It’s July. Yes, I know this is the UK and it’s a green and pleasant land and green stuff needs plenty of water…blah blah blah, BUT IT’S JULY. One should not expect to be bombarded by 30mph horizontal hailstones,  rained on for hours and hours and left shivering by a relentless, howling northerly wind. IT’S JULY.

I took part in the Polocini ‘Over’tops’ sportive at the weekend as I knew the route would be hard and would probably show me a few minor roads and steep climbs that I didn’t know existed, I also knew it would be well-organised, the food would be lovely (and free) and it was only costing me 20 quid.

The 10 mile ride to the start in Oldham gave me fair warning (as if the doom-laden BBC weather forecast hadn’t done enough to put me off), as I rode away from the front door the heavens opened. The rain pelted down all the way to the start, where I signed in, ate some porridge and met up with Dave who’d done the sensible thing and drove.

As we huddled around his car, waiting for the start, the rain got progressively heavier until it was bouncing a foot off the ground. My ‘sensible bike’ – the Ragley Cragg Vale with full ‘guards would be doing little to keep my backside dry today.

Heading out of Oldham into the hills, the bad weather temporarily eased…that was, until it got really bad again and the rain started to bounce off the ground again. Over to the steep-sided valleys of Calderdale the climbing became tougher, including the silly-steep cobbles of the Shibden Wall, the rain continued to fall until the point at which we reached the summit of Cragg Vale…it was there that the heavens unleashed their full fury.

Yeah, I might be wearing a white coat - but does YOUR hat match your bike? No. I thought not.

A huge, gusting sidewind, that felt like it was headed straight for us from the surface of Jupiter, battered a surprise shower of hail into the side of our bodies – heads tilted at 90 degrees to the side to prevent our eyes being peppered by the bombardment of ice we tentatively made our way down the road towards Ripponden.

More steep climbs later and back into Lancashire, progress was slowed somewhat by the gusting wind, now blowing in the opposite direction the way we were headed. The long and gradual climb across Castleshaw Moor was a slow grovel but eventually we made it back to civilisation, a bit shell-shocked at the worst July weather I can remember and back to the finish line for a bowl of hot soup (more free food!).

Next weekend is the On-One Weekender – a road sportive on Saturday followed by an MTB marathon on Sunday. Can you guess what the weather forecast is?

pic: Ed Rollason

Normally it’s the middle of winter when the cyclocross season kicks off before I take part in any kind of hour-long cycle races that always seem to remind me how crap I am at that sort of thing. I keep telling myself it’s a result of spending the year endurance training and 24 hour racing…that’s my somewhat ropey theory anyway…

This year, I’m starting the humiliation early. British Cycling have been running a series of crits at the Manchester City stadium car park so it would have been a shame not to give it a go.

It all seemed to start ok – I was holding my position in the group and I was happy with the pace….for a while anyway.

Lacking that vital ‘snap’ out of hairpin turns was my downfall. Eventually dropping off the back of the pack, doomed to a lonely existence aside from occasional overtaking of other dropped riders, I went around and around the 2k circuit without the benefit of a wheel to grab onto. Eventually and somewhat inevitably I was lapped on the final lap – my kick in the head at my first crit now complete.

Good fun, kind of. Another one next week. Yay. Practice makes perfect and all that.

Dave, Wayne, me and Michael went to Lee Quarry on Saturday, each armed with a ‘fun’ bike. By ‘fun bike’ I mean a ‘not necessarily designed for getting from there to there in the fastest and most clinically-efficient manner possible in order to inflict as much pain and suffering on everyone else…bike’.

I took my new Ragley Piglet and due to me not having time to ride it before going to Lee Quarry (it was that new) I spent the first 30 minutes or so riding a bit…stop…tighten that bit up….ride a bit….stop….nip that bolt up a bit….’sorry lads, something’s come loose’…allen keys out again…

It was great though and such a welcome change from the stresses of racing. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE racing bikes and everything that goes with it but an afternoon playing out on bikes with mates is an all-too-rare treat.

In 2 or 3 hours we rode a total of around 3 or 3 miles, had a laugh, played on the pump track, marvelled at how heavy a bike can be and still be pedalled up a (short) hill and ate some sweets whilst the sun shone and the dust kicked up from our tyres.

Then we went to Manchester for a curry.

ACE.

Last year’s Mountain Mayhem solo podium consisted of me in 3^rd, Dave in 2^nd and Ant White in 1^st place. That was well tidy. I was chuffed. Mayhem is still ‘the’ big endurance race for me and I’m guessing for a lot of other people too.

To ride to a podium place here is A Big Thing. The sheer size and prestige of the event makes it the first race on the list when I’m planning my year’s racing and it’s one of the key races that I want to be in good shape for.

Lining up at the start with Lee and Dave, getting ready for the ‘800 metre run’ to start the race (that somehow ended up being two and a half bloody kilometres), we chatted about how ace it would be to repeat last year’s performance…to arrive on the podium again, in any position… ‘That’d do’, we agreed.

Legging it up the start/finish straight after the crackers-long run I finally reached my bike and set off on my first lap….suddenly I’d start to feel some benefit from my spangly white carbon-soled disco slippers instead of trying to run in them like a penguin….

The course was very much the same as previous years, however some of it had been reversed and swapped about resulting in a lap that felt tougher than last year. Conditions at the start were quite damp so much of the hardpack dusty speed of last year’s race was replaced by extremely slippery mud and plenty of crashes.

Photo: Benji Haworth

At the end of the first lap I asked Phil to swap the tyres on my main bike to mud tyres ready for the next lap. I carried on, crashing, slipping sideways, avoiding other crashes while the showers persisted.

I knew I was doing ok but I didn’t know (or really care) where I was in the race until it got dark – the rain had long-since stopped and gradually the muddy sections of trail started to dry out. I was in 4^th place then and about 25 minutes behind Dan Treby in 3^rd. I was chipping away at the gap, but I knew I’d have to chip away a bit faster to stand a chance of catching him. Eventually I did catch him and we rode together for a short time; Dan was picking up the pace and I was struggling to keep up – ‘perhaps I’ll just have to accept that he’s the stronger man today and sit in 4^th place and wait and see what happens’ I thought, self-preservation instincts starting to kick in.

I slowed down a bit, mainly to make sure I had a chance of finishing the race. I arrived back at our pit and complained about the rigid fork, the course, Dan’s pace, everything really.

Then I ate some tinned Ravioli that Deb had warmed and put in a flask for me. Everything changed right then (no I’m not joking). The comfort of a brief sit down and a few mouthfuls of my favourite food worked wonders. I also knew that Ant and Dave were battling over the lead – unlikely that I was going to catch either of them without something untoward happening but it sounded like a good race was unfolding all the same…

It was time to pull my finger out. I picked up the pace and rode with a renewed sense of optimism. I’m not just accepting 4^th place. Not like this, sat on a 4 quid chair with my head bowed. Nope, I’ll do it on the bike, with my head held high, all covered in Heinz tomato sauce. I saw Dan in his pit again. I carried on, faster now. Into 3^rd place.

I probably glanced over my shoulder more than I looked forwards for the next few laps….no sign of Dan chasing after me for hours, but then I saw him again, gaining on me.

Disaster. I rode past my pit – Michael was there as usual with a new bottle. I just shouted ‘he’s right behind me’ and carried on up the first climb. Dan was gaining on me. ‘This guy is too bloody strong’ I said to myself, amongst other, more colourful things. He caught me up. I was just about resigned to the fact that I’d been dropped back into 4^th when he announced that he’d been sat under a blanket for the last hour or so, drinking tea and eating porridge. The pace of the previous laps had clearly taken its toll on both of us but I’d survived enough to keep going and end up a lap in front. Relief!

Just hang on now in 3^rd. Dan may be a lap behind but there was a while to go and the rest has clearly done him good, judging by the speed with which he caught me on a climb and then became a blueish dot, disappearing over the crest of the hill.

Ride to the end and stay consistent. Dave by now had been in the lead but had dropped back into second place by a typically tenacious Ant White. It didn’t matter too much though, because the race was coming to an end, I was maintaining a gap and our ‘wouldn’t it be good if….’ conversation at the start of the race was turning out to be a prophecy. The 2011 Mountain Mayhem solo podium was exactly the same as 2010 😉

Crossing the line, I remembered it was Father’s Day when I was showered with lovingly home-made cards and gifts from Michael and the girls…I think I might have started to cry a bit.

During the race I was doing the pedalling (and crashing and face-pulling) but what really needs to be acknowledged here is the huge amount of effort by a dedicated few going on to keep me fed, (relatively) happy and motivated and to keep the bikes in order. And these guys are supporting two of us racing solo, so a race can involve a total of 40-ish very slick pit stops, two completely separate and sometimes quite complicated set of food needs, a fair amount of grumpiness at times and four bikes (2 each) that are getting thrashed and caked in filth over and over again so they need cleaning, lubricating, maintaining and if the weather changes, tyres need swapping too. Then we need information relaying from the timing tent about our lap times, performance of our nearest rivals so that we know when we need to pick up the pace or when we can afford a ‘safe’ lap.

Michael and Wayne are the ‘full-timers’ but some of the support also comes from Deb (who’s also looking after the kids) and the guys who are actually racing in the team categories as well (Budge, Phil, Andy, et al). In many ways I’m extremely privileged that I can call upon this kind of support as well as the help I receive from my great sponsors. I love all of you (almost as much as I love tinned ravioli).

Dave and I won this race last year. It was a hard-fought and in the end, quite a narrow victory. I was expecting more of the same this time – 12 hours is quite ‘short’ for an endurance race, especially in the pairs and there was bound to be enough people in ‘the fast camp’ who would be up for a ding-dong.

It was going to be a near-sprint, in fact; no time for punctures or fannying around, just flat-out laps followed by sitting in a chair, trying not to get too comfy whilst keeping an eye on the clock…as soon as your team mate appears after his lap, jump up, coat off, swap the timing chip and go go go!

Photo – Sportsunday 

Being honest, we were working so hard early on that like fools, we thought that we were winning. We then discovered we were actually 2^nd, the pair who were in the lead were tapping out some really quick laps and looked comfortable. Jonny Stenson and Charles Newton-Mason, another pair who were in with a shout of the win, had dropped out very early in the race after a major mechanical so decided to snuggle up together under a duvet and heckle everyone else 😉

We were however mostly staying out of trouble this time (unlike last year’s puncture-fest and ignoring Dave’s crashing this time) and we knew that eventually we’d start to close the gap….or the gap would get bigger….one of the two. ‘Something’ was bound to happen anyway.

At around 6 hours we started to close the gap. The cramps in my calves that had been bothering me since lap 2 and causing me to soft-pedal quite a bit were gone (thank goodness for electrolyte drinks!), our changeovers were getting slicker, Dave was riding as blindingly fast as ever. Just a minute here, a few seconds there, we were closing in. It was a proper race again!

In between laps I was entertained by the efforts and obvious focus of Phil who like last year, was racing solo. Phil had a load of bad luck last year and eventually, against all odds, finished 4^th. This year though things just clicked for him and he led the solo race right from the start, eventually riding away from the rest of the solo field to win with a 32 minute gap. Amazing!

Meanwhile, Budge and Andy found themselves in 3^rd place in the pairs after hours of consistent laps, chipping away at the pair in front of them and eventually bagging a podium finish. Chapeau!

Once in the lead, Dave and I stayed there and finished with a 10 minute cushion. It was still really bloody close, 10 minutes after 12 hours of racing is nothing. But we’d won.

A good day for everyone in Team JMC colours in fact – all 5 of us had reached the podium.

All that was left now was for us to collect our prizes at the presentation in the pub, tackle the evil that is the Dog and Partridge chilli con carne (a penalty for not beating Budge and Andy by 3 clear laps), have a quick pint, group photo, drive home and get ready for Mountain Mayhem next weekend…..