When I headed out for the first of my night double I was feeling good and strong.†‬If it hadnâ€â€™â€¬t been for stopping to help a guy out with his broken brake lever Iâ€â€™â€¬d have cracked the sub hour lap.†‬Back on summer tyres the sticky ground was now not dragging every ounce of energy from my body.†‬The only point of instance was losing control of the bike in a real tank slapper at the bottom of the speed accumulating run through camp.†‬I†‬rolled back to the start/finish area only to meet my wonderful wife and some of the other long suffering partners stood by the sidelines cheering random riders along.†‬I stopped for a brief chat,†‬crammed an energy bar down my neck and set off again at full tilt.†
Half way up the first climb out of the gate the vague sensation of a need to eat became a deep roar of hunger and I pulled into the bracken to finish the only other energy bar I carried.†‬I jumped back on the steed and pedalled off back up the climb.†‬The heavens opened again and the rain dropped great deluges all over the already churned up course.†‬The hunger had not subsided so I gulped down as much water as I could and just put my head down to keep going.†‬As the climb finished I exited onto a long wide straight descent and I was glad to be moving swiftly again.†‬The ground rushing up to my face was a surprise,†‬almost as much of a surprise of the muscle twisting scream inducing cramp in my left leg.†‬In a daze,†‬unable to clip out my trapped†‬left leg,†‬an angelâ€* ‬in black and white came to my rescue.†‬Unclipping my bike and tossing it into the bracken track side not only did he make sure I was spot on,†‬but†‬he†‬stretched out my leg to alleviate the cramp.†‬Before I could offer my thanks or get his name he was back in the saddle and rocketing away as I groggily got back on the bike.â€
The course had got dangerous in the constant rain,†‬on the next climb I passed a guy laid on his back with a knee wound open to the dark clouds.†‬He insisted on waving every rider onwards and round the next corner the quad riding paramedics were making their way to his rescue.†‬Then it hit me.†‬Every cyclist at some point gets it.†‬Like the rising sun or the complete ineptitude of the British Rail network some things are just meant to be.†‬The dreaded bonk.†‬I had nothing left.†‬I span the granny gears sliding and slipping through the slop slowly inching forward the rest of the lap home.†‬stAn passed me in his spiderman outfit ‬and I shouted to him to let the girls in the camp†‬know I was going to be a long time back.â€
On one of the few short descents of the first half of the course I turned a corner to find a rider by the trackside struggling with her lamp.†‬In my daze it took me a few seconds to realise it was actually Amy P from our very own club and the†“‬Racing-not-Ridingâ€â€â€¬ pootle team.†‬After tightening her lamp up on the bracket like a monkey swinging a spanner we headed off into the deluge deciding to stick together back to the handover tent.†‬Riding what I could,†‬which was becoming less as the distance to home lessenedâ€; ‬we came across a scene of total and utter comedy.†‬The lovely off camber dusty snippet of singletrack had become a shiny bank of slippery slimy tractionless mayhem.†‬We soldiered on as best we could in stiff soled†‬riding shoes and we had to laugh when we spoke to a woman who had lost her bike on the same section and was still searching for it now.†‬The wattle and daub effect was playing havoc with my gears now and only a foul tasting energy gel from†‬Amy kept me going forwards.†‬For maybe three quarters of the lap I walked and when the handover tent came into view the feeling of relief was incomprehensible.†‬In the long walk back weâ€â€™â€¬d seen nasty crashes and more than one bad mechanical to ruin the night of any sane rider.â€
Meeting Phil I told him not to bother doubling up his lap and to take it steady out in the madness.†‬Ell and Mrs Fat Lad walked mine and Amyâ€â€™â€¬s bike back to our campsite.†‬Keith had also had to bail and rush away to take his very poorly fiancée home leaving the Pootle crew riding team a member down.†‬Just over halfway done and the event was a racing disaster.
†‬After a hot cup of tea and some food I headed up for a shower.†‬To top of my few hours of misery,†‬the hot water was not flowing and an†‬icy rinse had to do.†‬Back from my shower the girls gave me a collective bollocking when they realised I had eaten less calories at this event than I would do in a normal day.†‬Suitably chastened I went to bed sore limbs desperate for some much needed respite.â€
Despite†‬the threat of cramp coming back every time I turned I managed to get a few good hours rest in.†‬As Iâ€â€™â€¬d headed into the tent scant few hours earlier the wind had†‬already started to pick up and in the wee hours of the might its character had swollen to a†‬ferocious howl.†‬There was noise very close to our tent like a clap of thunder as a†‬9†‬meter x†‬3†‬meter gazebo constructed of polyester and aluminium poles took flight.†‬At†‬4:45am on Sunday morning it was all hands on deck as we rushed across the campsite to try and salvage everything the best we could.†Th‬e†‬gazebo was unsurprisingly bent, buckled and a write off.†Furiously getting organised pulling all the cookers and various other camping paraphernalia into the tent we had setup for getting changed in.
â€Sadly, that was it, I was awake. With a long day ahead we started to pack up with time on our side. The night previous Keith had quite sensibly locked several of the bikes together with a steel cable. We couldn’t find the key. Bugger. We left voicemail for the man and headed out to watch the race as the sun finally shone in the wild winds. (In his defence he had told me the night before and I forgot…..)
â€Pete’s crew cracked on with the laps and with the weather now acting to dry out the track the remaining Pootle Riding team were left wondering if we had bailed too early. The hours cracked on and I spent a small fortune in the Buff marquis as the remaining riders ploughed on round the track. 2pm arrived upon us and we stayed trackside to clap in Cazza and Pete through the finish gate.
â€With the cherry on the cake of a flat battery to be restarted we were homeward bound and exhausted. With very weary eyes we couldn’t believe our terrible luck when the northbound motorway was closed. 5 hours later we flopped into the house and slept a well deserved death like sleep.
What more is there to be said? Despite the poor weather interesting choice of course and disastrous happenings it was quite simply one of the best weekends on my life spent with amazing company and some fantastic support.
Fat Lad
My angel turned out to be this fella. Not only does he write too, he’s organising the event I am the most exited about for the longest time in Mountain Biking. Hit the North. Full race report to follow Manchester’s Premier endurance event.
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