Madison Crypto Glasses First Ride Review

I haven't had new cycle specs for a couple of years, so although I have finally switched over to longer socks, I admit I haven't been at the cutting edge of fashion posing at the local cafe. My real motivation however for buying some more glasses was that I needed some clear lenses ahead of winter, as my old ones are getting scratched and tired.

There are two options with glasses. Splash out on the latest designer brand (you know I mean Oakley) and hope they are tough and durable and provide many years of service. Or go cheap and cheerful, knowing that in reality you'll sit on them or lose them somewhere in the wood within 2 weeks of purchasing. 

At £45 the Madison Crypto's lean more towards the second category. On first impression though they punch well above their relatively low price. I was very impressed with the quality packaging.

Inside the box the glasses came fitted with the mirror tint lenses, as these look the most striking. Also included are some yellow tinted lenses for low light levels and the clear lenses that I was originally after. There is also a nice case to keep everything together and a pouch for polishing and storing the glasses in.

I bought these at the beginning for September with Autumn and the coming winter in mind. However, the weather currently has other ideas and the first ride was on a beautiful sunny day with temperatures in the mid 20's. Therefore I left the mirror lenses in and hit the trails.

The most obvious thing about the Crypto's is how the large profile is very on trend. Offering maximum coverage, like a wide screen TV on my face. Despite the sunshine it had rained a few days earlier and there was plenty of mud still being flicked up by my front tyre and from the guys in front. Nothing was getting past these lenses though! 

The risk might be that instead of my vison being attacked from the front, things start to mist up on the inside. I certainly worked up a decent sweat chasing my usual riding buddies, but had no issues with steaming up. This is helped by the adjustable nose piece which allows you to space the lenses with a slight gap to allow air to circulate. Obviously everybody's face is different but the wrap is spot on for me. I also didn't have sweat dribbling down the inside which is often an issue I have. 

My first ride was a definite success. The tinted lenses were occasionally a bit dark under the trees, so I slide the glasses down my nose and peered over the top like a stern school mistress! I look forward to popping in the clear lenses in the near future and providing an update.

The Crypto have the latest modern look and I think exude a quality above the price tag. No need for brand envy here while chatting at the trail head. Based on the first ride there were no issues and I didn't really think about them once we were cycling, which is the best thing to say about something new, but so fundamental to riding in comfort.

Cycle to Barcelona

Departure Day : Chichester to Portsmouth - 20 miles

It didn't start well! Both my 750ml bottles broke before I even left my driveway when the bike fell over in the wind while I was locking the front door.  So in a last minute flap I left five minutes late after shooting back indoors to fill two smaller bottles. 

I met up with Chris, Nigel and Craig at Chris's house. My family had driven there and our kids all came out into the street to give us a noisy send off! We were lucky to miss the rain on the way to Portsmouth even though the roads were damp.

Chris hit a pot hole as we came into the city and broke his bottle cage. As the bottle tumbled out onto the road I ran directly over it, but luckily it somehow didn't burst and I stayed upright. Still we weren't having much luck with bottles it seemed!

Arriving at the port we had to loiter outside on the dock with the queuing cars for 2hrs waiting for the 11pm ferry. It was cold and I was shivering, but at least it wasn't raining I suppose! When we finally did get on board we were directed to just leave our bikes in a random area with a pile of rusty chains and boxes of equipment. There was no allocated location for bicycles it seemed. We clambered up the stairs with our bags and finally into the warmth, only to discover that our allocated seats were in a room reserved for a French school. We just crashed in another room and hoped we wouldn't get moved on. The upright seats were not conducive to sleeping so I curled up on the floor, but it was still unfathomably cold. Wrapped in my cycle jacket I huddled under the chairs until about 2am in the morning when a young girl trod on me and then as I sat up in the dark her mother poked me firmly in the eye. I got no sleep at all. Not ideal prep for 7 days in the saddle. 

Day One : Caen to Laval - 112 miles

Day one started with getting dressed into my cycle kit in a tiny Ferry toilet, after an early coffee and pain au chocolate. A simply stunning sunrise greeted us as we left the ferry and headed along the beautiful canal past Pegasus Bridge and into Normandy. 

It remained picture postcard pretty as we followed the river into the countryside, but it was about 3 degrees and I soon couldn't feel my hands as we cycled in the shade of the hillside that followed the water course. The path was a disused railway line, so there was no traffic and we saw hardly anybody all morning. When we stopped for coffee I stamped about the town square in agony as the blood vessels opened in my hands and the feeling slowly returned. Once I was able to unzip my bags and hold a spoon I sat there on a bench munching Frosties in the golden sunshine. They were washed down with the strongest most welcome coffee ever, in the warm porch of a sports bar. Finally I felt human again and was pleased to discover the route left the shadow of the hillside by the river, following silent lanes through quaint quintessential French villages. 

After a lunch of jambon baguette, which had been strapped to the side of my saddle bag since the coffee stop, we hit a long straight and undulating roman road. We made good progress, but it was wearing and a little soul destroying to see the ribbon of tarmac stretching out to the horizon every time we crested a ridge in the road.

The last few miles into Laval were back on a gravel tow path by the river. Again this was beautiful, with the river crisscrossed by weirs, and bridges. Eventually the path became busier with people out enjoying the sunshine, as we swung into town. 

Our first Airbnb was amazing, complete with a garage for bike fettling and a room each. It was a family house and I was in an Avengers themed young boys room. We walked into town and bought spaghetti and once back Craig cooked us meatballs made from the local butchers sausages. 

I finished the day feeling OK, but I had been fighting cramp behind my knees in both legs. My neck was also sore and I worried that night about the days to come. My gears were a mess too, I assume from when the bike blew over before I left home. The mech hanger was probably bent and although I had a spare I struggled with the bolt and not wanting to risk rounding it off I instead settled for tuning the gears as well as I could. A little frustrating when I had tuned them perfectly before departure. 

To be honest I wasn't massively looking forward to another 100 miles the next day, although the forecast was fortunately good again. The idea of another 6 days was quite daunting. 

Day 2 : Laval to La Coudre - 95 miles

Today actually felt like a holiday! The sun shone and by the afternoon we were all down to short sleeves and had peeled off the leg warmers.

We cycled from village to village, connecting the dots across the countryside using the church spires. We stopped for coffee in a town square and when we finally emerged we walked across the road,  bought lunch in the patisserie opposite and then sat down again in the square outside to eat it! Progress was, shall we say, leisurely!

It didn't matter as much because today was the shortest day. It helped mentally that the miles remaining was already under 50 by lunch and we had the entire afternoon ahead of us. 

Our overnight stay was in the upstairs rooms of a country house, right next door to the village church. There were goats grazing in the field behind. The owners kindly handed over their kitchen to let Craig again cook our dinner, this time of chicken, bacon and pasta purchased a few miles up the road. 

Quite the opposite from yesterday we were all sharing a room today. Tiredness quickly overcame the sounds of others snoring for another good nights sleep. 

Day 3 : La Coudre to Chateauneuf-sur-Charente - 118 miles

Another freezing start as our hosts waved us away to the sound of the church bells ringing in Easter Sunday. Looking back to shout "au revoir" the sun was just coming up over the roof of the house. Again I had numb hands, but they had chance to recover at our first supermarket stop, while Craig came up with an ingenious solution to help space his bar bag away from his cables using a clamp purchased in the Lidl middle isle!

We stopped for coffee in the next town, taking the sports bar chairs across the road so we could sit in the sunshine overlooking the scene of busy Easter Sunday shoppers in the Carrefore car park! 

Easter meant everywhere world be shutting early. We endured the frustration of watching a lady lock the door of our chosen lunch time supermarket, literally as we rolled across the carpark towards her. That meant we headed into town hungry and searching for food. 

There was a bustling market just shutting up, but we ended up eating the finest of French cuisine at Starbucks! However the toasted sandwiches tasted mightily good after 50 miles, as we sat and chatted in the sunshine. 

Sadly we had to get moving with still 70 miles to go. The scenery started to change. The villages and architecture reminding me less of Belgium and Holland,  The orange tiled roofs had a more Mediterranean feel to them and so did the weather, as by now we'd all stripped down to short sleeved jerseys and shorts again. 

The many villages we passed were like ghost towns. We'd hear the occasional sound of life coming from behind the shutters, or a barking dog behind a gate, but on the whole the buildings looked derelict and like crumbling memories of a different time. 

There were very few cars either, to interrupt the peaceful sound of birdsong. Craig did a long stint on the front which increased our speed and helped reduce the miles. We came to a halt at the base of a chalky gravel road the GPS route was directing us up. We debated if the rough path was worth the risk? Taking the gamble on the gravel was the best decision of the day, as the 'Strada Bianca' was a definite highlight. It took us up past the base of the huge wind turbines at the top of the hill, their giant blades ponderously creeping around in the warm air.

We struggled to find the Airbnb, spending a long time in the square directly beneath it's windows wondering how to get in! Once located we got changed and headed down the road to the one establishment still open, the local pizzeria, where we were served by a young English lad!! 

I crashed out on the sofa bed with heavy legs that are really feeling the miles now. 

Day 4 : Chateauneuf-sur-Charente to Marmande  - 107 miles

Woke with my legs still feeling the effects of the previous days riding. I was also out of cereal which was the real disaster! Thinking that finding food would be just as tricky on Easter Monday as it had been the day before, we started late, making straight for the supermarket just around the corner having checked out it's opening times on the way back from the Pizzeria the evening before.

Cornflakes and milk purchased I quickly pulled a bowl and spoon from my bag and devoured them on the spot! 

I'd bought a pot of jam, ham and a baguette for lunch as well, which I strapped to my bags along with a fist of bananas! 

We returned once more to the course of a disused railway for much of the day, so there were few significant gradients to conquer. The roads we did take were disserted and the route wound through many vineyards

It was funny how I'd looked forward to today since it was a shorter day. Even though it was still 107 miles! It felt like my body was getting into the rhythm and routine of the trip however. The first few minutes of the morning were uncomfortable as my legs realised that, yes, we were doing this again! Once up to speed they just kept turning, which was lucky because on a flatter route like today they had little chance for a rest. The countdown quickly had less than a 100 miles to go which helped with the motivation!

The overnight stop was very unusual and I approached it in some trepidation. We were staying in a large wooden chalet in the hosts garden, but to my concern they had kindly offered to provide us with dinner, as there was little hope of there being anything open locally. Friends and family know I can be a little fussy with food and I obviously had visions of Frogs legs and asparagus! 

The chalet was very unique, featuring a pool table and darts board amongst the US motorbike themed décor. We were greeted with welcome arms and settled down with bottles of wine and beer for a long conversation with our hosts using Google translate. We shared stories and had a good laugh before being left to our dinner of meats and pasta. It was delicious and I was first up for seconds!

Day 5 : Marmande to Toulouse - 114 miles

Today was very much a ride of two extremes. We started the day on peaceful country lanes and passed through some breath takingly stunning villages. Multicolored houses with wooden beams, stone cottages with purple wisteria climbing over the windows.

We were following a canal and as the sun shone the temperature climbed. It was the first day I started without my coat and by the afternoon it was properly warm! The buildings around us increased in number as we headed towards Toulouse, arriving in the rush hour. We didn't have to use the roads and fight with the cars, but the cycle lanes were just as busy and frenetic! Bikes piloted by people who knew better than us where they were going, zoomed in every direction. Some ridden a breakneck speed with no hands on the bars!

 

We weren't sure of the route and nearly got split up a few times as patience at the end of a long day grew thin with fatigue. Eventually we found the correct apartment block and luckily we were on the ground floor. We showered and quickly set off in search of food. I think several of us had burgers on our minds, but we found another pizzeria and opted for meaty options! While the others waited I went in search of a supermarket to buy some more breakfast. It was a successful trip although I did get shouted at by a security guard for presumably being somewhere I shouldn't have been. "Anglais" I said and walked on!

The day had been long but quite easy. We had all ridden thinking about tomorrow and the ride up into the Pyrenees.

Day 6 : Toulouse to La Molina 122 miles

Today was the day we'd all had on our minds since Nigel first shared the route 4 or 5 months previously. The longest in terms of distance and with the best part of 3000 meters of climbing. None of us wanted to finish what was going to be a very long day, in the dark. So we set off nice and early. 

For the first few hours everything was great. I got very excited when the snow capped mountains first appeared on the horizon and they continued to grow ever larger, pedal stroke by pedal stroke. As we approached the foot hills the first climb was probably the steepest of the entire journey. A proper 20% gradient that forced us to burn some matches that we'd been hoping to save until later in the day.

We stopped in Froix for lunch in another Carrefour carpark. Surrounded by mountains the weather looked ominous but the rain still held off. However, we added some layers in preparation for colder temperatures at altitude.

The road turned permanently upwards and we began the climb towards the pass at Puymorens. Still full of excitement I rode away from the others, feeling strong and keen to get into the hills. The road however was a little disappointing. After all the lanes we'd ridden getting here, we found ourselves on quite a major highway with cars and lorries thundering past.

I stopped at the designated shop for a coffee and a refuel before the big effort up to the Col. Nigel had unfortunately chosen today to begin to not feel very well. The three of us quickly dropped him and then Craig zoomed off the front in an obvious attack! I chased after him eventually dragging Chris back onto Craig's wheel with me. We probably had 18 miles of climbing to do and were playing silly buggers pretending it was the Tour de France! Craig dropped to the back and I knew he'd soon come charging back past again in another attack. True enough he did and I let him go. However, the gap hung tantalizingly at about 500m and I felt compelled to make some more big efforts to close the gap. Chris was still with me and in the end I had to drop back on his wheel and refuel with gels from my jersey pockets. We kept rolling and eventually the three of us came back together anyway. We where now all so tired that we just ground our way upwards together. No more games now. We took turns setting the pace, which was sometimes challenging in the biting wind whistling up the valley. 

There were a few switch-backs towards the top and we could see Nigel just a few minutes behind. We discussed whether to wait and all reach the top together, but it was cold so we pushed on. Finally we reached the sign marking the 1915m summit. We posed for photos and then Nigel arrived and we posed for a few more. By now we were all freezing! Chris and I headed for a disused barn and I stripped off my damp sweaty clothes for a complete change of kit. 

It helped but not a lot! As we rolled down the other side the shivering was so bad we could hardly control our bikes! I had to put my feet down and roll slowly with the brakes hard on to prevent shaking myself off the bike. As we lost height the temperature gradually improved and the wind reduced, but if I let off the brakes the speed increased and so did the windchill! At the first village we staggered into the inviting open doorway of a shop and were delighted to find they served coffee. We had two each, mainly just to extend the stay!

Once at the bottom we still had a lot of climbing up to La Molina and our overnight stay. By now we were cold and weary so stuck together until we reached the ski resort with its high rise apartment blocks. After a few text messages the landlady came out and took us to our 5th floor apartment. She assured us the restaurant down the road would open at 7pm. This was lucky because we'd eaten or ditched everything we'd had with us before the climb to reduce weight. 

Wrapped up against the cold we set off down the road only to find a sign saying the restaurant owners were on holiday. The only other restaurant in town was also closed. Dispirited we started to trudge back up the road, resigned to a dinner of porridge and cereal. 

Just then a couple came out of a nearby apartment block and Chris approached to ask if they had any pasta we could borrow or buy. Initially he turned away empty handed, but they later drove up behind us and offered a lift to the supermarket further up the mountain that would be closing in just a few minutes. So in the end we had some awful euro sausages and pasta for dinner, but it felt like a banquet after the fear of nothing at all at the end of a 9 hour day in the saddle!

Day 7 : La Molina to Barcelona - 113 miles

Stepping outside the apartment there was a crisp white covering on the ground. It had snowed, although not much more than a hard frost.

It was cold and I put hand warmers in my gloves. These plus the effort of climbing out of the village meant I was nice and cosy!

The road today was quiet and meandering, very unlike yesterday's busy thoroughfare. The air was still and silent, the sky was blue and the snow grew deeper as we rose up the valley. We were left in awe at the beauty and scale of the landscape we were pedaling through. Without doubt lifetime memories and one of the greatest cycling experiences of my life. 

We scaled the top of the final climb knowing it was downhill now all the way to Barcelona. The descent was also much more fun than yesterday's.  The sweeping curves put a smile on everyone's face as we swung down the mountain. The windchill did still bite, and we had to stop in the sunshine a few times to warm up. We found a coffee stop and sat taking in the mountain air, knowing only the final leg of our epic journey remained.

However, it wasn't as easy as we thought! The cycle route into Barcelona that we intended to follow soon turned into a rough track suitable only for mountain bikes. I became very concerned that one of us would hit a major mechanical issue if we continued on our laden road bikes.  The alternative was taking the two lane main road, with fast moving traffic and multiple tunnels, which we weren't even sure we were allowed to ride through.  It was however the lesser of two evils, because progress on the path was so slow we'd never make Barcelona by night fall even if the bikes did hold together. 

It took us quite some time to find a way onto the elevated main road and when we did I had visions of us being wiped out by an inattentive truck driver. I got so wound up I had a mini panic attack and had to sit down for a few minutes to recover when we finally were able to take a slip road onto a quieter route. 

With the end in sight we didn't stop again after lunch and our final supermarket baguette of the week! It was late afternoon as we stood on Barcelona beach with the setting sun glistening on the waves.

After taking a photo opportunity at the iconic La Sagrada Familia, we had dinner at a street side restaurant to celebrate our achievement. 

Our adventure wasn't quite over though. We intended to rough it at the airport for the night as our flight home was at 7am. Once we'd packed up our bikes, using tape and bags posted ahead and left at a local hotel for us to pick up, I was just settling down for some sleep when a grumpy lady in hi-vis told us the terminal building was closing! So we traipsed with our packed bikes to the next terminal and curled up on the cold marble floor. 2hrs later still wide awake we left Chris asleep with a cleaner mopping around him and headed back to reclaim our positions in the reopened terminal building and I at least got 30-60 minutes kip. 

At 4am we queued to check-in the bikes only to be told we'd need to take them to the other terminal. So we retraced the now familiar 10 minute walk yet again. What followed was a weird experience where eventually we were invited behind the check-in desks where all the suitcases were whizzing around on conveyors. Three bikes went through the oversized luggage scanner, but Chris's didn't fit. It might if we could have lowered his saddle, but the tools had already gone through on the previous bikes. In the end Chris practically went through the scanner with the bike, while somebody pulled from the other side! All this faffing around meant we went straight to the departure gate without any breakfast.

So it was our journey was at an end. The training we had all put in paid dividends. Nobody struggled and I am proud that we cycled the entire week together, without I believe anybody feeling badly held up or like they were the weakest link. The months of preparation meant we were able to make the most of the experience, appreciate the scenery and take in the journey as we cycled across France, creating life long memories.

Cycle to Barcelona the Final Countdown

There are just a few days to go now until we leave for Barcelona. All the prep is done, all that is left is to rest and check the packing.

The bike is fully prepped and gleaming ready for departure. At the weekend after the deepest clean it's had for years, I fitted a new chain, cassette and cabling for silky smooth shifting. The brake pads were replaced in expectation of the long final Pyrenean decent into Spain. During the previous week the rear wheel and the Eggbeater pedal bearings have been replaced and I've overhauled the headset. The finishing touch was a brand new set of Pirelli P-Zero Race TLR 28mm tyres. Throwing a leg over the Scultura this afternoon, it flew up the road, as the gears were purring contentedly beneath me. Seems a shame to weigh it down with all my bikepacking clobber!

Towards the end of lastweek I had fitted all my storage bags for a trial ride with the team. The Topeak Backloader under the saddle was full of clothes and was supported by a Wishbone to stop it swaying from side to side. We've all bought a Wishbone and mounted the bottles on either side. I was initially concerned about having the weight of all that water so high on the bike, but actually it didn't feel unbalanced on the test ride. The Topeak Midloader sits inside the frame, stashed with all my food, which consists mainly of Clif bars and GO Gels. The bag hangs above my tool kit which is fitted to the seatpost bottle mount. In fact it rests on in slightly, causing the bag to gape slightly, so I do occasionally brush my knees against the material. It didn't really bother me on the test ride, but I'll see if I can eliminate it with clever packing or taping it together. On the top tube is a small bag for easy to reach nibbles and treats, while out front the bar bag houses everything else! Wash stuff, spares, chain lube, power leads and all the other small essentials you need for a week.

I've done all the training I can now. The last few weeks have been a bit frustrating, as the weather and life have meant I wasn't been able to finish off with one last big ride. It does mean I'll set off without having ridden 100 miles in training, causing a slight nagging doubt in my mind. On the other hand I did ride 1000 miles in March. In my many years of cycling it's the first time I've ever reached that milestone, and in fact the first time I've cleared 900 miles! The last time I topped 800 miles in a month was in the summer nine years ago, when I was regularly commuting 100-120 miles a week to Portsmouth, on top of my weekend social rides.

The truth is I've put in a lot of hard work, about as much as I could around my job, kids and family commitments. I lie in bed every night stressing about all the things that could go wrong; getting enough to eat, saddle sores, bonking and letting the team down, mechanical failures, the weather. I should instead be looking forward to a week with nothing to do but ride my bike and make memories.

Cycle to Barcelona route finalised !

Nigel has been pouring over Google maps making the finishing touches to our route to Barcelona. Now he has shared it with the rest of us, the trip feels very real. There are definitely butterflies in the stomach looking at the maps of the French towns and cities on route, some unknown and others vaguely familiar from school text books and years of watching the Tour de France. Dropping the little yellow man onto our route in Google Street View and taking a look around, it's very weird to think I'll be there in just a few weeks time. 

What Nigel has done for us is link together the AirBnB bookings we have for each night. These were selected based on our original outline plan of 100 miles a day which was plotted in Komoot. Nigel has then tweaked it further adding food stops along the way, hunting out local Lidl or Carrefour supermarkets. As part of our trip is over the Easter weekend, we'll be relying on the major chain stores when local pâtisserie and other shops may be closed.

There is no doubt the 110 miles a day is intimidating. To put it in perspective I averaged 116 miles and 8.5 hours cycling a WEEK over 2022 as a whole. We're going to be doing that a DAY in April! For seven days in a row!!

In preparation for this challenge I have increased my training since Christmas and so far this year I'm averaging 11 hours a week, covering 160 miles! (I do a lot of mountain biking so mileages can be deceptive as you obviously don't go as fast or as far off-road.)

Day 6 is looking especially EPIC! 124 miles climbing 3000m into the Pyrenees. 

Also!: The recent news of snow in Barcelona gives me the jitters with just 5 weeks to go. Imagine what the mountain passes will be like! Storm Juliette: Cold snap leaves Barcelona covered in snow - BBC News

Here is a day by day break down of the route (including ridewithgps.com links):

Day 1: Caen to Laval 

Day 2: Laval to La Coudre

Day 3: La Coudre to Chateauneuf-sur-Charente

Day 4: Chateauneuf-sur-Charente to Marmande

Day 5: Marmande to Toulouse

Day 6: Toulouse to Alpe

Day 7: Alpe to Barcelona

Training not racing!

There is no race report from the first XC of the season. Instead of racing at the Gorrick I was knocking out 70 miles on the road bike. Conditions were perfect for mountain biking too and I'll admit my heart yearned for the trails every time I passed a Bridleway signpost at the side of the road pointing off into a dry and inviting wood.

Since I lived at home with my parents I've always dreamt of just riding away from my front door and exploring Europe on my bike. My dream was to cycle to Monte Carlo, tackling some alpine climbs on the way South. I have a route planned from a year 2000 road atlas and about 15 years ago I even booked Ferry tickets, but fear of all the things that could go wrong (common sense) meant it never happened. Then family and kids did happen and the plans got filed at the bottom of my sock draw. 

Occasionally I'd get out the plastic folder of the printed route and flick through it longingly. What I needed was a ride buddy (or two) to give me the confidence to know that if something did go wrong in the middle of nowhere there was somebody else there to help.

I shared my idea with Chris and Nigel 4 years ago when we were laying in our hotel room the night before we rode Chase The Sun. Without the Covid pandemic it might have happened the following year, but the idea again got moth balled. 

Then a year ago Chris sent me a link to a story about a group that had cycled from the UK to Barcelona. It looked very appealing and reminiscent of my original plan. 100 miles a day for a week, with the Pyrenees to conquer before finishing on the Mediterranean coast.

Neither of us could do it that year as we already had family holidays planned, but we promised ourselves we would commit to book it in the Autumn. We enlisted Nigel again and got together in October and made our plans. That evening we booked the Ferry from Portsmouth and flights home from Barcelona for the following Easter, giving ourselves 6 months to prepare.

Since then there has been some preparation and we've enlisted Craig to join our band of brothers. However, this week was the first time we have all ridden together and with less than two months to go it's now beginning to feel very real!

I'm riding 10 hours a week and have put in two long rides (70+ miles) on the road bike. The others have completed a couple of century rides as part of their prep which I still haven't done. Which is playing on my mind slightly, so is the next monkey to get off my back. I have ridden every day since early January and I'm making an effort to put in back to back long rides on consecutive days to get used to riding with fatigued legs.

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!!