When you do a bit of sport, whether you do something with a passion or a passing interest, when you talk with your mates about what to ride or aim at. Do you ever dare to dream? Of course you do, but you might not share it with your friends for fear of what they might think, Failure? Cost? Humiliation? Delusions of grandeur even!
 |
| Two to Go (Photo's Larry Hickmott - VeloUK) o7ò |
I had a dream to win a World Championship on a bike, I had it from being a kid, I stopped dreaming it in my twenties and I only started again in my late forties, I'd got fit enough to race at a good level, raced on the road and in time trials, won a few medals, little dreams but what about the big dream I even talked about it with my pal Adrian, he loves the track, he's 'quick' and smart. "Let's ride the Track Nationals", 'The Masters' we shared it together. I won a couple of medals (never Gold!) Adrian won a medal we were close but it was still a dream.
 |
| The bell- Peter Toth the defending Champion o7ò |
When people say when you lose something "Why are they in the last place you look"? Dreams are like that, they do not come
true until the last moment, they remain lost, in terms of a race they
remain
unwon until you cross that line. As the finish
hovers up into view approaching you at speed there is still time for you
to wake up and then like crossing into another world, like stepping
through a mirror, a reflection of your own life but one that exists with
you as the Winner! , so when
the line was getting closer and in all my other dreams when a
rider comes past me and the reflection gone. At about ten thirty
last Thursday night the line came up and passed under my wheels
 |
| The Finish - Parkinson wins World title, Adrian 4th o7ò |
Sure I won a European Masters Gold! It was a nice feeling but like all dreams when you wake up you just want to slip back under the covers, enjoy the detachment, the warm cosy world of altered reality, the realness of winning in a real race is cold and harsh. Last year my best chance I went up an age group away from most of the riders who beat me year after year in the British title races. And even though I was the best Europe could offer I came up against others, Canada, Russian Australia and America, a bronze seemed like a brilliant success, I gave it my all and two! Canadians beat me in both races.
 |
| Parkinson celebration (Photo - Steve Walton) o7ò |
Another year, another tilt, the Canadians are still there but so are all those Brits Aaah!, Second and fourth was all I could manage at the Nationals, consistent but not dominant, I can't even win a British title! How can I win a World Title? The Europeans are also in the UK this year, good practise but I need to focus and I put all my eggs in one basket, Its the Worlds or nothing, I train in isolation, I do not step on a track but I do believe. Belief is a hunger but it is also an itch, it's inside and outside you, all you can do is eat and train, drink and breath and rest.
The Pursuit is much the same as last year, I am so well rested but I am out of touch with the feeling of competition its hard to know if its good or bad, in the end I decide its nothing. Back at work months of preparation float in the air and I pace through it with purpose but like all big moments they start with small waves, ripples that you feel in the middle of the night, on your chest and at your finger tips. I go around at work cleaning the door handles, am I turning into Howard Hughes? I sit down when I brush my teeth, does it all adds up to a World Title? I've done it for years, a devotion to the line, my own genuflection to myself, the dogma of winning, strangely I do not consider I am not a natural winner, its not pathological with me, it's not a necessity and sometimes it does not feel right I have to make it a methodology, I feel unwell
 |
| Podium with Michel Lacouline (Can) Parkinson & Scotland's Ivor Reid (Clachnacddin) o7ò |
My 'niggle' has developed into a sore throat and I wake up at six O'clock, Adrian and I are sharing a room in basic hotel near the track, I have lain awake most of the night, I have learnt to rest without sleeping, the days events will be the test, rest has no place there. We get on the track to warm up and wait for the heats to be drawn, both in the second heat, so we can watch and learn, only six to go out but the tension of the heats are worse than the final, some are paralysed but Adrian and I go through in the confusion as the American Tolson laps the field and the judges get the lap numbers wrong, but you have to be prepared for everything, Ian Greenstreet is out, the Pursuit taken more out of him, an Argentinian is relegated for riding on the Côte d'Azur letting in the Manchester rider Jerry Cross
 |
| The man and his 'Iron' o7ò |
We line up for the final in the central pen, the Whip insists my steel bike is weighed, the scrutineer does not even put it on the scales, "No weigh it" I say "What does it weigh"? 1.5Kg over the 7.6Kg, most have spanners taped on or chain down the tubes, 400g the most I found. So were on the track 40 laps, its ten O'clock at night, the day like no other has lasted longer than my longest race but that is track racing, you eat and drink, you rest, you warm up and down, you shower and you eat again and you try not to dream, we go back to the hotel to rest away from the fuss of the track but you do not allow yourself to sleep because you know if you dream you might wake up and there is nothing here to be gained from that, not now at least
 |
| Parkinson Wins! The Result |
Back at the track the race is fast, no chance to get away let alone gain a lap, I balance at the back of the bunch, observing the group, I trail riders up through the field, I follow Tolson and then Peter Toth (Can) he moves with such purpose like a shark in a shoal of smaller fish, he is defending Champion but I have two other Canadians to observe as well, you can only choose one so Toth is my man. Its ten to go, this is my zone, my time of the race, my throat is dry and 'claggy' the suspense is only held at bay by sheer excitement and panic. I trail riders up the track once more in one last effort to find my opportunity but there is none, I move to the back again high on the banking scrubbing off the speed as I climb higher and then in a split second Toth makes his move, I have to barge Ivor Reid off his wheel and chase him over the group, a split second decision to go over a stray rider as Toth goes under I almost come a cropper but it gives me the height I need to latch onto him
 |
| Phew! I'm exhausted o7ò |
Toth is on the front from three laps out, he does not glance around or ease up, he does not waver in his intent, I admire his certainty he has taken the race on, the mark of a Champion, I have now been dealt my hand, this is not the way I would plan it but you have your cards and you have to play them. I was certain as I ever was to take the race on early, Toth had not faltered but hesitation would hand the advantage to others, there are plenty faster (quicker!) than me but Toth had handed me two aces, the front and the speed, with 300m to go I begin to pass and take the front, I have not looked over my shoulder (mistake?) I'm on the front with a lap to go and I play my own aces. The last lap is just as fast as I can make it, I'm still expecting a rider to come past, still expecting the dream to end, as I pass over the line, I have become a World Champion..........................
o7ò
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
