That race day feeling of butterflies in the pit of my stomach was back! I woke early on Sunday because the clocks had gone back. I therefore had more time for the anxiety and stress levels to rise as I pushed my cereal around the bowl. In the car I switched on the radio for a distraction, but my stomach churned more and more the nearer I got to Frimley Green. Then as soon as I arrived it was like somebody had flicked a switch, all nerves disappeared. Despite a 9 month hiatus I slotted into my pre-race routine, my mind preoccupied with the process of preparing bike and rider for the Gorrick Halloween XC Classic.
It had rained all week, the ground was sodden and grey clouds loomed ominously. However, the sun was shining as I unpacked the bike and checked the tyre pressures. When I started my warm-up and reconnaissance lap I was surprised to quickly encounter two quite large drops or steps. Not scary (it is Halloween) but challenging for a Gorrick course! Lucky I had left my dropper post in, as I had considered removing it given the usual simple nature of these courses. The drops were both rollable, if I hung over the back tyre. From then on it was the usual course at Highlands Farm. Flat, twisting and narrow. It was almost impossible to pass even on the warm-up and I ended up trundling around in a chain of riders. Despite all the local flooding the course was in brilliant condition, the bike wasn't even getting dirty. As we closed back in on the car park though, the first fat drops of rain began to fall. Putting on a spurt I scurried back to the car, where I pushed back the drivers seat and sat munching a banana watching the water droplets have their own race down the windscreen. All the roots in the wood were getting a nice glossy sheen.
Sitting at the start I unzipped my gillet before deciding to leave it on. I'd not forced my way to the front as I would have done once. It had been a while and my confidence wasn't there. I instead settled in on the back row and checked the shaved legs and racing snake physiques of my competitors. Which didn't help my confidence. I hadn't ridden in the wet for months. I hadn't raced for months. Yet here I was about to sprint off into the trees with this crowd, who would probably leave me for dead. With these positive thoughts running through my head the starting horn blew!
The first few corners were a deafening screech of wet disc rotors. Tyres were creating deep ruts in the now wet loamy soil. Mud was flicked up into my face as I followed the wheels ahead and tried hard to stay out of trouble amongst the melee. About a minute into the race I looked up. I'd guess there were about 20 riders ahead, not bad. I glanced behind. There were just three grim faces staring right back at me. Not so good!
We followed the the sinuous flapping lines of striped marker tape. There was nowhere to pass so I couldn't move forward, but equally I couldn't drop back any further either! I heard the horn as the Grand Vets race was released a few minutes after us. Soon I could see the leaders closing in on us as we were repeatedly backed up by conjestion and racing incidents. Some ahead chose to run to avoid the latest hold up of tangled riders, but I managed to stay on the bike and gain a few spots.
I know the leader of the approaching Grand Vets, I used to sponsor him in my previous life as a bike shop owner. "Hi Ben" he shouted, which is a polite way of saying "Get out of the f*#king way slow coach". I let him through and it wasn't long before another friend of mine was also on my wheel. He was fighting for a podium so I almost came to a halt to let him past, but three more riders on his wheel plus annoyingly somebody from my own category all pushed past me as I wasted 10 seconds being the good Samaritan. Where was my race head?
The leaders of the other race coming through had split my race up. I decided to follow the Grand Vets as they picked their way through the Veterans field. After all I should be able to hold the pace of these old boys! Tucking in with them I pulled the same trick that had just been pulled on me, sneaking past a few people without them spotting my Veteran number board.
Following the faster riders got my juices flowing. The back wheel fishtailed as I put down the power out of the bends. The brand new Fast Trak tyres did a great job of inspiring confidence in the slippery conditions. The T7 compound on the back would normally be a front tyre but probably helped provide some grip over those shiny roots.
I was moving forward but on such a fast course it was hard to make up the ground I'd lost at the start. To reel in the next target or pull away, I pushed as hard as I could on any remotely straight section of trail. Sometimes having to be quite cheeky and creative to sneak past.
I'd just got past a couple of riders and they were in hot pursuit as the last lap began. The lactic burn was beginning to build up in my legs and for a moment I worried I'd blow up. I hung on as the lap progressed but didn't shake them off. I was getting held up by a back marker so I desperately lunged to get ahead of them going into the final loop to the finish. I was thankful to get somebody in between myself and my pursuers. Then with less than a minute of racing remaining I saw a rider ahead. I put down every ounce of energy I had left and was lucky to reach him just as the trail briefly widened just enough for me to power straight through. I was now nearly dead in the saddle, but there was no way he could get back past if I just kept a tidy line around the last few bends and thankfully I then had enough for the last kick to the line.
I'm happy with the result of 13th. I might not have been threatening the front runners, but I had a great day and remembered the shear joy and adrenalin of racing.
