Eating dust at Deers Leap

Cross is a very strange, but oddly natural undertaking. It reminds me so much of my childhood - trying to ride bikes over crazy terrain, sometimes at unfeasible speeds.

The conditions were perfect; it was a lovely, warm, sunny day. We arrived nice and early which gave me a great opportunity to calmly get the bike together and suss things out.

Just as I was about to head out for a familiarisation lap, I met a fellow Dulwich rider, Kevin, who gave me tips. We rode around together for a lap, realised we still had a little time, so went out for a second. I was getting the hang of it, and starting to feel very confident when very suddenly I felt that all to familiar sensation through the bars. The front tyre was flat.

It wasn't hard to find the cause, a great big fat thorn was stuck through sidewall. Fiddlesticks!

There was less than 5 minutes to go before the start of the race and I was headed up to the car to pack and feel sorry for myself when I spotted Alex, or Mark as I thought his name was. Alex, another Dulwich Paragon, had arrived late and was feverishly trying to get his number on. We had a case of broken telephone, first with me trying to call him Mark, and then trying to explain my predicament coherently. He offered me a spare wheel to use (for which I was extremely grateful) - all I had to do was run up to the car park, locate his car, grab the wheel, then run back down and get it on my bike.

After a mad sprint (on foot, from which I am still a little stiff), I got back to the start with Alex's wheel and just enough time to fit the wheel and get my breath back before the actual start.

It was like rush hour, loads of riders trying to squeeze through the narrow trail. Early on, probably from too much adrenaline, I crashed into another rider; no harm done, but I did feel like a twerp! A few spurts saw me clear the mess and for the last half of the lap I was in a nice zone of clear track and gaining on those ahead.

Into the last tricky bit I was just lining up to take a smooth line when suddenly the seat gave way. On getting off, I discovered that the seat post had snapped clean off. Fruitcake!

There was no point in even throwing a tantrum, but it was absolutely gutting. Another race where I didn't even complete the first lap! A silly technical failure - one that, with 20:20 hindsight, could have been avoided - but silly nonetheless

Fortunately the London Cyclocross League continues with Round 3 this weekend, so I have a chance to make amends. The weather outlook looks good.

Rock on.

Tough lessons at Warwick

Today I traveled up to Warwick for the annual criterium held in the town centre. This has a hardcore crit feel with all sorts of street furniture to make the circuit difficult and interesting.

I'd got to the car park with loads of time to spare and so took my time getting ready. When time to race came around, I went up to the start area (with 7 mins to spare), and then ended up waiting around for the best part of twenty minutes. The kids race ended, so a number of us rolled onto the circuit only to be pulled off again for the unicycle race to run. This is where it went a bit wonky. I'd consulted with a marshall and worked out that the program was running around 30 mins late, so I figured I'd head back to the car to get my leg warmers as the the sun had since disappeared and the wind was picking up and getting a bit chilly.

When I got back about 15 mins later (leaving 15mins for hanging about as I do) I saw, to my horror, the 3/4 field lined up at the start. To make matters worse the countdown to start had begun.

For whatever reason, call it confidence, I saw the best option being getting onto the circuit and chasing to catch the back of the group. Except the joining point where I was was probably no more than 75m from the start.

So I rode as hard as I could for 8 laps, consistently hitting 1:20 per lap, an average of around 36/37km/h. I was feeling very confident and found I was able to nail the corners really hard. I was having a ball. My name was being called over the PA system, the crowd was cheering.

6 laps in I caught up with the backmarkers and decided to latch onto their wheels for a rest (in retrospect a bad move, because I didn't really need to). I rested for a lap and a bit, but that was too long, the leaders caught up and came past. Being in an awkward position not being able to unlap myself nor want to interfere with their race, I dropped out.

In retrospect, I made a few howling errors. Firstly it probably would have been prudent to rather have just let the field pass at the start, hop onto the back, and then rely on the commissaire's mercy for letting me get away with this minor infringement (which, chatting to him later, I found would have been OK). Secondly I shouldn't have broken my rhythm by taking a break behind the painfully slow backmarkers. Thirdly, when I got caught by the group, I should have rather just stopped to ask the commissarie if I could take a lap. Unfortunately none of these things occurred to me at the time.

All that said, I had a ball. I'd made a big splash. It was even great to hear my withdrawal from the race being announced on such positive terms, at very least my ride had been a crowd-pleaser! My chosen plan, though suicidal, was aggressive and would have been awesome if I managed to pull it off. I also surprised myself with just how hard I could ride, and the experience will certainly add another weapon to my arsenal come next season.

So, possibly one last road race left this season (in Surrey) - but a lot more cyclocross. Speed awaits.

Addiction takes the smallest taste

This morning I was a bundle of nerves waiting for my cyclocross tyres to arrive in the post. At around 12:00 I visited the mailroom (for the 3rd time) and there they were in their blue wrapped box. I scoffed my lunch down then rushed back to my office to fit them to the rims.

The race at Herne Hill was set to start at 18:50 - 25 minutes earlier than the Palace races, so getting there was going to be tight. This wasn't helped by missing the relatively nondescript entrance twice and having a torturous drive around the block in rush hour.

I managed to get to the start line with moments to spare, but I desperately needed a pee. My plan was to wait until we were in the woods, hop off for a quick leak, and then chase my way back in. While formulating this plan, the whistle went off. I hadn't seen the course before, so I had no idea what to expect, but the race instinct kicked in and pretty soon all I cared about was making my way up through the field.

I was picking off the riders ahead quite quickly, using whatever overtaking opportunities were available, and attacking the tricky bits of the circuit with verve, when suddenly, towards the end of the first lap, the back end of the bike started to feel wonky, and very harsh over the bumps. A quick look down confirmed my suspicion - a flat.

Not much to do but pull out. Sad really, because I was running pretty well and having an absolute ball. This cross thing is like a drug, I'm hooked!

In the end, I think it was just bad luck - a sharp object slashed through the middle of the tyre. Oh well, next stop, the British Cycling calendar to plan my Cross season!