I last raced at Crow Hill in the New Forest 5 years ago, pre-Covid. It was at the Southern Area Championships and I double punctured that day, both rear and front tyres, rolling home in a disappointed 20th place. I went into this Sunday's race at Crow Hill with very different expectations; I'd be thrilled to get near to the top 20!
I've got the racing bug again after the Torq event a few weeks ago. I'd loved the buzz and adrenaline fuelled excitement of pushing myself as hard as I could, even the burning legs and screaming lungs! Also Crow Hill would be my favourite course now we seem to have lost access to Windmill Hill at Deepcut.
It is almost just as long since I last rode a Southern XC and experienced all the structure and regulations that come with a British Cycling sanctioned event. I knew it was going to be a tough day up against the best riders in the area, and some of the big names in the country.
A blustery wind was blowing, but the sun was shining and there was no sign of the forecast showers as I let the kids out of the back of the car. The race coincided with half term so I'd brought along my entire support team! My daughter has never seen me race and my son was only a toddler when he last came along, which feels strange when bike racing has been such a large part of my life. The fact they had come along was added motivation to not show myself up, as I realised I would be racing near the back of the field and I really didn't want to come last!
Soon after starting the practice lap I realised how hard the day was going to be. It had obviously rained heavily overnight and amongst the trees the course was very muddy and cut up from the mornings racing. Which reminds me. In all my years of racing I think this is the first time I've ever raced in the afternoon. The start time of 3pm had given me the unusual experience of a leisurely start to the day and not the usual early morning alarm and mad panic that often follows.
Back to the course. It was very churned up in places and some of the dips and depressions in the route were almost un-rideable. I was having to put down a lot of power just to keep moving forward, probably a too much effort for a practice lap. Then I got into the familiar bit of the course, where it undulates up and down, which is historically the bit that really suits me. This too was hard going, making the first half of the lap really tough. The second half although still a bit greasy was more flowing and less energy sapping, until the final killer climb up to the finish.
As I haven't raced yet this year I was gridded on the back row in 29th. On the starters whistle we sprinted off around the wide grassland loops created to help the field spread out before we hit the woods. I made a good getaway and made up a few places, then got baulked and gave some back before sneaking up the inside of a couple of people as we got into the sticky muddy bit in amongst the trees.
We slithered around, rear tyres fish tailing left and right, throwing mud up into each others faces. It would have been quite funny if my heart hadn't been trying to escape from my chest! Eventually we settled into single file and I was pleased that there were people behind me! In fact in reality I was being held up, but instead of barging through I caught my breath as I sat in behind the rider ahead for a few minutes. When the course opened I snuck past, but the rest the pack were now almost out of sight. A couple of other riders who had also obviously been held up, came past me and I tried to go with them through the undulating section I remember so fondly. In previous years this is where I used my strength on the short punchy climbs to make up positions and time. Today I was just about able to hang on to those ahead.
I was deep into my red zone, there was no way I could keep this pace up for four laps. So in the more flowing section of the lap I took the chance to get what recovery I could. After a few minutes of what I thought was an easier pace I checked my heart rate. It still read 168! When racing there is a different level of recovery.
The leading Grand Vets came past at the beginning of lap 2. I had to take some alternative and muddy lines to let them past which cost me a little time. In fact I almost lost control of the bike at one point, typically right in front of Steve who I regularly ride with at home.
For the next two laps I pushed as hard as I dared on that tricky tightrope of going as fast as possible without blowing up. I did lose a position and although I tried to hang on to his wheel for a while I had to let him go. As the end of the lap approached a rider caught me. I hoped he was a Grand Vet and was quite pleased when he surged past me up the final climb as I thought he was sprinting for the finish of his race. The line came and went and he continued for a 4th lap - he was a Veteran just like me.
I chased him back down and hugged his rear wheel around the grass opening loop. We approached 4 kids standing beside the course behind the fluttering course tape. I recognised two of them and they were shouting "Go Daddy". But the other two were shouting the same thing! It was their Dad I was following!
I remained glued to the other Dads rear wheel as we ducked into the muddiest section. I knew he was putting down the power to shake me off, and he occasionally glanced over his shoulder to see if I was still there. I made a couple of mistakes as I fought to hang on. With a loud bang I clipped a pedal on a tree stump. He immediately looked back and then leapt on the pedals trying to make the most of the opportunity. I fought and fought, digging deep and taking aggressive lines, I wasn't done yet!
Following closely again I was thnking of when I should attack and if I could get past before the next technical section and then slow the pace so I could recover a bit. The opportunity just didn't open up, instead I was clinging on for dear life.
We were into the final half of the lap now, charging through the sweeping corners and out onto an open fire road. As I sat in the slipstream gasping air into my lungs. I began to realise I wasn't the strongest rider here. My only hope was to desperately hang on until the final climb and hope against hope that I had a stronger kick in a sprint.
At the end of the fireroad a tiny, tiny gap no more than a meter opened between us. It was as if the elastic had snapped! I was at my absolute limit but continued to lose ground, I couldn't close him back down this time. I kept pumping hard on the pedals getting out of the saddle when I could, desperate to close the gap. There was nobody behind and I could have just sat up and rolled to the line, but what if the guy in front made a mistake? I needed to keep the pressure on and be ready to pounce if there was an opportunity.
Heading up the final slope to the finishing line about 10 meters behind the other rider, there were more shouts of "GO ON DAD!" from both families. I crossed the line a few seconds back but I had enjoyed every second of the challenge. I was even happier when I checked the result - 24th. I might not be anywhere close to troubling the fast boys at the front of the race, who were enjoying the podium ceremony by the time I crossed the line. However, if I keep training and progressing then the top 20 is definitely in sight. With this thought I enjoyed a Calzone pizza with the family half an hour later. Another bonus of racing in the afternoon!
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