10@ Kirroughtree 2018

Getting to the start of 10@Kirroughtree race this year for me was super-easy, in fact I can’t remember ever taking part in a race before where halfway around the course I could see my own house. I was even able to have a few practice rides on the rooty, steep, massively fun and challenging course in the week leading up to the event.

For 3 days I was messing about trying to get tubeless tyres to seal properly. The weather forecast for ‘The Ten’ as it’s known locally suggested that the race would be muddy and slippery to start with, but in the sunshine and breeze should dry out nicely.

I had my Highball hardtail ready with a pair of wet conditions tyres (even dragging a mud tyre out of the shed for the front) and the Blur was all setup with some fast dry conditions rubber. I did consider swapping the tyres on the Blur for a nanosecond but then remembered how much effort it took to get the damn tyres to seal on those rims too so immediately dismissed the idea and planned on turning up with 2 bikes like some kind of full factory show-off.

The tyres on the hardtail had about a gallon of sealant in each of them and following a lot of effort and swearing, by Friday, they seemed to be holding air.

HOWEVER. In a similar way that some people have a predetermined disposition for ingrowing toenails, baldness or crappy tastes in music, I appear to have been cursed with some sort of First Lap Rear Tyre Affliction.

This must have happened 5 or 6 times now. Opening lap of an endurance race and BAM, the rear tyre either gets torn or otherwise loses all air pressure so I stop and watch the rest of the field ride past. I stopped, removed the back wheel and trying to contain my rage, started to replace all the useless sealant in the tyre with an innertube. Ritchie soon arrived and abandoning a good time for his own first lap, lent a hand (and a malfunctioning C02 inflator).

I’ve no idea how much time was lost but I was soon on my way again, dropped back to about 9th or 10th place in the solo category.

Early days yet, chin up lad.

For the next few hours I bashed around the steep, extremely rooty course and while I was thankful that I was using tyres that were working well in the conditions my lower back was crying out for Ibuprofen and a go on the full suspension Blur.

Eventually the course conditions improved and I jumped aboard the Blur without worrying that the tyres were going to dispatch me straight to Valhalla. What a difference. In a proper hardtail/full suspension back-to-back comparison like this and it was obvious which was the more capable and faster bike. Even though I was pretty knackered, my lap times came down by about 7 or 8 minutes for the remaining 4 hours, my back stopped hurting and crucially, I started to enjoy myself.

God I love that bike. I really do. I almost cried when I had a little crash (ahem) and scratched it.

I was gaining places now. I’d told Deb to keep my position in the race to herself until the end so while I knew that the past few hours had gone better than the first part of the race, I had no idea how many solo riders were still in front.

What I did know was that I was nowhere near friend and local rider Ben White who I’d last seen when my tyre went flat. He’d spent the race riding away from everyone else into the far distance (and he subsequently won the overall solo race) but I tapped out the laps and eventually, with about an hour of the race left, I slotted into 2nd place somewhere behind Ben. I’m an old geezer and Ben’s not so I won the over-40s vets solo category and for the first time in 18 months I ended the day by standing on the top step of a podium. Chuffed doesn’t do it justice. And my local race, too. Fabulous.

 

It was a great day for the biking community of Newton Stewart as aside from Ben and I, the rest of the roll of honour was dominated by male and female riders from our wee town.

The Newton Stewart Roll of Awesome

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Graft

Blogging a bit more often than I have been doing would seem to be the right thing to do, now I’ve kind of dragged my backside out of my endurance racing sabbatical. Perhaps someone out there is still interested in how many times a week I get soaked on a training ride or possibly would be half-bothered if I’ve bought a new pair of shoes or something.

In the past few weeks I’ve ridden a 300 mile charity ride, a stage race in Spain, a painful duathlon (never again!), a super-hilly gravel ride in Yorkshire and I’ve been welcomed by the local cycling lads and lasses (shout out to the Newton Stewart Thursday night bunch!) so I suppose it’s been a decent run so far. 2018 is already 100 times less shite than 2017.

Since the first time I rolled my new Blur CC out of the house (and subsequently died on my arse) at the Glentress 7 over 11 weeks ago, I’ve gradually got my body and mind back into the routine of more regular big rides and more recently I’ve reminded myself what interval training feels like.

I’ve also noticed that at 47 years old, losing weight isn’t the piece of cake (or bowl of salad) it used to be…

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Of course, it’ll all be absolutely fine  – I’ve been here before and my level of enthusiasm seems pretty good for now so we’ll see how we get on.

As well as all the help I’m surprisingly still enjoying from all my regular sponsors and supporters (and family) Dave is helping me along on the road to the 24 Hour World Champs in October – I’ve kind of got a bit bored of my regular training routine that I’d been using for years of 24 hour racing, so Dave’s pushing me harder and while the goals are the same, the preparation feels new and a lot more exciting.

I can’t seem to be able to tell myself to break myself to pieces any more, I need someone to tell me to do it. Weird eh?

Glentress 7 and the Blur CC

My journey back towards race fitness continued this weekend at the Glentress 7. Unsurprisingly it’s a 7 hour race on a lapped course just up the road at the brilliant Glentress forest.

There was little chance of me making an impact on a “short” 7 hour race on a technical course in 25-degree heat with my current weight and lack of race sharpness but it was going to be an ideal opportunity to get a big, hard ride in and to show off the new Santa Cruz Blur CC, get a good feel for it and to get it set up just as I want it.

A couple of weeks ago Daz mentioned that the course was a rough one and that I’d be better off on a full suspension bike. It’s funny because years ago I used to race everything on a fully-rigid bike but nowadays things just seem to be more punishing and, well, bumpier.

My gorgeous Blur CC arrived on Friday, the day before the race. That reminded me a bit of the time Brant sent me a new ‘cross bike the day before the 3 Peaks Cyclocross. That one arrived completely in bits (and I was quite proud of the fact that the only thing that fell off in the race was the bottle cage) so just putting the front wheel on the Blur this time was a relative luxury.

But what a bike. Look at it! And it rides even better than it looks.

So there I am on a brand-new bike, waiting for the start. I’d spent far too long chatting to everyone so missed the fact that everyone had lined up in the tightest, narrowest start line I’d ever seen. So I was at the back. Great start, Jase!

The first lap didn’t really open the pack up either – in fact I’d be amazed if I’d managed to overtake more than 20 riders but it was good to get a steady lap in at first because the course was pretty technical and the box-fresh bike needed a bit of shock pump lovin’.

photo- Roots & Rain

For the next 2 or 3 laps I just rode with the shock pump in my pocket and stopped every so often to twiddle with the setup until it felt bang-on. The whole time the bike felt amazing and my near-constant adjustments and (not ham-fisted, honest!) tweaks just made it better and better at handling all the roots, drops, singletrack and climbing that the race had to offer.

Unsurprisingly my race result wasn’t anything to write home about, but results will take care of themselves with a few months of hard work and graft. In the coming weeks I’ll make some more changes to the bike’s setup but my god, even if I did nothing to it at all it’d still be a formidable weapon. Things are looking up.

Midweek Madness round 1

There aren’t many things that can beat riding a mountain bike on hard, dry, fast woodland trails. Even when you’re in the middle of a one hour cross-country race, you’re sucking in air from the next county and you’re trying not to think of the taste of blood in your throat, the suffering is made infinitely more tolerable when your bike goes precisely where you point it and your gears are always working as they should. It’s also a novelty to not have to clean your bike afterwards – most of the time in the UK the bike becomes more and more heavy as mud is applied to the frame, layer by layer. Sometimes the only way to clean off the muck and sods of grass is by poking the whole sorry mass with a stick.

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My fantastic Highball CC after the race. No mud!

Not last night though. I LOVED last night’s dry, fast and dusty Midweek Madness race in Leverhulme Park. I have no idea at this point where I finished but it’s up there with the most enjoyable races I’ve ever done. Maybe it was the presence of loads of other riders who all seemed to be in a similar frame of mind as I was. Even the one or two crashes and ‘racing incidents’ were good-natured and resulted in giggling rather than swearing and handbags (I was even involved in one ‘coming together’ with the race leader…sorry Chris!).

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I started quite near the back, which is more to do with me missing the line-up after being preoccupied with talking to other riders that I hardly ever see now that I live 200 miles away from Manchester, but it didn’t matter. This one was most definitely for fun rather than pointy elbows.

The course even had a couple of scary/tricky bits and plenty of painful climbs – for an urban park that takes some doing and it’s great to see Leverhulme Park becoming more and more popular and established in the Manchester XC and cyclocross scene. Oh, and it’s a 3 mile ride from my mum and dad’s house, which means that my post-race meal is always on the large side 😉

The next race in the series is on the 30th May near Wigan. Get your name down!

 

 

 

Kirroughtree Hillbilly Duathlon

I knew the Kirroughtree Hillbilly Duathlon was going to hurt. I knew that subjecting my less-than enthusiastic, relatively-untrained legs to a fast 10k run then a fast 18k mountain bike ride wasn’t going to be easy but I also knew that the journey back to full racing fitness was going to involve lots of pain and suffering.

Bloody hell I worked hard yesterday. About 7k into the run I was almost sick. Once I got back to the transition area and I’d finished my ridiculous dressing-up competition, tripped over my own feet, nearly crashed my bike into all the other bikes (there were a lot of bikes still in transition which I assumed was a good sign) and then got going again time was really starting to get on.

I’ve ridden the red trail at Kirroughtree loads of times in the past 6 months. It’s my local loop. But this time was different. Unsurprisingly the run had used up most of my energy and enthusiasm but I had to carry on – THE WHOLE TOWN WAS HERE to witness me dying on my arse. So off I went, all sweaty, potty-mouthed and quite dribbly.

dribbling

A voice in my head was screaming “This first climb has definitely got steeper!” and I remembered that I’d spent the previous afternoon riding my road bike with Lee so that probably wasn’t helping either. But riding road bikes on near-empty Galloway roads with your mates is fantastic, while running still sucks.

I was pretty sure that I was catching some people up but who knows. The run had completely ruined my normally smooth pedal stroke so while the effort was high, I was probably crawling along.

None of that mattered now anyway- my calves were starting to cramp. I’m not a regular cramp sufferer, but I know what it feels like seconds before a muscle spasm so I know when I need to immediately back off the power and start to soft pedal to avoid an embarrassing, painful and inconvenient problem.

My right calf went into a massive spasm anyway, soft-pedalling or not.

I got off the bike when it happened the second time and had a bit of a stretch, using my 10 grand, super-light, race-winning, pro-level magazine test bike as an ironic leaning post while more people rode past.

When I’d finally got going again I soon got cramp again, then someone crashed into my leg with their big fat clumsy front tyre. Cheers!

Thankfully all good things come to an end and as I freewheeled back to the finish line, I considered taking up snooker. Then I thought of the high-quality kicking I’d just taken and the fact that I’ll be a tiny bit stronger as a result. The next few weeks and months are going to be about ‘taking a good kicking’, in fact the next one is a another short course mountain bike race on Wednesday, situated in picturesque Bolton….

No running this time.