It was too busy to clip in again. What followed was a full on histrionic strop as I banged on my bars, swore and vented my frustrations at officials and anyone I thought would listen. Last years Velothon I pretended I was Cav on the final sprint this year I was pretending to be him after things go wrong.

I'd entered the race this year with one ambition. To beat last year's time which was 5:31:45. If you recall I'd had manflu in the preceding days and had ridden on a cocktail of Vicks, Lemsip and Welshness, so I was quietly confident. I looked into any marginal gains I could achieve. I changed my cassette to a 34 tooth from a 32, obtained some lighter water bottles, got new lighter carbon fibre reinforced shoes and in a final clever piece of thinking used a ceramic dry lube on my drivetrain. This would reduce friction meaning a faster pedal stroke. Yeah I was on it.

 I lined up in my pen with my fellow riders and after a long wait and a mile long entrance circuit I approached the start line proper, where my race nearly ended. Just before the start was a crossing point and there being a bit of a gap in front of me the official allowed a few people to cross. Fair enough but one student carrying a mountain bike decided to try and squeeze through as well stopping right in front of me. Slamming on the anchors and using some profanities I avoided disaster, thanks in no small part to the official dragging her physically through the barriers. Seething I rode through the start and into the docklands of Cardiff.

The miles flew by under my wheels. I found myself in a mini peleton where we rode on each others wheels and took our turns in the wind. We did this with barely a word, I was chuffed that someone thought my wheel worthy enough to ride in and we focused on that lay ahead. Crowds lined the road even from the start and I felt good. Good enough at one point to ride up to a group of ladies and high five a line of ten or so. I used to be a lead singer and that comes out occasionally I'm afraid.

 I was flying. Totally confident I'd beat my time. As we approached the first feed station at Usk the first few pots of rain started to appear and as my group swung off to top up on energy bars the rain became heavier. It was said of Miguel Indurain that he got heavier in the rain. I think I do as well. Donning my rain jacket I started to have a few doubts but quickly got over these as I drew inspiration from my rain glistened thighs. So much inspiration that when I spotted Julie up ahead having a break I stopped for a chat.

I'd entered Julie in the ride as a challenge to help her get over a broken ankle. The Velothon was her first cycling event and only her fourth time riding her new road bike. To this point she's never actually ridden in the drops or drunk from her bidon whist moving and she still hasn't, but she finished well and I'm proud of her.

We rode along together for a bit and with the weather drying up I felt good so left her and rolled around to the Tumble. The Tumble is a horrible horrible climb. Averaging around 6-7% with a steep cattle grid at the mid point. A lot of riders had to push here and there in caused the problem that led to the crash.

Some of the pushers did so in the middle of the road and the hill became a slalom for those still riding. If I was feeling generous I'd say this was purely down to them being unaware of protocol however there were enough of us shouting to get to the die that I think it was down to being more interested in having a chat. At the cattle grid the bottleneck exacerbated the situation and a rider in front of me swerved to avoid a pusher. However he did this on the metalwork and went down (thankfully unhurt). My climb was over. The decked rider apologised to me and I accepted. It wasn't his fault. The next ten minutes though were full on tantrum though. Unable to clip back in due to the crowds I was forced to push (at the side) and did so whilst everybody in the vicinity knew my thoughts. Aware I'd lost at least ten minutes because of this I got back on near the top and hoped to make up the time on the descent and run in to the second climb Caerphilly Mountain. Still feeling strong and confident it would stay dry I still felt I could beat last year.

 Then it rained. My top speed on the descent was 15mph slower than last year but the real issue was I'd been clever and put dry lube on. It had washed off and instead of a slick racing drivetrain on my Cannondale it was the drivetrain of a 1930s butcher's bike. I squeaked along trying to hide my embarrassment and avoiding riding in any particular group for too long in case someone recognised me. I was still making good time but knew the chances of me beating last year were getting fainter and fainter.

Passing through the towns of Pontypool and Newbridge, again the crowds were amazing, even better than last year. I actually saw someone had taken their dining set outside and were having full Sunday lunch as the riders went by. For all the doubters, naysayers and publicity seeking politicians the vast majority of people on the route have taken the Velothon to heart. Every rider I've spoken to has enthused about the crowds and how it spurred them on. I spoke to at least two people who watched at the roadside last year and went out and bought bikes for this years event. This is what the Velothon is for. This is why it is a success. The ride takes place in one of the unhealthiest regions in Europe and every bum that leaves the sofa for the saddle is a justification for a few closed roads.

  Anyway my time? I'm getting to it. Caerphilly Mountain was tough but dry at least and I refused the kind offer of a Twix from the roadside. At the top two riders next to me touched wheels and went to ground. Looking back it was obvious one had broken his collar bone and for all my moaning about crashes holding me up on the Tumble I hadn't been in one and that's what's important really. Coming into Cardiff another crash reinforced this, especially as when I was giving a warning signal to those behind I hit a speed bump nearly hitting the asphalt myself.

Squeaking my way along the final miles I finished with a sprint and below is my finish Certificate and time

Nearly ten minutes slower. The crash, a change in route, talking to Julie, the rain, my stupidity in using dry lube and a head wind into Cardiff. Like a pro I've got plenty of reasons/excuses why I failed in my objective but if I'm honest I didn't train enough over the winter and going into the event. It also shows how far I've come as an athlete. Only a few years ago I'd have been happy to finish especially in the top half of the field but this year I'm a little disappointed and don't feel I quite earned my medal. I'll be back though next year to beat it.

Photo Credits: Getty Images