2002 – Duo Normond

 

The Duo Normand had been on my 'to do' list for several years now and this, I'd decided, was the year that it was finally going to happen. My plans to tackle the race had floundered on the rocks of FPCC apathy and indecision in previous years as closing dates came and went while clubmates dithered about riding this international two-up. There were to be no mess ups this time as Louise and I decided that we would do it on our own as a mixed team if necessary.

So, what did the rest of you miss and what was the big attraction?

Read on …

The Duo Normand was established 21 years ago and is a UCI elite time trial with a difference. Namely that, long before some of the best time triallists in the world launch themselves down the start ramp to tackle the tough 55k circuit, they are preceded by over 300 teams of amateurs. Those amateurs range from the likes of the enthusiastic club riders such as Louise and I, right up to riders of the calibre of Hutchinson, Dangerfield, and their equivalents from all over Europe and the rest of the world. And all of us, from the lowliest regional veteran to the cream of Mapei's pro squad, got the same treatment and back up that goes with such a world class event.

Here were closed roads, crowds deep along the sides cheering you on, a Tour de France style starting ramp, a following car with your names written large and France's "Mr Cycling", Daniel Mangeas, announcing your names to the media as you took to the start line and the clock counted down. The whole thing is a world away from the musty village halls and the tea and bread pudding after the finish that we're so used to. And perhaps the best thing of all and the abiding memory of the few days we spent there is the VIP treatment that the citizens of Marigny doles out to all its visitors.

The first step was to find out as much as possible about the race and what was involved. Were there any entry qualifications? Were licences necessary? What were the helmet laws? Did the course call for time trial bikes or would we be better off using road bikes? First stop was the website of the Duo Normand itself. Here I found an entry form that could be used on-line. As far as I could tell this was a "first come first served" event so I got this form filled out and on its way without delay. That turned out to be a wise move, as I later found out, since the growing popularity of the race meant that entries were returned this year for the first time. My internet search also threw up a number of other sites mentioning the race. Mostly they were the club sites of riders who'd done the Duo in previous years and these also proved useful. Howard Waller of timetrial.co.uk had ridden the event with some success on a number of occasions and was especially helpful in answering some of my questions.

From that point on it was a long wait to hear anything. Emails and faxes went unanswered but I was assured that that was not unusual. After all, can you imagine the logistics of the local club shutting down their town, laying on a welcome for hundreds of visitors and organising a UCI event! Eventually, with just a couple of weeks to go, it suddenly all came together. A quick succession of calls from the Duo's office confirmed our entry and our accommodation. By the next day our ferry was booked and we were ready.

There was still just enough time for a practice run of sorts and that would be provided for us by the Shirley Roads CC Two-Up 25. Quite a nice event this one by the way, and the organisers were very friendly as well as somewhat bemused to see two riders up from the smoke for their event. Louise and I decided on the masterplan of leaving me on the front for the whole ride and dragging her round. You'd think that would seem to be the obvious way to tackle a mixed two-up but we found to our cost that it doesn't work too well in practice.

The man on the front has no idea whether he's doing too much damage or not enough and, unable to really ride at a natural pace, I merely ended up grinding myself down while Louise finished remarkably fresh. We decided after this that a better tactic would be for Louise to show herself, however briefly, on the front from time to time and therefore to ride it more as a team. The lessons were learned. The rehearsals were over. Now for the real thing.

A week or so later we were on our way. The channel crossing of choice for this particular event is Plymouth to Cherbourg. The small town of Marigny itself lies about 100 miles due south of the coast and is halfway between two large towns, St Lo and Coutances. It's a typical small French town with the main road running through the middle, a town square, some small shops and a massive church dominating everything. The huge spire of that church could be seen for miles around and would be a very welcome sight indeed towards the end of Sunday's race. In the recent past, the town has been famous for its World War Two connections. It was the site of several battles and is only a stone's throw from Omaha Beach - the scene of the D-Day landings. The Bayeux Tapestry and Mont St. Michel are two of the other big local attractions but Marigny and its citizens are proudest of all to be known for their race, the Duo Normand.

The organisation had told us that we would be staying with a M and Mme Lefevre and enquiries at a local shop directed us towards a large detached house about half a mile outside the centre of town. The charming M and Mme Lefevre had been providing accommodation for riders from Britain and the rest of Europe for years but the novelty had evidently never worn off and they were delighted on this occasion to have landed themselves a French speaker. Most of the town's population seems to be involved in the organisation in some way or another and Monsieur Lefevre was certainly no exception. When he wasn't busy with his role as chief organiser of the huge pre race dinner and show that would attract hundreds of guests on the coming Saturday night, he was backwards and forwards erecting and dismantling the marquees that were springing up in the town square. Nevertheless, on the first night of our arrival, the Lefevres found time to provide us with a welcome evening meal. Mme Lefevre insisted that she hadn't much food in the house and asked would we mind something light. "Something light" in French turned out to be aperitifs, large plates of nibbles, several courses - soup, turkey, apple pudding, lots of cheese and plenty of wine. Those French! Even Louise was full by the end of the evening. During the evening's conversation, Monsieur Lefevre offered, or rather insisted, that he would provide our following car. Now everything really was in place.

The friendly nature of the event was further underlined when we strolled into town and a passing car stopped. "Are you Chris Lodge?" they asked. Blimey! Surely they didn't know every single competitor who'd descended on the town by name! This turned out to be Veronique, one of the organisers who I'd spoken to several times when arranging this trip. She gave us a lift to the busy office and race HQ where we got an inside view of all the paraphernalia and masses of paperwork that goes into an event like this.It was strange to hear them on the phone talking to the Mapei team one minute and to us the next! And it was impressive to think that every last person behind this event was a volunteer with a tangible sense of pride in showing off their town, their region and their race to all the visitors. Amongst all the chaos in this cluttered office was the actual winners trophy, which I got to hold, checking out the name of Chris Boardman engraved several times. Veronique took time to answer yet more questions, show us around, and give us the first start sheet off the printer. There we were. First of the mixed teams off at 11am.

Two days to go and now was the time to check out the course. Everything that we'd heard up until now had made us somewhat fearful of the climbs. And the road surfaces that we'd seen so far would be heavy going. Though free of the blight of British potholes, they'd been recently resurfaced and were still covered with gravel on most of the corners. No matter. We were prepared as never before. In addition to the TT machinery we were equipped with road bikes, a selection of tyres and a vast choice of wheels and gearing. We were ready for any eventuality.

Though by now the course had been marked for its entire length with direction signs and kilometre boards, we managed to find the wrong way out of town and it was back and forth before we worked out where the "Depart" would be. Once properly underway, a brisk ride on the road bikes made it all seem so easy. Most of those climbs could be attacked in the big ring. The wind was light, the day was warm and the road surface not as bad as I'd feared. The 130-gram tyres would probably survive (who cares anyway when you have a car full of wheels 20 yards behind you) and, just to be on the safe side, I decided to lower my bottom gear slightly from 48x19 to 48x21. Louise was less happy and predicted that the climbs that make up the second half of the course would be our undoing.

Our hosts obviously knew their food and wine so that night we were happy to follow their recommendation and headed off a few miles cross country down a long winding road that threatened to go nowhere but led, in fact, to the Auberge de Cametours. A wonderful meal of Norman specialities followed. This was an establishment well off the beaten track but doing a brisk trade. Obviously it must have had a word of mouth reputation and, while one or two tables were occupied by locals, the biggest group that night were a contingent from Worthing CC. The affect of the race on the local economy was plain to see.

Little by little the town had begun to fill up with riders, their friends, families and supporters and all their back up vehicles. There was, as usual, a very large British contingent, making up almost half the field in fact. Familiar faces among them as well as riders from further afield including Africa, Japan and New Zealand. Grandstands and hospitality tents had appeared. Roads were barriered and blocked off. Marigny was taking on all the appearance of a TDF stage town.

The Town Hall was serving as restaurant for the invasion of riders and its upper floors were used as the signing on area. We took advantage of our own early arrival to sign on as soon as they'd opened but still had to queue. Here we were given a goody bag of information in one of those neat little Credit Lyonnais rucksacks, obviously left over from the TDF publicity caravan, and of course the all important plaque bearing our names for the following car

Saturday gave us a chance to test out the roads on our race bikes and make any last minute adjustments. Louise had fitted lower gears and headed back to the hills at the top end of the circuit to see if they were any easier (they weren't). I decided to check out the last part of the course and rode it flat out noting reference points.

That same night we attended the big pre race Dinner and Show. It was quite an affair with seven hundred guests sitting down to wine, dine and be entertained. The Guests of Honour were some great champions of the past, including Federico Bahamontes and Andre Darrigade - still looking fit and trim and obviously enjoying pressing the flesh with all and sundry. Master of ceremonies was Daniel Mangeas, the voice of French cycling, and he kept it all moving with great professionalism throughout the dinner and the cabaret. Ah yes the cabaret. What do the dazzling neon lights of Vegas or Broadway offer that Normandy cannot match?

First to take the stage was an ageing crooner of the type the French produce so well. Resolutely performing long after his sell-by date, with a bottle-black quiff, seventies shirt collar and a pair of too tight leather trousers straining to contain his paunch. His cool finger snappin' style and constant exhortations to the audience of "Cmon everybody! Tout ensemble!" were falling on the largely deaf ears of an audience more interested in their onion soup and ordering more wine. Great stuff!

The " Stars In Their Eyes" theme continued as we were treated to a selection of French songbirds who strolled among the audience, picked out by the spotlights in their spangly dresses, big hair and thick make-up, belting out Belinda Carlisle ballads at volume 10. Just when we thought it could get no better - the big finale! A ventriloquist act! Phillipe and Nicky! I know just what you're wondering. What's the difference between a French ventriloquist act and a British one? Well, the puppet was speaking a bit fast for me but I'm here to tell you that they are much the same. To begin with the cheeky little fellow didn't want to get out of the box but once he'd been coaxed onto the stage he wouldn't get back in.

It was getting late. We'd seen enough and were conscious of the day's work ahead of us, so we bowed out early from the night's festivities and made our way home under a clear and still starlit sky.

The next day a low fog shrouded the surrounded fields. This was the legendary "brume matinal". The signal at dawn of a good time trialling day ahead. We set off on the short ride into town but our way was quickly blocked by the local gendarmarie who were enforcing strict road closures. The half-mile into town was turned into a three-mile diversion on country lanes and into Marigny the back way. A lesson there for next year: set off in plenty of time. Lesson number two would probably be to take a turbo trainer for a decent warm-up since the start area was a scene of chaos.

There were riders, photographers, press and all kinds of media, vehicles, stalls selling merchandise, stalls selling food and drink, a scrum of late arrivals signing on and a gathering crowd of onlookers and cycling fans. We waited anxiously for any sign of the Lefevres in the promised support vehicle and warmed up as best we could amidst the confusion. They arrived in the nick of time and we offloaded our track tops, spare bottles and donned aero helmets ready for the show.

We were shepherded into a holding area just near to the starting ramp where pairs of riders sized each other up and spectators crowded round to swap notes on the various exotic time trial bikes being used.Soon it was time to go and, as we mounted the steps, loudspeakers around the town boomed out the announcement of our names. Then it was up the steps and on to the ramp itself. Of course I managed a very unprofessional stumble and almost landed in a very public heap but luckily one minute is enough to compose yourself even as you stare down the road at half a mile of spectators eyes and the two of us were ready as the clock began it's pinging noise with ten seconds left. At five seconds the timekeeper held up five fingers. 4.3.2.1…the clock made an alarm noise and we rolled away at last

The first thing to tackle was an immediate steep 100 yard rise out of the town. A gap appeared straight away as Louise struggled with gear changes. Curses! At the top it levelled off and, after we were both through, the Lefevres swung out of their own holding area in the following car and latched on behind us. As we left the outskirts of the town we were looking every inch the well-drilled squad and full support

This was the fastest part of the course and all went to plan as Louise came briefly to the front now and again, her presence reminding me that we could push harder. We began to reel in the teams that had started in front of us and had the novel experience of using the wrong side of the road to pass them and their support vehicles.

We flashed over road junctions where cars had been stopped by the police to allow us through. The occupants were out of their seats and adding to the number of spectators. Over an exposed section of marshland, hump back bridges, tight corners and through small towns and villages. A left turn led us on to a super smooth and very fast section of dual carriageway and the speed really lifted. This course had a bit of everything.

But our troubles began right on cue at the top end of the main circuit as we exited the town of Tribehou and the climbs began thick and fast. The problem for us was not so much dealing with the terrain as keeping it together as a team. Synchronicity it wasn't, as Louise slipped back just as she'd expected and I had a frustrating time, feeling that I couldn't go any slower while I was waiting for the gaps to close. I realised now that this was probably only the second time that I'd done a two -up with a slower rider and that perhaps my technique left a little to be desired. When those gaps did close I only opened them up again. For a few miles the air was blue as we shouted and swore at each other.

It was over these hills and drags that we were caught. First past was a team from Francais des Jeux. They dealt us a harsh lesson in two-upmanship, coming past not quickly but in perfect harmony, the male rider obviously throttling back and the female digging in hard so that the gap between them was never more than a few yards. Next, horror of horrors, one of the teams that we'd passed earlier came back at us and rode steadily clear. A clear sign that we'd got things a little wrong.

Our descending too was not without its share of dramas. That gravel on the corners meant it was a blessing to be able to use the whole of the road but Louise found she needed all the road and some more on one particular corner when she headed straight through it and into the greenery! But she recovered well and we were together again as we headed back into Marigny for the first time. Four or five tight corners split us up again as we twisted through the backstreets to the main square and there was far too much daylight between us as we passed the packed grandstands.

Only a 13 kilometres out and back section left to tackle and the worst was behind us or so I thought. The shouting and swearing turned to shouts of mutual encouragement. Now we began to pull back on those teams in front of us and I began to wish we'd had some more miles to play with but the kilometre boards were passing us by and it was too late for anything but damage limitation. A U-turn at the top took me back to the time trials of my youth before roundabouts became commonplace and we began the final 6.5 kilometres back to Marigny and the finish.

The two long drags on this section are what the French call "casses pattes". At the wrong end of a hard race they feel like real hills and seem endless. My strength was now totally sapped and I shot down through the gears trying to cope, thankful at last for that 21. I wondered how Louise was coping behind me and soon had my answer when she came storming through on the last fast section as the church at Marigny loomed into view and the PA system could be heard in the distance. I'd left everything on those last two climbs and I reckon that I only just got on to her back wheel!

We swept under the "Arivee" banner amidst a lot of noise and instantly pulled hard on the brakes as a marshal frantically made "slow down" gestures and directed us into a cordoned-off area where the local kids were thrusting bottles of mineral water into our hands. Before we even had our breath back they were quizzing us on the whereabouts of Chris Boardman, who is still a big hero here after his three wins.

Now we had the rest of the day in front of us to enjoy the racing and watch everyone else's suffering. So it was quickly back to the house to get changed and then back to town for sausages, chips and beers with a close-up view of all the action. There were some real contrasts out there with some teams coolly professional and others obviously having even more problems than we'd had earlier in the day. Platts and Woodburn looked very impressive on their way to winning the Veteran category. Horner and Coleman had toughed it out by entering the Elite category and gave it their all, acquitting themselves well. And Hutchinson and Dangerfield, quite the double act these days, showed their class with fourth place. The spectators were full of appreciation for everyone's efforts with some of the biggest cheers of the day reserved for those teams that had travelled the furthest - New Zealand, Japan and in particular the Africans from Burkina Fasso.

All day long the teams streamed through with the anticipation mounting as the Elites took centre stage. This result was hardly ever in doubt. Though pushed hard by the Swedish squad of Olsson and Larsson, the Mapei team, Petrov and Pozzato looked awesome from the moment they stepped up onto the ramp to the moment they crossed the line in a single blur just over an hour later.

All this time the results churned out of the computer endlessly and were posted up outside the Town Hall. I'd convinced myself that we'd probably come last, though I'd enjoyed myself so much that I didn't really care. So it was a pleasant surprise to see that we'd actually got 10th in the mixed category with our 1h 36m30s. That was respectable enough for our first attempt and it was gratifying to listen to other riders' tales of woe. Afterwards even Hutchinson and Dangerfield spoke of the difficulty of riding together on such a demanding and technical circuit.

As the sun went down, the podium was crowded with winners bearing flowers and cuddly lions. Bahamontes and Darrigade were presented to the crowd, the riders from Burkina Fasso treated us to an accapella folk song and Daniel Mangeas finally stopped talking after a run of announcing and non -stop commentary that would have beaten even Les Gaskin!

The next day Marigny began to get back to normal .The tents, stands and marquees all came down and the big lorry transporters rolled out to their next race rendezvous By Monday lunchtime as we made our own way home, the town looked once again like the sleepy little backwater of a few days ago.

Before we left, the Lefevres made us promise to return in 2003 and extended the welcome to our clubmates.

Just try to keep us away.

Chris Lodge

Copyright Finsbury Park 2008