Brass Monkeys Series 2018/19 - Round 1

I promise I had been good and behaved myself at the cycle clubs Christmas dinner the night before, but I still suffered a difficult morning and a very uncomfortable journey up to Minley Manor on Sunday morning for the first round of the Brass Monkeys winter series. On arrival at the venue I quickly rushed to join the queue for the porta-loos!

I might have been feeling a bit green around the gills, but at least the weather had been kind. There was a chill to the air as we gathered at the start line, but the trees sheltered us from the breeze and there was blue sky overhead.

From the start we were almost immediately into the singletrack. This normally would have been excellent news, but with the large number riders suddenly compressed into a snaking crocodile we were forced to proceed at the pace of the slowest. It felt like I was just coasting along lightly turning the pedals. Of course whenever there was an open section everyone sprinted in an attempt to make up ground, at one point we were 5 abreast all elbows out, it was crazy for the start of a 4 hour race! This lead to stressed riders, raised voices and some shouting which was all totally unnecessary. Yes, it was frustrating but we were all in the same boat. I suppose it was therefore no surprise to hear the crash of a massive pile-up half way around the first lap as people jostled for position. Much later in the race I caught and passed the chap who had been most vocal and causing much of the trouble. I wish I had been able to think of a witty comment as I sailed past, but I guess the results say it all.  

Gaps finally started to open and the race was beginning to split into smaller groups as we began the second lap. No chance to stretch the legs just yet though as we immediately caught the stragglers at the back of the 2 hour race, and had to begin painfully picking our way past the back markers. To be honest I didn’t greatly enjoy the first few laps, but eventually things thinned out.

I found myself in a group with 4 others and we worked well together, finally increasing the pace as we approached the end of the second lap. On the final couple of climbs of the lap I pushed to the front and stretched my legs trying to drop the others. Now I learnt how useful it is to have friends, family or teammates to lend a hand. Having stretched a slight lead we swung into the pit area. I skidded up to my bag, tore open the lid, pulled out a fresh full bottle and an energy bar. I slotted the bottle into my frame and poked the bar into my jersey pocket as quickly as I could. I looked up to see the other 4 riders were already around the first few bends and disappearing into the trees. They unlike me had all had a helper to pass them a bottle as they sped past without stopping. While they now sat up able to enjoy their fresh drinks I was sprinting like mad trying to get back on the wheels. In fact I never saw a couple of the group again as they split away.

An hour later we reached half race distance. The 2 hour race had now ended  and with no more backmarkers I was suddenly all alone! I concentrated to maintain focus and at least all the earlier holdups and steady start meant I was now feeling nicely warmed-up and able to press on. 

I was chalking up 33 -35 minute laps which meant it was marginal for me to complete a 7^th lap within the 4 hour cut-off. My 5th lap was 35 minutes flat. which meant despite having 3 hours of racing in the legs the next two laps would need to be almost as fast. I know form previous years it is always worth squeezing in the extra lap. With an hour and 10 minutes riding to go I had to maximise every corner, every decent and push on every climb. The heart was pounding the legs burning, fully focused I rolled across the line in a lap time of 36 minutes with 37 left until the time cut-off. It was going to be very tight! 

I dug deep. The only company I had on that lap was the leaders coming through to lap me. It was slightly depressing that I was 4 miles behind, but these are national champions, and it was eye opening to see the state they were in. They were rocking and rolling, struggling with fatigue and cramp, to such an extent that towards the end of the lap as I chased the clock I closed back in on them. I was digging very deep indeed and constantly glancing at the time on my Garmin.

I followed the leaders sprinting across the line with a little over a minute in hand before the course closed. I was the last man to cross the line!

13th might not be a stella headline result. Once again a side effect of getting older is that the competition is tougher. I'd have been 7th in the under 40's!  However, I am really pleased with my race and how I was able to push hard in that final hour when others were slowing and falling back. Maybe even slightly surprising since I haven't ridden off-road for 4 hours since August!

Gorrick Autumn Classic 2018

It felt as though the air had gone thick like treacle, or perhaps my brakes were locked on? I checked and no both tyres weren’t flat! Why did it feel like such hard work today?

I was on the limit, my thighs were throbbing, my heart was racing and I was trying hard to fight off stitch. I wanted to sprint and chase after the riders ahead, but my body just flatly refused to respond to the request. I hadn’t pushed myself so deeply into red since my last XC race at the end of July and during the first lap of the Gorrick Autumn Classic that lack of race fitness really showed!

There were some mitigating circumstances. Earlier that morning I’d punctured only 5 minutes into my warm-up lap. I’d limped back to the car, leaving puddles of latex on the ground as I’d fought to get the tyre to seal. Hearing the 5 minute warning echo through the trees I pumped up the tyre and hoped for the best, rolling up to the back of the grid just as the starter got the race underway. Sprinting away cold from the very back of the pack I was last man to cross the start line. I’d tried to make up positions on the opening undulating fire road, but it wasn’t the charge to the front I’d hoped for and in fact as we approached the singletrack some of those I had overtaken slipped back ahead again. Taking my muscles from cold to a flat out sprint, and from a resting heart rate immediately to the redline without properly warming up wasn’t the optimum race strategy! I decided to play the long game and work my way forward more steadily. Actually I didn’t decide - I had no choice!

The added disadvantage of my earlier puncture was missing out on my recon lap. Despite having raced at Crowthorne for over 10 years I wasn’t familiar with Sundays course. So at every unsighted corner or drop I had to be slightly cautious. Slowing down costs time and then having to pick up speed again is wasted effort.

The course was a flat 4 mile loop of glorious singletrack. Despite the suffering I couldn’t help but enjoy sweeping around the flowing corners, clattering over the roots, and diving down the sandy slopes amongst the trees. It wasn’t until deep into the 2^nd lap that I felt the race coming back to me. Finally the legs responded to requests for more power, but it was too late to make any real impact. I managed to drag myself back into the top 20, but those I’d normally expect to race were already minutes up the trail. I didn’t see them until I crossed the line, where they had recovered their breath enough to already be reliving the highlights and excitedly sharing tails of their races.

So yes a disappointing result, but on such a brilliant course I had had too much fun to be depressed.

S-Works Epic HT 2018 Review

I’ve now enjoyed several rides on the Epic Hard Tail. Enough miles to form my initial impressions of the new S-Works frame.

I have ridden the two previous incarnations of the S-Works Stumpjumper HT. For the past few years the 2014 Stumpy was my race bike and the 2011 frame has been used for commuter duties. Directly swapping the kit over from the newer race bike, meant I was able to quickly form a direct comparison between the last three iterations of Specialized race hard tail.

Two things immediately stand out about the new frame geometry. First is the shorter head tube. It might only be 1cm, but at 5ft 10in the 90mm length enabled me to get more of a drop between the saddle and bars on my medium sized bike. I’ve been running a negative 17 degree stem for the past couple of years and I’ve kept that, but the further drop definitely helped me weight the front of the bike better, a bonus in technical terrain and fast corners, where the front tyre is fighting for grip.

The second obvious characteristic is the slacker head angle. Riding different bikes back to back I am always surprised how pronounced the ride characteristics can be, even with subtle differences like half a degree. In this case the sub-70 degree head angle definitely increased my confidence at speed on flowing descents.

The two changes in combination really added to my enjoyment and commitment through the sweeping bermed descent at the QE trail park. Definitely these changes are an improvement over the previous bike. The difference the head tube length change makes, will depend on your height and is probably more of a benefit to shorter riders.

Specialized specify a 51mm offset fork on the Epic HT. I however transferred my own DT Swiss fork which has a 45mm offset. The smaller offset increases the trail of the front wheel, which in theory results in slower steering. I can understand why you might want sharp handling on an XC race bike, but so far I’ve really enjoyed the stable, confidence inspiring feel of the Epic. The head angle is partly responsible, but the offset will also be a factor. I’ve been offered a 51mm offset fork by a friend so I can compare, but actually I’m really happy with the bike at the moment so will stick with the current fork, at least until I’ve got a few more races under my belt. I certainly didn't have any problems on the tight switchbacked climb at QE.

The frame is advertised as the lightest Specialized have ever produced. Mine just scraped under 1kg including the mech hanger. So definitely noticeably lighter than both of my previous bikes, although all three have been consistently (and disappointingly) heavier than the figures quoted by the big ‘S’ in their marketing blurb. I’m sure they quote weights for bare unpainted frames, but why not provide us with real world figures so customers don’t feel cheated immediately after shelling out £2000?

The internal cable routing is the usual faff to set-up and has to be done with the fork out of the frame. In a change since the previous Stumpy the rear gear cable runs through the frame without an outer. This saves several grams and reduces the chances of noisey rattles. It does however expose the cable to the elements once it pops out the downtube and wraps around the bottom bracket.

The cable exit at the bottom bracket.

To save weight the down tube is straight, which meant Spesh had to fit bump stops behind the headset to prevent the fork damaging the frame when fully rotated in an accident. I love the look of the frame overall, but the bump stops are pretty ugly. Also I still managed to damage the paint on my frame during assembly, because the stops don’t quite prevent the compression dial on the top of my DT Swiss fork just kissing the frame.

First damage to the paint just above the down tube bump stops.

I’ve heard much made of this bike's abilities to 'soften' the ride. However, it’s not something I’ve really noticed. Maybe it’ll become more apparent during the of 4 hour marathon races I have planned over the winter. My initial impression is that it is marginally more forgiving that the 2014 frame and probably similar to the 2011.

Initial impressions are immensely positive. The handling has definitely improved compared to the previous Stumpjumper. So far this has meant more smiles on my Sunday social rides. Next weekend I’m hoping it will also translate into speed and reduced lap times at my first XC race on-board the Epic. I’ve got to justify the cost somehow! I’ll post an updated review in the Spring, by which time I’ll have chalked up many more racing miles including some longer XCM events.

Goodbye Stumpy

The arrival of a new bike is always an exciting experience. Memories of childhood Christmases and Birthdays come to mind. Even as an adult I can vividly picture the delivery or collection of each new bike. A quick check and I’ve had 20 during my 40 years. But with every new upgrade or replacement there is a goodbye to be said to the previous love of your life. Just a few years before this now unwanted relic would have been the center of a similar level of anticipation and excitement.

So although I am immensely excited about the imminent arrival of an S-Works Epic HT, I will admit to some sentimental sadness as I sealed the parcel tape on the packing box of my Stumpy, before sending her off to her new owner.

  

New bike! 'Stumpy' in February 2015

There were several things that made her (yes 'she' has a gender) special and unique in my pantheon of bike ownership. Firstly her collection was more memorable than probably any other bike I’ve owned. In February 2015 I boarded a plane to Barcelona. Despite the excellent discount offered by my local shop the crazy fact remained that it was still significantly cheaper to purchase a midweek flight to Spain and buy the frame in euros from a shop in the Spanish capital!

Due to the flight times I spent a nervous couple of hours site seeing around the Sagrada Familia while the shop owners slumbered through their siesta. Having kicked my heals strolling around in the sunshine I was then on an extremely tight schedule when it came to picking up my hire car, finding the shop, making the purchase and returning to the airport in time for the flight home.

Locating the shop, in an unfamiliar city of congested and bustling streets was a nerve racking experience. I began to wonder if the shop did even exist and if someone was lounging on a beach courtesy of my 50% deposit, paid several weeks earlier. Just as I was considering the reality of having to return to England empty handed I spotted the small shop front (still closed 15 minutes after its advertised opening hours) in a sunny street overlooking a park. Then came the challenge of finding a parking space within ½ a mile of the locked door. Despite having no loose euros to feed the machine, in desperation I slotted the car into a parking bay with a meter and ran down a street to the shop which, although the shutters were still down, was now thankfully open.

I had chosen this particular shop out of the dozen I had contacted, based purely on the clarity of their English in their response to my initial email. It was dark inside, but as my eyes adjusted I realised I had entered an Aladdin's cave for a Specialized fan. Just getting in was a bit of a squeeze. The majority of the floor space was crammed with bikes, all still packed away in their brown boxes, two or three deep and stacked high. The one free wall was however lined with goodies. High on a shelf I spotted the same S-Works cranks I had spent 6 months waiting to be shipped from the US such was the demand. Apparently rarer than hens teeth, here in this obscure, gloomy shop on the outskirts of Barcelona they just lay available to stroll in off the street and collect!

The owner was busy with another customer who was collecting a bike from the workshop. As they chatted I hopped impatiently from foot to foot glancing at my watch. Eventually they rolled the bike out of the workshop and I stared in open jawed amazement at the multi thousand euro S-Works Demo downhill bike with every conceivable accessory. It’s the sort of thing I’ve only ever seen in photos. The owner settled up and squeezed past me and out the door into the sunshine.

Finally having introduced myself in English the owner then instantly disappeared, leaving me alone for what was probably 5 minutes, but felt like half an hour. He’d presumably run up the street and when he finally returned he had brought his daughter who spoke perfect English and it transpired had been my email contact. He then clambered around amongst the stack of bike boxes, casually moving them aside, each labelled S-Works and persumably housing another top of the range carbon beauty. Eventually he pulled one out, brought it over and the three of us set about opening the box to unwrap my new Stumpjumper Carbon Hard Tail. After a brief and friendly conversation I made it back to the airport and checked-in with perfect timing, just as they opened the gate for boarding!  

Grand Raid- The best days riding of my life

Three and a half happy years of cycling followed. The highlight undoubtedly racing across the rural high passes of the Swiss Alps in the iconic Grand Raid. As a memento I left the technical control sticker from the event on my top tube until it was time to sell her.

She was also the bike on which, after 15 years of trying, I finally won my first (and so far only) Gorrick cross country race after over 50 attempts.  

Meeting 'Deadly' Ned

Her most unique feature was the signature of the legendary Ned Overend on her top tube. An icon of the sport who I had the pleasure to meet and ride with on a Specialized bike demo day a couple of years ago.

There are so many other great memories too, stand out days like riding the 100 mile South Downs Way, National Championships or just the regular Sunday blast with my mates. For the 5000+ miles we spent together she was my pride and joy. However, I shouldn’t  get too sentimental about some carbon tubes, and my eyes have been turned by a younger lady.  I’ve moved on and now Stumpy has gone to a new home to create new memories with a new owner.

Torq in your Sleep - 6hr

The rain lashed down and the wind tore at my jacket as the public address announced 10 minutes to the start. I glared though the downpour enviously at those riders around me on the grid who were lucky enough to have a team mate or partner willing to brave the elements and hold an umbrella for them to shelter under, or even provide a nice warm coat.

Back at the car I had agonised over what to wear. After our blazing hot summer, 14 degrees felt like we were setting out on an arctic expedition, especially in the wind and rain. I had peered through the steamed up windscreen at other competitors and spectators all wrapped up against the elements and despite it still being August I’d considered, full length tights, extra base layers and even the merits of neoprene overshoes. However, in the end I had decided to be brave, adding just a Goretex jacket to a standard long sleeved jersey and bib shorts. Right now sitting on the start with water dribbling down my face into the neck of my jacket and slowly seeping its way into my shoes, this choice seemed a bit bold.

I started next to Julien Paphitis, who has had some stunning results recently at national level. Two years ago at the Grand Raid in Switzerland I'd just edged Julien in a sprint finish after 10hrs and 30 minutes of racing! Following his wheel as we splashed and slithered our way around the start loop, I was impressed at his discipline, or more accurately how slow he was! The front of the field were scampering away and many more tore past us as we spun quite leisurely through the puddles. As we began to drop back into the midfield my patience finally ran out and I followed the wheels of a faster group as they streaked past. I still expected I’d see Julien again, I just hoped that it wasn’t for another 6 hours!

The torrential rain continued for the first 2 hours of the race. Despite this the course conditions on the first lap weren’t too terrible. After such a dry summer the trails under the trees held up reasonably well. However, the passing of hundreds of tyres had soon churned everything into a mushy syrup by the 2^nd circuit. Slippery ruts amongst slippery roots made it challenging to stay upright and maintain any kind forward momentum! Luckily as the third hour drew on the rain started to ease to a steady drizzle and the same tyres began slowly pushing the mud to the sides, exposing a dry(er) racing line.

As we approached half distance my race was going well, I was feeling strong, enjoying the challenge and riding positively. I was pushing hard and attacking the corners, attempting to keep each lap under 60 minutes, which would mean completing 6 laps in the 6 hour time limit. The weather had completely blown my original target lap times which were still taped, somewhere under the mud, to my top tube. They were based on completing 7 laps which would have earned a top 10 finish in last years race. My first lap was 30 seconds over an hour, but that included the start loop, so I knew that a sub 60 minute time was possible. My second lap was faster despite the worsening conditions, but still 10 seconds over my new goal. With the course at its muddiest I’d lost 3 minutes on lap 3, but the conditions were now improving so I continued to race hard, hoping I could recover the time lost in the 2nd half of the race. I was stopping every lap for a new bottle, gel and banana. I’d considered ditching the jacket and slipping on a nice dry jersey at the end of lap 3, but I was chasing every second so loosened the zip of my waterproof and ploughed on.

It was on this lap that Julien passed me for the first time! With extra incentive to keep pushing, I stuck tight to his wheel, following closely. Luckily not too closely when he slithered offline, caught the wrong side of some roots and disappeared into a ditch! I confirmed he was ok before racing on.

Despite chasing Julien in improving conditions, fatigue had started to become a factor, and my lap time of 62 minutes meant I had to accept that 5 laps was all I was going to manage today. It was very hard to gauge how I was doing relative to those I was racing. I felt good, but fresh riders from the pairs and team events were regularly hammering past, making it feel like I was standing still.

At the end of the 4^th lap I stopped at my pit box and fitted my helmet light, downed a quick gel and stuffed a Ciff Bar into my jersey pocket. I slammed the lid back on the box before dashing off for my final lap. With my legs still feeling strong and I pushed the opening section of the lap really hard, descending rapidly into the wood. In the dusk under the trees it was getting dark. I reached for my light and immediately realised my mistake. I'd left my main source of lumens, a Moon Meteor handlebar light, tucked away in my pit box. I'd come too far to go back. I flicked on my Diablo helmet light, but it made little impact in the half light amongst the trees.

At this point I wasn’t fully aware of how bad an error I'd made. Despite the gathering gloom visibility was still ok and I continued to ride hard. However, spotting the roots amongst the mud became progressively harder and harder. The helmet light helped, but just didn’t cut it at high speed amongst the trees. I had to rely on knowledge gained during the previous laps when choosing my line. I took some some big risks and was lucky to just about get away with it! Eventually I had no choice but to slow right down when the course got even slightly technical. Determined that my mistake wouldn’t squander positions I was sprinting whenever the course opened and terrain smoothed out.

Thankfully no riders came past, and it was with great relief that first the sound of the commentator drifted through the trees and then the bright lights of the Arena area came into sight. But hold on, who was that crossing the line just in front of me? Julien! He’d either passed unnoticed in the gloom or most likely while I was fiddling at my pit box. Never mind, I make that one all in our head to heads!

      

Wandering up to the event HQ and checking the results screen I was dead chuffed to learn I had finished 6^th in the Vets. Despite the worst weather imaginable for August the course and whole event had been fantastic fun.

National MTB Championships 2018 - Hadleigh

Hadleigh is a course that makes me nervous. The rocks and technical descents are a daunting combination. Broken ribs at my first visit to the 2012 Olympic venue one of the reasons for sleepless nights during the week leading up to the National Championships.

Rolling slightly apprehensively into a first recon lap on Saturday the rider infront of me bounced and tumbled down the very first sandstone drop. Hardly the introduction my jangling nerves needed, I now had to sit for several minutes peering over the stoney precipice while the medics helped the injured rider limp away. I periodically passed more walking wounded as I cautiously navigated the 3 mile lap. 

In the stifling heat the amount of climbing was what realy stuck me. Long twisting gravel ascents frequently scattered with rock step-ups and occasionally roots. Some were so steep my chin was practically pressed against the handlebars. Even cruising up the inclines had sweat dripping off my nose and dribbling down the inside of my glasses. I took my second lap at a faster pace, the Hadleigh rocks finally claiming some blood. I cleared the big technical challenges, but misjudged a short series of craggy steps, cartwheeling over the bars landing in a crumpled heap at the feet of the amused marshall.

Another restless night in a swealtering hotel room followed, before race day dawned. I joined the gaggle of riders anxiously circulating waiting to be gridded in the blazing sunshine. An hour before midday it was seriously warm and the temperatures would soon be over 30 degrees. I lined up on the back row and was lost in the swirling dust as we shot away following the commisaires whistle.

Starting at the back you quickly loose time as we funneled slowly into a singlefile line between the rocks. I briefly dabbled with the very rear of the race after getting tangled in the tape lining the course on a corner of the first climb. On the longest and fastest descent I pulled back a couple of places and dug in deep on the next climb cutting inside some more riders on the hairpins.

The oppressive heat sapped the strength. It felt like a weight pressing down on your shoulders, pulling you back. I fought past another rider on lap 2 and desperately grabbed a bottle from my wife in the feed zone. I immediately glugged a big swig, desperate for hydration. It was lucky I had taken some advantage because the bottle leapt from the cage and went clattering over the rocks on the first descent.

My throat was as dry as a desert while every inch of my body was sodden with perspiration. I saw no-one  ahead on lap 3 and those behind were dropping back. I began to think my position was settled provided I could make it to the line without heat exhaustion. My heart sunk as I passed the feed zone with no sign of my wife with a refilled bottle. Instead she stood on the first bend capturing my agony for Facebook!

I spotted three riders scattered across the climb ahead crawling up towards the blue sky. Fatigue building, my legs feeling heavy, I was genuinely surprised at the rate which I caught those in-front. They were unable to put up a fight and I was inspired to push on. 

After crossing the line I downed every bottle of liquid my wife offered me, before devouring a beautiful greasy burger! I had finished 28th, a good result on a day when just completing the distance safely was an achievement in itself. 

Southern XC - Matterley

A downhill start is unique in my experience. As well as the unusual incline, rather than the traditional start loop we were faced with an arrow straight 200m drag from the start into a sharp and narrow 90 degree corner. At a real pinch the opening into the trees was just wide enough for two riders side by side. With 40 riders sprinting downhill fighting to lead into that bend, the first few seconds of the race were going to be quite exciting!

The first two rows on the grid were already filled with the leading 12 riders in the series. The initial challenge was to force my way to the front when the rest of the riders were cleared to move forward behind them. I did well! Mission accomplished I sat smugly on the 3^rd row, still with the dozen guys in front, 5 alongside and 23 breathing down my neck! A good start was crucial, anyone not in the top 10 around the first bend would quickly lose significant chunks of time as the field strung out single file through the woods.

The sun blazed down from the clear blue sky as we sat and waited. It was stiflingly hot as the commisaire read through the standard rules of engagement. I tuned him out, focusing on the start, my glasses beginning to steam up and sweat beading on my forehead. The 10 second warning was issued. I tuned back in, “The race could start any time in the next 10 seconds!”. You could hear a pin drop. The silence was broken by the piercing whistle and then the cacophony of clattering pedals, the crunching of tyres on gravel and the grinding of gears.

I dodged straight through the 2^nd row and was on the pedals sprinting flat out on the straightest line for the corner. I jinked left and right amongst the dust and flying stones, trying to find gaps ahead. A chink of daylight appeared and I surged through. Immediately I was on the brakes, rear wheel locked up and sliding towards the corner. One rider cut in infront of me, I had to give way to a second to prevent a collision which let a third draw up on the inside. As I mentioned there was just about space for two and we squeezed through, handlebars interlocked. I was on the outside, but had the slightly better line and powered into third.

The adrenalin was really flowing and I was buzzing to have made it into contention at the sharp end of the race. We swung left and right, I was faster than the rider ahead and he was holding me back. The leader started pulling away and I was frustratingly bottled up. I tried a couple of times to squeeze past, but there wasn’t enough space. I felt like screaming “Come On, he’s getting away!” I could hear the riders right up behind me, undoubtably equally frustrated. I had to take a tight defensive line into the slower corners to stop them from sneaking up the inside.

Between the trees I could see the leader charging the other way down a wider gravel path in the sunshine, while we were still threading our way through the wood. Desperate to give chase I was already alongside 2^nd place as we burst into the daylight. I shot past and down the open track and up a loose stoney slope before sweeping down into the woods again. The gap ahead was closing, I used the short climbs to kick hard and inched my way towards the head of the race. Chasers were hot on my tail and despite defending the racing line, through a series of tight bends I was passed by two of those behind.

I definitely wasn’t going to be nudged just off the podium for the second time this season. I’d already experienced the emotion of a 4^th placed finish at the same venue in May racing Cyclocross. So I stuck to the two ahead as we continued to close in on the race leader. The other two slithered past on consecutive corners, and desperate not to be left behind I grabbed my chance as the course briefly widened. Passing on the right I was back in a podium position.

Just before the end of the lap the course emerged from the wood and fired us up the hill for a few loops through a copse of trees. Bumping over the roots my momentum swung me around the outside of the rider ahead before sprinting down the start finish straight. Only 6 laps to go!

My first warm-up lap on arrival at Matterley had been a huge disappointment. The route had been freshly cut into the woodland, with hardly any of the 1.8 mile circuit using existing trails. I’d bumped slowly around on the loose stones and bracken stems trying to remember a worse course. (I couldn't!) The short lap meant there was time for a second warm-up circuit which I rode faster, the extra speed helping the lap flow much better, although it was still very rough and basic. As the race laps ticked by, hundreds of riders quickly produced a racing line amongst the flints and rocks. However, the surface was still extremely uneven, perfectly suited to a full suspension bike. On my hardtail, I probably only sat down for about a third of the lap!

On the gravel road half way around the second lap, I could hear a rider in my slipstream. It was the guy who had held me up at the start, who now seemed to have got his eye in and warmed up. He came through and I followed, but he was definitely no longer holding me up. The racing was increadibly close, the leader was still easily insight and in range. When I looked two or three riders were always on my tail. I had pushed really hard on that first lap, but there was no chance for recovery. The next 4 laps were all consistently within 15 seconds of the first.  On lap 6 I made a concerted effort to close the small gap to the rider ahead, while there was still time. I nailed every corner, taking risks on the rooty descents, brushing the nettles on the bends, ignoring the stings. I sprinted up the first two inclines and got right up to the wheel of 2^nd place. My heart was about to leap from my chest and stitch started to creep in.

I have suffered quite badly from stitch recently during interval training. It has been totally debilitating, leaving me unable to even turn the pedals. It's been so unbearable I did some research and learnt that nobody actually knows the cause, and therefore there is also no known cure. I had no choice, even with 4^th place only 15 seconds behind, I had to ease off slightly and try and recover whenever the course dipped downhill. Luckily after a minute or two the pain receded, but I was back where I had been, 10 seconds behind 2^nd place.

It was a really close battle. We all attacked during the final lap, putting in faster times compared to the lap before. But in the end we cancelled each other out! I finished 3^rd  43 seconds off the lead and 11.2 behind second place and 12.9 ahead of 4^th. It had been unrelenting for the full 90 minutes. I hadn’t even planned to race at Mattersley, but after missing the previous round I decided a bit of race practice would be perfect preparation for the Nationals next weekend. The bike worked flawlessly and the legs proved themselves strong! This result was a brilliant confidence boost ahead of the big one next Sunday

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XC Racing – Do I need a dropper post?

Spot the difference in the photo above?

I have bought a Trans-X dropper for £100 from Bike-Discount. This is the first major addition to my race bike for almost 2 seasons. As a gram counting weight weenie the idea of adding half a kilo of seatpost to my race bike makes me want to weep!  

 

One more messy remote cable up front. 

So what convinced me? The technical challenge of the National Championships at Hadleigh later this month is currently at the forefront of my mind. 3 years ago, when I last raced at Hadleigh, I wimped out on a couple of the steep rocky A-lines. Opting for a safety first strategy, having crashed and burned during my first visit to the 2012 Olympic venue a couple of years earlier. At the time I was happy with my choice, crossing the line 14^th in the Masters age category was a far better result than the previous DNF.

Taking the B-lines may only have cost me around 10 seconds a lap, which doesn’t sound much, but in a 6 lap race I was giving away over a minute. It definitely cost me a position on the day and it may have been a couple more. This year I will be racing in the more competitive Vet category and feel the need for every slight advantage I can get. My hope is that a lower seatpost will give me the confidence to take on those tougher sections and reclaim that vital minute compared to my rivals. The small amount of extra effort required to haul 500g around the course will be more than made up for by recovering a bit of lap time.  

Watch out for my race report at the end of the month.

Cycling with Asthma

I haven’t had much to report over the past month. I missed a round of the Southern XC series in June due to a snotty cold, which has been playing havoc with my Asthma ever since. We’ve heard plenty about Asthma in the cycling press recently. My personal opinion being that if I needed 16 squirts of Salbutamol to ride my bike I’d be sat at home and not winning the Vuelta a Espania!

Despite the glorious summer weather I’ve been prevented from riding as much as I would of liked. Even as I’ve recovered I was still only able to manage lower effort rides without getting out of breath. The good news is that the end appears to be in sight. Tackling a couple of hills after work on Tuesday didn’t result in a coughing fit or puffing on my inhaler like Chris Froome. The recent low mileage, low intensity rides may not have been ideal preparation, but my recovery comes just in time for the National Championships on the 22nd. 

Southern Regional Championship 2018 - Crow Hill

Bike racing can be cruel. No matter how much you prepare yourself and the bike there are certain things that are outside of your control.

The regional champs are the second most prestigious race I'll race this year. In my first year as a Veteran I was keen to get a good result and ranking points ahead of the Nationals. Unfortunately the opportunity of a competitive result disappeared half way around the second lap of 5.

First the rear tyre started going soft. As I put the hammer down along the fireroad section I could feel the bike bobbing up and down. The pit area with my pump was several minutes ahead, so I doggedly carried on. Despite the flat tyre I was still catching and passing riders after a poor first lap in the tricky conditions.

Then as I dropped down a steep rooty section the front tyre deflated instantly. The tyre bead popped completely off the rim. I still had to negotiate two usually very fast sections of open trail before the loose gravelly climb up to the pits. The front tyre was flapping around on the rim and the rear wheel was banging on the ground as the tyre wobbled from side to side. It wasn't quick and negotiating the corners was almost impossible. Riders came through before I reached the mechanical zone. More passed as I used the track pump to reinflate the tyres. I had lost around 3 minutes.

Now, to be honest I didn't seriously expect both tyres to stay up. Mentally I was already thinking about a depressing hour drive home after only 30 minutes of racing. I certainly didn't believe the front would stay up, since it now couldn't possibly still contain any sealant. As I expected I could hear air leaking from the front as I rejoined the course. I had over inflated hoping it would seal before the pressure dropped too far. At this point I really thought it was just a matter of time.

However, the hissing slowed. I had to get used to a very squirmy front end as the pressure in the front tyre was very low but it was staying up!  As I started the 3rd lap I began to realise I might actually finish the race! Mentally I had to re-engage. I got used to the handling and as the course continued to dry I even set a competitive lap time, recovering a couple of those places I had lost.

I rolled home just inside the top twenty in 19th place - not the result I had hoped for. I'll hope for better luck at the National Champs.

Battle in the Bowl 2018

Sunday morning I went through the very familiar routine of packing bike and gear into the car. Unusually though I had absolutely no idea what to expect at the other end of the journey. I was heading to Matterley Bowl near Winchester; a familiar venue I know for hosting Southern Series XC races in the past. The event format this time however was going to be very different. I was going Cyclocross racing!

Yes, it is off-road and yes I was riding my mountain bike, but the course was distinctly different from what you’d find at a mountain bike race. There was nothing remotely technical in sight. No narrow singletrack swooping through the trees and rocks. Just 3 miles of wide gravel paths and lots of open grassy turns. As a venue the natural amphitheatre of Matterley bowl is spectacular. The trade stands with their colourful banners and flags nestled against a back drop of steep green slopes. The hillside covered in zig zags of course tape fluttering in the breeze. Almost the entire 3 mile course could be viewed standing in the arena area.

Dusty opening gravel loop

The sun was beating down on the opening dusty gravel road around the bottom of the bowl. Climbing slightly before the course turned left and cascaded across the green Downland grass. Dozens of twists and turns marked out by the dazzling white course tape. After a dizzying number of switchbacks riders were eventually funneled back onto gravel at the base of the climb. A proper lung buster the wide white chalky scar was longer than most hills you’ll find at local XC courses with an unrelenting gradient. Once up to the ridge a grassy double track path took you around the top of the bowl in the opposite direction to the start loop, before a loose and sketchy, high speed decent dropped you back to the start.

Backwards and forwards between the tape!

Not owning a Cyclocross bike I’d be racing my MTB in the “Open Warfare” category. The number of race recruits swelled to 65 by the glorious sunshine. 6 laps awaited.

Keen not to make the mistake of my last two races where I’ve been too cautious, I pushed my way to the front row of the grid, looking to avoid the melee behind. It proved an excellent decision! As we sprinted away, charging down the gravel track, I latched onto a rear wheel seeking a tow into the headwind. Amongst proper Cyclocross bikes my gearing was pretty marginal for such high speed racing, my 30t chainring spinning like a windmill in a hurricane. Amid the dust and stones a couple of the riders ahead of me dropped off the pace and I had to dig deep to bridge the gaps and stay in the slipstream of the group. We swept onto the grass. The looping switch back nature of the turns meant I could check behind and see I was part of a lead group which had distanced the chasing pack by 5 or 6 seconds.

We swung through the curves between the tape, the grass thankfully flattened on the racing line by the earlier junior and youth races. This did mean however that it was hard to go off-line and pass. I managed to dip inside one rider, but was then rudely chopped by another as he came through.

We powered into the bottom of the climb - my time to shine! I steadily slipped past riders as we hauled ourselves up the hill. The incline steepened nastily just at the summit and I snuck into 5^th behind the leading quartet. We traversed our way around the top edge of the bowl, still climbing gently. The gaps between us opened, except behind me! I was passed just as we turned into the decent. Stones were sent scattering into the trees as we both battled for grip. It was a totally flat out decent, with a chicane half way down placed in an effort to reduce the speed. Then heavy braking back onto the grass at the bottom for a tight hairpin left. There stood a marshall waving his arms with another desperately repairing the tape as two of the leaders returned to the course after overshooting the turn!

A rider passed me as I took avoiding action and I followed him closely across the line to complete the first lap. This was actually quite lucky as I was now able to grab a lovely tow around the gravel loop of the bowl, saving my energy for the climb where I re-passed him. I stretched the gap behind slightly and chased the rider 50 meters ahead around the top of the lap, before plunging down again.

Back on the gravel, this time I was the carrot and the rider behind latched onto my rear wheel before passing and pulling a slight lead into the maze of grassy turns. I caught and repassed him on the climb and worked hard to stretch out a small gap for the second time.

The hill!

Despite my efforts I was reeled in by the same rider on the blast around the bowl. Disappointingly he shook me off his rear wheel while passing back markers and I was left chasing to close a gap that this time slowly grew. I got close on the climb, closing right up to his rear wheel, but this time I was chasing in the dust rather than stretching a lead.

Lap 5 was an exact repeat. I got within a couple of bike lengths on the climb, but lost ground gradually over the rest of the lap. In the taped section we swung backwards and forwards past each other. I could also keep an eye on those a few seconds behind as the bell sounded and we charged into the final lap.

I threw everything into the climb and closed to 10 meters. In a do or die move I sprinted out of the saddle. I closed and closed, until there was just a back marker between us. My legs were screaming, my heart was pounding, I had nothing else left to give. This was as close as I got. As I turned into the final descent I knew there were no more passing opportunities and sat up, cruising across the line 7^th overall.

I was 4^th veteran (over 40) home. A fantastic result, but 4^th is always tinged with slight disappointment. As the commentator had kindly reminded me during the race, “Come on Ben, there are no prizes for 4^th!”

Challenging yourself and trying something new by stepping out of your comfort zone, even slightly, can be very rewarding. I really enjoyed trying something different and it gave me an excellent workout ahead of next weeks Southern XC Championships.

Gauging my G100 performance

I was wondering how to evaluate my 24^th placed finish at last weeks Gorrick 100? I felt pleased with my performance, despite the crippling cramp. Did it provide any indication of how I’m riding and my fitness compared to previous years?

Two years ago I raced the Gorrick 100 during my build up to the Swiss Grand Raid and British Marathon Championships. It was a big year for me and in terms of endurance riding I’d have considered myself about as fit as I ever have been.

My finishing time on Sunday of 5 hours 43 minutes, was 29 minutes faster than 2016. However, race times themselves are obviously irrelevant as the course and conditions are totally different.

At the previous two editions I finished 24^th out of a field of 57 in 2015 and 22^nd from 48 in 2016. So last weeks 24^th out of 60 entrants, would suggest an equivalent, or maybe even slightly better performance compared to previous years. Of course it does depend entirely on who else showed up.

I then tried to compare myself to other individual riders. Amazingly only five of those who raced on Sunday also competed 2 years ago. The closest of them, a chap called Chris Clayton, beat me by 6 minutes in 2016. Scarily within a handful of seconds I was exactly the same distance behind two years later!

The gaps to the other riders were also comparable within a minute or two. Obviously, this doesn’t account for their performance, or changes in fitness over the intervening 24 months, but the general picture is clear.

So what do I take away from this?

My current perception that I’m not as fit today as I was in the past, is largely based on the fact that I’m spending less time on the bike, rather than any factual evidence. In 2015 and 2016 I was averaging over 150 miles and cycling 10 hours a week. Since the beginning of this year I’ve averaged 8 hours and just under 120 miles a week.

Sundays result suggests that slightly less training might not have had any detrimental on my overall performance. It might support my belief that in the past I was doing a lot of “nonsense” commuting miles. Perhaps my more limited training now is slightly more focused and beneficial.

Kawasaki G100 2018

When you pull into the carpark and the first face you see is multiple national champion Ben Thomas, already on his warm-up rollers, you know you’re racing with the big boys!

This was my 8^th Gorrick 100. The challenge of this event is one I have loved since I first raced it way back in 2007 at the original Swinley venue. For me it is as much a personal challenge as a race. There are no age categories to hide in, it is just you against 60 riders, the course and the clock.

After a year off and the move to Minley Manor the format has remained the same. 7 laps of an 8 to 9 mile circuit, with twists, turns, hills and drops aplenty. 11 years ago I toiled for nearly 8 hours in the saddle, at the time comfortably my longest ever ride. I would be hoping for a much faster time this year, but I knew the mental and physical battles to reach the finish line would be just the same.

The weather is always going to be a critical factor when racing 100km off-road. On Sunday Britain was in the middle of a bank holiday heat wave, so hydration was going to be key. I dropped off 9 bottles at the feed zone, one for each lap plus a couple of spares.

As we got underway in the dappled shade I was aware I’d probably started slightly too far back in the pack. At least this gave me the chance to warm-up slowly as we cruised through the opening sections of dusty forest trails. I gradually gained more positions than I lost over the opening 2 laps until I found myself in a fast moving group of 4. We were really hammering the trails in maximum attack mode. I knew it was a pace I couldn’t hope to maintain, but it was such a buzz I took my turns on the front and chased the others through the trees. It encapsulated everything I love about racing. It was awesome fun!

It came to an end mid-way around lap 4. I dropped my bottle while taking a much needed drink. On a warm day I couldn’t afford to leave the bottle behind so I quickly spun round, retrieved the bottle and chased after the group. I caught them quickly, but paid for my efforts and they soon rode away from me.

I was alone and it was payback time for that earlier fun. In any endurance event, you’ll have dark moments and it was now that I really struggled. It was as much a mental battle, knowing there were still hours of racing ahead as my body wilted. Lap 5 was tough and my paced slowed. It is not often I am left wishing for a full suspension bike, but the fatigue from the constant chatter of roots took its toll. My arms were screaming with lactic, making control of the bike as challenging as powering it along.

However, as is often the case I recovered and with renewed dynamism began to push the pace again. Into lap 6 I was feeling strong and reeling in back markers left, right and center. Then without warning cramp hit like a gunshot in my right leg. I briefly tried to ride through it, but even the subtle gradient I found myself on was too much. I stopped and stretched, the back markers repassing me no doubt inwardly smiling smugly to themselves! It looked pathetic, but in the end I had no choice but to push the bike to the top of the slope and freewheel down the other side. I had to seriously consider the very real likelihood that this would be my first Gorrick 100 DNF (Did Not Finish).

I devoured every bit of food I had on me and downed my drinks bottle in an effort to boost fuel and fluid reserves. I was now at least able sit on the bike and turn my legs over, but if I tried to put even a moderate amount of effort through the pedals the muscles would immediately spasm and lock rigid. Thankful for no more hills I crawled back to the feed zone where I took on board all my remaining water and food. The car was parked just behind me, but I never even looked at it. One lap to go.

A rider from Pivot Boompods pitted just as I limped away. Damn! I knew he would surely pass me before the end of the lap - if I even made it that far.

I was walking wounded, nursing myself along, staying off the brakes as much as I could trying to maintain momentum. I was spinning an easy gear doing my best to not appear weak and offer too much encouragement to the rider behind, who was inevitably closing me down.

With the cramp now troubling both legs I approached a section of track which dropped down into a gully with a steep rooted bank up the other side. At speed on the previous 6 laps I had just swept up and out, but I knew now if I needed to pedal out of the top of the incline the cramp would hit and that would be curtains. So instead, I the took the long way around. The Boompods rider stared at me in surprised disbelief as he swept through and past! The trouble is I am too competitive to just to let him go.

I was beginning to feel very strange on the bike. Light headed and dizzy I clipped a couple of trees as I tried to keep him in sight. On a fireroad descent I got close enough to grab his slipstream. I even had just enough momentum to dip in front of him as we entered the next section of singletrack. There was only 1.8 miles to go, but I was out for the count.

Riding in a slightly out of body experience I realized that I was catching someone ahead. Could anyone really be slower than me? I passed him too, the whole time thinking that if either of the riders behind had any kind of sprint finish left in them I was toast. The truth is they were probably struggling as much as me and I didn’t see them again. I crossed the line 24^th out of 60 in 5hrs 45min.

Exposed to the full heat of the sunshine in the car park the cramp hit me hard. I lay on the grass for some time before I could even contemplate trying to fold myself into the car for the drive home.

The Gorrick 100 is an event that dishes out equal levels of pleasure and pain! A day riding the bike in the sunshine, along glorious singletrack trails. The agony of fighting body and mind through cramp and exhaustion. The massive sense of achievement at the finish. I love it!