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.