“I’m so stressed I think I might be sick…”

The Timekeepers Tales:

So, having spent last weekend cycling to Paris, it was time to return to our first two-wheeled love. We’d not been able to attend an endurance race since the first round at Brands, and when we were asked again to pick up the timekeeping mantle we jumped at the chance.

We arrived at Pembrey at gone midnight on Friday, and stepping out of the van we realised then that the chances of this weekend being anything but wet and wild were slim. I’d been told to expect a ‘windswept old runway of a racetrack’ and when we finally peeled our eyes open on Saturday morning that’s exactly the vista that met our eyes.

Saturday’s practice and quali race gave us a chance to get our heads back into the timekeeping role. However, rather than fall gracefully back into it, we instantly remembered exactly just how pressured it can be. Because endurance racing is such a team sport, we were worried that our first go at this timing lark had been a fluke and that we’d not be able to repeat it. We didn’t want to let down the riders and the rest of the team, all of who invest a lot of time, effort and emotion into the event.

Qualifying is a 40 minute session – split equally between both riders and as well as giving them valuable data and start position, it also highlighted a fairly fundamental flaw in our cunning timekeeping plan. Where we were standing on the pit wall, directly opposite our team setup, was so close to the corner that the riders couldn’t see the board clearly on exiting the corner, without compromising their racing. This was not on. We had to find an alternative position as a matter of priority…

We weren’t racing ‘til 2.30 on Sunday, so we had plenty of time to move the gear to the pits, scout a new pit board position, enjoy the hospitality(!) of the Pembrey cafeteria and even catch 20 laps of MotoGP. In between all of this we called a team strategy meeting. It felt odd, all these experienced guys listening to us, but it also felt like we were a team, all working together and that was great. We were nervous that the new pit wall position meant that we were out of contact with the garage, but Mark, in his inimitable way said, ‘I’ll be looking out for you, don’t worry about that, it’s not like I’m going for a cup of tea!’

The atmosphere in the pit noticeably changes as race time draws closer. You can visibly see Keith and Paul start to close down to distraction as they focus in on the job in hand. Before we knew it we were heading for the pit wall and the red lights were going out. When you stand there, at the beginning of the three-hour session, you think it’s going to last forever. You almost can’t imagine the end of the race. And then once they’re off time seems to speed up and three of the most frantic, fun, stressful, comedic and downright enjoyable hours of your life are underway. It was inevitable that the safety car would be out several times; with the weather changing every five minutes it couldn’t not. I think it was the second time that it prompted Madge to remark “I’m so stressed I think I might be sick…”  He was joking, but I knew what he meant, the safety car can cock up all the careful calculations and introduces a level of uncertainty that you have to try and work around. And the fact was, our boys were STORMING. We decided to give Paul position timings as well as laps, and this meant running backwards and forwards to the timing screen to get this, every single lap. We had to really focus, the riders were nailing it, and the last thing we needed was to bring them in too early, or worse still, too late. Then, on Keith’s last stint we realised that, barring any disasters, we had a podium position in the bag. We couldn’t be caught by the team in fourth, and as long as he kept it on the track we were going to be celebrating!

He did, we did, and the rest, as they say, is history…roll on Cadwell.

“The Madges”