Mattie Dodd journal #13: a dispatch from utopia

Second-year under-23 Mattie Dodd rides for the UCI Continental Tirol-KTM development team, and is supported by the Rayner Foundation. In his latest post, Mattie praises Austria’s utopian qualities, shares his latest European racing experiences, and reflects on missed opportunities – and sunglasses.

Having spent a bit of time here now, I’ve come to realise that Austria is a bit of a utopia. It seems that wherever you go in the country, everything seems to be perfect. The scenery is the obvious one to start with. In every part of this nation that I’ve been to, you never really have to look very hard to find something that just makes you smile. Whether that be a 3000m peak, a bright blue river, or just a nice woodland.

Another thing you notice is how everything works as it should. The roads are glassy smooth, a dream for anyone coming from the UK. In any city, you won’t encounter a mess of beeping horns and cars crawling along; quite often, there are more people on bikes (in decent cycle lanes) than in cars.

The lack of close passes or aggressive drivers here compared to London is frankly refreshing—and quite honestly, just how it should be

The attitude of the people towards outdoor sports is also remarkable. In Innsbruck, on any given weekend, countless people are out running, riding bikes, or hiking. Having lived in London for 18 years, where this doesn’t happen nearly as much, it’s really cool to see. The lack of close passes or aggressive drivers here compared to London is frankly refreshing—and quite honestly, just how it should be.

Mattie at the GP Vorarlberg. Image: Reinhard Eisenbauer

That’s my perhaps naïve view of the world and its various issues out there for all to read. Now, onto the racing stuff, which I imagine you actually came to read about.

The day after my last journal was published, I was at the start of the GP Vorarlberg – a UCI 1.2 race in the far west of Austria, just a stone’s throw from the Liechtenstein border. It was a punchy course through quintessential, picturesque Austrian countryside for the first 140km, before a final 20km that would see all hell break loose. With one rider on the team seemingly made for that final lap, we made the decision late in the race to fully commit to him as our best chance of a win.

Our work done on the penultimate climb, a teammate and I pulled off to a standstill, much to the bemusement of the locals outside whose houses we were now panting and wheezing

Our work done on the penultimate climb, a teammate and I pulled off to a standstill, much to the bemusement of the locals outside whose houses we were now panting and wheezing, while riding at walking speed. Job done, we then rolled in to the finish.

The race, I found out after, also doubled up as the Tirolean regional championships. Clearly, I am neither Tirolean nor Austrian. However, because my team is sponsored by the Tirolean tourism board, I qualified for it. I have to say, I’m not entirely sure how legitimate that makes the whole event. I was then surprised to find out that not only had I finished third in a race I didn’t know I was part of, but I’d also missed the podium ceremony while having a shower.

Two or so weeks after that, I was off to northwest France for the Tour de la Mirabelle. The first two days had my legs feeling quite good, albeit without any personal results to write home about. The second two… well, I’ll spare you the intricate details, but they involved a decent bit of time in the bathroom and nothing I ate seemed to get down to my legs.

I was bitterly disappointed; I had been really excited for that race and instead ended up fighting against my own body

The likely culprit was the rain mixed with some farm roads at the start of stage 2, resulting in me swallowing something that is not recommended race nutrition. I was bitterly disappointed; I had been really excited for that race and instead ended up fighting against my own body. From what I heard from other teams, I wasn’t alone in this experience, though that gave very little consolation.

Another week, another roll of the dice. This time going from stereotypical French countryside, to a stereotypical Italian city. We headed down to Rimini, host of this year’s Tour de France Grand Depart no less, for Coppa della Pace (1.2U). Driving south, the service station food got better, and the driving quality worse with each passing hour.

As nearly all of the Italian U23 races are, the final 100km was multiple laps of a punchy circuit, the first 70 having been pretty pancake flat. After give or take 30km, a break of 14 formed, me included. For a break that went on a seemingly innocuous part of the course, it ended up having some big names. I’d list some of them, but they probably wouldn’t mean much to anyone except the most avid followers of U23 racing.

Mattie in the break at the Coppa della Pace. Image: Zanonni

Working well together, that break whittled down over the course of the eight climbs, with seven riders left as we came into the last 3km. The gap to the peloton had come down from its peak at three minutes, but the final junction never seemed to happen, despite it seeming inevitable for the last hour.

Seventh was a good result in its own right, but I couldn’t help thinking what could have happened had I not displayed the decision-making of a toddler

The final 3km was one to forget on my part. I made every mistake possible and was left regretting my choices on the drive home after the initial adrenaline wore off. Seventh was a good result in its own right, but I couldn’t help thinking what could have happened had I not displayed the decision-making of a toddler.

The aftermath of the race was also spent trying to retrieve a pair of sunglasses which had fallen out of my helmet during the last lap. Having returned to the scene of the crime and bribed a group of Italian twelve-year-olds with bidons in return for information, they took pleasure in informing me that they had in fact found my glasses. They’d found them, but one of their number had already gone home, happily kitted out with a new pair of Tirol-KTM team edition sunglasses. At the time, it was hard not to laugh at four Italian pre-teens crowding around team car looking inside for anything they thought might be handed their way. I liked those glasses though…