Brass Monkeys Round 3

Sorry Rob but the highlight of my race on Sunday was catching and passing the blue and red stripes of the national champions jersey. (Twice! - since his pitstop was quicker than mine!) Even if he was on a singlespeed it still felt good.

Sheer determination to get to the finish in appalling weather had seen me into the top ten at the previous race. This time however I was going to need some speed if I wanted a similar result. I threw caution to the wind and took no spares with me. Deciding to travel light and take the chance. I took the same attitude with clothing trying to save weight and drag. In my last blog I criticized riders I thought had under dressed for the conditions. That almost came back to haunt me when the un-forecast persistent drizzle started to soak through my clothes. Luckily the weather dried up before it became a serious issue for me. I'll admit however that back in the car at the end I had difficulty pulling socks onto the numb frozen stumps where my feet should have been!

My result at the first round had been a big disappointment to me, but the points I'd earned at round 2 had placed me 11th in the series. I've regularly challenged for a top series position in previous years and if I could get myself into the top 10 overall this season that would be an achievement I could be proud of. So with that aim I had decided to go all in.

I started near the front of the pack instead of my usual policy of loitering mid-field. Historically I've used the midfield congestion to help pace myself early on, before moving forward as the race progresses. On Sunday I went for it right from the starting horn and bombed down the initial blisteringly fast descent. Elbows tangling dangerously with other riders as we fought for grip and for space on the sandy, potholed gravel fireroad.

The track was dry and grippy to start with, the drizzle added a slippery sheen to some sections, but overall the course was flat and fast. As I will tell anybody I need a good hill in a course to really make a difference so I had to make do with really attacking the couple of small short gradients that there were. 

Like the first round I seemed to be completely missed by the commentary and so had no idea of my position during the race. All I knew was I felt really good, was eating went well and I needed only one pitstop on lap 4. I dug deeper as the 3rd hour drew on, passing riders, including the national single speed champ! I'd paced it well and was still able to push hard as I began the final lap. There was an open section where I could see a minute or two ahead and there was sadly nobody to chase. Equally glancing behind there was thankfully nobody chasing me either. So I was able to relax. Physically it had felt like a good race, I had same sort of feelings on the bike as previous years when I'd be in the top 5. So the news I'd finished 19th was like a punch in the gut.

Analysing my lap times when I got home, I can see the stamina is still there. I hadn't tired, all my lap times were within a minute of each other. Trouble is that they just weren't fast enough! Those I'm racing are several minutes quicker at the start and then they slow towards the end. Some I catch but others have built up a big enough margin that I can't reel them in. I need more speed! 

It's not like the heyday of mountain biking, but there were the most entries I've seen at a XC race for years. Perhaps lured by the better weather some of those ahead of me hadn't competed in the previous races. This meant that when the points were tallied up for the 3 rounds I was 11th. Frustratingly close to my goal.

However, I can't hide the fact that this winters 18th and 19th are two of my worse results in 13 years of Brass Monkeys races.

Brass Monkeys Round 2

I was disappointed with my result at the first round of the Brass Monkeys. I moped around the house with a face like a wet weekend when I got home, feeling generally demotivated about life. Historically I've raced in the top ten for over a decade and the reality of 18th actually came as a bit of a shock. I'd known my fitness wasn't where it has been and my weight was 4 or 5 kilos more than it used to be, but here was the stark evidence of my decline. 

Round 2 was my first chance of redemption, but with Christmas in-between there hadn't been any time to make much difference to my physical form. In fact I'd only managed one long ride over 3 hours in the month since the previous race. I'd certainly not lost any weight either!

Conditions out on course were what you would describe as "Character Building"! The weather had been pretty grim for several days and although there was a momentary break in the rain for the start, we were soon subjected to a complete soaking. I had a sinking feeling off the start as I watched guys I'd hope to be racing disappear ahead of me. However, I knew it would be a day of attrition. 

As the laps wound by conditions got worse and worse. It was so slippery the rear wheel fishtailed left and right and steering was like a constant controlled accident! It was physically hard going too, gloopy trails and soaking clothes sapping my strength. I plodded on, not really racing, nursing the bike all the time, knowing that making it to the finish line was going to be an achievement. 

I'd seen people in shorts and a standard jersey on the start line. A brave decision anyway in January but surely bonkers if you are cycling for 4 hours in the rain and a blustery northerly wind. Experience had told me I needed to wrap up, so I wasn't initially affected by the windchill inside my waterproof jacket, leggings and overshoes. Eventually however the water leaked in. Trickling down my legs into my shoes and down my neck and inside my jacket. As it did my core temperature began to drop.

For the last lap it decided to totally piss it down! The big fat drops hammered on my helmet and the trail turned to porridge, oozing under the tyres and offering even less grip. Although I'd been as economical with the brakes as I could, the combination of wet sand and mud meant I now had no real way of slowing the bike down. Luckily I wasn't building up much speed anyway as I forged an furrow through the sludge in front of me. My vision started to black out with the effort, I didn't care about anything but reaching the car and putting on some dry clothes.

Then I crossed the line in 10th and realised I really did care. With the euphoria of finishing, and the exhaustion I actually shed a tear when they announced my position! In my age group only 28 people made it to the finish. I'd used experience and sheer bloody determination to get the result that I had wanted. Benracesbikes was back in the top 10!!

Brass Monkeys Round 1 - I've missed racing

On Sunday I took part in what was only my third race of the year. Not great for a blog called Ben Races Bikes I admit! This is the lowest number of events I've entered in a calendar year since I began racing way back in 2003. I've ridden at least 5 races every year since then. 

Sundays result of 18th was my worst for some time which perhaps shows a bit of rustiness. So why haven't I raced more?

One factor is there are less XC races to enter. The reduction in the number of the local Gorrick events and cancellation of some of my annual regulars like the G100 and Brighton Big Dog is a factor. However the Southern XC Series is still going strong, but I didn't even bother with the Southern UK Championships this year. I think a large part of this is that I don't have anything to prove to myself any more. I know that if I train regularly I can be a competitive top 10 age group racer locally, but I'm never going to qualify for the Olympics! More importantly though, with two kids growing up fast it is harder to justify taking an entire day out of the weekend and having to pay for the privilege to do so. 

I still love the buzz of racing however! It was great to be back between the tape on Sunday, pushing myself to the limit and challenging myself against those I was racing. The camaraderie of racing is also something that can't be replicated. After 4 hours flogging yourself trying to beat them I love the Adrenalin fuelled laughter and excited debrief amongst competitors afterwards as you all gather behind the finish line sharing stories of how your races went and how you could have finished 30 seconds quicker if only.....

I'd definitely missed it, so I'll certainly be aiming to race the remaining Brass Monkeys winter series. That should be 2 events by the end of January, lets see what the rest of 2023 holds in store! 

My new ride - Specialized S-Works Epic Evo

 After more than 10 years riding hardtails I've made the switch to a full-susser. The last time I had squish at both ends of my bike was when 26in wheels and double chainrings were still in style! 

When 29ers first appeared on the scene their bigger, better rolling wheels made full suspension redundant for the XC racing I was doing. The bike was lighter and the large diameter rubber rolled over roots and rocks without needing 100mm of extra travel in the frame. I also love the purity and lightweight nimbleness of a hard tail, giving a telepathic feel and connection with the terrain beneath you. 

The geometry of 29er's progressed and the technology too making a full-suss 29er the most common bike out on the trails and at races. Still I stayed loyal through three generations of S-Works hardtails. So why the change now? 

The marketing says that bikes need to be more "capable" for todays riding, but that isn't true for me. I'm still riding the same trails I always have and the race courses aren't so challenging that I've ever felt uncomfortable on a hardtail, even without a dropper post.

The truth is age has caught up with me. Gone is the confidence of youth when I used to plough over roots as fast as I dared. A bit of my brain now wants a slightly larger margin of error, which I hope the suspension will provide. Riding with friends I can see I'm loosing ground when the trail gets choppy, and in races I'm unable to hold the wheel ahead when there are lots of roots to navigate.  

Also my worn out body needs the comfort. The long training rides preparing for and then riding the South Downs Double ruined my back. I've never had problems in this area before, but this year has seen months when I've been unable to sit down comfortably in a chair.

So here she is my new Epic Evo.

I've gone on a slightly different path with the set-up. By using the frame with a 100mm Rock Shox SL fork, I've basically ended up with a standard XC race Epic but without the Brain. That's an intentional decision. Remembering back when I did have suspension, I wasn't a fan of the Specialized Brain's automatic lock-out. I liked a suspension bike to feel like it had suspension! Undoubtedly the boffins at Specialized have developed the technology since then, but I also didn't want the hassle and the complexity. 

By fitting a 100mm fork, the head angle drops back a degree to the same 67.5 degrees as the race day Epic. It also drops the bottom bracket height to a few millimeters above the regular bike despite having 10mm more travel.

So how does it ride? After two rides I love it! Riding along is so smooth it is like cheating. I admit it felt so different to start with that I actually stopped after 100 meters to check everything was tightened up! But after tuning the pressure there is almost no bob from the suspension when pedalling, but it smooths out the trail beautifully. Coming from years on a hardtail I do feel a bit disconnected from the ground. So I haven't really pushed my boundaries with the bike yet. The most noticeable benefit so far is taking a step up on a climb over a root or rock. There is much more traction as the rear wheel hugs the ground, plus there is the chance to stay seated.

The slacker head angle is what has actually taken the most getting used to. At the first slow speed tight turn through a gate onto the local disused airfield, it felt like I was steering one of those bendy buses you get at the airport. Slow and ponderous. Then when I reached some faster single track I was constantly turning in too late for all the corners.

So some practice and more time in the saddle is needed, but the bike fit itself is perfect. It's taken me a while to get comfortable on new bikes previously, but I just slipped onto this bike like a silk glove. At 5ft 10" I'm exactly on the cusp between a Medium and Large according to the Specialized website. I've got a pretty average 32" inside leg measurement for somebody my height and there is absolutely no way I needed a large. I've fitted a 70mm stem to match how the XC Epic range is supplied from Spesh and feel like I'm sitting perfectly 'in' the bike, not perched on top, or too stretched out.

The weight? 9.8kg or 21.6lbs. 

Let me get some more miles under my belt and I'll report back again.

Farewell old friend

I love my Stumpjumper Hard Tail. Even after 12 years, if I'm riding on my own she is still the bike I'll choose. I've tried to replace her twice, but she's out lasted both replacements. She's the bike which is guaranteed to put a smile on my face every time I ride her.

She's not the best bike I've owned, or the one on which I've had my best results, or completed my most epic ride. But we have spent more time together than any of my other two wheeled companions. From day one she fitted like a glove; light, fast and nimble she has been my perfect two wheeled partner.

Only the frame and the the front wheel remain of the original build from 2011. Back then parts for 29ers were hard to come by, in a world still dominated by what now seem like the comically small wheels we'd all been happily riding since the 1980's. At her first race I only saw one other 29er at the entire event. Imagine the ridicule of turning up on a 26er 'kids bike' at a race now a days! 

She had a special start. In 2010 I arranged a trip to New York for my wife and I just to pick her up. Specialized had decided that 29ers were too forward thinking for us Luddites in the UK.

She instantly transformed my race results. It wasn't just because of the advantage that the larger wheels gave me, also psychologically it was the first time I'd had a top end bike and I really felt like I had a secret weapon as I towered over the opposition and their tiny wheels on the start line.

                                                    An early race outing at the Gorrick 100 in 2011.

After a few years as my race bike, she became my training bike, clocking up more miles than any other MTB I've owned. There was a stint as a commuter, which is when she got the rigid fork and that is how I like her best. The ride is so pure. Lean on the pedals and she leaps forward in response, urging me on, the ride quality actually pretty forgiving in the rough stuff. The excellently hidden external cable routing means maintenance is so much easier than her modern counterparts. Every time I'm trying to thread a cable or brake hose around the inside of a bottom bracket shell I wonder why all bikes aren't still like her.

Sadly though it is time for her to finally be retired. We've had the best time together and who's to say I won't build her up again, but right now the supply of hand-me-down components that fit her skinny non-boost, open drop out rear end and worn out press-fit bottom bracket shell are drying up. Bye Stumpy, it's been a blast!

South Downs Way Double

Back in the Summer of 2019, long before the world had even heard of something called Covid, I had a crack at the South Downs Way Double. The challenge is to ride the length of the South Downs Way, there and back,  in 24hrs. That's 200 miles off-road with 22,000ft of climbing. On that June day in 2019 I was defeated by the weather, when unforecast rain pushed in. I'd been riding for 15 hours and was heading into the night, so another 9 hours without any suitable clothing would have been foolish. The "Double" had been playing on my mind ever since.

2022 was the chance to get this monkey off my back. I picked a weekend around the summer equinox in June to maximise the daylight, I loaded my bike and hit the National trail as the sun was setting. 17 hours later battling rain and 40mph winds I was forced to bail again. 

Now a full blown obsession, there was going to be a 3rd attempt and I wasn't going to wait another 3 years!

I had taken some lessons from my previous experiences. The most important obviously was to watch the weather forecast, but also I am not as fit now as I had been in 2019. Completing the ride in 24hrs was going to be a serious challenge. I'd be racing the clock the entire way.

As before I started at Cocking, the nearest point on the South Downs Way to where I live in Chichester. Having tried different start times I decided I preferred to get a good nights sleep and ride out early in the morning. So at 6am, with the rising sun in my face, I set off East across the chalky ridge of hills called the South Downs. Why East? Two reasons. This is definitely the tougher part of the ride, with big climbs from almost sea level as you approach Eastbourne. Best therefore to get it done with fresher legs. Also, if all went to plan, I'd get back to Cocking at Sunset splitting the ride nicely into daylight and night sections, with a chance to re-kit myself at the car.

I'd chosen this Sunday as the forecast was for the recent bone dry weather to continue for days to come. There was actually a warning for high temperatures, but up on the grassy ridge line there was a comforting onshore breeze. Being a weekend I passed a lot of walkers, but at least this meant I got some help with a few of the many gates. The day progressed well, and I made it to Eastbourne in about the 8 hours I needed to keep my attempt on schedule. On the way I munched on bananas, fig rolls and peanut Clif Bars, but as I've also learnt my tastes change during the ride; from sweet to savoury. So in the afternoon I began to add slices of pizza to my diet as well as a packet of Hula Hoops! I don't know how many bottles of water I drank but it must be dozens. Given the heat warning I took two bottles. I could probably have got away with one, refilling at the regular taps, but if one tap had been out of order I would have struggled as each time I rolled up with two empty bidons on the bike.

I knew it was likely I'd get a puncture given the flinty nature of the ground. Weirdly I'd just been thinking about it as I heard the psst, psst, psst. I was close to Chanctonbury ring on the way back towards Cocking. Luckily a quick Dart sealed the hole and I probably lost only a minute or two before I was back on my way. 

I'd had a headwind in the morning, but now heading West, with the wind on my back I felt a million dollars. I was now gaining time on schedule and feeling positive although obviously after 14 hours I was beginning to feel tired. Which is probably why I ended up on my face in the dust! It is funny how your mind has time to think "I don't want my attempt to end like this" as I flew through the air. I had been looking ahead as I approached what felt like the millionth gate. The front wheel got caught in a rut and I was thrown to the ground, in a dusty heap at the top of Amberley Mount. 

I'd been racing the clock, so instinctively leapt back on and rolled down to the gate. Reaching for the brake, I found the lever was broken and it had also left a nice mark on my top tube where it had swung round. After a minute with the allen keys getting everything at least usable again and I rode down the almost vertical face of the hill to the road. I'd been cracking on and hadn't messaged anybody with my progress since Eastbourne so reached for my phone. It wasn't in my pocket!

What did I do now? My first thought was to leave it and crack on, but my family were using the Life360 app to monitor my progress. If I just left it, they'd think I'd died on the hillside and send out a search partly. Also as I started to think more rationally - it is my phone and all the things that go with it in a modern world. It seemed likely it had slipped out of my pocket during the fall, but that was right back at the very top of Amberley Mount! Of all the hills I wouldn't want to ride twice! I pedalled to the bottom of the steepest section and then ran/jogged/staggered up to the gate. I couldn't remember exactly where I had fallen, but luckily a bright orange gel wrapper marked the spot, and next to it there was my phone.

Crisis averted, but I'd lost over 20 minutes before I was back down at the road where I had first noticed my empty pocket. Full of frustration and anger I pushed on up the next few climbs past Bignor and was soon on familiar trails and descending back down to the car.

About 16 hours had passed and the sun had set, but the sky was still light enough for me to see what I was doing as I fitted my lights, restocked my bags and changed into fresh, warmer kit in preparation for the final night leg. I knew that if I rode it at the same speed as I had during my previous attempt I'd just squeak inside 24 hours, but previously I'd ridden the night leg first, I now had 120 miles in the legs and would certainly be slower. Wouldn't I?

I was still feeling good as I set off and feeling motivated. It wasn't until I reached the base of the grassy climb at Butser that I felt the first weakness hit me. From fairly close to the bottom I got off and walked. I was startled by the silhouette of two ladies with a telescope as I staggered to the top. Their outline was illuminated by a flash of lightning. Then came a roll of thunder and I felt the first large drops of summer rain on my back. It seemed all my attempts were cursed by bad luck with weather. A quick check of my phone said 0% chance of rain, so I hoped it was just an isolated shower and pushed on into the dark.

As I reached East Meon lightning kept illuminating the dark shapes of the hillside around me and the thunder grew menacingly loud. At the base of the climb I sheltered under a tree cursing my luck as it began to rain properly. How could I be this unlucky? Surely it is possible to get 24 hours in the UK without it raining? I had a choice but staying under the tree wasn't one of them and it was costing me time, so I got back in the saddle and rode on. The consistent drip, drip continued all the way to Winchester. Luckily the ground was so dry that it made little difference to the track beneath my wheels. 

It wasn't until I reached the streets of the city that the heavens really opened, the rain beating on the tarmac and running down the sides of the road in torrents. I was soaked, but now only the homeward leg remained.

It wasn't cold at 16 degrees, but the night air had a chill and in my wet clothes I started to shiver. With chattering teeth, doubts began to enter my mind. Even if I did stop though, who'd I call at 3am and it would be at least an hour until they could get me. Having come this far, my best option was to rescue myself by getting back to the car. I tried to warm myself up by putting what little effort I had left into the climbs, but my body temperature would plummet again on the way back down the other side.

The gates were the worst part. Having to stop, unclip and unfold my tired body to walk through, close the latch them and then remount. Arrgh! I kept thinking to myself I should have left them all open on the way out, as I'm sure nobody had gone through them since I had earlier in the night!

Eventually I forgot about the cold. I think this was largely physiological, because I started to realise I was going to make it! The sky lightened and the sun was in the sky as I hit the final major uphill section. I was riding familiar trails again and knew I would be back by 6am even if I had to walk it, but I didn't! I'll admit I was struggling to stay awake for those last few miles. The head was nodding, as I suddenly came round with a jolt. Luckily I stayed on the bike and was fully focused for the final plunge down to the car, stopping the clock at 23hrs 30min 25sec. I'd done it!

 

Torq In Your Sleep 2022

I've missed a couple of xc races because my focus has been on training for longer rides. Part of that was geared around entry in the 6 hour solo category at Torq In Your Sleep. 

The last few months preparation had all gone to plan including a 5 hour ride along the South Downs Way a couple of weeks ago. Then the Sunday before the event I had been riding with other members of the Strada Wheels team when Clint took what looked like a fairly innocuous fall, except for the rocks near where he landed. Initially he carried on, but we should have guessed he was putting on a brave face when he decided to skip the coffee stop and head home. Next day we all received a scary photo from Clint of an extremely swollen hand. This meant that he was out of the race on Sunday and the 4 man team was now a rider short. Guess who got the call?

So here I was on Tuesday morning and all that prep for a continuous 6 hour ride was thrown out. I was now looking at four or five 40 minute flat out sprints over a 12 hour race between Midday and Midnight. It was too late to starting tuning the fast twitch muscles, although the endurance training wouldn't be entirely wasted come the end of race day. What did change was the nutrition I'd need to take with me. There was now the need for decent recovery meals for between laps, instead of food I could eat on the go. I also required changes of clothes for the time between racing and lights for the laps after sunset.

The weather on Saturday couldn't have been better. Warm spring sunshine in a clear breezeless sky. I was struck with mild panic on the drive up as I realised I had left the meals I made the day before in the fridge at home!  Once I'd calmed down, a short detour to M&S in Camberley resulted in a definite meal time upgrade!

When I arrived at the venue Darren and John already had the pop-up tent ready, close behind the flags and trade stands of the main arena. I unloaded my boxes of tools, clothing and food before Steve joined us and we set out on a reconnaissance lap of the course. The only time we'd get chance to ride together.

We then returned to the tent to plan the day, including the rider order. As the fastest rider Steve would go first. The idea being that he would be able to get us clear of the pack and prevent us being held up in traffic. I would be heading off 3rd, so we estimated my first lap would be around 1.20pm. We cheered Steve and the massive capacity field of riders away at Midday and then it was time for my lunch!

We headed back to the tent, nerves almost audibly jangling as the 3 of us nervously sat waiting for our races to get underway. Daz was up next and he headed down to the pen early as we didn't really know what lap times to expect. Steve however had done the job we'd hoped and was around the 5 or 6th rider to come into sight. As he ripped the convenient, stretchy team bracelet off his wrist to pass it over to Darren, it split and Daz was left with a dangling rubber worm to try and tuck away in a jersey pocket, before he powered away on the opening loop around the campsite.

I was out next. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as I sat in the camp chair watching the clock. 20 minutes to go I put on my kit, checked the bike for the millionth time, packed and repacked the spares in my back pocket then went back to the chair, feet dancing nervously up and down as I sat watching an empty course!  Steve's lap had taken 35 minutes, we assumed the rest of us would be a few minutes slower.

10 minutes to go I finally got on the bike and went through my warm-up routine. Then with 5 minutes left I went back to the arena and entered the pen with half a dozen other riders all wide eyed and buzzing waiting for their own laps to start. One by one racers arrived, frantically handed over their wrist bands and their team mate dashed away. Then I could see Daz entering the field. I shouted so he would know where to stop, he passed me the broken band and I was off.

I was full to the eyeballs with adrenalin and I'm certain I started much too fast! I tore over the roots and through the woods like I was being chased by the devil! On any fireroad sections I put my head down and drained the battery before ducking back into the twists and turns beneath the trees. The course was rough and I was on my hard tail, undoubtedly not the fastest option on such a course. There were no really significant long uphill drags, just some short out of the saddle bursts required to clear some steeper gradients. The course was bone dry and dusty. So the corners were loose and sketchy, riders having to control their speed, searching for the grip available. There were 8 mile markers and for safety each section was named with a large picture board. 'Double Dip', Sunset Wood' and 'Bridge to Knowhere' just to name a few!

39 minutes after I started I handed over to Jon and went for a short cool down spin and stretch before collapsing in the tent. I felt so much better now my race was underway!

The afternoon passed uneventfully. I lay in the grass as the sun shone down. Now we had a good idea of lap times we drew up a chart of when we each next needed to be in the pen and the cycle of recovery, warm-up and racing began. Once we'd all done a lap we checked the live leader board in the event marquee. We were 3rd with a few minutes gap in front and behind. Darren was frustrated that he'd gone the wrong way briefly on his first lap and to compound his dark mood a dog then pissed on his leg as he was standing looking at the timing screen!

My second lap was one of huge frustration. Darren handed over to me just after the entire 6 hour field had just completed their first lap. Therefore I quickly came upon long snakes of slower riders picking their way cautiously over technical obstacles on the course. I felt I had time to stop and do a crossword as I crawled along, trying to pick them off one by one. When I reached any wider sections I shouted out "Rider coming through" and sprinted past as many as I could, but that only got me up to the back of the next queue. It felt like I was hemorrhaging time. Aarrgh!

The sun was still warm in the sky as evening approached and the laps ticked by. My 3rd lap was joyous in comparison to the previous one. The few riders I caught let me straight past, and all those tyres had pushed the loose dust and stone off the racing line so you could be much more confident taking speed into the corners. On a high, I practically skipped up to the tent after my lap and when I got there my colleagues were also beaming because we'd moved up to 2nd place. All we knew at that point was that the leaders had fallen back, but were now 6 minutes behind us and chasing hard.

My 4th and potentially last lap was due to start just after 9pm. There was still some light in the sky as Darren handed over to me, but as soon as I got in amongst the trees it was pitch black. I knew the course by now, but it looked very different riding with a bar light and head torch. Some of the roots cast long shadows looking larger than they were and other obstacles seemed invisible until you were right upon them. I didn't know how to pace myself, all I knew was I was going slower. It was downright scary as times and as fast as I could go, but I worried I was losing time and the other team might make up all those minutes during my lap. So it was almost music to my years when I found I had lost only 30 seconds on that lap. 

The gap yo-yo'd as different riders in each team completed their laps. However, the chasing team were generally faster, but we learnt that they had lost a rider due to an accident that had cost them the lead, so we hoped they would start tiring. Looking at the hours remaining Steve and Darren would both have to do a 5th lap, but Darren was spent and on the verge of cramp. We had a team meeting to consider who would do the extra lap. The others talked about us letting 2nd place go to the chasers because we'd still be safe on the podium in 3rd even if we didn't send out a final rider. I wasn't having that! 

So it was that as 11pm approached I sat huddled in the tent trying to stay warm in the chill night air. Steve had gone out for his 5th and final lap to try and build me as big a time cushion as he could. The last time check back to the chasers was nearly 6 minutes, so I hoped he could stretch that out by another minute or hopefully more. I would be up against their fastest rider. In the (hopefully) very unlikely event that he did his fastest lap of the day that would mean I'd have 42 minutes to complete my lap. My last lap time in the dark had been 43 minutes, but surely I'd be slower, fatigue was setting in.

No warm-up this time. I started to strip off with just 5 minutes to go until we expected Steve in. We knew there was a chance that after their challenging day, if they saw me go out and if the gap was big enough the other team might not send out the final rider, settling for the consolation of the 3rd step of the podium. Therefore I took my phone with me, if it rang I would know they had called off the chase. Still, It would be several minutes until I knew, so I had to set off like my life depended on it! 

The legs were heavy, but all that endurance training paid off as I pushed the pace for the first 4 miles. I could see light through the trees behind and worried it was my chaser and he was going to reel me in before the end of the lap. Then my phone buzzed!

I couldn't trust it wasn't just a coincidence. Perhaps it was just my Dad ringing to see how the race had gone. So I dug around and fished the phone out of my pocket just as it rang again. This time I answered and it was Steve. He told me we had it in the bag and just to head back. Euphoria! However, it was dark and I was in a strange wood, with no idea of the way back unless I followed the course. So it was that ten minutes before midnight I crossed the line to cheers and the announcement of "Strada Wheels finish 2nd in the Veteran Team category". Time for a fist pump and a shout to the stars! Despite relaxing after the call I obviously had happy legs and my final lap time would have been quick enough even if they had chased. What a great day it had been!