2nd, Melbourne to Warrnambool 276k
Battling the Wind and History at the Melbourne to Warrnambool
The Melbourne to Warrnambool is the kind of race that every Australian cyclist dreams of. It’s the oldest, longest, and arguably most prestigious one-day race in the country. At 270 kilometres, it’s not just about legs, it’s about patience, positioning, and grit. With more than 160 starters and all the top domestic riders on the line, the race was always going to be a war of attrition.
A Fast and Aggressive Start
Rolling out from Avalon Airport, the tempo was high straight away. True to tradition, a small breakaway went early, but I stayed committed to my plan, sit in the bunch, look after myself, and follow the favourites who also chose not to jump across.
As the kilometres ticked by, the race began to take on that familiar rhythm of Australia’s great one day races. Move after move went tried to go up the road, the bunch strung out and then back together.
The Crosswinds Hit
At around the 200km mark (70km to go) things changed dramatically. We hit a sweeping bend onto a wide, exposed road and suddenly the race lit up. A massive crosswind tore through the bunch, and everyone was guttered, full gas just to hold the wheel in front.
Riders started dropping everywhere, gaps opened up, and when the dust settled I found myself in the front group of about 30. Being in the right place at the right time had paid off.
The Break of Seven
Not long after, the selection got even tighter. A group of seven riders slipped off the front, we werent even trying but our small group was playing cat and mouse. What followed was one of the hardest efforts of the day, Our group of 7 going full gas for 15km, just to hold off the chasing groups behind and our gap slowly grew
With Warrnambool getting closer, there was no longer any cooperation. at the front. Riders launched attacks, testing each other, and the elastic snapped a few times. I bided my time, waiting for the right moment.
My Move
With 9km to go, I countered one of the attacks and went solo. I managed to open a decent gap and for a moment it felt like maybe, just maybe, I could ride it all the way to the finish.
But cycling is rarely that simple. Looking back, I could see Mark O’Brien, a fellow Bendigo rider, bridging across. He latched onto my wheel before immediately going straight past me on a short, sharp climb with 6km to go.
The Final Push
Marko was strong, brutally strong and slowly rode away from me in the run into Warrnambool. I dug as deep as I could, but the gap grew metre by metre. Finally, after 270km of racing, I crossed the line in second place at the Melbourne to Warrnambool.
A Special Result
Of course, part of me wanted the win. Every rider does. But standing on the podium of Australia’s oldest and longest road race is something I’ll never forget. The “Warrny” is steeped in history, and to come away with 2nd place in such a brutal edition is something I’m incredibly proud of.
It was a day of crosswinds, tactics, and pure determination, the kind of race that reminds me why I love this sport.
