Alex Paton

The tactical hunt for marginal gains When the clock starts, nature and physics don't care about your intentions. In a time trial, every second is a battle against air resistance and mechanical friction. Si Richardson understands that facing a rival like Alex Paton requires more than just raw power; it demands a bike optimized for absolute efficiency. The psychological warfare of racing often begins in the workshop, where hours are spent ensuring the machinery can survive the violence of a maximum-effort sprint. Reclaiming data with the power meter Data is the only objective truth on the road. After previously stripping his bike of its power meter to experiment with a 1x drivetrain, Si realized that flying blind in a competitive race is a recipe for disaster. By sourcing a new power meter that allows him to keep his preferred Shimano Dura-Ace pedals, he regains the ability to pace his effort perfectly. In the mountains or on the flats, knowing your exact wattage is the difference between a calculated victory and a total physical blowout. Bigger gears and ceramic precision To push the boundaries of speed, Si upsized his chainring to a 52-tooth beast. This modification ensures he won't run out of gears on fast descents or tailwind sections. To further minimize the drag in his drivetrain, he integrated CeramicSpeed jockey wheels. This isn't just about smooth shifting; it's about neutralizing the technical advantages held by his competition. When the margins are this thin, ceramic bearings provide the friction reduction necessary to keep the chain moving with minimal resistance. Rolling on wide performance rubber The contact patch is where the rubber meets the grit of the road. Si opted for the Vision Metron 60 SL wheelset, paired with Pirelli P Zero Race RS tires. Choosing a 30mm tubeless setup is a bold move that reflects modern racing trends. While some might argue a 30mm tire is too wide for a pure time trial, the increased volume offers better vibration damping and lower rolling resistance on real-world surfaces. If this setup works for elite riders like Mathieu van der Poel, it can handle the punishment of a local race. Conclusion Preparing for a race isn't just about the physical training; it's about the relentless pursuit of equipment perfection. Si Richardson's setup proves that even seasoned riders must constantly adapt their gear to stay competitive. Now, the only thing left is to see if these modifications can translate into a winning performance on the tarmac.

The mist hung low over Maiden Bradley as two of cycling’s most recognizable voices prepared for a confrontation that had been years in the making. Simon Richardson and Alex Paton, usually seen side-by-side in the Global Cycling Network studio, stood as rivals on the start line of a 40km hilly time trial. The air was cold, the wind biting, and the psychological tension palpable. This was the "Race of Truth," a format that strips away the protection of the peloton and leaves a rider alone with their lactic acid and their thoughts. For Richardson, it was a rare venture into the world of solo racing, while Paton aimed to defend his reputation as the technical specialist. Technology and training clash on the tarmac In the weeks leading up to the event, the preparation strategies diverged into two distinct philosophies of performance. Richardson focused on the physical engine, increasing his weekly training volume and dialing in high-intensity intervals on Zwift. Paton, a self-described bike nerd, turned his attention to the machine. He outfitted his bike with a CeramicSpeed bottom bracket and oversized 3D-printed titanium pulley wheels, hoping that marginal gains would compensate for any deficit in raw power. Both riders arrived with waxed chains and Pirelli P Zero Race RS tires, transforming the race into a laboratory of modern cycling aerodynamics and rolling resistance. The tactical error of early aggression As the clock started, the internal monologues of the riders revealed a classic pacing dilemma. The course was a brutal stretch of rolling hills, including a significant climb in the middle that threatened to break anyone who mismanaged their energy. Richardson, despite warnings to start steady, found himself passing Paton just 18 kilometers into the race. This moment served as a psychological crossroads. For Richardson, it was an injection of confidence; for Paton, it was a moment of panic. The temptation to "match" an opponent's pace in a time trial is a trap that often leads to a catastrophic fade in the final kilometers. Climbing through the threshold of pain The climax of the struggle occurred on the course's steepest ascent. Richardson, drawing on his localized knowledge of the roads, decided to "invest" his effort here, pushing nearly 500 watts to the summit. Paton, momentarily re-passing Richardson on a flatter section, soon felt the weight of his rival's persistence. The lead swapped back and forth like a pendulum, but Richardson’s willingness to suffer through the most difficult sectors ultimately gave him the upper hand. By the time the finish line appeared, the tech upgrades of the Vision Metron 60 wheels couldn't overcome the sheer grit of a well-executed pacing plan. Victory is found in the final seconds The final results revealed a gap of less than a minute. Richardson claimed the top spot with a time of 58:44, while Paton followed at 59:46. Beyond the numbers, the race served as a masterclass in the psychology of competition. Richardson proved that while technical marginal gains are essential, they are only effective when paired with a resilient mental game and a calculated strategy. For Paton, the loss was "deep," but it highlighted the inherent unpredictability of the sport. Success in team sports and individual trials alike requires more than just the best gear; it requires the courage to execute when the body demands you stop.

The sun-drenched horizon of northwest Saudi Arabia isn't just a backdrop; it’s a living, breathing adversary. I’ve always said the mountains demand everything, and the desert is no different. We find ourselves in AlUla, a region that only cracked open its doors to the world in 2019. It is massive, rugged, and feels more like the set of a science fiction epic than a cycling destination. Starting in the mud-brick labyrinth of the Old Town, known as Adira, the air smells of date palms and ancient dust. This isn't your weekend fire-road jaunt. This is an oasis built on a hidden aquifer, a lush anomaly surrounded by millions of years of geological history. Ancient Echoes at the Hegra Necropolis Pushing twenty kilometers into the burn, we hit Hegra, the first UNESCO World Heritage site in the kingdom. It’s impossible not to feel small here. The Nabataeans carved over a hundred monumental tombs directly into the sandstone cliffs two millennia ago. While Petra has gone mainstream, Hegra retains a raw, untouched energy. The rock formations here—mushroom-shaped sentinels sculpted by uneven erosion—remind me of the high deserts in Utah, yet the cultural weight is entirely different. Navigating the soft sand between these structures requires more than just fitness; it requires a deep respect for a civilization that thrived in a landscape this inhospitable. Tactical Gear for the Deep Desert When the terrain turns to powder, your gear is the only thing keeping you upright. Alex Paton and Ollie Bridgewood tackled this loop on the Pinarello Grevil F, a machine designed for exactly this brand of chaos. In a place where the sand can swallow a thin tire whole, they opted for Pirelli Cinturato rubber measuring a beefy 52mm. That extra volume isn't a luxury—it’s a survival tool. Paired with Princeton 4540 wheels, the setup allowed them to float over sections that would have stalled a lesser bike. Even then, the desert has its ways of humbling you. One wrong line into a soft pocket and you're unclipped, struggling to find traction in a world of orange dust. The Gravity of Elephant Rock As we pushed toward Elephant Rock, or Jabal AlFil, the physical toll of the heat began to set in. Standing 52 meters tall, this monolithic sandstone beast was carved by nothing but wind and time. We took a moment at a local orange farm to refuel, wary of the Arabian Cobra and Horned Viper that call these oases home. The contrast here is jarring: one minute you’re dodging venomous neurotoxins in a lush grove, and the next you’re staring at a geological giant that makes your 100-kilometer goal feel like a pittance. Vertical Redemption on the Harrat Climb The climax of this journey wasn't found in the flats, but in the vertical. The Harrat Climb is a legendary piece of tarmac that serves as the finale for the AlUla Tour. We’re talking 25% gradients that make your lungs scream and your front wheel lift. It is a brutal, unforgiving wall of heat and gravity. Reaching the Harrat Viewpoint at sunset, looking down over the vast basalt plateau, the struggle finally makes sense. You don't come to AlUla for an easy ride. You come to see if you can handle the scale of a landscape that doesn't care if you finish. The lesson is simple: nature doesn't move for you; you move for it.