Our 2024 journal contributor Max Cushway rides for the Morbihan Adris Gwendal Oliveux team, a top-tier elite team (N1) in France, and, until now, has been supported by the Rayner Foundation. In his second journal entry of 2024, Max reflects on race wins, yellow jerseys, and the small matter of a change of nationality…
I’m looking at a yellow jersey pinned on my wall. I actually won two of them two weekends ago but I gave one to my Mum and Dad. Flowers, hampers, trophies – all nice to get, but there’s nothing quite like your first elite maillot jeune. And this came the week after my first elite win. I’ll rewind a bit.
On 23rd March I lined up for the famous Brittany classic “GP Gilbert Bousquet”. Steeped in history, created in 1976 in memory of the sports journalist who died in a car accident. A race like this calls for Cyrille Guimard – ex pro, later sports director, and television commentator – to fire the starting gun and get the 148.7 kilometres underway.
I knew that my best chance of winning was to get away solo. So, I attacked up the finishing climb with two laps to go
The attacks went from the start, typical of French Elite racing. It made it into the group of five whose break stuck, and we were riding well together. I knew, however, that my best chance of winning was to get away solo. So, I attacked up the finishing climb with two laps to go. Then it was head down and a 12 kilometre TT to the end. I managed to get a nice bit of daylight between me and the chasing group, allowing enough time to point upwards – this first win I was dedicating to Christian Josso, the race announcer who was such a supporter of our team, and had sadly died the month before.
Image: Arts Ronan Photo
I’m aware that riders often talk about their team in this clichéd way but everyone is talking about the bond that the boys in Morbihan Adris GOA have created this year. We’ve taken 10 wins and it’s just April and those wins have been shared around the team. We’ve sacrificed ourselves at times for teammates. We don’t have race radios but we’ve learnt to read each other well. We have our plan but if someone feels bad during the race, we adapt.
Finding myself alone, I had a choice: hold back and see if anyone else joined me, or go alone
Twenty-four hours after the GP Gilbert Bousquet, we were all lining up for the Boucles Guegonnaises, another Brittany classic race with most of the top National 1 teams, all out for a result. This time it was 158 kilometres and I began the race feeling my legs from the efforts the day before. After a while, however, I felt pretty relaxed. It’s surprising what a win does to the confidence – and when no escape had been successful, with about 70k to go, I put in a strong attack. Finding myself alone, I had a choice: hold back and see if anyone else joined me, or go alone. I went for the latter and ended up riding 60k solo.
It seems like a radical move and I wasn’t thinking about another victory, but found I was enjoying pushing myself. It was yesterday all over again – head down and time trial mode. The gap kept diminishing as the big teams started hunting me down and at one point I could almost feel them breathing on me from behind, but I didn’t give up. I continued and the gap went out again. All the time, I knew that my team would be getting organised behind me, making sure that my efforts didn’t finish in vain. Unfortunately, on this occasion it didn’t work out. I got caught with just over a lap to go and with a few kilometres to the line Ilan Larmet, recently signing for a Conti team next year, attacked and got the win and our sprinter came in fourth. It was a tough result for us and we all felt it.
The next day I was back in the garage fiddling with my TT bike. I had seven days to prepare for my first objective of the year – the Circuit du Mené. An individual TT followed by a road race in the afternoon. Last year I’d put in a solid TT (14th out of 142) but that was on a TT bike I’d got given on the day. This year I was on a bike I’ve had time to mess around with, adapt, alter… mostly done on instinct rather than science. Although a shout out to Bryce Dyer who lets me ask him technical questions late at night.
I ended up beating the course record (7’39) and this was the 41st edition of the race
My team knew I was intending to smash the TT; it was a short six kilometre course and I prefer longer ones. They put me in as first rider from the team so I was third off at 8.17am. With an alarm set for 5am I don’t think I properly slept at all that night.
In my ear piece after 1km, my coach calmly said, “you’re five seconds quicker than Baptiste.” Significant. It was my old team-mate Baptiste Gillet who had won the TT last year. And so it continued. I ended up beating the course record (7’39) and this was the 41st edition of the race. I was presented with my first yellow jersey and I now had 136.6km to keep the jersey safe. It was a very different experience.
Last year it had been up to me to ride hard for our leader, Gillet. Now I was sitting behind five of my team mates
Last year it had been up to me to ride hard for our leader, Gillet. Now I was sitting behind five of my team mates. However, the stage race is notorious for being one which is not won by the TT winner. There were 143 elite riders who hadn’t won the TT and now wanted a win. And there were only seconds to play with. It’s all on YouTube to see – attacks left, right and centre. My team bought back a seven minute escape (we’d planned to let a group go but seven minutes was a bit tight!) By the end, my team were spent and so when two riders got clear, I had to go out and defend the jersey in the last section of the race. You hear the commentators saying “he’s lost it”… “no, it’s still possible”… “it’s going to come down to a few seconds”. I sprinted round the last bend and the last 500m like I’ve never done before. In the end I had a whole four seconds in my favour! Yellow jersey number two.
A bit like that English expression about no buses then several coming at once, the week finished off with another significant milestone: the whole of my family officially receiving our French nationality. Although my sisters were born here, and I’ve lived in France most my life, it was a momentous day. But also one that meant I had reached the end of a journey. All my siblings who ride competitively (that’s four of the five of us) decided that we would be changing our cycling licences to French ones. We’ve all gone through the same école de vélo system, we are all in French teams. I think the Bretons have accepted us after 15 years here.
My British roots will always be important but my brother, Rafe, and I need to do national races this year in France to show what we can do
My British roots will always be important but my brother, Rafe, and I need to do national races this year in France to show what we can do. I’ve never been on the radar of British Cycling despite the Union Jack next to my name. I guess it’s normal – I’ve never raced in the UK. So we’re all now dual nationality (and happily European again, don’t forget), and the country we ride for will be France. The bitter sweet side to being granted my nationality is that my story with the British-run Rayner Foundation has to come to an end. I’m very grateful my name gets added to the long list of Rayner funded riders, even if it was only for just over a year. I’d like to take this chance to thank them. It’s meant a lot. It always will. Once a Rayner rider, always a Rayner rider…
Our 2024 journal contributor Max Cushway rides for the Morbihan Adris Gwendal Oliveux team, a top-tier elite team (N1) in France, and, until now, has been supported by the Rayner Foundation. In his second journal entry of 2024, Max reflects on race wins, yellow jerseys, and the small matter of a change of nationality…
I’m looking at a yellow jersey pinned on my wall. I actually won two of them two weekends ago but I gave one to my Mum and Dad. Flowers, hampers, trophies – all nice to get, but there’s nothing quite like your first elite maillot jeune. And this came the week after my first elite win. I’ll rewind a bit.
On 23rd March I lined up for the famous Brittany classic “GP Gilbert Bousquet”. Steeped in history, created in 1976 in memory of the sports journalist who died in a car accident. A race like this calls for Cyrille Guimard – ex pro, later sports director, and television commentator – to fire the starting gun and get the 148.7 kilometres underway.
The attacks went from the start, typical of French Elite racing. It made it into the group of five whose break stuck, and we were riding well together. I knew, however, that my best chance of winning was to get away solo. So, I attacked up the finishing climb with two laps to go. Then it was head down and a 12 kilometre TT to the end. I managed to get a nice bit of daylight between me and the chasing group, allowing enough time to point upwards – this first win I was dedicating to Christian Josso, the race announcer who was such a supporter of our team, and had sadly died the month before.
I’m aware that riders often talk about their team in this clichéd way but everyone is talking about the bond that the boys in Morbihan Adris GOA have created this year. We’ve taken 10 wins and it’s just April and those wins have been shared around the team. We’ve sacrificed ourselves at times for teammates. We don’t have race radios but we’ve learnt to read each other well. We have our plan but if someone feels bad during the race, we adapt.
Twenty-four hours after the GP Gilbert Bousquet, we were all lining up for the Boucles Guegonnaises, another Brittany classic race with most of the top National 1 teams, all out for a result. This time it was 158 kilometres and I began the race feeling my legs from the efforts the day before. After a while, however, I felt pretty relaxed. It’s surprising what a win does to the confidence – and when no escape had been successful, with about 70k to go, I put in a strong attack. Finding myself alone, I had a choice: hold back and see if anyone else joined me, or go alone. I went for the latter and ended up riding 60k solo.
It seems like a radical move and I wasn’t thinking about another victory, but found I was enjoying pushing myself. It was yesterday all over again – head down and time trial mode. The gap kept diminishing as the big teams started hunting me down and at one point I could almost feel them breathing on me from behind, but I didn’t give up. I continued and the gap went out again. All the time, I knew that my team would be getting organised behind me, making sure that my efforts didn’t finish in vain. Unfortunately, on this occasion it didn’t work out. I got caught with just over a lap to go and with a few kilometres to the line Ilan Larmet, recently signing for a Conti team next year, attacked and got the win and our sprinter came in fourth. It was a tough result for us and we all felt it.
The next day I was back in the garage fiddling with my TT bike. I had seven days to prepare for my first objective of the year – the Circuit du Mené. An individual TT followed by a road race in the afternoon. Last year I’d put in a solid TT (14th out of 142) but that was on a TT bike I’d got given on the day. This year I was on a bike I’ve had time to mess around with, adapt, alter… mostly done on instinct rather than science. Although a shout out to Bryce Dyer who lets me ask him technical questions late at night.
My team knew I was intending to smash the TT; it was a short six kilometre course and I prefer longer ones. They put me in as first rider from the team so I was third off at 8.17am. With an alarm set for 5am I don’t think I properly slept at all that night.
In my ear piece after 1km, my coach calmly said, “you’re five seconds quicker than Baptiste.” Significant. It was my old team-mate Baptiste Gillet who had won the TT last year. And so it continued. I ended up beating the course record (7’39) and this was the 41st edition of the race. I was presented with my first yellow jersey and I now had 136.6km to keep the jersey safe. It was a very different experience.
Last year it had been up to me to ride hard for our leader, Gillet. Now I was sitting behind five of my team mates. However, the stage race is notorious for being one which is not won by the TT winner. There were 143 elite riders who hadn’t won the TT and now wanted a win. And there were only seconds to play with. It’s all on YouTube to see – attacks left, right and centre. My team bought back a seven minute escape (we’d planned to let a group go but seven minutes was a bit tight!) By the end, my team were spent and so when two riders got clear, I had to go out and defend the jersey in the last section of the race. You hear the commentators saying “he’s lost it”… “no, it’s still possible”… “it’s going to come down to a few seconds”. I sprinted round the last bend and the last 500m like I’ve never done before. In the end I had a whole four seconds in my favour! Yellow jersey number two.
A bit like that English expression about no buses then several coming at once, the week finished off with another significant milestone: the whole of my family officially receiving our French nationality. Although my sisters were born here, and I’ve lived in France most my life, it was a momentous day. But also one that meant I had reached the end of a journey. All my siblings who ride competitively (that’s four of the five of us) decided that we would be changing our cycling licences to French ones. We’ve all gone through the same école de vélo system, we are all in French teams. I think the Bretons have accepted us after 15 years here.
My British roots will always be important but my brother, Rafe, and I need to do national races this year in France to show what we can do. I’ve never been on the radar of British Cycling despite the Union Jack next to my name. I guess it’s normal – I’ve never raced in the UK. So we’re all now dual nationality (and happily European again, don’t forget), and the country we ride for will be France. The bitter sweet side to being granted my nationality is that my story with the British-run Rayner Foundation has to come to an end. I’m very grateful my name gets added to the long list of Rayner funded riders, even if it was only for just over a year. I’d like to take this chance to thank them. It’s meant a lot. It always will. Once a Rayner rider, always a Rayner rider…
Featured image: c.a photographies
Find out more
Max Cushway journal #01: “It’s ‘amateur’ Jim, but not as we know it….”
Journals 2024: introducing Max Cushway
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