Steve: Nat Trophy round 5 - Bradford

Peel Park, Bradford. Sound’s like any other venue. It’s not. It’s a combination of factors. Firstly, Bradford is the epicentre of Yorkshire, the county where they conceived the sadomasochistic Three Peaks Cyclocross. A race where competitors compare vibration white finger syndrome post race and spectators choose their vantage points proportionate to the likelihood of riders doing endos. Secondly it’s a classic course…..if you went to see The Clash in concert, you’d choose The Hammersith Odeon over the NEC…..With Bradford, you know what you’re going to get. Mud, off camber, crashes, partisan spectators (cycling’s a religion in Yorkshire), apocalyptic pits and a great course.

One lap on soft mixed setup of FMB/Rhino’s more or less confirmed what was in store. A classic post overnight rain race where pit crews were undoubtedly going to be busy, if not frantic. Two more laps and the Addict weighed roughly 25lbs. There was little to be gained by riding more and more practice laps, other than to see how the conditions were developing. Now was the time for keeping warm.

As I went to sign on, a perfectly timed distraction meant that I committed the schoolboy error of not signing on, an appalling mistake for a qualified commissaire, and I was lucky to have sufficient time between the UCI com’s verbal spanking and my name being read out for gridding to rectify the situation.

Gridded four rows back next to Paul Lehan, I guessed the uphill tarmac start might see me struggle, and it came as a surprise to hardly loose any places at the start. As we rounded the first proper corner, the realisation that 1.4bar might be alright for warming up chatting with my pals. However, committed riding, with even more committed tyre folding mid bend was going to end in tears or worse still a 'I've-always-used-your-products-and-I'm-a-fan-of-British-engineering-and-by-the-way-are-those-rims-still-available-as-spares?' letter to our friends in Lancashire sooner or later. Second time through the pits, I grunted a breathless “BACKSTOOSOFTNEXTTIME” as I went through in a small group. I saw Dave immediately spring into action sourcing a track pump for my spare bike.

As I came through the pits next time, I knew I’d had a good half lap as the elastic had broken as I’d dropped my group, I elected to delay swapping just for the time being as I consolidated my gap by really trying to get the power on fast coming out of the slower turns and stay off the brakes. I'd got a good gap as Steve Bottomley came through, I didn’t need much persuading to latch onto him, feeling as proud as punch to mix it in good company.

Through the pits and onto the spare bike with more pressure, it felt fast with a nice clean front tyre gripping like glue at first. I still had a gap, on a cluster of three perhaps ten, twelve seconds. I wanted more and saw regaining Steve as my ticket. As we came down ‘the’ descent I kept my brakes off to carry as much speed as possible and not compromise steering by silly braking.

After the crash…..people asked me where it happened. I could tell from their glazed over expression that they couldn’t even remember the slight kink it all went horribly wrong for me. I suppose there’s a simple logic. The less the bend, the faster one’s going when it goes wrong. A simple one to remember, the biggest crashes happen on the least memorable bends…..

As my front wheel slid ever so slightly, going really quite fast, I thought I’d just ride through the tape. When I hit the marker post the slide turned into a catastrophic, veering loss of control and towards a silver birch......I headed towards doom at what felt like a hundred miles an hour, probably about twenty. Fast enough.  As the 9” wide trunk headed straight for my front wheel, I knew it was going to hurt/cost lots of money….or perhaps end all my pain. Forever. My mouth made that involuntary noise a split second before I hit.

I stopped very suddenly. Much more effective than disc brakes and not subject to recalls.

I knew it had been a good one because two guys had not adopted the usual Yorkshire protocol of uncontrollable laughing and had gazelled the course to see to me. My shoulder and collarbone took the hit. I couldn’t straighten my middle three fingers on my left hand and I had a dead leg. I could taste blood in my mouth.

I had a bike race to ride, so back on the bike and away and see what happens as four went past. If I’d done my collarbone I’d soon work it out, I’d rather make the decision to abandon on the move than watch the race go by in pain only to decide to keep going. The next lap was agony.

Slowly the pain subsided and I found my composure returned as I got mopped up by a group of two. At the bell, I was comparatively happy and my thoughts turned to getting those last two places. No fancy plans or tactics this week, just a simple case of making sure I was technically tidy on the horrible off camber section with right handed remount before the last grassy bank, to carry as much speed as I could and dismount decisively for the run.

My plan worked perfectly as I came out the bank first and buried myself for the last 200m to the line.

I finished 26^th. Physically wrecked and bloodied. At the time of writing, I am walking with a limp, I cannot lift my left arm above shoulder height and looking at the excellent bruise on my collarbone, I’ve come very close to a premature season end and liquidised Christmas lunch. Nothing that forty mins on the rollers wont fix….

     

Probably my best race of the year on an ace course.

More crucially the bike’s OK.

Steve

     

  

  

2013 North of England Champs

 Had it not been for a friend of the team coming out to take some team pictures yesterday, I’d have most likely stayed in bed. As I drove across the moors towards York, there was barely enough light to see, despite it being 10.30am. I felt low, my thoughts were consumed by concocting reasons not to start.

Upon arrival, I met Paul Lehan, a great friend, strong as hell and all round nice guy. He immediately picked up on my frame of mind “come on mate, you’ve got to race – we’ll have a real ding-dong” For all the right reasons, he’d intuitively backed me into a corner. I couldn’t possibly slip away then.

So with a heavy heart I pulled my kit on, whacked my baseline pressures in headed for the technical part of the course to have a look at the drop off and off camber section. Ted ran the section with 100% commitment in practice. His mind was made up. It was a run, doubt nagged my mind.

I dawdled back down to the start for gridding. A third row start with an eighty strong field. Bang we were off….with grumpy at least having the presence of mind to ram it into a bigger gear after a couple of revs.

Eighty blokes sprinting like hell turning dead left into a three metre wide course, rubbing shoulders, whilst my front wheel tread thrummed on the back wheel of the guy in front suddenly brought a smile to my face. Some one flicked the switch....Game on. 

Time to race…….

I don’t know if it’s a case of the big field, the course or being a champs but the first four laps were some of the most cut and thrust racing I’ve done. In a group, screw up, go out the back, regain group, get carried forward by better riders coming through, and repeat. Strangely, I saw lots of attacking with really concerted efforts being made to split groups up. I’d imagine that in the first third of the race, my position will have yo-yoed by as much as ten places. Running the off camber was one thing in warming up, committing when already at near maximal intensity was quite another, I genuinely thought I might die I had to go so hard to regain my position first lap.

I settled in and started to find my consistent lines. Riding the horrible, uphill, off camber suddenly happened and went pretty well, sometimes I could hold the high line, sometimes not but I was getting up it and crucially entering the subsequent 'nailed on every lap' run much more composed. Nicely placed in a group of five, probably the weakest technically, probably there or thereabouts physically.  

With two laps to go, the task was now to make the best of where I was in the race…to ‘win’ my group. As we passed the pits the course went 100m straight along a grassy perimeter track, into a ninety left, ran straight for another 100m before dropping onto the 400m exposed tarmac finishing section with a cross/headwind. It was clear that everyone was riding the grassy track to the left….the right looked alright, perhaps a little slower. I had to get to the pits on the bell lap still in the group. We took the bell, I unashamedly wheelsucked to conserve energy.

Towards the off camber tricky section I came through to the front, If my technical skills were going to let me down riding across the slope, I was sure as hell going to make sure I wasn’t going to be the only one to loose by quietly slipping out of contact from the back. If I was going to slide, I wanted to be in a position to cause chaos behind. A rare moment of clarity.

Try as I might, I slid down the slope, safe in the knowledge that my difficulties would be thankfully causing chaos behind. Out of the technical mire and heading down to the pits fast, Jough shouted “come on fella, last two minutes”. Past the pits, I was sat where I wanted to be….. at the back.

Through the pits, along the first 100m track and then through the ninety left. I could almost sense the lack of urgency from my peers holding back for the tarmac finish. For the tall guy with no sprint….shit or bust and don’t look back.

I hit the untried right hand line hard out the seat and punched through the front of the group. After a near miss with a guy who’d just finished and had ridden across the course recovering, I was out onto the tarmac and away. A quick glance back and head down, hugging the right hand gutter making them work for it into the wind. I had two in hot pursuit and two had been spat out. As we rounded the bend into the finishing straight glare of the commissaries I faded. 

The outcome was 50% successful. I didn’t quite hang on. I’d ditched two, and got narrowly outsprinted by two. Not perfect but OK. All good experience. Fantastic fun.

I finished 22^nd from 87 starters, about 3mins down. I’d had a massive race long ding-dong and felt great.

Perhaps I’m sad, but I know I love cross, I’ll settle for that!

Steve

Photo courtesy of Jo Allen.......www.herecomethebelgians.co.uk

  

Nat Trophy - Milton Keynes

Steve: Nat Trophy, Milton Keynes Bowl.

Yesterday’s post race analysis was as follows “Going to bed post midnight and being on the road at 5am isn’t conducive to performing well.”

No shit Sherlock…..

Laying across the back seat of a Veedub with a pillow and wrapped in a childs duvet, drifting in and out of sleep as Heather drove me down the M1 was hardly a great preparation for the race. When we arrived, a mix of travel nausea, dodgy guts meant that my course recce was at best unenthusiastic. Things got interesting on my second warm up lap as I hit a bump hard. My initial thoughts were that my left arm had suddenly got longer, until I realised that my left hand lever had slid about an inch around the bar and yanked the front mech cable piano wire tight. Time for hurried mechanicals! It's my own fault - as a tight Yorkshireman, I ride with loose levers to mitigate the risk of breaking things when I go down.

Gridded on the third row, half stripped off….”Gentlemen, you’ve got three minutes to go” said the chief commissaire, a statement that was both ambiguous yet very welcome. The only detail appropriate is that the panic only set in when I realised that my race numbers were pinned through my skinsuit into my base layer and I had about four grands worth of bike laying on it’s side on the middle of the grid and I was about thirty metres away in a one square metre plastic building with a minute to go. After gazelling the barriers, I made it back, just. Not great for mental focus.....good for adrenaline.

Bang, we were off. Now here’s where I screwed up somewhat. It make a tremendous difference if a cross rider knows where the course goes after the start instead of going on a blind voyage of discovery into the unknown. Somehow, I’d completely and utterly misunderstood the situation. So imagine how unnerving it was at around 30MPH on nobbly tyres with about 20psi in them when the race swung hard right off the tarmac onto the grass and went uphill. Big ring at the front and little sprocket at the back was not good after coming perilously close to a big crash going uphill. It literally felt like fifty guys came past me at the time.

So down to business, hold the line and do my usual wait for some of those in front to go bang half way round the first lap thing. It sort of worked, but not so dramatically as usual…perhaps everyone’s getting fitter, perhaps I’m not, or perhaps it was just the course. 

On hitting the same bump that caused problems in warm up, but going twice as fast, the bike let out an almighty and sickening bang. Lord knows what it was (I’ve not found the crack yet) yet I got away with it. At mid race point, things were well established with me sat in a group of five, two Cotswold Veldrijen and two Derwentside guys. A crash behind and one guy who was on a mission made that the three of us at the bell. One Cotswold, one Derwentside, and me. The Cotswold guy was yo-yoing off the back. 

Now credit, where credit’s due. The Derwentside guy, John, clawed his way back up to me after I gapped him by about twenty metres and half a lap to go in and amongst dodging lapped riders. He immediately attacked and returned the favour. I had nothing to respond with. It was then that lady luck smiled at me, as his front wheel washed out and he hit the deck. Just as I rode past him he was back on his bike pedaling at 130rpm whilst the penny dropped that he'd unshipped his chain.

I did what any sportsman should do. Said and meant “bad luck” and came up out the seat and drilled it to put as much gap between us as possible. I genuinely felt sorry for John, he out rode me and deserved that place, but as long as no one gets hurt or smashes a bike to bits, racing’s racing and staying on is all part of cyclocross. It was my turn at Abergavenny.

A ‘brisk’ last half lap brought me into the 250m long tarmac finishing straight with my back tub squirming through the last right turn about thirty metres behind a pair of riders. A sprint with one hundred percent commitment so very nearly caught them unawares but stealing two places wasn’t to be. Close but no cigar....Couldn’t be an opportunist twice in one race….     

Past the line, I had a nice chat with John and conceded moral defeat….it’s kind of funny, but the guys who race at national level seem to be pretty objective when things go wrong. I guess it’s simple….take lots of setbacks and you get used to coping with them. At Durham, I chatted with one of the 'best of the best' who'd been rammed from behind, back wheel had dropped out and then his pedal fell out. Calm, cool and objective......he probably went home and took pot shots at passers by with an air rifle to relax!

At the time, I was convinced that I’d failed to score points and had placed well outside the top thirty. I finished 25^th about 4mins down on the winner, half a lap or so down and achieved a few more points. I was definitely off colour for the race and made an elementary mistake over the start layout but I'm really happy with how it's going and enjoying the competition immensely.

My cxmagazine.com team mate, Ted suffered a broken chain and consequently DNF’d….no drama, just a hint of pragmatic grumpiness whilst we enjoyed a post race brew and cooked breakfast with our friends as we washed the bikes.  

I don’t do cycling frustration, I’m not into storming around the house muttering about not being quite where I want to be. I am, however increasingly coming to the conclusion that I am at the point where I should address some of that basic Maslow’s stuff. That is sleep, food and more sleep....oh yeah and start sussing out the starts better.

Travelodge’s next year…..

2013 CXNE South Shields

Six bikes, spare wheels, petrol jetwash, 200 litres of water, workstand, tools, kitbags and the all important stove for a brew. Deduct this from the carrying capacity of a long wheelbase VW Type 5 and you have just enough space to cram in four people.

We arrived to a grassland course based on the same route of the National Trophy round last season. After a couple of laps, it was quite apparent that there would be zero return on doing lap, after lap, after lap in practice as the course was cutting up rapidly and changing literally as the minutes went by. It was quite simply going to be a case of running a soft front tyre, harder rear and letting my lines develop organically. Organically…..what does that mean?..... typically the learning of the best lines from the sporadic accumulation of organic matter over my skinsuit when falling off. It kind of seems every race is super slippery at the moment…….

Third row of the grid suited me just fine. A funny thing to say but the open nature of the course and lack of bottlenecks meant that one way or another, I’d probably end up where I deserved to amongst the eighty starters. We got the usual warning about swearing…which always makes me laugh, as saying this and actually not swearing when the front wheel washes out on a sweeping, muddy bend are very different matters.

Off we went, full on, wide grassy course into a sweeping right hand bend at full chat. Not a bad start at all, for me, maintaining my position through a high speed first half lap. Moving up simply wasn’t an option when you’re out the seat giving it the berries out of every slow corner. After about three minutes we hit the headwind effected straight stretch with several soft Belgian Bowling Greens, now was the time for me to drive hard a get some revenge for the fast start, passing about six riders or so to sit roughly eighth or ninth….ish.

Despite my best efforts, I was very much ‘best of the rest’ at this point, with a a group of six or so going clear by about twenty meters in front. I looked round, hoping to have company to assist with the chase. I was on my own. 

After a couple of laps, I was joined from behind by another rider who decided to hit the front hard and then rode at breakneck speed into the fastest, slipperiest corner on the course. One hundred percent commitment. A 9.75 with difficulty rating of 3 for his sliding crash with reverse pike that sent the pit crews scattering.

A quick glance round and I knew what the situation was at mid race, one rider, Brian, who’s as strong as hell at about ten seconds and that was about it, six or seven up front, me, Brian then the rest of the race. A reasonable bike change and the clean bike felt great with Brian at about five seconds.

With two laps to go, going into the one eighty bend before the pit entrance the bike felt odd, I didn’t twig. Past the pits, bump. WTF was that? Bump again…..rear wheel puncture and now on the rim. I pressed on the best I could not wanting to think about the carbon rim on my back wheel.

Half a lap later, back onto a dirty, malfunctioning bike….but at least with air in both tubs and Brian was with me. Just before the bell, Brian came off my wheel and through, fast and hard. At the time I naively thought it was him coming through to drive us on, it wasn’t, it was an attack and one that broke the elastic. He was gone before I could react.

The last lap was simply about staying smooth, maintaining my position hanging on to my effort. No risks, no drama and do what I needed to.

I took the finish in 9^th pace, getting points for 8^th as one guy was a Junior. I finished about 2.50 down on the winner, which given that I’d ridden pretty much the whole race alone, I was happy enough with. Had I not punctured….maybe another place but who knows. It doesn’t really matter does it? No.

This season, I’ve raced similar races to in 2012, however, I’m just over 50% in front of last year’s BC points total already….so there’s plenty to be happy about, steady, modest progress coming from plenty of practice at riding cx badly.

Happy times, tough racing with genuine mates and loving running a team who’s sponsor www.cxmagazine.com, is owned by a bloke who’s as much part of our team as any of our riders.       

2013 Nat Trophy - Durham

Cyclocross and golf. They're not sports that don't immediately seem to have much in common, aprt from perhaps happening outdoors. Thinking about it, they both involve wearing clothes you'd be ridiculed for wearing off the course as well.

But perhaps after Sunday's race they have more in common. That is because they are both sports where good performances seem to come from nowhere; conversely, inexplicably pants performances come from nowhere. Put Tiger Woods on Augusta, the sun shines, yet he could as easily finish 5th as win. 

Sunday's race wasn't awful, far from it, but after the Inter Areas......fast, non technical course, open corners, cool dry conditions, not much running, I could have been forgiven for hoping for a top twenty finish at Durham.....fast, non technical course, open corners, cool dry conditions, not much running. 

It didn't happen. 

To be honest, I'm not sure if it was nerves, a bit of laziness or simply things didn't go my way. My start, four rows back was fine, not great, I certainly had a right clunker in front of me who cost me a few places when he missed his pedal but the course was one where I could recover. But I found myself at the end of the first lap in a very fast race where I had little opportunity to move up and it was still very much together as a race, the whole field lined out. 

Two laps in, I found myself in a four strong group that was slow to gel into a collective effort, this was disappointing as we were dangling at around six seconds from another group in front that contained my friend Paul. At the end of the lap I made an big effort and rode across on the fast section at the bottom of the course to the steps. Frustratingly at this level, everyone's pretty decent riders, good solid top ten at regional level and the slightest weakness shows. The course was configured such that my hop-step at remount weakness really caused problems at the top of the steps, hence as so as soon as a got across, I had to chase again to maintain contact, which caused me to yo-yo in the six seconds gap between one group and another. 

With about two laps to go, I felt good, had established lines and I knew that I was on for a reasonable finish, as much as anything due to the company I was in, indeed the picture above shows me with Mike Young, who I'm really pleased to be mixing it with, but I also knew I needed to start using my head. My best chance of making the best of things would come from conserving energy now as I was conscious that the gap was coming down between the five man group ahead and the four strong group I was in. I sat up and started to sit in on the fast sections. I felt really comfortable.

At the bell, we were really motoring and I could see the group ahead beginning to race amongst itself and look back at us. Unashamedly I sat in, just switching across each time a new rider hit the front.....we bridged but unfortunately half a lap too late, making contact literally with one hundred metres to go with a ninety left onto mud covered tarmac. 

Ultimately it was another good race for me with a decent 24th place at 3mins, but as my level rises I come away from each race a little more aware of my shortcomings both tactically and technically, particularly around my on/off the bike skills. I'm absolutely sure that I've got the fitness as I'm never the one rolling around on the grass or slumped over the bars at the finish and I have absolutely no difficulty in riding at top ten rider pace on the open parts of the course. 

But when all said and done, this is amateur sport - 

Did I have an intensive race? Yes.

Did I get a little more experience from it? Yes

Did I have a good time? Yes.

Am I looking forward to the next one? Yes.

Am I thrilled at breaking into the top 100 national rankings? Yes

Was it day out in good company? Yes 

There's not much more to ponder on really.....

2013 Inter Area Champs

About a month ago, I was asked if I’d be interested in riding the Inter Area Champs…..I’d been aware of them for a while but I’d never really thought about doing them until about three weeks ago.

Now here’s the thing, how much a Yorkshireman am I? Did I put myself forward to represent Yorkshire, who were only sending two teams and run the risk of not being selected……Or did I put myself forward to ride for the North East, who were fielding three teams and thus offer a better chance of a ride? I did the right thing and rode for the North East……..Actually, I’m joking. I race in the North East predominantly these days, their friendly folk and it just seemed right seen as it was Keith Murray of Scott UK who suggested I ride.

With partner in crime at www.cxmagazine.com Ted nursing a hangover and confined to the pits, we arrived in plenty of time to suss out the course, pits and what on earth a team cx race is all about. Two goods, one bad.

Good number one was the course, fast, no running, twisty but with a couple of lovely, long pan flat, firm headwind effected sections. Some limited but significant Belgian bowling green and some tarmac to leather it on. Good number two was the pits and the atmosphere around the finish area. Game on…Bad was the realisation that the likelihood of not having to turn myself inside-out was zero due to the scoring system. Every single place mattered to the team.

Just two practice laps was all that was needed. There was nothing more to be gained. Back tub nought point five squidgy, front tub squidgy, no need for uuber squidgy. After some creative safety pinning of my supplied XL team jersey, I achieved something that fitted my size S body, where it touched and made my way to the start. Back row of the grid and revved for a ‘Laars Van der Holeshot’ start…and we were away. Flat out.

Assuming no one eats tarmac, I love road starts. Moreover I love that two second moment when everyone leaves the tarmac for the first time at about thirty miles an hour and whilst dodging golf ball sized clumps of mud everyone’s thinking the same thing ‘oh fuck this is dodgy, I’m going to die’.

I didn’t die, and normal service was resumed. Lined out, in quality company and on the rivet. Going fast enough to not want to let a gap open in about 20^th place. I sat and thought to myself, ‘we’re about ninety seconds in, hold back and wait to kick’. The guy in front of me from the Midlands let a gap develop so kick I did….and rode a good half a lap whilst bouncing the cardiac rev counter on the red line. I was away, with three for company. Two North West guys and pleasingly a North East Teamate.

The North West guy came to the front and rode like a train after I sat up…bluntly he nuked me. I sat on him for a lap or so but simply didn’t have enough in reserve to get back up with him after the inevitable slip. With four to go our group was established, the remaining NW guy and I sharing the work and the north easterner a yo-yoing passenger. As we passed through the pits I geared up for a change half a lap later thinking that I’d slickly drop from the front to the back of our group and then attack when the NW guy made his change. It didn’t work out. A poor remount during which I momentarily thought someone must have nicked my pedals cost me twenty metres and I had to chase to regain the group. Plan B…

With a lap and a half to go, my NE teammate had blown up big time and was history. With a duo of Yorkshire lads tantalisingly forty metres in front it was time for collaboration. A gasped pact between the NW guy and I to burry ourselves to bridge the gap and then sort it out at the finish ‘pistols at dawn’ was formed.

We bridged the gap with about thirty meters to go, which was (un)helpfully announced by the commentator but we were done for after the foregoing minute flat out into  the headwind. If a million pounds had been on the line, maybe. But under the circumstances there was nothing left for a sprint.

I finished 14^th, pretty happy given a national A status race. I was also thrilled to take a couple of notable scalps. One in particular. I don’t mean this in any way nastily, in fact quite the opposite…people I really rate as riders (and friends). They’ll no doubt blow me into the weeds next week.

The NE ‘C ‘ team, I represented finished roughly half way down the proceedings but I did my bit and was well in and amongst the A team riders most other regions had sent.    

The only cloud of the day was when precisely five seconds after collecting a new FMB tub from Jedi Cyclesport’s van, Ted walked round the corner carrying my spare bike with a flat back tub and said “you’ve picked up a puncture”.

Hey it’s only money….£10.25 per BC point.

Money well spent!

2013 Nat Trophy Rd2 - Southampton

Six for the price of five....it's not catchy like BOGOF is it? But that's the deal with the National Trophy. Enter the series as a whole and you get one event free. The reality for us northerners is that actually the event we get free is the one that we'd most likely not ride anyway...Southampton. So far away, it's virtually France.

With family commitments meaning that I'd had no prospect of competition the previous weekend, and Ted being desperate to ride, I kind of reluctantly enthusiastically agreed we'd ride as I'm not really properly dialed in yet. 

After diligently going to bed at 9pm the previous evening, I managed the sum total of about four hours sleep before a 4am alarm, as there's nothing worse than being under pressure to sleep. A 5am pickup for Ted and then a fast run down south to hopefully arrive at Southampton in time for a couple of practice laps.

By about Nottingham, the tiredness had hit. Horrible headache and eyes that felt like they were going to explode. With Heather unrousable asleep across the back seat I was forced to ask Ted to drive on his third party insurance before we made an unscheduled, very sudden stop....

After another two hours of nodding dog hell we arrived safely and were straight into it. Pit gear out, bikes out, sign on and ride the course with ted. An utterly average course which is actually another way of saying, a well rounded and designed course. Some tarmac, some up, some down, some off camber, some woods and a pair of OMG MASSIVE boards. Pressures were......soft, as in super soft with the rear folding in the tighter turns. I felt sluggish, tired. 

Gridding didn't particularly go my way, with a start as far back as I've been for a while...possibly due to  missing out on points at Abergavenny and not really riding regionally very much yet this season. But perhaps things might work better for me here with a heavy, uphill start. But it's an ill wind that blows no good, and it was cool to line up for in cxmagazine.com colours next to Ted. It was also nice to be within chatting distance of Paul Lehan from Harrogate Nova (my home club), despite me knowing that he'd be gunning for me all race.

Bang, and off we went. Clipped in first time and for the first time for a while, I remembered to hit the nitrous button with my front wheel bouncing on the squidgy front tyre. Out of the woods and that was it the race was formed really. Two front groups, and then dribs and drabs. 

I think in hindsight my race was shaped by a couple of factors. Firstly, I've not got properly confident yet this season, the confidence I need to throw caution to the wind early in the race at a point before I've really learnt the course. There were a couple of situations early in the race where had I had more confidence, I could have made a gap by just staying off the brakes and taking a calculated risk, partly me being risk averse, partially due to not having sufficient time to do a hot lap in practice. 

About three laps in, half distance, it really became a case of being on my own with a group of about four or five, including Paul chasing me through the numerous 180degree turns about fifteen seconds down. I noticed that I could manage the gap by burying myself on the non technical parts and then riding wide around slippery corners.

And that was that really, taking no unnecessary risks, trying to stay smooth and keeping enough pressure on in the right places to stay away. The only glitch came when I entered the pits to find Heather stood at the other side and I had to take a running penalty on the downhill side. I was then forced to take a bike on the uphill pit where I ended up having to run some distance.

Oh yeah, I also arsended a lapped rider who failed a steep in front of me when I was fully committed. It's only flesh, it'll heal.....

With half a lap to go, I knew I was safe from the chasers despite one shouting 'come on guys, we've nearly got him' and was able to throttle back and cruise safely to the line.

29th.....a couple of points and not a bad delivery.

So back to the van, a hot shower, inspect my bumps and scrapes, wash the bikes properly and then M1 north with a post race McRecovery Happy Meal.

540miles. 16hours later. We were home and wrecked.