The Ultimate Team Member Makes the Greatest Sacrifice of all by Graham Heath

Mr Motivator - Making it look hard?

"Motivation is the art of getting people to do what you want them to do because they want to do it.”

Dwight David Eisenhower (American 34th President (1953-61). 1890 -1969)

Over the last few years I have had to listen to the majority of the Yorkie members set out their Marmotte stall, only to fall way short of the mark. For years I’ve had to endure Mike Dixon wittering on about his poorly feet, tender tummy and any other convenient excuse for his frankly forgettable performances. Mark’s tried his very best to beat 8 hours but really hasn’t got over the beating I gave him on Alp D’Heuz three years ago. Dave decided to turn pro in an attempt to get in the required training, and ex international Steve Barnes set out with the only ambition of beating me!  Steve and Pete could go faster but the string between them keeps getting snagged on the other riders, leaving only Russ to get down to seven stones on five hours training a week.

This left me with a real dilemma, as a true friend and someone who enjoys seeing his fellow team members reach their full potential; I had to think of a drastic plan. I realised early doors that it would probably mean that I would have to sacrifice my own performance and realistic goal of beating seven hours thirty to ensure that my fellow team members achieved their own personal dreams and goals.

Following the words of Eisenhower, I needed to get the team motivated to such an extent that they would prepare themselves to their highest level without realising that I was pulling the strings in the background.

My plan consisted of some verbal challenges at the ‘riding out’ and club dinners, followed by my charade of training hard all early season without actually getting any fitter. I realised that by letting them give me a drubbing all year, this would give them the self belief to push themselves to reach the standards that others (apart from myself) never thought they could achieve.

Unfortunately, early season training saw a fatal flaw in my plan. Even though I was only pretending to train, I was still giving some of the boys a bit of a run for their money. My disappointment of thinking that those personal aspirations would once again lay in tatters, led me to taking advice from Russ Hepton. Russ correctly diagnosed that my body weight was the underlying cause of the problem – I was just losing too much weight.  Luckily Russ knew the answer, what I needed was lots of weight training in the gym and some of Russ’s secret powder (sorry, sworn to secrecy on the formula) just to top those extra stones. So off I went to push the iron.

Having a plan B is always something that we insist on in the fire service and this was no exception. Mike Kershaw was the obvious port of call. Mike agreed with Russ that I needed to sacrifice my usually toned torso and try and get nice and heavy, this would surely spur on the boys and give them the confidence to attack the Marmotte. Mike thought that taking Russ’s secret potion was a bit risky and that I should take a more natural approach. Luckily he knew of such a recipe consisting of water, yeast, hops and barley. Well, due to the great advice I received from Mick & Russ, the plan soon came together. I was riding for hours on end without actually getting any faster and the weight was actually increasing – what a result!

The training went according to plan?

The day of the Marmotte arrived, and to be honest I as feeling a bit under the weather. Michelle had bought some special ‘lady toilet spray’ for use in the apartment which seemed to be affecting my breathing. Of course, I’m too much of a gentleman to possibly enter why she would need to buy such things, but needless to say, I think the nerves had got the better of her. Denise had learnt a trick or two from Dicko and was trotting out every excuse under the sun, that said, I think she had slept a bit uneasy during the trip due to reports of a potential stalker from one of the nearby apartments!

The results spoke for themselves and gave me a real feeling of satisfaction. I had managed to get the whole team to pull together and reach the dizzy heights that many of them thought were simply beyond them. I of course, rode round nice and steady, taking pictures, talking to the locals with a smug grin knowing that I had achieved my one and only goal for the season. For the ultimate team player, it was a job well done.

A few nice days in the Alps - by Dave Dixon

Ah what a nice day! It’s still Friday

For the six of this year’s intrepid intake, who chose to fly Stinted to Lyon, the 2010 Marmotte experience very nearly ended before it began. On the morning of the flight, we were all due to rendezvous, early, at my house, for the drive down to the airport in Barnes’s new van, we had six bodies, six bikes (in full flight cases) and six sets of luggage to fit in and, without a dry run, nobody was really sure if it would all go in. Unbeknownst to us, and as if to challenge my renowned, militarily like, organisational skills, earlier that morning a local chemical plant had managed to blow itself up, resulting in several local roads being closed. This served to hinder Steve’s progress somewhat, but he improvised well and turned up within 15 minutes of schedule, luckily everything fit comfortably in the van, so off we went, a little delayed, but all, if a little sleep deprived, were in good spirits.

Steve must have pressed his Time Travel button, on the 2010 model ‘BarnesMobile’, because we managed to cover about 90 A1 miles, in the first hour, and thus, we were comfortably back on schedule, which was good, because about five minutes later we came to a dead stop. About half a mile ahead there had been a pretty impressive accident and the road was totally blocked, we sat it out for a while but still no movement whatsoever, just fire engines, police cars and ambulances, this solicited some of R kids traditionally optimistic soothes, prophesying ‘definite multiple fatalities’, ‘the road would be closed for hours’, we were ‘bound to miss the flight’. Others weren’t quite so pessimistic, but we were now well behind schedule and with, still, no sign of any movement, something had to be done. A quick recce’ down the carriageway confirmed that there was a crossing point about 400 yards ahead, so, after a brief discussion, and with most other drivers wandering about the carriageway, chatting, with their engines off, we decided to drive down the central channel, cleared for emergency vehicles, cross over and go back up the A1 to the previous junction and then rely on Steve’s trusty Tom Tom to see us to the airport. The plan worked well and eventually we rolled up at Stansted in good time.

At the airport we met up with Graham and Mick Kershaw, who had travelled down the night before, Graham had, after his intensive training regime, clearly not been prepared to take any risk of missing the flight, he was resolute, displaying an impressive singular focus, nothing would deter him from achieving his years goal of ‘sticking it to us all’ with a sub nine hour ride. After chatting a while, it  became clear that the pre Marmotte nerves had really gotten to Graham, with Mick explaining how he had had to accompany Graham, in the Hotel bar till the early hours, as Graham had sought solace, taking a near fatal overdose of self prescribed Stella medicine. We went airside to get a quick pre flight snack, Graham and Mick had just enough time for a quick snifter to recharge their flagging batteries.

The flight was on time and we arrived in Lyon, early, to be greeted by 90 degree temperatures and clear blue skies, which amongst the levity, really helped to re focus your attention to what was to come, would it be like this on Saturday!? (It would!!). After picking up the hire cars, we arrived on the Alpe mid to late afternoon and met up with the others of our group, who had travelled down by various methods, we checked into the digs and somewhat randomly allocated the rooms for the three night stay. There where five double/twin rooms, three of these essentially allocated themselves to the long term spouses and partners of our group, Russ and his wife, James and Michelle and, of course, Graham and Mick, Denise was given a twin room and R kid had bagged one of the beds in the remaining twin. Now, for those of you who don’t know, R Mike has a rather unique gift, this being the ability to fall asleep within a fraction of a second of his head hitting the pillow, regardless of what is going on around him, and then, as if in some form of celebration, to almost immediately communicate his new found unconscious state, to all around, with a high decibel fanfare of rhythmic snoring.  With this in mind, it was a little surprising when Steve B bagged the second bed in R kids twin room with some enthusiasm, leaving the rest of us to bed down on more basic, but perhaps more peaceful, sofa beds.

Once all had settled in, we gathered for what would be the first of many carbo loading pasta/pizza meals of the weekend, following which, we retired, on mass, to a local bar to relax over a few bevies, the event itself was, after all, almost 36 hours away. Several ‘Grande Biers’ later and after much merriment, the group had dwindled down to just four, Graham, Mick Kershaw, our Mike and myself, Steve B having retired to his twin at about 10pm, after a descent oiling, for some much deserved kip. It was about 11pm and I was still feeling OK, so I suggested we had ‘one for the road’, ‘Go on then’ the lads said!! A couple of hours and several more ‘Grand Biers’ later, among the jollity, I noticed that Graham had fallen a little quiet and had begun to look a tad peaky, then, in a rare moment of weakness and perhaps feeling the after effects of the previous evenings excesses, Graham suggested that we call it day!! he soon realised his mistake and gathered himself and agreed to another round. At this point, our Mike, having looked deep into the eyes of Graham, ala ‘Armstrong to Ulrich’ in the 2001 tour, attacked and ordered another round but, this time, with a pastis chaser!! Prepared to play the long game, I declined the pastis and stuck to the beer, the others accepted the challenge. His attack was to prove too much for our Mike as, having barely downed his pastis, he cracked, big time, slithering slowly down in his chair, head in his hands and murmuring, it was clear he had given his all, he was a busted flush, he could go on no more. The rest of us finished our drinks and we went back to the rooms having to gently guide the weary Mike back. I was still feeling reasonably Ok, with a little bit left, and Graham had recovered well, was this to prove a dress rehearsal for the ride itself, I mused.

It was around 2am when we got back, so creeping around, trying not to wake the others, I pointed our Mike to his room and stumbled my way to my sofa bed in the main room, where Mark was serenely rumbling away, on his sofa bed. A few minutes after settling down, I heard a little commotion in the room, I pulled back my covers and, in the murkiness, could see somebody curling up on the floor, pulling a blanket over themselves!! It was Steve B, ‘You OK Steve?’ I queried, ‘It’s your kids snoring, its f!#@ing unbearable’ ah yes, I thought, I understand. Mike had wrangled himself a room of his own for the weekend and Steve was to spend his three nights on a mattress on the floor!!. The beer did its job and I was soon off to the land of nod. At this point, I have to say that, when I’m at my Marmotte level of fitness, I tend to suffer from the odd dizzy spell when I get up too quickly, with this in mind, when I woke about 7am with last nights hydration having worked its way through, I was in a rather urgent need to point Percy!. So up I got and, in the gloom, whilst trying to negotiate passed the still dozing Steve on the floor, I felt the first signs of a dizzy spell coming on, knowing what was to come, I grabbed hold of the nearest piece of furniture, preparing to see it through. Maybe it was the altitude, my supreme level of fitness or just maybe last nights beer, but the dizzy spell took on greater than normal proportions, I passed out, falling backwards, landing straight on the prostrate Steve B! I wasn’t out for long, and quickly gathered myself and got to my feet, becalming Steve with my own soothe ‘Its Ok Steve, I just passed out!!’ just in case he may have considered some other alternative!. I went about my business, Steve must now have been a little shell shocked perhaps regretting taking on this trip with the Dixon brothers, but in his normal stoic way he took it all in his stride.

Somebody help me, It’s Saturday on the Galibier!!

Friday was a much more normal affair, up for ‘petit dejeuner’, register for the event, a short ride up the top third of the Alpe to acclimatize, a seemingly endless round of pasta meals, with of course no beer. As the day goes on, amongst the distractions there continues a slow building of nerves, as you try to mentally prepare yourself for the ride itself, then early to bed in a the vain hope of getting a descent nights sleep, a couple of hours is all I usually manage, it was the case this year too. Steve wasn’t taking any chances and slept on the room floor again, his heart must have been in his mouth when, as if in homage to our Mike, Mark put in a burst of ‘Uber snoring’ in the early hours, it was short lived, and the night drifted peacefully by. Steve, probably quite understandably, had assumed it was me who had produced the ‘Uber snore’ event, I protested my innocence, I think to no avail.

As for the ride itself, Thursday’s session proved no indicator of our relative performances, our Mike put in a good ride, claiming his years target of a gold standard at his fifth attempt, riding almost perfectly to his schedule. I grovelled in, some 30 minutes down on him, a tad disappointed, but completely spent, the heat on Alpe D’Huez was ridiculous, a bit hard to explain, as I think all will vouch. Steve, having set off in an earlier group, was probably just relieved to get some time away from us, and rode well, as always, gaining a comfortable gold standard. Graham, carrying the products of over pre hydration, must have realised early he had dined his last on his tales of glory from the 2007 trip, he couldn’t match the heady heights of that display, but still rode a solid ride, I’m sure he’ll be back to put the records straight. The others of the group all rode well, especially Michelle, who has only been riding this kind of distance over the last year. Russ and Mark, stole the show, both putting in incredible rides each taking some 10 minutes off their PBs, in completely unforgiving conditions. Mark comfortably going inside his some time target of 8 hours, and Russ getting ever closer to the 7 hour mark, both times that are unimaginable to most mere mortals, certainly to this one. Memories of the misery have, as usual have now faded, and I’m sure I’ll be back for more, anyone for 2011?