No escape from mud.

So, last weekend came and went. Sunday was to be my last cx race of 2010/11
at the National Trophy event at Rutland Water.

After the last few training sessions, I've not truly felt strong towards
the two hour mark and this has caused me to have some doubts about my
condition. Aside from all the science, I know one of the defining signs of
my fitness, is the ability to go as hard after 119mins as I go at 5mins on
these tempo training sessions. If I fall apart in training at two hours,
that translates into blowing up at about forty minutes in a 25. With riding
a full cx season, I'm probably missing about a dozen of these two hour
rides over a normal road based winter.....but I've certainly spent more time in the red since October so perhaps my top end is stronger.

The reality of doing Rutland would have been four hours of travelling,
forty quid's worth of diesel and a good two hours cleaning race bikes,
effectively a day's commitment to finish mid field in a fifty minute race.
It just didn't add up as being a sensible use of time.

So Saturday saw a full on race pace on the road which truly hurt,
especially given the blustery wind was really making it hard to drive hard over the tops of climbs. Sunday, I did the tempo session with
heavy legs, which slowly came back to life after about ten miles in heavy rain. The highlight of the ride was the stretch across
Roecliffe Lane, one of my very favourite stretches of road, not least
bacause it has an attrocious surface in places. The lane twists and
turns into the prevailing wind across open farmland and feels like a northern European
classic if ridden full on, especially when it's wet & muddy. The lane
floods to a metre in depth and can become impassable, which it was on Sunday. The diversion
cuts about two miles along an unmetaled bridleway that can be ridden at
full chat if I've got an excess of testosterone. And that's how it
was........about 25mph absolutely smashing the pedals round with the bike
bouncing around underneath me. All it needed was a commentary in the style
of 'A Sunday in Hell'.

I didn't fall apart, but my HRM did. It is now dead and in heaven.

I'm missing cx already, and it seems so wrong that my superb cross bikes will sit idle until September.