Max Cushway journal #01: “It’s ‘amateur’ Jim, but not as we know it….”

Our 2024 journal contributor Max Cushway rides for the Morbihan Adris Gwendal Oliveux team, a top-tier elite team (N1) in France, and is supported by the Rayner Foundation. In his first journal entry of 2024, Max describes an intense start to the season, from training camps in Calpe to racing in the Basque Country and Brittany. Despite the “amateur” label, the competition is fiercely demanding…

Under-23 racing in France nowadays sees the top N1 teams all heading to a warmer climate for training camps over the winter. Flick through Instagram and there’s the same shots of riders out in Calpe. Look on Strava and you’ll see the same big routes. Even on the test days we saw teams – some of them Conti – doing the same test climbs. This isn’t professional cycling, it’s amateur, but it’s a whole different ball game nowadays.

After unveiling the new team colours at the end of January – we were now the “boys in blue” – it was time for my team, Morbihan Adris Gwendal Oliveux, to hit Calpe. This is “amateur” level still, yet we’re being flown directly to the training camp while several of the staff drive vans transporting our bikes, kit and everything we needed. In Flora Perkin’s journal she spoke about the importance of these training camps for getting to know the team – staff and riders – as well as doing some good testing and work on specific areas – lead-outs, climbing, descents…

I saw with amusement that I’d taken a KOM segment from no other than Matej Mohoric. And fair play to him, when I tagged him into my Instagram post, he was kind enough to acknowledge it

As a first year junior, I was told by my team that I needed to practice descending. To be fair, this was after I crashed on day one at the first training camp and ended up being patched up at a Spanish hospital. Fast forward to January 2024 and after one particular ride in Calpe, I saw with amusement that I’d taken a KOM segment from no other than Matej Mohoric. And fair play to him, when I tagged him into my Instagram post, he was kind enough to acknowledge it. At ten years my senior, I appreciated the gesture from this professional cycling legend to a 19 year old amateur.

Pleasing my coach with my numbers, I equally upset him by not finding the time to cut his hair – “the Barber of Brittany” label from the Rayner foundation has stuck – but I wasn’t here to mix business with pleasure so my coach went off to the local Barbers….. And I was going straight to the Basque Country for the opening season races starting with the ‘Tour de Basse-Navarre’. Whilst these were three hard races to kick-start the season, my mate Pierre Thierry, now in Arkéa Conti, had told me that these would get me into good shape for the season. And he was right. By the third and last day, my legs were beginning to respond to the climbs and and I was far more active and feeling quite good.

Home to Brittany with just enough time for me to wash kit, re-pack and take the dog for a quick walk, and I was off to the Vendée for the final stage of the Circuit des Plages, which felt incredibly flat after the Basque Country and whilst I finished in the peloton, it was not without riding aggressively and getting in the last break of the day. Sadly we got caught in the final 2k but it was an outstanding result for the team with the 1-2 podium and the British 23-year-old Henry Lawton getting the second place in the sprint. Like me, he’s bilingual so if it’s just the two of us, we chat in English but the rest of the time, it’s French. This race was streamed live on YouTube and Direct Vélo so it was possible to see what I was trying to do. A result sheet saying 71st does not typically portray a clear picture of what actually happened in the race.

When there’s zero coverage or live feed, you never truly know what happened unless you were there.

But what happens when there’s no live televising and no DirectVélo link ? This was the case at my next race, which was the first Brittany Classic, ‘La Melrandais’ and I didn’t even appear on the result sheet. Attacking throughout, when we got to the finishing circuit I made a last attempt and got into a small break which kept away for a lap. This time we were caught on the final lap with a very hungry peloton chasing behind us and another team-mate sprinted for second, so all was not lost. Yet with no mention in the results, my Dad assumed I’d had a mechanical, whilst my Mum, who’d driven out to watch, saw a different story. This is the side of the racing which does feel amateur because whilst you can’t deny who wins a race, when there’s zero coverage or live feed, you never truly know what happened unless you were there.

The second Brittany classic, ‘The Route Bretonne’, was the next day, on my home roads, and therefore an obvious race to want to win. But so did 100 other elite riders. The Breton weather did not disappoint – it rained for 156.5 kms. With a live feed on Direct Vélo, and the second half of the course on YouTube, it was a race watched by many. It was always going to be a race of constant attacking from the start and I was one of those riders, along with 8 of the ‘boys in blue’, dominating the roads. With an escape group that eventually saw my teammate win from, we ended up with the full podium, a 1-2-3, and yes, my manager had a beer or two that night.

I’m racing with the best riders in France in the toughest French races. Don’t linger too much on the word ‘amateur’…. this is the sharp end of competitive cycling on the continent

It was a gruelling race, only half the riders finishing, but you can’t beat riding on home roads with home crowds lining the streets. I sprinted for 12th and have to be happy with this but being honest, I’d wanted more. However, it was an incredible show of strength for the team. At the end of 2023, two of our riders passed up to Arkéa, the Brittany Conti team, and I don’t think anyone could have imagined that our team could be even stronger this year but the talk on the town is that that’s exactly what’s happened. I’m racing with the best riders in France in the toughest French races. Don’t linger too much on the word ‘amateur’…. this is the sharp end of competitive cycling on the continent.

Perhaps the most famous Brittany classic is the Manche-Atlantique and that was the next weekend. The second half features the mythical Côte de Cadoudal no less than six times. On social media we knew that there would be hundreds of people lining the climb and it was no disappointment. Several early breaks went and were caught but I got into a five-man group before Cadoudal so for the first climb it was us five ahead. When I knew the gap was coming down and got below 30 seconds, I just went off alone, attacking on the hardest part of the climb.

For two rounds of the Cadoudal it was just me out the front and it was mental. There were giant nine-foot dinosaurs at one corner, blue smoke being let off, and packed crowds

For two rounds of the Cadoudal it was just me out the front and it was mental. There were giant nine-foot dinosaurs at one corner, blue smoke being let off, and packed crowds. I was aware of my name being shouted, of several people trying to run alongside me for a few meters; it was nothing short of madness. I would not be a rider who clung to the wheels in the peloton to try and get a top 20. This level of ‘amateur’ racing deserves respect with riders who gave it their all and that’s what I was doing.

Every photo and video of me riding solo had the same grimacing face, the pained expression and in the following week I got sent many photos of me alone on Cadoudal, with the menacing peloton hunting me down. I didn’t finish – it didn’t matter. A teammate got the win and the team were happy with us all. It was then that my manager said to me that in the previous couple of races, I’d got into “compliqué” attacks (he meant that they were doomed), but in the Manche-Atlantique, I’d instinctively gone with four others, leaving them to go solo and whilst it didn’t result in a win for me, it helped my teammates and the team claimed a fifth victory of the season. I was learning quickly, my manager told me, and my time would come…..