Mattie Dodd journal #17: heat, heroes and hard lessons

Our longest-running journal contributor, third-year under-23 Mattie Dodd rides for the UCI Continental Tirol-KTM development team, supported by the Rayner Foundation. Breakaways with WorldTour stars, searing Italian heat and a sprint slip at GP Poggiana mark a month of hard racing and near misses as Mattie gears up for a busy late season.

The Tour of Austria, for an Austrian team, is a big deal. We could win every race we did elsewhere in Europe, yet there’d still be some sponsors left unimpressed by the year as a whole with a poor showing at the national tour. Of course, that’s the case with most teams – the priority for local sponsors is exposure to their local market. That’s not to say that’s how all sponsors think, but certainly those local to the region want to see their logo doing well on Austrian TV, rather than that of another corner of Europe.

Looking at this year’s parcours, one of the most mountainous in recent years, the question was how to achieve that goal. Realistically, none of us were going to beat Pogačar’s final mountain domestiques on a twenty-kilometre-long summit finish. That meant the focus was on being in the break deep into the final of the stages, and looking for top ten/twenty results on some of the so-called “easier” stages.

UCI 2.1 races are a bit like cycling’s equivalent of the early rounds of the FA Cup. The results are usually as expected, but there’s always that chance that a League One side nabs a 1-0 win

UCI 2.1 races are a bit like cycling’s equivalent of the early rounds of the FA Cup. The third-tier teams come up against those at the top of the Premier League. The results are usually as expected, but there’s always that chance that a League One side nabs a 1-0 win. Leaving the football analogies behind, it’s also a chance for individual Conti riders to show any potential employers how they directly stack up against current WorldTour riders.

Day one followed the usual script for the first two hours of a stage race – every man and his dog wanted to be part of that early break. It was slightly touch and go on our part at one point, when we had to ride down a dangerous-looking move. That got us some pretty filthy looks from teams happy with that particular group. Sparing you the minute details, eventually a sizeable break got away with three of us in – perfect. Fast forward another eighty kilometres and two hard climbs later, and there were four riders left. Having jettisoned the remainder of the break, I was in a group with three others trying to prolong the distance before our by-now inevitable recapture by the bunch. We eventually succumbed to our fate with about twenty kilometres to go, though not before the inevitable last-ditch TV attacks.

The next two days were relatively uneventful (relative being the key term in that). Another anecdote worth mentioning, that was conveniently overlooked by various team press statements, was what happened to a certain MotoGP star making his pro debut at the race. There was a lot of talk about trying to follow him down descents if given the chance. Turns out that wasn’t the wisest idea – he crashed on both of the first two stages, both completely of his own accord… There’s no denying that the hype around his starting gave the race some extra exposure, though.

An uphill start meant there wasn’t time to ease into it gently – an extra coffee in the camper was in order

Stage 4 was the big day for us as a team. The race started barely 800 m from our service course and took place entirely in the region of Tirol – one of our title sponsors. We were to be in the break, or riding to the next hotel (maybe I’m exaggerating a tad, but you get the idea). An uphill start meant there wasn’t time to ease into it gently – an extra coffee in the camper was in order. I won’t give you a blow-by-blow account of every pedal stroke, you’ve got better things to do. So, fast forwarding one climb, one descent and a bit of flat, I’d got myself into the break of the day – success.

The next two hours were my highlight of the race. I was racing on roads I know well, in the break, with some of my childhood heroes. Rui Costa was World Champion when I was nine years old – now I was in the same break as him, along with several other WorldTour names who’ve been regular features of my Velogames fantasy teams.

The first part of that stage looked tame in comparison to the second – twice up a 25 km climb (ten Box Hills being an alternative unit of measurement). We started with only a minute and a half of advantage – the presence of a certain Paul Double in the break not being something UAE were best pleased with. Our group exploded about halfway up the climb and I was caught with about seven kilometres to the top.

I managed to cling on for dear life to the GC group to crest the climb with them. As someone born at the lofty height of fifty metres above sea level, racing at over two thousand is somewhat of a novel experience – type-two fun is one way to put it. What goes up must come down – this time without the threat of coming around a hairpin into an oncoming bus. That said, there was one point where we had to dodge a few cows at 90 kph, not that the cows seemed to care.

In the valley, I went back to get a few bottles for our GC guy, then dropped the anchor at the bottom of the final climb – saving my legs to fight another day. That gave me the chance to appreciate the crowds on the roadside. Our jersey is recognisable in the region, so we became the focus of plenty of encouragement. The ride back in also provided the first instance I’ve seen of three motorbike marshals staring down a cow to stop it getting onto the road.

The final day of the race didn’t have any bovine interference, though the twenty-minute descents were still present – not exactly something you get regularly growing up in Britain. I felt I finished the race well and that I was less fatigued than those around me, so that gave a good confidence boost for stage races to come. After a short four-day mid-season break, I turned my attention to the final part of the year.

I’ve got a fairly busy few weeks coming up with three stage races and a one-day race, so my focus was getting in what might have been my last uninterrupted block of controlled training for a while. Well, that was until I got a last-minute call to ride GP Poggiana, a 1.2U near Bassano del Grappa.

As I was packing to head off to the race, I checked the weather app, as you do, to know what to take. You see, I’m ginger, so when I saw the race would be in 38-degree heat, I could feel the sunburn already. The recce ride made it clear that the forecast was not, in fact, telling lies – it was hot. I was clinging onto the hope that the 1% chance of rain might materialise. It did not.

I checked the weather app, as you do, to know what to take. You see, I’m ginger, so when I saw the race would be in 38-degree heat, I could feel the sunburn already

The race saw 70 flat kilometres, before eight climbs within 60 kilometres, then another flat 30 kilometres to the finish. I saw a moment on the flat laps and decided to jump to the break – almost immediately questioning whether I’d done the right thing. It was pretty clear that the heat meant everyone just had fewer bullets to play, so I wasn’t sure if I was spending mine right. In for a penny, in for a pound (cent and euro for those across the Channel) was the conclusion after a while, and a large break was established.

After two of the climbs, I got into a “fuga de la fuga” with fellow Rayner Foundation rider Jack Brough, and a good mate and ex-team-mate, Sebi Putz. It was the perfect group; we worked together superbly. A rider bridged across to us from the bunch, eventually reducing our group to just me and him with one climb left. He briefly attacked and gapped me, before I brought him back on the flat. I was surprisingly calm when initially gapped – I knew he wouldn’t have spent many a Sunday morning riding up and down the A24 while being close-passed by coaches in pursuit of a fabled sub-19 on a notoriously grippy course. In other words, I was confident I had the time-trial experience to bring him back.

I’d ridden a perfect race up until we hit the final 500 metres. We had a gap of over two minutes, so there was no concern there. I tried to jump him with a kilometre to go, not trusting my sprint. The elastic stretched but didn’t snap. That meant a two-up sprint to win. I channelled all my experience from hours spent riding around Herne Hill Velodrome, trying to implement the lessons learnt from keirin sessions aged twelve.

I channelled all my experience from hours spent riding around Herne Hill Velodrome. Well, that was until the sprint started. Then I seemed to forget everything and rode it like a complete moron

Well, that was until the sprint started. Then I seemed to forget everything and rode it like a complete moron. I’ve looked back at the livestream and I can pick out five things I did wrong. The better rider won that sprint, I’m not denying that, but it’s hard not to point out what I could have done better. Still, it was probably one of my best results ever, so I can be pleased with that. I was looking at the results of this race last year not knowing when I’d race again after being ill, so to come back a year later and be that close to winning it in the way that I had is something I’m very pleased with.

The race was great and all, but the real event was about to come – the podium ceremony. Italian podium ceremonies are quite something. In Austria, they give you a medal and a massive loaf of bread and tell you to get lost. This thing took forty-five minutes. There was handshaking, interviews, national anthems, more handshaking, more interviews, champagne, photos, more interviews. It was cool though, even if I didn’t understand a word of it. By virtue of being in the break all day, I’d also won the combativity award and the KOM prize. For the combativity award, I was given a four-foot-tall painting and for the KOM, a diamond ring, which doesn’t fit me. That was unexpected.

My attention now turns to the races I mentioned. First up is the West Bohemia Tour. Then GP Kranj, shortly followed by the Giro del Friuli, then Turul Romenei (Tour of Romania). I’m hoping to carry the confidence gained from last week into those, though hopefully not the theme of cows invading the race course…