Mini was parked in a side street in Abbeyside, at around 06:15, just before sunrise. The omens were good. The morning was overcast, but bright enough, as I unpacked the car. Putting on let’s say, summer cycling gear – bib shorts, sleeveless shirt and a very light windproof, NOT waterproof, gilet.

I knew we were in for a decent weather day, as the Sean Kelly Facebook posts said so. “Looks like we might just escape the deluge” and “Sunrise Dungarvan Bay, it's gonna be a great day”. There was even a link to a weather website promising soooo much; “Forecast looking better now for tomorrow... here's hoping”!

Hmmm – a Michael Fish weather forecaster for 2017 I’d say!

As we mustered to set off for our Biscuit Club start time of 07:15, the weather closed in. Right on cue it started to rain. That nasty, thick, misty drizzle that just penetrates everything. Little did we know, that we would have its company for the next 160km! It would not have mattered if we had dressed in rubber, I am sure we would still have been soaked, by the time we returned to Fungarvan.

So, six courageous Biscuits set off. A pair who left at 07:00 and then, a group of four. By the time we had passed the viaduct on the coast road, we had, jokingly, contemplated turning back and taking on the lesser 100km challenge. Surely the rain Gods would relent at some stage and turn the taps off! If only we could have heard them taunting at us, they were about to open up both taps.

We soldiered on through Bunmahon and onto Kill, then up and down into Balllaneen. There we ALL encountered our first of many “Squeaky bum moments” on the greasy, treacherous back roads, resembling ice rinks, in some places. Kilmacthomas, Carolls Cross and up that nasty wee climb, between the reservoirs, which is part of the Comeragh CC Tuesday night circuit. (Oh the memories of pained, sore legs, as I raced this course for the first time in 2017, as a 50 plus grumpy MAMIL). Down Church Hill and into Portlaw, with yet more buttock clenching needed to round a few of these corners.

Scrouty was the first biggish climb, then some back roads to a welcoming warm cup of tea and a bun, in Rathgormack. There we were told that “It’s sunny at the top of The Powers the Pot!” “Yeh right and I am Sean Connery,” I said.

Tickincor and Powers the Pot were soon upon us, at around the 95km mark. A 15km loop of vertical tarmac that took us all closer to God. Some quite literally much closer to God!

The descent down the treacherous Mountain Road into Clonmel was difficult and dangerous. Especially with wet, tired, cold hands, unable to grip slippery brake levers. At this, the 115km mark, those chasing their own personal best times knew to stop or chase the clock.

The weather was unrelenting. A headwind now tried to push us backwards, all the way from Ballymacarbry. The last hour of cycling was sheer, utter torture. With Fungarvan appearing out of the mist and now insight, spirits were lifted. A tough, tough day to be a MAMIL!

Of course, the real heroes were the organisers, administrators, stewards, volunteers and caterers – a BIG bualadh bos!

As for the weather forecaster.....