Numbers were down last night, with 7 starters in the D grade scratch race – one junior and the rest of us of the more mature variety. The junior was pinged off into C grade after taking off like horse stung by a bee the second lap into the scratch race. And then we were 6, all over 30 bar one ex Irish dancer who is showing a lot of potential in her early days track racing. Beware the Irish dancers – legs like springs that fire off with 1.5 laps to go.
Racing was more civilised (read: sedate), and the pointscore ended up being a sprint derby series rather than a true pointscore. After the 2nd sprint there was a definite cagey lull – a perfect opportunity for an attack if someone had been thinking of it. Seems no one was, including myself. I rode the whole night totally brainless, thinking switched off thanks to tiredness. I just went through the motions, testing my legs out and that’s about all. I had strength in the legs, the engine was gunning effeciently, but no speed to finish it off with. This meant it took longer to be dropped (if you could call it that), and then only in the final lap of each race, finishing no more than 10m off the back of the motorpace (despite the bigger gear) and in the scratch. I actually finished with the bunch in the pointscore and was only pipped at the post for last by a guy who vocalised as I shifted slightly up the track to avoid someone in front of me. So I backed off in surprised (having miscounted and thinking I was the sweeper) allowing him to accelerated over the top of me. Dumb, plain gumby dumb. I probably shouldn’t have raced, but wanted a hit out, and wanted to test my gains in training – see how well they would convert on the track. If had I ridden with some intelligence (and it wouldn’t have taken much!) it would be a very different report. I can hear a lecture coming on tonight from the Mentor Mistress of Tactics, Mrs Coach.