Friday Night is Race Night

As you might have gathered from my earlier post, i'm pretty enthusiastic about the idea of racing flat out for an hour on an offroad circuit of a friday evening. As most of the rest of the UK pushes off early from work to put on their glad rags and hit the town, i escape my computer to head for the Friday Night Summer Series which leaves you in a similar state, albeit by a different means. The de rigeur clothing is a bit different too, with shapes that cling to the figure and colours in the "loud" range.



There is certainly something satisfying about hitting the trails at speed, jockeying with 200 other people for position in the first bit of singletrack, and taking every climb at flat out pace, especially if all you have done all day is sit in a chair. There's something rather special about events where you see elite riders racing at the same time as absolute beginners - i don't just mean people who're new to racing, but people who've never ridden an mtb offroad before. It's all over in an hour, usually as the sun is starting to dip below the horizon, and the courses are short enough that you will cover somewhere between four and eight laps in that time. It's a great way to build a bit of racing form, but it's also fantastic just as a social experience; once the racing's done and your heart rate has fallen to a number that could be confused for a room temperature rather than an oven one, you can sit down and chill out with the guys who you've been chasing and the ones who were chasing you before you head for home.



With this in mind, i was keen to improve upon my previous "DNF" on my birthday at Bulwick Park. The course there was amazingly open, and reminded me of rides in the Yorkshire Dales, with one big descent and climb over a bumpy grass field. Unfortunately, just as i had been moving clear into 5th place, my chain snapped and i was faced with a long walk back. This time around, the course at Delapre Abbey was entirely different. Based in a country park near the centre of Northampton, it was tight and enclosed - we would only see the full sunlight for a few hundred yards each lap, the rest of the race was spent under the canopy of a beautiful deciduous woodland. The start, with a record 280 people was predictably frenetic with everyone keen to get into the early section of singletrack in front. I was warmed up from pre-riding the course, and lined up alongside frequent FNSSers Ryan Henry and Adi Scott, keen to try and keep with them and their customary blinding start. Unfortunately, it was not to be - i missed my pedal at the first stroke, and as everyone else surged forward i stood still. I managed to get back on terms, riding with 24hr racer extraordinaire Ant White through the first section of singletrack. That guy is incredible, he'd come second in the inaugural 24hr champs the weekend before, and was still blitzing me around a 1hr race; i guess my lazy week post Margam was beginning to show.



Through the next section of the course, i worked hard to keep Ant in sight, whilst still taking time to get as much air as my skills allowed off the jumps in the course. There was one enormous double that is obviously a product of much TLC from the local kids that i refused to go for, it later transpired that only one rider of the 280 of us had even attempted it, which made me feel a little better! As the lap carried on, i gradually lost contact with Ant, who would finish about a minute up on me, and acquired Lloyd Bettles for company. He then rode past me through a singletrack climb at the beginning of the second lap, and went on to catch Ant for 9th spot. And that was the way it remained for the rest of the race; i briefly sat with Paul Ashby as he came through from his two minute deficit (he started with the vets) but he too proved too strong for me (maybe i need to ride more on "rest" weeks!). I crossed the line in glorious late evening sunshine, 11th place. Not my strongest finish in the FNSS in the last two years, but at least i set the bar nice and low to start with, and i DID finish! Unfortunately, my usual close competition in the form of James Hampshire had managed to handicap himself by going for a pee second before the seniors race started, and he spent the rest of the hour in chase mode.



Next race up was two weeks later at Kilworth Springs golf course. I headed to this one on the way to a mate's stag weekend in Wales - it was a bit of a mad evening all in all - i finished work at half-five, grabbed my stuff and Rachel, who i was transporting most of the way to Mountain Mayhem, and then headed up the A14 to Kilworth. The idea of an MTB race on a golf course had struck me as a bit weird when i'd last raced here at the final round of the 2009 series, and although the course as a whole is pretty untechnical, it had provided some interesting racing (overtaking the tandems allowed in the series final had been particularly entertaining!). After our continuing dry summer, the course was dry and hard which made sections of the course like a bumpy road race. What made life worse was the fact that i'd taken my trusty rigid kinesis as i hadn't fancied leaving my lovely giant team bike in the bunkhouse in Wales that was going to be filled with my drunk friends for the weekend. Without my lovely plush foxes, every stone felt like a boulder. I didn't manage to find time to warm up or see the course, but headed straight down to the bottom of the golf course, where we were met by the organiser in a golf buggy! A brief chat about not riding on the greens, and the horn sounded - we were off. The start loop saw me gradually pick my way up into the top ten, riding with James H and a few other guys who seemed keen to keep the pace high. James and I had our usual banter riding through, with me complaining about the fact that my gear cables needed to be replaced (i haven't used the kinesis since February!) and my brakes didn't work. At some point fairly early on, James obviously got bored of my whining and decided to strike out alone, leaving me with a group of our pretty strong looking riders for company.


My little group obviously decided that i had a target on my back (might have been the AW kit) and so took it in turns to attack me at the front of the group. One after the other, they'd manage to pull out a 30 yard lead on me quickly, only to be apparently quite frustrated by the fact that i would gradually ride back to them without attacking quite so violently. I did feel pretty rough having not warmed up, though, and each effort made my lungs feel like they were burning. For my sins, i was rather miffed that they all seemed to be intent on trying to drop me, rather than helping me work to bring back James, who was gaining ground with all this nonesense. After a couple of laps of being ceaselessly under fire, i decided to open up a bit up a climb through the greens at the back of the course, and was bewildered and surprised when i turned around to see noone behind me! Apparently my companions had overdone it, either that or they were now busy attacking each other for ninth place instead of eighth.



I kept the pace up the rest of the race, crossing the line 5 minutes adrift of winner Ryan Henry in 6th place. So nearly in the money! Alas, i'll be missing the next two round of the FNSS, the team relay is probably a bit far from Reading to try to persuade the rest of the AW crew to come to, and the following weekend is the Friday before Dalby, where i'll be shamelessly saving my legs. But with 38th place in the rankings to defend (from two rounds), i'll be back at some point soon...


Thanks as ever to sponsors AW Cycles and Giant Bikes, Chris.

Muddy Margam

NPS 3: Margam Park
Well, what a race that was. I managed to get the mud out of my nice yellow kit, which is finally recognisable after some serious handwashing and industrial amounts of vanish stain remover, and i’m certain the Welsh Tourist Board are after me to reclaim several kilos of mud. It all seems a fairly distant memory until i try to stand up or climb the stairs, when my glutes remind me what this weekend was all about – climbing!

My trip to Margam started on Thursday evening – after a long day in the office, i was quite looking forward to throwing a few things in the back of the car and heading over to stay with Rachel’s parents in Worcester. The plan was then to ste... i mean borrow their campervan for the weekend to make our time at Margam a little more pleasant – the two of us are getting worryingly out of the habit of camping these days. Friday morning dawned beautiful and clear, with blue skies, light winds and temperatures nearing the 20s; i took this as a sign that i’d been right, it was going to be lovely. After all, it never rains at Margam, right?
We got to the venue at around 4pm after a morning spent updating my wardrobe for the first time in two years – i now have some shirts that don’t have holes under the arms! We headed straight out to see what the course was like; shorts and t-shirts the order of the day, with a little cloud blowing in it was still warm, and the course bone dry and rock hard. Some sections were very lumpy and had me wishing for a full-sus, but the serious amount of climbing per lap meant that weight was at a premium. A new deer-track traverse started the climbing off in earnest after the usual blast along the road from the arena, and took us through a small coniferous copse on the hillside, which deceived you into thinking the climb was more gentle than it was. A couple of rooty step-ups, and you were spat back out blinking into the sunshine to lose a significant chunk of your altitude descending a rough loamy chute. Whilst a little sketchy, this was eminently rideable, and served to get the heart going for the next climb, which then dropped you down through the rhododendrons into the famous (or infamous) Margam stream crossings. From here, it was up up up to the top of the monument climb, and then back through the usual final 2km descent to the start-finish. The final descent, whilst extremely fun, was a lot more rough than i remember, and is perhaps starting to suffer from having been used every year since 2006, and also frequently by the locals.
No matter, practice lap completed (with a few jeers from a certain organiser who will remain nameless, who was insistent i’d missed the “race of my life” the previous weekend), and it was time to dust (yes, dust!) down the bike ready for the following day. Being convinced that it was going to be fine the following day, i’d only brought one set of tyres, my trusty Larsen TTs that have seen me through the whole season so far. What could possibly go wrong?



Saturday morning came around pretty quickly, and i came to to the sound of something drumming on the campervan. Surely there couldn’t have been that many birds all landing at once? No, rain. Heavy heavy rain. Well, it was only 7am, there was time for it to clear up and the course to dry out before the women set off at 10, right? Wrong!
Rachel’s race started in poor visibility and slightly lighter rain, and shamefully i have to admit i only stayed about to watch the first lap – a woman wearing a simple blue top came whizzing through the start finish with an already insurmountable lead, it was only later that i realised that under the mud was Rosara Joseph! The elite women trickled through one by one, almost universally coated in mud but smiling – in spite of the horrendous weather the course was apparently very entertaining. It bode well for my race, with a later start time at least the weather had lifted a bit by the time we headed off behind the elite men at 12:30. For the first time since i was promoted to Expert, i felt as though i didn’t totally embarrass myself at the start, and actually ended up in the top ten as we started the ascent of the deer track. It wasn’t to last, and i lost a couple of places on the descent, in no small part due to the sketchiness of my “high summer” tyres in the sticky yet slippery mud. I settled down into a comfortable rhythm for the next climb, and gradually as the lap went on got more confident at handling my bike in the conditions. Top tip, if you make a stupid tyre choice, 20psi helps you stick!
As the laps ticked by, i found myself in the “second group” of people fighting for position; Serge Hunt surged (see what i did there!) past me on one of the climbs after we’d had an equally ridiculous time descending through the rhododendrons, but i kept getting glimpses of people ahead on the climbs. Mostly, they were the Junior riders who had zoomed past earlier on, only to succumb to the toughness of the course and the mud, but occasional blown experts came back to me too. On the penultimate lap, Oli Beckingsale passed me on the final steep descent, i’d like to think it was because he’d made a more appropriate choice of rubber, but i think it had more to do with just sheer skill. Climbing the deer track, i had Liam K for company, and his mum cheering him and me on too! As i started the big climb for the last time, i caught sight of Niall Frost, and pushed on hard to try to catch him before the descent would negate my advantage. Alas, i didn’t quite get him, with 9 second separating us at the finish, and i became the filling in an XCracer sandwich between Niall and James Hampshire. I was 14th, very muddy, and pretty happy with how things had gone.
Other team mates had variable days; Jon Pybus had a rough time in Elite, with a puncture putting an end to his race, but vets Mark & Mark seemed to revel in the conditions finishing 3rd (Mark H) and 9th (Mark C) respectively. And they were almost recognisable too. Thanks to Rachel for bottling for me, Chris Reeves for the photo that captures the atmosphere so perfectly, and to AW for the support. Roll on Dalby...

A two-race, one-finish weekend.

Having had a less than perfect start to my BMBS campaign for this year at Wasing Park, where I ended up upside down in the barriers after a hundred yards, and then limped around five laps of what would otherwise have been a really fun course, I decided the weekend before Margam should see me stepping things up a bit. First up was the second round of the Friday Night Summer Series (FNSS) at Bulwick Park in Leicestershire. For those of you who don’t know about this gem of a series, be ashamed! It’s the longest continually-running XC series in the UK, and in its 18th year in 2010, with a total of 13 rounds. An hour-long blast around a short, fun course with a great party atmosphere and cash prizes means that pretty much everyone is catered for; it’s an excellent way to kick-off the weekend.



In fact, so deep runs my enthusiasm for the series that I chose to race on my birthday, although I’ve been around rather longer than the FNSS. Friday evening saw a huge (150+) field line up in the warm evening sun on a small airfield runway near Rutland water ready for the whistle to go. Adi Scott got the holeshot and led for the first blast along the runway before Dave Collins hit the front, a position he wouldn’t relinquish for the whole race. I had an uncustomarily good start, and found myself coming through the start finish with Adi for company in around 6th place. As we went zooming down a dry, grassy bank, and over a series of small kickers, I decided I would get ready to make a move up the hill on the other side, and see if I could get clear to chase the guys ahead. As I hit the hill, disaster struck as my chain snapped at the quick link – d’oh. Adi offered his condolences before disappearing up the hill as I contemplated a long walk back from the furthest point of the course to the start-finish. Lesson learned – there’s now a spare link taped to the air canister on my seat post!



After what seemed like an age walking back along the course, I got back to where we had parked, helped poor Hollie Bettles back towards her dad’s van (she had crashed on the grassy descent, and discovered the following day she’d broken her shoulder – get well soon!). My good deed for the day done, I grabbed the camera and made the most of the light to take some photos of the other racers. A perfect evening in some ways, but a less than perfect one in others!



Next up was the 2nd round of the Southern XC series at Pippingford Estate near Uckfield. Steve and the rest of the southern gang had got rave reviews for this course, so much so that it will be the venue for the 2010 nationals, so I had high hopes. After sitting in traffic for a few minutes on the A22, and starting to get nervous that (a) I wasn’t going to get there before the start and (b) I wasn’t going to get there before my bladder burst, it was time to put the satnav into stealth mode and get there any which way we could. It was a glorious day, in fact almost too nice to “waste” racing, and the thought did occur to me to just sack off the race and go for a long ride around East Sussex instead. Hot weather plus hills seemed like perfect prep for Margam though, and turning into the venue for the race I knew I’d made the right decision!
From the top of the parking/camping field, you look straight down the hill to the start finish, and on down to the bottom of the final climb, one that you can love and hate in equal measure (love because it’s almost over, hate because it’s not as near to being over as you think at the bottom!). There wasn’t really enough time to check out the whole course before the gun went, so I just went over the opening ten minutes, which had been described as the “most tricky” to me. After the first couple of hundred yards which went uphill to the opening section of singletrack, the course seemed to go inexorably down, through a series of fast, twisty sections with a couple of drops and some steep chutes to keep the mind focussed. Just when you’d got used to the idea of descending forever on some MC Escher trails (oh, what a joy that would have been!), there was a left turn to take you back up the fire roads towards the arena. Emerging from the shade of the trees briefly to loop round a tree and give the commentator a tantalising glimpse of how the race was unfolding, the course then looped back into the forests for a further does of descending, where finding a smooth line and carrying momentum was key. The rest of the course is something of a blur, blending together some fantastically constructed berms with more steep descents, some beautiful sections through the fading bluebells, and a bit through a concrete gulley that always made me feel like a total novice! Factor in a bit of mud for that “I’m an mtber, get me out of here” look, and you were back at the bottom of that killer climb ready to do it all over again!
My race started just after the elites had zipped away, shortly after 2pm in the heat of the day. At the whistle, I clipped in next to Euan Adams who was promptly away, and not to be seen by any of the rest of us until the finish. I had my more common less than stellar start, and ended up dead last heading into the first section of singletrack. I picked up a couple of places on the first climbing section of fireroad, and found myself in the company of Mark Field of MSC bikes. We pootled round as a twosome for a while, as the faster masters harried us for position, including an altogether too-polite Mr Ernest, who was unlucky to suffer from a puncture and then heart palpitations, but still amazingly finished 5th! I consciously took the first lap pretty steady, aware that the heat was going to be a factor and also that I might not yet have the depth to my form to hammer it for four laps around such a “climby” course. At some point I lost Mark, and continued into lap number 2 alone.



Throughout the whole race, I focussed more on descending smoothly than pushing super-hard, and it seemed to pay off as suddenly some of the guys who’d slipped away at the start swam into view...were they a mirage or were they real?! I had crept up to 8th place by the bottom of the final climb, and just managed to summon the energy to pass Dan Eastment for 7th on the line. Not a fantastic result in itself, but an extra 30s a lap would have netted me 4th; giving me some good energy for Margam! Roll on the Welsh round where it’s always sunny!
The AW team had a good day all told, with Jon Pybus claiming fifth in the Elite field, Mark Hutt doing his now commonplace disappearing act to take the Vet win, ahead of Mark Cracknell in 10th and organiser extraordinaire Steve in 19th. Not bad for a bunch of guys riding hardtails on what everyone else seemed to think was a “full suss course” (apart from Jon the softie!). Thanks as always to AW for the great bikes, the shady love-bus and the mellow yellow kit that made life so much easier for my adopted bottler Keith of the WXC team (thanks for accepting me as one of the girls!). Until the next instalment, dusty trails.

There's a great video of the last southern race to be held on the pippingford course courtesy of Paul Robinson here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2LYHklI9MbA

Thanks to Rachel, and a kind chap on the XCracer forum for photos.

“It’s mtb racing, not dirty Swedish porn”

And so began a weekend of riding around Catton Park in ever-decreasing circles. Actually, that’s not quite true, it all started 24hrs earlier when the thought of a nice sauna (more on that later!) was just a distant dream. Friday evening arrived, and it being almost summer at least in season if not in weather, that meant time to pack the car. Destination – Si & Mel’s house in Reading, ready for the AW cycles team launch on Saturday morning. They’d very kindly offered to put us up to save us from a 5am start (on a weekend too, how uncivilised!), instead we got up at the relatively pleasant time of 7am, had a nice breakfast of porridge, and then Si & I headed over to the shop. A little late. Ahem.

On arrival, James gave me a big bag of new kit in very distinctive banana yellow and dark blue, and directions to the loo in the shop to change as quickly as possible. After a few photos in front of the shop, we then rode en masse, and what a mass, to a park in the centre of town for more group photos. We got some whistles of encouragement from the locals (chicks love guys in lycra, apparently a fact in Reading – either that or James bribed them!); it was definitely impressive seeing pretty much the whole AW team all together, although definitely harder work for us mtbers on our knobbly tyres. After standing in the shadow of an “anatomically incorrect” lion for a few minutes, we made our final trip to Palmer Park to ride around the track. It felt pretty weird riding on the track for the first time on my hardtail, but it didn’t stop fellow new boy Jon and I playing silly buggers!

The day of publicity concluded with Si and James doing a radio interview on Radio Berkshire with a surprisingly clued-up DJ, whilst Rachel, Mel and I listened at home. Then it was time to fling stuff in the AW cycles tardis-van and head up to Derby to check into our rather amazing apartment. In fact, to say it was amazing is something of an understatement – it was real luxury, two double bedrooms, a kitchen and a hidden Sauna that looked just like a wardrobe, bliss. After a nice, healthy dinner Si and I hit the sauna; having never been in one before i had no idea what to expect, but 85 degree heat can be really quite relaxing. The conversation afterwards did also contain the quote of the weekend “it’s mtb racing, not dirty Swedish porn” – i’ll leave you to work it out!

Morning arrived, and with it strong winds, but clear skies – the course was going to be pretty dry after all the apprehension about rain and tyres. We arrived at Catton at about 8:30, plonked our stuff in the pits, got kitted up and put our bikes together with just enough time for me to have a customary three trips to the loo before the race started (race nerves do terrible things to me!). Si had volunteered to do the run, and did us proud striding back into the arena to grab his bike in about 5th place. By the time he handed over to me after 2 laps we were up to 2nd, maybe a minute back of Dave Collins & Keith Murray; i had my work cut out for me. Mid way through my first lap of two, Ryan Henry passed me, and later on Lee Williams – i didn’t really fancy my chances of hanging onto either of their wheels, but that didn’t stop me trying! Through the second lap, i was beginning to learn the lines a bit better and felt like i was making up time only to lose it again through being too polite in passing people (that didn’t stop one guy having a go at me for daring to ask to pass at all, though!). When i handed back over to Si, we were down to 6th – bugger. This set the pattern for the rest of the race really, Si would make us up some places, and then we’d drop back down when i went out; it was really a testament to just how good the competition was that the Hope guys ended up 4th only a few minutes ahead of where we finished in 7th. It was definitely tight at the top!

I got the last lap, and so had the honour of coming through the finishing arch to shake Pat’s hand; he’s always such a jolly character, and it’s good to see his events attracting such a quality field. The men’s pairs was won by the Wiggle duo of Lee Williams and Ben Simmons who were cranking around like nobody’s business, with Geoff Beetham & Ryan Henry in 2nd, and George Budd & Phil Lenney taking 3rd spot with a late charge.

Thanks as ever to sponsor AW cycles for the Giant bikes, kit and support that they give us, and to our long suffering partners Mel and Rachel for being a great support crew on a rather chilly day.

Fast times at Dortmund High...

It's already been a while since i wrote a post, and i swore this time around i'd be better, but to be totally honest it feels like i've been living at breakneck speed the last three weeks. After the spring marathon, i had hoped to have another good week's training ready for the Midlands XC race on my favourite course of last year at Hanchurch near Stoke. It's a great place to ride a bike, and the BETD/Goldtec guys helped by a certain Mr. Brookes always put on an excellent testing course, with proper climbs to test your legs, and tricky twisty descents to make sure you've been riding your mtb in the off season. Last year i had a less than perfect race when a catalog of errors led to me spending the night sleeping in the car (even at my height, a fiesta is not a comfy bed) and then having only milk to drink to stay hydrated in the hours leading up to the race. Feeling rather better this year, and with a slightly more cohesive plan in mind, i fancied my chances of improving my finish position.

Tuesday morning, and things were looking good - i did a turbo session in the morning before heading out the door to work, knowing that in the evening i'd be boarding a plane to Germany. I'd got it all planned out, i'd take my running shoes and do an hour's run around Werne on Wednesday, and fly back Thursday which would give me time to rest and recover. I saw the sights of Werne at 7am, the joys of a 1hr time difference being enough to get me up and out early before breakfast, and went jogging along the river on a pleasant spring morning. Thursday was the day to return and prepare. A friendly little country called Iceland had other ideas however. As the day wore on, it became more and more clear that i wouldn't be heading home after all - my colleague and I made plans to stay in Dusseldorf over night in order to get a flight early Friday morning. Finding somewhere to stay on Thursday evening proved more of a struggle however, as a "wire expo" (i seriously can't imagine who would go to this, or why!) had been on in the city, and thousands of other Brits were also stranded unable to fly home. We finally got into a slightly grubby hotel that was only a few years away from charging by the hour, and went to sleep.

Friday dawned to silence from the airport, the ash cloud has spread and now the German airports were closing too. We decided to cut our losses and head for Brussels - then we had the option of the Eurostar, a ferry from Oostend or a flight if the airports reopened. And it was a much better place to be stuck than Dusseldorf to boot. We checked into a rather plush hotel in the centre for what would be the first of three nights, and i got my first acquaintance with the running machine in the gym. On the train journey, we passed through several extremely picturesque villages and towns in the Belgian Ardennes that i'm very keen to go back and visit, in particular Verviers which was the location chosen for the 2007 world mtb marathon championships. Let's face it, a country obsessed with chocolate and cycling has to be my spiritual home! Once we got to Brussels, following the alternative train route suggested to us by a friendly Belgian man at Dusseldorf, and checked in, i have to admit a wave of relief passed over me. Annie, our star organiser had arranged some Eurostar tickets for monday morning, we had somewhere to stay, and things were looking up. It was only later that it occurred to me that getting back on Monday meant i would miss the Midlands race, and also not see Rachel for nearly two weeks as she headed up to the Dalby World Cup on Sunday.

The days in Brussels passed in a haze of foraging for somewhere to eat, trying to find out what was going on transport-wise and even a little sightseeing. It was pretty cool to go the atomium (http://www.atomium.be/) a giant exhibit for the 1958 world's fair in the shape of a body centred cubic crystal structure unit (oh my, i still remember some materials science!), and filled with exhibits from the 1950s and '60s. As i implied earlier, i spent a lot of quality time with the running machine in the evenings to make up for my lack of bike training, and also because it made the amazing Belgian stews taste even nicer when i was hungry from a bit of excercise. Finally, monday morning arrived, and after a nervous wait to collect our tickets (apparently etickets don't count!). After a mad dash to the platform, the actual trip back home was a bit of a blur. I got back to find i'd left my lights on in my car six days earlier, and needed a new battery, and then once i finally got home discovered my cat had been duffed up by the local bully and needed a trip to the vets. What a life.

Things have settled down a bit now, Rachel's back from working at Dalby, and training is back in the swing - in fact it even felt like i hadn't lost much through 6 days with no bike. I guess time will tell...

CRC Marathon, Builth Wells, 10th April

CRC Spring Marathon Builth Wells

Having experienced the blissful spring sunshine of Gran Canaria already, Rachel and I were a little more pessimistic about our chances of a rain-free weekend in Wales in April. The weather had other ideas though, and the weather was nothing short of beautiful, so beautiful in fact that Rachel managed to get sunburn.

We arrived in Builth on Saturday evening, just in time for the Big Night Out night marathon. The couple of hour’s drive from Rachel’s parent’s house in their new campervan that we were borrowing for the weekend on windy roads was a little scary for me, but i eventually got used to something rather bigger than a Ford Fiesta! The camper was an absolute luxury, with onboard heating that came in surprisingly useful – although daytime temperatures were very pleasant, clear skies at night meant it was rather cold when the sun went down. Having signed on and made some dinner, we wandered over to see the leaders finishing the night marathon, led home by Jonny Pugh, with Nick Craig hot on his heels. Friend and fellow endurance racer Trevor Allen finished a creditable fifth.

Sunday morning dawned bright and clear, a little mist on the hills the only sign that night time temperature had been low, and a quick wander made it clear that it was going to be a shorts and jersey day by the time the race set off at 10:30. A quick breakfast, and a quick chat with the guys on the USE/Exposure stand, and it was time to line up for the 75km “challenge”. We all rolled out together behind a pace van for the first 7km of the ride, and i soon found my way forwards to the group containing most of the favourites. The pace felt hard but not ridiculous, although it was easy to tell that Nick wasn’t working quite as hard as me by just how chatty he was!

I kept the leaders in sight for the first half an hour, but the pace was too hot and i was definitely on the train to bonksville if i tried to keep going like that for 3+hrs. I sat up and let my heartrate drop into a slightly more sensible endurance zone as we started the second climb. I was feeling pretty good at this point, and seemed to have packed my climbing legs as i kept closing gaps on the uphill sections. It wasn’t long before i was up with East Anglian mtb legend Paul Ashby and his son who we’re riding together. Paul’s always been extremely fast on the flat, but this year he seems to be climbing pretty well too – watch out fellow vets! Chuffed that things seemed to be going well for me, i did my classic trick of forgetting to drink on the rolling course that seemed to head either up or down most of the time.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, i started to feel the first twinges of cramp in my left leg on one of the steeper pitches of climbing; uh oh. I guzzled the remaining fluid in my bottles in the hope of stopping the full-on leg-locking experience, and the dehydration gods must have been smiling on me because it worked! However, it obviously affected my brain because i managed to sail straight past one of the yellow course markers, and inadvertently cut a short section of the course. I made up for it on the final descent though by sailing straight past another marker and going straight into an unrideable field – oops! I crossed the line in (i think) 10^th place, 20minutes behind a certain Mr. Craig.

Post-race we had a nice little tea party in the camper with friends and team mates (in Rachel’s case) and then headed back to drop off our home for the previous night, before coming back to the flatlands of East Anglia. The guys who live in Wales probably don’t realise just how lucky they are to have such amazing terrain on their doorsteps – oh to be able to climb for more than two minutes! All in all, a great event and amazing weather – what more could you want?

First post.

Welcome to my new, personal blog. I have to admit i'm not totally new to this whole blogging malarkey, having previously written about my cycling exploits with my erstwhile team mate, and still girlfriend Rachel on www.overthehillracing.blogspot.com . Whilst she continues to inhabit our old blog, i've moved on to pastures new creating this new place for my rotational thoughts.

So, what have i been up to since i wrote about the three peaks in late september of last year? Well, it's been a cold winter, but then i've always believed that i would prefer seasons to weather, and in many ways this past six months has proved me right. There have been some fantastic rides in the snow, where just staying upright felt like and achievement and once you come inside your face glows from the effort and the cold for a good hour before you warm up properly. Now, i'm ready for change, and change has arrived. Three weeks ago, i headed off to the Canarian island of Gran Canaria for some much needed spring sun, and of course some good riding. When i left, it was still grim and cold, ten days later and the spring greening seemed to be in full flight. Which means it's time to dust off the race bike!

This season i've gone for a slightly more relaxed start to the year - compared to last year where i wanted to try to be flying from March until September, i'm being a bit more circumspect. So many people seem to have felt like the first BMBS was the starting gun for their whole year, whereas i find myself sliding gradually into the racing habit - i've done one XC race at Black Park, and a marathon out in Gran Canaria, but it still feels like the season has hardly started. I even opted to give Sherwood a miss altogether, with my big aims coming in early september there seemed little point in trying to be in flying form in late march!

Anyway, i'm off to Builth Wells (via Worcester) tomorrow to indulge in a bit more marathon-ing (that's what AW cycles give me a bike for after all!) to ease myself further into the habit - i'll put a report up on here when i'm back next week. In the mean time, ride it like you stole it....