Down to Business

So with the Christmas/December break behind me and another year over it was time to move on and get things back to normal. 2009 was a helluva a year, not least because I chose to take redundancy in the worst economic crisis in living memory and then decided to set up my own event business, SIP Events Ltd, and organise a mountain bike race; but not just any old mountain bike race, I thought I'd go for something that had never been done before, an event that many said couldn't be done - a logistically challenging 100 mile single lap off-road race in one of the remotest parts of the country. By 8pm on Saturday 5th September 2009, 200 people had proven the doubters wrong and the Montane Kielder 100 was receiving glowing reports from all involved! I think the free beer and burgers was helping though. It was without doubt the highlight of my year, possibly even the highlight of my last 10 years!

2010 was supposed to start with a big fitness kick - illness and bad weather put pay to that so I used the time to redesign and build various websites. SIP Events had a makeover, Kielder 100 had a small update and I also added the all important, all new 24 Hours of Exposure to the family (a work in progress).

With that little lot up and running I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things including some quality ride time. I have a good feeling about 2010, and so far it's living up to my expectations.

Go 'Til You Stop

The human body is an amazing thing. The capacity of the mind and body to work together just long enough to get through any given task will never cease to amaze me. The mind tells the body what it needs to do and how long for, gives it the strength to keep going, it even accounts for sleep (or sometimes lack of), factors in the temporary break in physical activity but keeps the body aware it hasn't finished just yet. The consequences of these types of events are never pretty though - often pushing yourself up to or beyond your physical limits.

Such an incident happened at the weekend. I was working on the second round of the British Mountain Bike Series up in Dalby Forest, Yorkshire. It was also a World Cup test event which added a slight bit of extra pressure to get everything spot on. I'd ridden the course first thing Thursday morning to get my bearings in the forest. To say it's the most technical cross-country course of the series is an understatement! Challenging and fun though and I was looking forward to actually racing on Sunday. Another practice ride on Friday on Olive the dekerf had me confident that I could clear all of the sections without a second thought.

The mistake I made though was not actually riding the course on my Ducati race bike that only turned up on Saturday morning. This was a grave error on my part and half way around the first lap on Sunday morning I hit the ground hard on a rooty drop-off section. After a long sit down I limped around to finish the lap, various body parts throbbing, and retreated to the back of my tent in pain. The ever insightful Martyn Salt approached and deduced very quickly from my abrupt single syllable answers to his concerned questions that I was far from alright but all I wanted was to be left alone to sob in peace and privacy.

A while later I reappeared in the arena with very few signs of the race ending dismount - just a graze or two on my legs. The large bruise on my hip, the graze on my backside, my throbbing right thigh and a pain in my ribs were invisible to the world. A limp gave it away slightly, as did the winces of pain every time I laughed or coughed. Still, there was work to be done for the rest of the event and I planned to just keep moving. Once I stopped, that would be it. And the anticipation of the morning after pain was motivation enough to get as much done on the day of the crash as possible.

Copious amounts of red wine helped me sleep on Sunday night. And here's the twist; Monday morning, although being the morning after, wasn't the end of the task. The plan had always been to stay on Monday and finish up. So I woke up a little stiffer than usual with some soreness in my neck, but actually rather surprised at the lack pain and ease of movement. Perhaps the crash hadn't been as bad as first imagined? Monday came and went and all the extra movement and walking hadn't made much of an impact on my aching bones. The task had finished, I had made it through, and made it home.

Tuesday is where it went wrong. Very, very wrong. My mind had finally told my body it could stop, relax and do what it needed to do to get back to normal. The excruciating pain I felt trying to get out of bed set the tone for the day - with every laugh, cough, sneeze and deep breath causing a sharp, almost unbearable pain in my rib. Even taking it easy didn't help as any core movement - getting off the sofa, bending down, standing up - causes a similar pain. I'm thinking cracked rib or muscle damage. Either way, there's no point going to hospital and there's nothing I can do except take it easy for a while. (And try not to laugh, cough, sneeze, breath too deeply or move.)

What a Week or Two

This time last week I was still in Offenburg, Germany, having spent the day watching the second round of the Nissan UCI World Cup cross-country mountain bike racing. There's hope that the UK will have a round next year in Dalby Forest so a BC contingent and a few others, including me, tagged along to have a look and pick up some tips.

As it was a last minute thing, I ended up driving the 500 miles through France on Friday and driving back on Monday. An interesting experience but not one I would want to repeat any time soon. The weekend and the racing was inspiring though - seeing the worlds elite, especially Monsieur Absalon, really is something to behold. And I somehow managed to end up writing a report and taking some photos for XC Racer. Published at last! And there's some more photos up on my flickr account. I think this my favourite one of eventual winner Julien Absalon. (Check out the quad muscles!!)

The rest of the week flew by with me playing at different jobs and trying to get through my long 'To Do' List. I haven't got very far yet.

And today I actually managed to ride Olive the Dekerf (and she was absolutely incredible once again) - I popped down to Swinley Forest for the Gorrick 100(km) enduro. It was the Gorrick 50 for me, just completing 3 laps of the fantastically fun 10 mile course. And incredibly I managed to win, although it wasn't a race, just a challenge. So let's say I was the first female to complete the 3 lap challenge - and received a rather nice trophy and Gore Bikewear cycling jersey for my efforts. At some point I'll write a race report.

Finished!!

Finally! After all these months and months and months of waiting for work to finally finish, it has! And I'm so happy and relieved and excited and cheerful and stress free and I'm really looking forward to my Summer now.

It's been an odd few days though, both before and after the leaving do (obviously, things never go smoothly around here). It started with a shopping trip on Thursday morning with Jodie to get new outfits for the leaving do Friday night. We both hate shopping, I really hate shopping in London, and to top it off it was raining. We were both doing surprisingly well until what will now and forever more be known at 'the Diesel incident'. I was trying on a pair of jeans in Diesel that turned out to be far too tight. Peeling the ridiculous tight pair of trousers back down my legs to my ankles I stumbled... out of the cubicle into the shop, banging my thigh on the handle. The young, male shop assistant looked stunned to say the least - and Jodie burst out laughing. I left in haste. I didn't really want a pair of jeans anyway.

Friday was the last day. I have to wonder how many P45s have been handed out amongst cheers, hugs, rounds of applause and popping champagne corks? Ours were. It was brilliant. Champagne. Lunch. Champagne. Lunch, again(?!) Champagne reception. Pub. Champagne. Champagne. More Champagne. (And I really have to say thanks to the guys at Green Media for a considerable amount of the champagne - there are some true gents out there ;-) I also have to say a really massive thank you to Nick Blackham, one of my managers, for being an absolutely top bloke over the last couple of months, and for some of the champagne on Friday. I couldn't have done it without him.

Not surprisingly, Saturday started with a hangover, and in fact ended with a hangover. (Note to self: don't drink that much champagne again in one day, it's just not worth it.)

Sunday should have been race day but I had a rather niggly shopping injury (see above) which meant my thigh went 'twang' on the first hill of the first practice lap at the first round of the Midlands XC series. So I spent the day soaking up the sun, with the odd bit of roving marshalling and course work.

Tomorrow I start my new life as an unemployed person, or should that be full time event organiser/consultant? Or maybe full time cyclists? Maybe I should call it a sabbatical? I'll have to have a think over the next couple of weeks whilst I'm finishing doing up my first house. It all feels really weird. I've been waiting for this for ages but now I can't get my head around it. Not that I'm going to have too much time to think about with the sheer amount of work I have to do over the next few weeks. I'm sure the time will fly by though. But, that time starts first thing tomorrow morning. Can't wait!!

11 Bloody Days

11 eventful days. One evening I'm in London trying not to get drunk at what was the official closing down of ITV transmission at the London Studios. It was also the day I got served my redundancy which means I'll officially finish on the 17th of April. Thank God! Finally! I could feel the weight physically lifting from my shoulders and the stress draining from my body. It was fantastic.

Early the following morning I was on a train to Carlisle for a few days pottering about on soon-to-be mountain bike courses in the north. Kielder 100 is coming along nicely. The new Wild Boar 24 course has huge potential and then it was over to Whinlatter to help out at the Whinlatter MTB Challenge. This is where things took an unexpected turn for the worse. I had an accident involving a large, 25kg+ speaker crashing down onto the back of my head. Thinking there must be a bump forming I removed my hat and put my hand to the back of my head. It came back red. That's when the others noticed the blood running down the back of my neck. I've never had a serious head injury before and I have to say there's nothing more unnerving than seeing blood dripping from your own head - it's just not natural and all your instincts seem to be telling you to panic because there's something very wrong. Still, the week of rest probably did me some good.

Then it was off to Sherwood for the first round of the British Mountain Bike Race Series working with Martyn Salt for the first time. (He plays squash ya know.) I raced in the Masters category. I was rubbish. Maybe riding my bike over the winter would have helped. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Full race report coming soon on the race page.

So, 11 days, hundreds of miles, 4 forests, 3 hotels, 2 mtb events and one very large scar on the back of my head. At least life isn't dull. And the Summer is shaping up rather nicely now I finally have my redundancy.

The Things You Do

It's been an interesting couple of weeks with lots happening and more than once I have found myself pausing for a second just to get a complete picture of the situation I had found myself in.

For any readers of Tales from the Rock you'll know there was a minor vehicular incident last Tuesday - full story and embarassing phots on Tony's blog here. 'Drive Carefully!', yeah thanks Tony. It's the first time I've ever got my car stuck in 10 years of driving, and I was lucky I didn't hit the power lines! Despite this setback I still managed to get to the meeting with Welsh Cycling on time and all went well.

So it's Tuesday 6th of January and whilst most people are settling themselves back into their warm work places after the Christmas break, I spend the day wandering through pathless woodland in the Brecon Beacons scouting out the venue for the Cycling Festival. The temperature was still below freezing but I still managed to get excited at the prospect of what this forest may hold - the stunning scenery, snow capped hills, bright blue sky and crisp sunshine also played a part in the random giggles of joy.

Now, my friend Paul had driven us over to Crickhowell as I wasn't too happy with the state of my tyres after the incident earlier that morning. Leaving the estate we decided to pop down one of the lanes just to familiarise ourselves with the lie of the land a bit more. Up the hill and round the bend and the road opened out into a huge green field with a large house at the top. It was at this point Paul decided to stop and turn his van round. He began his 3 point turn in the narrowest part of the road next to the steepest part of the verge and no sooner had he completed point two of his turn, he found the van wedged between a fence and the grass verge. Half an hour later, in the freezing cold, dark evening, one of the estate workers used his Land Rover to drag the van out, sideways, down the road. It's the first time Paul's ever got his van stuck in 20 years of driving.

Back to my car and I faced the long drive home across the Cotswolds. Any of you that read this blog regularly will know I'm a great believer in 'signs' and listening to what the universe is trying to tell me. The A40 across the Cotswolds is twisty and dangerous at the best of times, with this cold snap who knows what condition it would be in. I didn't have to wait until I got to the A40; I got just past Ross-on-Wye on the dual carriageway and approaching the roundabout passed an accident on the other side of the road. 'Oh dear', I thought, and as I finished that thought the car took a rather skewed angle at which to leave the roundabout. Aha, black ice. I see. Heart pounding I put the three incidents of the day together and decided to meander slowly and carefully home that night, barely reaching the speed limit at any point. Home safe and sound once more; ready to spend another day in the middle of the countryside in the freezing cold, wind and rain. Oh the glamour.

Peak Riding

I finally managed to get away for the weekend and spent a great couple of days around Ladybower Reservoir in the Hope Valley, Derbyshire. It was to celebrate the occasion of an old university friend turning 30 and as such he'd gathered a group of his cycling friends together as well as a couple of old faithfuls Mike (aka Miggy due to the confusion of two Mikes being best friends) and Tom who I also met at university.


Laura and Lisa on the dirt track to Mike's parents.

Sadly Tom couldn't make it as he's off making his fortune. And sadly, Miggy almost didn't make it either with a rather lucky escape involving the dark, winding lanes around the reservoir, a missed turn, some slippery roads and some poor judgement. But we've promised never to speak of that again. It's not the kind of story a wife wants to hear in detail. So moving on swiftly...

The weather wasn't great on Saturday and I haven't ridden for a while so decided to go on the easy ride with the ladies, rather than the testosterone fuelled gnarl-fest I sensed was going to occur with the boys. I don't often get to ride with a group of women, actually I don't often get to ride with a group of anyone, but hey ho. So a gentle trundle around the reservoir sounded like a good way to spend a dreary Saturday afternoon in November.

I couldn't believe how many groups of riders of all ages and abilities we bumped into. In some cases, literally. (Ahem, Laura!) Whilst me, Kirsty, and Lisa played 'child dodgems', Laura was still using the old novice excuse and playing 'child bumper cars'. The three of us all managed to negotiate our way through hoards of weaving, unsteady children, then there's a "ooh, ah" doof! I turn around to see Laura standing in the middle of a group of stationary, confused and annoyed looking children. 75 beer points to Laura! (Bloody beginners luck if you ask me... ;-)


Kirsty above the reservoir close to the house.

Lunch stop at Mike's parents overlooking the reservoir was all very civilized and then it was back to the fantastic Ladybower Inn to scrub up into my Sunday Best for the birthday dinner and less civilized consumption of copious amounts of alcohol.

Much laughter, fun and mickey taking was had with friends old and new. Even though Mike, Miggy and I only get together once every couple of years, (and I have to point out how much we were all missing Tom!) I've known them for 10 years now and we soon slip back into the old student ways. I should see them more often and we should really get together more often; busy lifestyles, different interests and separate groups of friends seem to prevent it though. But we all understand this and make the most of it when we are together (Tom! Where the hell were you?! Why weren't you there?!)

Still, great friends, great riding, great digs, great food and great beer. Great weekend all round.

Enough now... no really

September has not been my month. Whilst some of my friends have been clocking up hundreds of miles, having fantastic holidays and generally enjoying themselves. I haven't. It started well with a committed and determined start to a 30 in 30, and at times there were glimpses of the good life, but it didn't last for long.

My boiler was fixed after 5 visits from the gas man and 6 weeks without hot water. My radiator is leaking.

I sorted out the insulation in the loft. The fuse blew on the lights downstairs. The hallway light blew on the upstairs ring main - either downstairs lights with no lights as I came in and out of the house, or upstairs lights and cooking by the light of the hob.

My week of convalescing in the Lake District was all very pleasant with a good mountain walk or two; in dreary weather. My only ride of the week resulted in the biggest crash I've had in many years. A big, hard, fast crash. Bruised and scraped from my right shoulder down to my right knee, including my ribs. A good chunk out of my right elbow and a lump the size of a tennis ball with a rainbow coloured bruise on my hip. I hit my head and cracked my helmet. Fortunately Hyacinth, my Maverick ML7 only suffered superficial damage to her handlebars and brakelevers and a slightly buckled rear wheel. Fortunately her fall onto the jagged rocks was broken by my stunned and helpless body. Lucky her. I gave the Grizedale Mountain Bike Challenge a miss the following day.

Traffic on the way home on Sunday night was dreadful so I got back in the early hours of the morning to cram in a few hours sleep before an early start to some long days at work. A heavy schedule over the next few days, coupled with a repairing body, the continuing course of antibiotics and the damp from sleeping in a tent all week gave me a wrotten cold. I still have a wrotten cold.

On the way home from work on Friday various pedestrians, cyclists and drivers seemed determined to kill themselves and/or me, by completely ignoring every single line of the Highway Code and their common sense. My journey time home was doubled by roadworks and heavy traffic on the M1.

Ah, my front door by midnight. But no hallway light. Time for a shower. The shower head flew off and hit me on the forehead. I sighed. A deep, shoulder-dropping sigh. I looked around for someone to give me a hug, one of those "don't worry, everything's going to be alright soon petal now dry your eyes and be a big brave girl" hugs. There was nobody there. I sighed and put my head under the pathetic dribble of warm water that was coming from the remnants of my shower head.

One more long day at work and then a day off. I think I'm just going to curl up on the sofa and try not to hurt myself, break anything or burn the house down.

Bring on October, please...

"30 in 30" Days of Rain

This looks like it could possibly be the wettest 30 in 30 ever, it seems determined to rain every day. But so far it hasn't put me off (which has surprised even me), and I have been riding - despite a few setbacks.

Thursday, Day 2 and the rain was hammering down. Undeterred, I donned my trusty rain jacket and overshoes and set off. The flooding was so bad in the lane that I couldn't see the perfectly sized divot in the middle of the road and seconds later my rear tyre was flat with a pinch puncture. I swapped the tube but my motivation had gone. I stood on the road side trying to decide whether to carry on - my planned route was an out and back that would take me up to 12 miles away from home, and now having no spare tube and a rather soft rear tyre that would be prone to more pinching. I reminded myself why I had embarked on another 30 in 30 and jumped back on my bike to explore some lanes closer to home, just in case. So, 1h22m and 17 road miles completed.

Day 3 - a simple hour on the turbo trainer. Boring, but necessary due to work commitments. I had a rather lovely pint of Bombardier at the Mulberry Bush at a leaving do for some work colleagues. So far so good on the alcohol front then.

Day 4 - more rain! (If this carries on, I'm selling the bikes and building a flamin' ark!) Yet again the weather was testing my resolve with heavy showers throughout the day. Still, I've just put the original forks back on the Surly 1x1 and it's been years since I rode a rigid mountain bike so it gave me the little kick I needed to get out there and explore for a bit - 1hr10m and 10 miles in the rain and mud. It'll do.

Totals so far - 5h17m, 42 road miles, 10 miles off-road.

A Nice Cup of Tea

That's the first thing I have when I get back from holiday. Not very exciting, but a necessary evil when you've been drinking coffee in California for 10 days.

So my holiday to the SingleSpeed World Champs in Napa California was great fun - great friends, great wine, great conversation, great laughs, great beer, great whisky sour, great trails, great weather and the most amazing food I have ever, ever eaten!

I'll write more and put some pictures up on my adventures page when I get some more time. Due to flight delays and time differences it was a full 28 hours between leaving San Jose aeroport and arriving home Friday afternoon. A 4.30am start this morning has plunged my body clock into meltdown.

For now, just to show you how awful the weather was so you're not too jealous, here's a picture of us riding in Wilder Ranch, Santa Cruz on Tuesday.

That's Chris's backside, Jessica, Laura Bontrager, me and Raquel.

You see, the sun was so bright we could barely see the Pacific ocean in the background because of the glare! It was so hot I kept having to stop to reapply factor 30 sunscreen, and the dust was really getting in my throat as well. Damn NorCal trails...

Not in the Saddle, Just Sleepless

And so Endura Sleepless in the Saddle is wrapped up for another year and it also marks the end of my trail crew duties for 2008. Sadly it also marks the end of an era for our regular and most experienced endurance Commissaire, Anton Florek.

Anton has been working with Pat Adams from the very start of 24 hour racing so knows more about the sport than most people. He's been fantastic to work with over the years and everybody has learnt a lot from him, especially me. It's an absolute pleasure to work with somebody who is so passionate and insightful about your sport without the slightest hint of arrogance. He'll be missed by all of us.

Obviously with this being Anton's last event, it was going to be the most eventful. The weekend threw everything at us! The weather was atrocious, again, and there were other totally random hiccups occurring. (I won't go into some of them here, they're those secret little problems that most people at these events don't know about, mainly because the organisers don't want people to know about them, so I'm not going broadcast it here.) But it basically meant the trail crew spent the whole of Saturday running from one problem to the next.

The main problem was the rain. It started raining Saturday morning, it rained for most of the morning. The course turned to wet slop and riders were coming back a consistent shade of brown but still riding their mud spattered bike. Then it stopped raining and the course started to dry out. This turned it into a 7 mile death march slog that many were comparing to conditions of the Somme. I don't blame them. I saw the bikes as they crossed the timing mats: I saw the now 4 inch wide muddy tyres that weren't turning; I saw the dangling rear mechs and a lack of chains; I saw blocks of mud where chainrings should be; I saw the tears of riders who had just slipped, trudged and battled their way around the treacle filled course dragging their broken, heavy, mud covered bikes. It didn't look fun. In fact, it was bloody miserable.

Just as the course started to dry out enough to be rideable, it rained again. More hassles and problems to sort. Some 'course grooming' as we call it to try and re-route some of the more problematic areas. It had been a tough day for all of us, it was getting dark and we weren't even a third of the way through. It was going to be a long weekend. The rain stopped, the mud got stickier. It rained again, the ruts got deeper. (Repeat this pattern throughout the night.)

Still, no matter how bad things got, some people seemed to be enjoying themselves. Some people actually found it all really good fun and very amusing, a real test of endurance. Each to their own I suppose...

I managed to get a couple of hours interupted sleep around 2am but was still answering the calls of the Marshalls from my tent. Sunday was a lot quieter and just involved the usual finish duties and tear down at the end. It had been a very hard weekend - Friday had been very hard work doing the course preparation, Saturday was out to prove Murphy's Law and by Sunday I'd really had enough. The things you do for the love of mountain biking...

Urban Cycling Stories

I caught an episode of The Montel Williams Show this morning, (an American chat show on ITV3 for the majority who have probably never heard of it - and it's my job to watch it ok!) and as a picture of two women on mountain bikes was shown, I turned the sound up. We went into the commercial break and I noticed the theme of the show was "When Animals Attack", hmmm, this could be interesting.

When I first went out to ride in California I heard a horrific story about a mountain lion that had attacked some cyclists on the trail - this couldn't be the same story could it?

Back to the show and Montel was talking to Anne. She'd been out riding with her friend Debbie one day on their local trails somewhere in America. Anne had ridden ahead slightly and came across a man who had stopped in an inconvenient place on the trail and was holding a second bike. He asked Anne if she knew whose bike it was because he'd just found it lying by the side of the trail. Anne thought he was joking and that his mate must be somewhere in the bushes answering a call of nature, and rode on.

A hundred yards on, just around the next corner, a 120lb mountain lion pounced on the back of Anne and bit down on her head and cycling helmet, dragging her to the floor. The cat was constantly readjusting its grip and grabbed onto Anne's cheek, tearing it partially off. At this point Debbie came around the corner and heard her friend's screams. A 'tug-of-war' ensued, as they described it, with the lion trying to drag Anne down into the gorge by her face, and Debbie desperately clinging onto her legs! Some more people came to help and threw whatever they could find at the cat to get it to let go. Finally it did, and ran off.

Anne was air lifted to hospital, and as the helicopter took off the pilot spotted another body, the owner of the abandoned bike. The mountain lion was hunted down that night and shot, only to find that it had attacked and killed the other rider, Mark Reynolds, earlier on that morning before the attack on Anne.

It's easy to forget just how easy we have it riding bikes in the UK sometimes; apart from our own stupidity and maybe the odd nutter, there's nothing we really have to worry about. I often pop out for a ride, especially in the summer, in shorts and t-shirt with just a water bottle and a basic tool kit safe in the knowledge that my life isn't in danger.

I'm sure this complacency will bite me in the arse one day. It's come close a few times (especially the Downieville incident a few years ago!) and for a while I will make sure I take food, a long sleeve top, first aid kit, space blanket and other sundry essentials with me on every ride. A dozen rides later and I'm back to the minimum.

I'm heading out to California again in a few weeks so this was a poignant reminder to retrieve a few survival essentials from my winter walking rucksack and throw them in my Camelbak. You never know what might happen...

Bontrager Twentyfour12

So I popped down to Newnham Park near Plymouth this weekend for the third Bontrager Twentyfour 12. I've had a good run of success with this event; 1st place 24 hour solo woman in 2006; 1st place mixed team in 2007. For 2008 I would be going solo again but only 12 hours this time. ("Only" 12 hours...)

I quite like Newnham Park and raced there for the first time last year at the NPS. I'd never been before but had heard a lot about it as the World Cups were held there in the 90's. The course was absolutely blinding and the weather was excellent. All in all it was a really good weekend and seeing as I finished racing at midnight it gave me chance to catch up with a few people over a mandatory glass of vino (or two).

My full race report is on the Races page here. (You see, I've purposefully not told you where I finished so you have to go and look!)

The Love of Cycling

So it's been a while since I last posted. Partly because I've been busy, but mostly because I've been avoiding everything to do with the internet, emails, computers and cycling. There's a reason for that - Mountain Mayhem.

I've been working for Patrick Adams for 9 years at Mountain Mayhem and it has always been a fantastic week, the highlight of my year and something I always look forward to. This year was different. I wasn't looking forward to it. I'm not even sure why. There were various reasons but nothing in particular, just the amalgamation of lots of issues.

As many of you may know disaster struck on Friday before Mountain Mayhem when Patrick was taken to hospital leaving his beloved event, the biggest 24 hour mountain bike race in the world, in our hands. This made an already bad week, worse. But we got through it. (I'm not going to dwell on all the ins and outs of this week, it just wasn't as fun as usual.) There was the usual torrential rain on Saturday evening which turned the course to unrideable sludge and then gail force winds on Sunday morning tearing the arena and the campsite to pieces! But we got through it.

Two days tidying up and litter picking and by Wednesday I had totally lost my enthusiasm. Niggly things were getting to me and there was too much residual bad feeling hanging around. There's just too much politics involved in cycling some times. I've been saying this all year and Mayhem is no different. I'd had enough.

Then when I finally got home I made the fatal mistake of reading the forums about Mayhem. I always tell Paul Davis the course designer not to do this and I have no idea why I did, maybe because I had more input this year and just wanted to know what people were saying. Still, it wasn't a good idea and I got even more fed up! This was when I stopped looking at the internet. It was either that or go off on a big rant. But the damage was done. I didn't want anything to do with cycling.

Now I'm sure my indifference to cycling would have continued to fester if it wasn't for the fact that I'm a slack cyclist and when I unpacked the car I put Olive the dekerf in the dining room. There she sat all shiny and beautiful: incredibly neat welds, the trademark dekerf seatstays, stunningly designed XTR components, precision engineered beauty of Hope Mini calipers and the neat, slimline stiffness of the Rock Shox Team SID suspension forks. How could I stay mad at her?! It wasn't her fault after all.

I resisted for a couple more days - grumbling and moaning and being generally fed up with the world, and cycling and cyclists. Then I cracked. A cosmic alignment of circumstances occurred with Cyclenaut coming over for a few days from America, Deano popping over for a couple of beers, the funniest waitress in the whole world warning me about the 'blue cheese burger' and a beautiful day; I just had to ride my bike.

And it was ace!

I love cycling!

Malvern Meandering

Went for a quick spin over the Malvern Hills today in Worcestershire. It's somewhere I've been intending to ride for years now, but every time I'm in the area I get caught up at Eastnor or just end up passing through.

My new dekerf, 'Olive', is urging me to ride though. I can hear it taunting me from the back of the car: "Let me out... let me out to do what I was built to do. Get off your lazy fat backside and justify the astronomical price you paid for all of these shiny new bike parts you flamin' idiot!"

With that kind of motivation, how could I resist! I had to drop some bits off at Back on Track bike shop in Malvern. I should also say a great big thank you to Paul at Back on Track for doing a fantastic job of building my new bike at short notice a couple of weeks ago. And for letting me take over the whole shop for the 2 hour discussion involving four people and three members of staff to figure out what forks and wheels I should have. I swear Posh Spice, Paris Hilton and Jennifer Lopez could have picked an outfit for the Oscars quicker! But you have to get these things right, right? And it does look ace now! (Photos coming shortly by the way.)

So I parked in the car park just above the shop and asked Paul for some route advice, bought the waterproof Harveys map he sells and disappeared into the hills. It's fairly hard to get lost to be honest. The Malvern Hills is just one ridge line a few miles long encircled by roads - you can either traverse along the hill or climb up to the top, descend to the road, then climb back up another track and repeat. When you get bored, you just head back. Though it would be hard to get bored here. Even looking at the map there's a myriad of legal bridleways to be explored, and who knows how many unmapped trails!

A couple of hours playing on a wide variety of trails - gravel, stoney, grassy, rooty, muddy, steep, steady, technical, tight, wide and fast, the Malverns seem to have it all - and I decided to head home. Olive had done me proud again on her second outing and I'd had a blast riding new trails. Can't wait until I have another spare day to get back and explore some more. I think I have one in October sometime...

Wild Boar 24

Finally managed to put a race report up for The North Face Wild Boar 24 that I rode last weekend. You can read all about it on the Races page. It wasn't my best attempt at a 24 hour solo - I've never, ever ridden with such heavy legs! The Tour of Ireland obviously took a lot more out of me than I realised. Also proven by the fact I've been off work sick for the last week. Time for a little rest and recovery before the summer kicks off properly...

I did pick this up while I was there though. Some Scottish guy had made them specially for the event and bought a few down in different styles and rotor sizes. This is a 203mm one with silver colour detail rather than black. The centre piece is stone. Nice huh!

It's Here!

My spangly new bike frame! (giggles like a small child) It was like Christmas morning when the delivery man knocked on the door, even though it was stupid-early o'clock I couldn't wait to open the box. And here it is:


Sweet huh! Have to say a great big thanks to Michael Golinski at Dekerf Cycle Innovations for getting it to me so quickly. It really is a thing of beauty and I hope the build I've got lined up does it justice (sadly my photographs don't). Hopefully it should be built in the next couple of weeks, but I'm still waiting on a few parts.

It's A Good Life

700 miles, 6 days, 5 cycling venues, 4 hotels, 3 bike rides, 2 new beers and a curry with an old friend - throw in a machete, an Army Major or two, some old trails, some new trails, some 'are you sure this is going to work' trails, lots of mud, more beer, even more rain(!) and Joolze Dymond hanging out of the back of her car taking photos and that was last week.

It kinda reminded me of my student days and my first years at work, when I'd take all my cycling and walking gear and disappear for a few days. It's been a long time since somebody asked me where I was staying that night and I said I didn't know. Thankfully my friends still realise that I could turn up on their doorstep at any moment wanting a hot meal and a bed and are very accomodating.

I like that; That feeling of going where the wind takes you for as long as you want and doing what you want. There's a certain sense of freedom that comes with it. It's very simple freedom but can be hard to attain these days (especially once you've bought a house and got a proper job - though some would say I've yet to get a proper job).

So now I've got the taste for it again, hopefully there's more in store. Though where on earth I'm going to find time to wander off for a week this year is anyones guess. My next couple of months and the logistics involved have been planned with military precision; Something I've only had to start doing over the last few years. I still prefer the old way, it's so much more fun.

End of an Era

Another weekend passed working at a Pro-Velo Support mountain bike event - Enduro 6. I've been working with Pat for 9 years now, well, 9 years this Mayhem anyway. It was a chance meeting at Sandwell one June when I turned up for a drink with Chipps at the hotel, the rest as they say is history.

Back then I worked with Ivo, Chipps, Paul McConnon and Ken Ward. A couple of years later a tall, broody Scotsman joined - Chris Duncan. We shared some interesting times as well: the corn field fire, the crazy knife wielding schizo and the SWAT helicopter are just a few of the things we dealt with at mountain bike races!

By the time the event moved to Eastnor only Chipps and Chris were left and we picked up a few more people - Quad Ben and Ickle Paul Davis. This was the infamous Pro-Velo Trail Crew and we were working at more events throughout the year.

There's an odd relationship formed in this kind of family. We only saw each other for one week and two weekends a year and not at all over winter, but the time spent together is intense, especially for the 36 hours over a 24 hour race! After a few years, we'd still only met 6 times, but every time we got together we all instantly clicked and it was as if we'd never been away; Even more unbelievable if you know what a motley crew we are.

Sadly, this weekend was Chris Duncan's last as a member of the Trail Crew. He's still going to be at the events but doing his normal job for Endura who are event sponsors this year, so it won't be quite the same.

I can safely say we're all going to miss working with him. He's got a wit as dry as the sahara and can take the mickey with the best of them - crucial attributes when it's 6am, you're covered in mud, soaked to the bone, it's been raining for 4 hours with no sign of it letting up and you know there's no chance of getting out of this damn field for another 12 hours!

So apart from the odd appearance from Chipps at Mountain Mayhem, there's just me left from the old Sandwell crew. I wonder how much longer I'll be around?

Race Day

Been an interesting but busy few days - last couple of days at work were actually quite a good laugh. Mainly due to my/our own stupidity. It's not often I say that, it's not often I talk about work either, but every now and again it is good fun. Still, yesterday was a long day and I was looking forward to getting out on my bike today. Though in saying that, I almost didn't get out of bed this morning. I'm glad I did though.

You can read all about my racing antics on my new Race page. It's going to get pretty busy over the coming weeks!

A Trailbuilders Lot...

Not riding for an hour a day hasn't freed up any extra time over these last few days - if anything I've been busier. (And talk about broadening your horizons, one minute I'm building mountain bike trails, the next I'm building websites; two things I'd never even done until a few months ago and now they take up all my time.) I'm so busy in fact that I seem to have given up sleeping. Three days last week I went without sleep and I must have only averaged two hours a day.

FACT: Working nights is bad for you.

I find the best way to get back to normal after nights is to stay busy after the last night - exercise always helps. So three days at Eastnor Castle was just what I needed. And after much head scratching, trail searching, bramble-tripping, branch-flicking, mud-sliding, thorn-pricking, pick-wielding, dirt-shovelling, exploration, I think we have a Mountain Mayhem course! (Well, when I say that, what I mean is we have a slightly less vague idea of where a route should probably go under the right conditions and you can ride all the way round it instead of stopping after only 4 miles, taking off your helmet, throwing your bike down the hill and sitting on the floor crying, whilst mumbling "I hate bikes" over and over again. So that's a bonus.)

I made a quick trip up to Rock Cottage Tuesday. It's lambing season and Tony had invited me over to see the cutesie-wutesie lambs that were only a matter of days, or even hours old! Now, I'm used to walking into Rock Cottage and being pounced on by 10 stone dogs and tripping over various cats, but even I was surprised to see little lambs trotting round the lounge - aaaaaaahhhhh! Hercules, the 10 day old Ryeland was particularly cute, and the two 4 day old hill sheep were particulary stupid, but that's sheep for ya.

"30 in 30" Days 6 & 7

When did I cross over into a parallel universe? If somebody could tell me, and then pull me back into normal universe, that'd be great, because at the moment I'm in the Universe of Cycling Chaos.

Day 6 - hour on the turbo. I'm going slightly mad, it finally happened, I'm slightly mad...
Then, riding through London on the way to work I stopped at the traffic lights on a pedestrian crossing. People crossed. The little man turned red, the traffic lights turned green and I pushed off - just as some woman walked straight into me in the middle of the road. Then she shouted at me!
That's right, SHE shouted at ME for going through a green light! I swear if I'd had a handbag like old Baroness whatsherface I'd have clouted her round the bonce with it. I rode off in a British (quietly outraged) manner.

Day 7 - Finally out on my bike in the fresh air and physically moving. Couple of hours exploring the local woods again.
Then, having spent much of the ride stealing cheeky trails, a man wearing an anorak holding a litter picker shouted at me for making the bridleway muddy.
That's right, HE shouted at ME for riding on a bridleway!

Looks like I'm not the only one who's gone mad, the whole word is slightly gaga. But these last couple of days have taught me a valuable life lesson: do what you want, when you want, where you want, because someone will shout at you for doing it anyway.

Unlikely phrases...

Popped out for a ride this afternoon in the low winter sunlight. Only 20 miles, but it was a lovely gentle spin along the quiet lanes of Hertfordshire with a little bit of exploring thrown in - a few lanes and tracks that I'd never been down, just to see where they come out and which bits of bridleway they could link together.

Trail spotting mode was on maximum scan, with a huge amount of potential around for the next time I get Surly out. Home, tea and cake on the sofa and as I stood up to close the curtains the stunning sunset actually made me stand at the window and look out on the world whilst uttering:

"And the sun sets on another magnificent Hemel Hempstead day!"

I wonder just how many people in the world have ever said that?
Sunset pic for reference by the way, just so you don't think I'm completely mad:

And the Lord said:

"Let them ride bikes. For this time of year is a time of celebration and happiness." And so it was that on the 63rd day of my illness, I did rise from the sofa and did take out my trusty Surly steed to help banish the evil virus from my body. And low, though I did ride through the alley of the thorns, I feared no punctures. And I did ride over the hills, and across the downs and through the fruitful forest. And when I had travelled many lonely miles and my spirit hath lifted and mine iPod run out; I turned homeward. And the sun set on a beautiful day and the world was good.

And whence I returned from my pilgrimage I did drink tea and eat cake - for every Englishman knows in his heart that these are truly the body and the blood of Christ - and the world was good.

And so, with a smile on my face and a spring in my step (despite aching legs), with the feeling of the wind blowing through my helmet so real I could almost be out there still, I can finally write about riding my bike again: a ride I will never forget. The bright orange sunset flickering through the trees as I approached Ivinghoe Beacon, (must remember camera) then as the terrain changed slightly I lost site of it, the flat Buckinghamshire countryside stretched out beyond the horizon shrouded under it's dusky orange veil, until I turned west directly into the sun down to Ivinghoe and it was so bright and low I could hardly see the road in front of me! This is why I ride bikes.

And life IS good!

Dusk 'til freezing Dawn

Another excellent course to play on at Thetford with mile upon mile of swooping, twisting singletrack making up the epic 12 mile lap. This was going to be fun. I love riding at Thetford! Ickle Paul started off as usual, I'm surprised nobody slipped and twisted an ankle on the testosterone covered start line seeing as he'd grabbed centre stage along with Ben Dale and Paul Gibbons. Boys will be boys eh?

It was quite a spectacle as the hundreds of lights streamed past underneath the start banner, only to reappear a couple of minutes later a little more spread out and even more impressive.

Fifty minutes later and I was taking my final swig of Sloe Gin Liquer from my Surly hipflask, ready for the handover. I.P didn't look very happy when he came in, oh dear. Still, my first lap was SO much fun. Singlespeeds rule at Thetford and my Surly 1x1 was handling like a dream in the tight trees. During one particularly tight tree lined section Jo Burt and another couple of singlespeeders came up behind me and were whooping, hollering and generally making high pitched squeally sounds. The whole thing reminded me of that scene in Star Wars (oh come on, you know the one with the hover bikes through the giant trees) and I flew through the section at light speed. How much fun!

It was now getting a bit colder but I knew I was still going to sweat a lot in the trees so donned my trusty Endura arm and knee warmers to keep the chill off. They performed brilliantly but sadly it was too late for my knee which I've been having trouble with since soloing at Sleepless in the Saddle. Swiss Schali crept up behind me about half way round - his lights had failed so he was sitting behind me as we ducked and dived through the singletrack. On the fire road I'd spin like mad to keep up with him and then he'd let me go first again. "Hope I didn't hold you up too much?" I asked at the end of the lap. "No no" he replied, "I've been doing 52's so it was nice to have a steady late 50's to recover a bit." Hellfire! I was giving it everything I had to get those late 50's! Back in the handover, I.P didn't look very happy.

My third lap and I decided to give it everything I had again as I was pretty sure it was going to be my last. Traffic was a bit worse on this lap and the pain in my knee was increasing. It was my slowest lap but I was still under the hour. At the handover, I.P didn't look very happy. I told him the good/bad news that I didn't want to carry on and risk further damamge. I.P looked happy and went out for another lap. Turns out he hadn't been feeling very well either and things hadn't fallen into place. So, at 2.30am, after a total of 7 laps, lying in 4th place, we happily retired to the warmth of the Climb On Bikes camp - to drink, eat, sleep and hide under our duvets for the rest of the race. And from the pale, freezing faces we kept seeing diving in and out throughout the night, we'd made a good decision.

Hours later, the freezing fog lifted and it turned into a pleasant morning. A 1st, 3rd and 5th for our boys and girls in various categories and some rather lovely trophies to reward the massive effort everyone had put in to an extremely tough endurance race. Well done everybody! Full team write-up here.

Glad that's all over!

Final round of the BMBS at Coed-y-Brenin and the race season is (almost) over, hurray! And what an eventful weekend it was. Four unknown sport riders turned up on the start line and soon disappeared up the hill. Knowing my training hadn't been ideal and my series standing unchangeable I just wanted to finish. Minutes later I came across Fran, a fellow Climb On bikes rider, in need of an inner tube adaptor. I stopped to see if I could help but to no avail and was now dead last.

I caught up and passed the next two sport riders only to come across a guy who had rammed his face into the stoney singletrack! Again, I stopped to help. His position of 'face planted firmly into rocks spilling blood, bike on top of him, still clipped in' didn't look very comfortably and his weak flailing and groaning told me I could helpfully remove his bike from his feet without causing further injury. After establishing he couldn't remember his name, Ruth and Rachel caught me up and I told them to ride on to the next marshall. The junior Team Chance rider who'd also stopped then said she'd punctured so I may as well continue with my race. I did so. Only to find Ruth a little further down the singeltrack with a puncture. This scenario became very common as I completed the lap.

The next singletrack and more unhelpful bodies had decided to throw themselves in my path. One more good samaritan session helping to straighten handlebars and a brake lever and I set off once more! Any chance of podium had now gone so I decided just to enjoy myself and was whooping and jumping down the rocks once more, casually rolling down the 4x track with a view to putting all my effort into the second lap, just for fun really.

With all the breaks I'd had on the first lap, the second lap flew by and was most enjoyable, finishing 5th only a minute or so back from 4th. Being my worst position of the year, this round was dropped from the overall series and I happily collected my Series 2nd trophy. Woohoo! Not bad for a year where every spare minute has been spent with a paint brush in my hand, rather than riding a bike.

The Long Way Home...

Well, my epic two week trip around Scotland, and believe me, it has been around Scotland more than once, has finally come to an end. The Raasay Rumble on the Isle of Raasay, just off Skye was a bit of a wash out. The rain started on Friday evening, and I can't remember it stopping! It went from drizzle to torrential to biblical and back again continuously throughout the weekend - throw in a howling gale, some nippy temperatures and you've got yourself one fairly miserable setting. Shame, because there's some amazing trails on that island. There'll be a full story once I get home.

Right, best hit the road, I'm in unknown territory in my road atlas (i.e. a brand new unused page), and it's a hell of a long way home...

SSWC 07 - leaving town

So the World Champs are over for another year (the real world champs, not that rubbish that's going on in Fort William this weekend). Beer, riding, friends, derbys, crashes, dancing, beer, mickey taking, heckling and endless story telling, perfect. Sat in Cafe Mambo in Aviemore, drinking great coffee with C.G. an American friend I only see once or twice a year, and Ricky/Chris, the random Canadian guy we picked up last night and has decided to hang out with us for a while. We're on first name terms with the baristas and practically have seats with our names on. We have no plans, just a big van full of bikes and stuff. This is what singlespeeding is all about.

Browsing the interent to find all the photos, posts, threads and things being said about the event is proving interesting. The photos tell the best stories, everything else seems a little distorted. It always fascinates me the amount of comments that are made by people that weren't even here! It was legendary, you missed it, get over it.

Adam Craig and Kellie Emmett won with true style, the course was amazing, not that I rode it, there was some world class heckling, lots of beer and I think Billy Spaceman won the ass slapping contest. We went for a walk, skimmed stones in the loch, drank coffee, ate cake and ice cream and laughed, lots! (I think we may have ridden our bikes at some point too, but that was only to get to the cake shop.)

Another plate of nachos and we'll be off to Pitlochry, making sure we stop by the Cairngorm brewery to stock up. We're passing (meaning, dropping by) some distilleries on the way too. I think this mornings vows to not drink any more this week aren't going to last very long, another few minutes maybe...

If you want to see any photos Garrison's, aka Baby Bear, are on flickr. And yes, the in-jokes are going to continue for many years to come. And no, it's unlikely you'll ever get most of them...