Tregaron Duathlon: And now for something completely different

Star date: 30 March 2014
Event: Tregaron Duathlon
Location: Tregaron, duh
Weapon of choice: Knackered trainers and a friend's cyclocross bike
Greatest achievement: Not giving up halfway and having an ice cream
Greatest weakness: Transitions
Result: 1st vet, woo-hoo

I entered this event because I've always wanted to do a duathlon, it was very local, and, if I'm honest, I fancied my chances of adding to my medal collection. A duathlon ought to be right up my street, combining two things I love (no, not sex and drugs), and the 3-15-2 format sounded like a walk in the park for an endurance junkie like me. Three mile run? Did that at my last "bike race". Fifteen mile ride? Eat 'em for breakfast. Two mile run? Been further for a bus. The only snag was that it meant running and cycling on tarmac, whereas I'm more of a muddy woods kinda guy. Running on roads does my body in; riding on roads does my head in.

Still, I enjoyed the first run. Essentially we legged it up a very big hill with a nice view and then plummeted back down again. The pace was rather full-on but I was on fresh legs and it was over in a flash. So far, so good.

 

Photo: Meilyr Wyn Hughes at Lluniau MWH Photography

The ride, however, went on forever. A flattish circumnavigation of Cors Caron (the biggest raised bog in Europe, fact fans), it was the longest 15 miles I've ever ridden.

I don't normally do road riding. I don't even own a road bike. I would've taken the singlespeed with the knobbliest tyres I could find just to be contrary and cool, but let's face it, I wanted a result. Luckily Si from Aberaeron's premier hire bike purveyor Pureride stepped up and lent me his cyclocross bike, which was close enough. Not having ridden a bike with drop handlebars since, ahem, 1993, I found it desperately uncomfortable. In terms of speed, though, it was a revelation. With its relatively skinny road tyres, that baby just danced up the hills - and then flew back down them, scaring me silly in the process.

Even so, faced with some of the tri-bar padded-leotard pointy-helmet time-trial bling some of the others arrived with, I was seriously underbiked. Several riders caught me around half way, being considerably and effortlessly faster on the flat. It must have been aerodynamics rather than strength, because when the route turned hillier I was quite a bit quicker than them. This resulted in one bizarre section where I kept having this strange purple alien thing straight out of Star Trek edge past me on the flat only to drop back so fast whenever we hit a hill that I had to look back and check he hadn't been beamed up by Scotty.

Anyway, the ride was truly horrible. It was a lovely sunny day, the roads were empty, the views magnificent. But with no gnarly downhill sections, not only do you not get any high-adrenaline thrills but you never get a breather - you're pedalling the whole time. It's like running on a treadmill - one long unremitting relentless masochistic mind-numbingly boring endless bloody slog.

 

Photo: Meilyr Wyn Hughes at Lluniau MWH Photography

And I was absolutely crap at the transitions. It's not rocket science: all you really have to do is change your shoes. Now I've been proudly tying my own shoelaces for 40 years now, so you'd think I'd be up to the challenge. However, the results reveal that I was 7th fastest on the first run, 8th fastest on both the ride and the second run - and 48th and 42nd fastest on the two transitions...

I finished the first run at the same time as triathlon specialist Heddwyn Evans. After getting my knickers in a knot during the first transition, it took me 13 miles to catch up with him on the bike. By then getting my knickers in almost as much of a knot during the second transition, I gave Heddwyn a 30-second head start on the final run, which was not good, because my legs were now two unresponsive blocks of cramp-infested jelly and I was stuck in first gear. Luckily I wasn't the only one; after about a mile I managed to lumber past a couple of guys who'd whizzed past me earlier on their fancy bikes, and I finally caught Heddwyn on the final run-in. Sadly, what should then have been an epic battle as we sprinted neck-and-neck to the finish fizzled out into a complete non-event as neither of us had the energy, and we stumbled over the line pretty much together.

Photo: Meilyr Wyn Hughes at Lluniau MWH Photography

It was a superbly organised and very friendly event. Thanks, perhaps, to some European back-of-beyond funding, it was excellent value for money too, with the already low £15 entry fee getting you a natty goody bag and T-shirt and even a timing chip that worked properly. Most of Tregaron seemed to be out marshalling, with a hi-viz presence not only at every junction but also every couple of miles just to cheer you on, and the course layout meant that we passed the not-insignificant crowd of rabid supporters and bemused onlookers no fewer than six times during the race. You don't get that at MTB events, which is a shame because it really does give you a lift every time someone calls your name or gives you a clap or a well done or even a get a move on you fat lazy bastard. Thank you all for your encouragement!

What's so amazing is that the event was organised by complete first-timers from Tregaron's new bike club Clwb Seiclo Caron, formed last year around the same time as my club Sarn Helen reformed down the road in Lampeter. We'd still struggle to organise the proverbial piss-up in a brewery, so hats off to the Tregaron boys for popping their cherry in such style. Apparently an MTB event is on the cards for the autumn - I'll be there.

I'm glad I went and I'm pleased with the result, but I'm afraid I haven't been converted to road riding and I don't ever want to run again. 3-15-2 sounded very doable, and indeed I did it, but in practice it was seriously hardcore. I have a new-found respect for triathletes - combining disciplines is really tough. I already have a love/hate relationship with running (I love running, running hates me) and predictably the event left me with calves you could play like a harp, and I'm still hobbling around with an urgently-in-need-of-a-hip-replacement waddle. In hindsight, a little pacing might have been a good idea: going at the first run full-pelt (including my fastest-ever recorded mile) was possibly not the best strategy. While I'm used to racing up to four hours on the mountain bike, and I regularly run more than five miles, this event was just so much more intense. Unless you're mental (which probably includes me), I'd say a duathlon, like a marathon, is probably best treated as a challenge rather than a race. Which, in fairness, is what most people there did.

You know, I can only think of one MTB event where I've ended up quite as knackered as this - the Devil's Challenge last year. And guess what I'm doing this coming Sunday?

				Run 1		Trans 1		Ride		Trans 2		Run 2		Overall
1	Dylan	Lewis	Sarn Helen	17:36.5	1	00:00:39.30	5	00:41:50.40	1	00:00:41.90	14	00:13:07.75	3	01:13:55.80
2	David	Cole		18:04.1	2	00:00:38.75	3	00:43:45.15	3	00:00:38.15	11	00:13:13.05	4	01:16:19.20
3	Shelley	Childs	Clwb Beicio Ystwyth	18:54.8	5	00:00:47.80	13	00:43:36.00	2	00:00:45.15	17	00:13:44.75	6	01:17:48.45
4	Gary Wyn	Davies		18:05.0	3	00:00:59.75	22	00:45:46.00	7	00:00:50.90	21	00:12:14.10	1	01:17:55.75
5	Llyr	Lewis		18:29.7	4	00:00:53.40	18	00:47:32.50	13	00:00:36.90	10	00:13:22.30	5	01:20:54.85
6	Chris	Schroeder	Sarn Helen	19:01.3	7	00:01:58.00	48	00:45:54.85	8	00:01:29.00	42	00:13:58.25	8	01:22:21.40
7	Heddwyn	Evans	Emlyn Fliers	18:58.8	6	00:01:11.35	27	00:46:35.40	9	00:01:03.40	28	00:14:34.85	9	01:22:23.80
8	Scott	Holder		20:50.1	14	00:00:57.35	20	00:44:27.05	5	00:00:50.50	20	00:15:55.20	21	01:23:00.25
9	Steffan	Owens	Clwb Seiclo Caron	21:05.6	16	00:01:16.30	31	00:43:48.90	4	00:01:19.70	37	00:15:36.80	19	01:23:07.25
10	Hywel Sion	Davies		20:31.9	11	00:01:43.00	45	00:45:11.85	6	00:01:25.90	41	00:14:54.15	12	01:23:46.80
11	Barry	Owen	Rhedwyr Emlyn	20:43.4	12	00:00:43.90	10	00:47:14.05	10	00:00:45.45	18	00:15:21.70	15	01:24:48.55
12	Simon	Hall	Sarn Helen	19:04.8	8	00:00:50.80	16	00:50:38.60	22	00:00:36.30	9	00:13:47.25	7	01:24:57.70
13	Toby	Hellman	Clwb Seiclo Caron	21:47.1	19	00:00:53.20	17	00:47:18.20	11	00:00:33.85	7	00:15:29.55	17	01:26:01.95
14	Carwyn	Hicks		21:14.9	17	00:00:43.80	9	00:48:58.95	16	00:00:30.00	4	00:14:34.90	10	01:26:02.50
15	Gareth	Davies		22:33.2	22	00:00:39.00	4	00:48:14.30	15	00:00:40.05	13	00:16:13.70	24	01:28:20.30
16	Andrew	Davies	Sarn Helen	21:02.5	15	00:00:59.40	21	00:50:34.20	21	00:00:52.70	23	00:15:36.60	18	01:29:05.35
17	Eric	Rees	Sarn Helen	22:18.9	21	00:00:48.60	15	00:50:27.50	20	00:00:44.40	16	00:15:15.80	13	01:29:35.25

Welsh XC Series Round 1: Wish I'd stayed at home

Star date: 9 March 2014
Location: Caerphilly
Event: Welsh XC Series Round 1
Weapon of choice: Carbon 29er hardtail
Greatest achievement: Riding almost all of the last lap
Greatest weakness: Having to run the rest of it

Result: 11th vet

Apparently, if you can't say anything nice, you shouldn't say anything at all. So...

01:05:33	Lewis King	00:15:32	00:16:08	00:16:33	00:17:20
01:11:00	Mark Spratt	00:16:38	00:17:28	00:18:29	00:18:25
01:12:00	Christopher Kay	00:16:27	00:18:12	00:18:33	00:18:48
01:12:36	Richard Bowen	00:17:18	00:18:25	00:18:50	00:18:03
01:13:32	Lee  Hayward	00:17:30	00:18:15	00:18:46	00:19:01
01:14:03	Graham Rogerson	00:17:42	00:18:52	00:18:28	00:19:01
01:16:20	Dave Wadsworth	00:18:51	00:18:51	00:19:08	00:19:30
01:20:02	Stacey Bray	00:19:09	00:20:48	00:19:23	00:20:42
01:21:12	Darren Compton	00:18:38	00:20:39	00:21:22	00:20:33
01:24:12	Simon James	00:19:33	00:20:21	00:21:40	00:22:38
01:28:47	Chris Schroder	00:17:46	00:18:50	00:22:21	00:29:50

Red Kite Winter XC Series Round 6: Unstoppable

Star date: 24 February 2014
Location: Coed Trallwm, Mid Wales
Event: Red Kite Winter XC Series Round 6
Weapon of choice: Carbon hardtail 29er
Greatest strength: Sheer bloodymindedness
Greatest weakness: Legs
Result: 1st in four-hour race (5th in two-hour race)

Having had to miss round 5, when the new dual format of two-hour and four-hour races premièred, I wasn't going to be put off by something as trivial as a forecast of non-stop rain and 50 mph winds. Buoyed by a sense of adventure, I decided to have another crack at driving over on the mountain road. Which was fine on the way out when the three "Irish bridges" at the foot of the Devil's Staircase looked like this:

But less so on the way back. Now I kinda knew it'd been raining, having spent the last four hours riding round in circles in it, but I wasn't expecting to find a raging torrent flowing over the bridges rather than under them. On the plus side, I now knew how they got their name. But I also had visions of my Mondeo turning into an Amphicar:

Or even Roger Moore's Lotus:

I probably should have turned around. But ultimately a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, so I revved the engine, ploughed straight in and made it across without mishap (beyond the temporary loss of power steering, but hey, I get that whenever I drive through a big puddle). And that was also pretty much the story of my race.

The course was a bit like those bridges - it got wetter and wetter and sketchier and sketchier, only in a fun rather than frightening way. Similar to round 4, it was a 9 km loop taking in both sides of the valley, with two big (140 metre) climbs, two long fast descents, and various other bits, some of them rather muddy, thrown in along the way. These included a brand-new section of bog at the top and an old favourite careering down through the woods. Plenty to think about and enjoy on the descents, but nothing too scary apart from one super-slippery drop with a tricky entry that wanted to throw you down sideways - oh, and the ever-present threat of the wind blowing you over the edge or squishing you with a tree.

Unzipping cos I felt hot. Yes, hot.

Photo: The intrepid Carol Corbett of CAC Photography.

Having decided to race for four hours rather than the usual two, some kind of pacing strategy was clearly required. This does not come naturally to me. It hurt, it really bloody hurt, to pootle off the start line and watch my peers shooting off ahead. So much so that after a while I just had to speed up out of pride. The four fastest riders were long gone by then, but I hit the top of the climb with a second wave that included Stuart Skidmore and Gareth Hayes. I decided now to race them over the two hours and then, well, somehow keep going for another two. I had a good battle with Stuart, trading places regularly, but Gareth really should have stayed tucked up in bed with a Lemsip as he spent the best part of 90 minutes trailing 100 yards behind us hacking away and never quite managing to catch up, the poor lamb.

On the third lap I dropped my chain three times in quick succession and started getting some chain suck - something must have jammed in the chain rings. It cleared after that, but this let Stuart get away and he finished the two-hour race a minute ahead.

Chasing Stuart Skidmore into the trees. Again.

Photo: Carol Corbett, CAC Photography.

At which point the organiser decided to call off the four-hour race! The marshals were cold, the wind was worsening, the ford was getting quite dodgy, a 50 foot tree had come down across one of the descents, and only two of us on the four hours were still going. I was really disappointed as I'd held quite a bit back, and eventually, in a fit of oh-so-uncharacteristic stubbornness, I decided to press on regardless. But now it was training, not racing, so I could happily stop for a change into dry clothing, a wee (on the bog!), some food, a fag, a spot of shopping - all reflected in my rapidly increasing lap times. This meant I missed the presentation and après-ride banter, but I was just in time for last orders on the soup. Leek and potato this time, lovely.

What with the wind, the rain, the mud and the hills, it was really tough going out there. But somehow more of a challenge than an ordeal. Credit to Neil at Red Kite and his merry band of marshals for holding the event at all in those conditions, but I have to say that another time it might be better to cancel - that tree really was very big.

The final round of the Red Kite winter series has been brought forward to this Sunday 2 March to avoid a clash, and apparently it's going to be dry. I'm not sure yet whether I can make it, but I hope to, and, dear reader, I know you want to too.

See, I wasn't the only one who enjoyed it! 

Photo: Carol Corbett, CAC Photography.

Official times:

Phil Morris	2:26:51	33:27	35:03	37:43	40:37
Carwyn Davies	2:32:53	34:41	38:39	39:59	39:33
Gareth Payne	2:35:15	33:57	37:26	39:49	44:02
Stuart Skidmore	2:02:29	38:16	41:11	43:01
Chris Schroder (4hr: 1st)	3:38:30*	38:05	41:10	44:13	46:00*	49:00*
Gareth Hayes	2:05:00*
Nick Reese	2:07:12	39:21	42:50	45:00
David Jarron	2:10:53	40:27	44:28	45:58
I Best	2:25:46	42:14	48:38	54:52
Simon James	2:25:48	42:18	50:56	52:34
Peter Carter	2:25:59	44:46	49:06	52:06
Brian Preece (4hr: 2nd)	2:55:05	43:28	50:18	52:51	(28:26)
Wayne Davies	2:28:12	45:28	50:51	51:52
Steve Higgins-Worrall	2:30:09	46:33	51:12	52:23
Jon Heissig	2:36:52	47:41	56:33	52:37
Louis Preece	2:39:15	47:58	55:09	56:06
Huw Higgins-Worrall	2:42:03	46:17	50:56	1:04:49
Teifon Best	2:47:46	48:27	58:05	1:01:14
Thomas Jones	2:57:54	50:50	58:49	1:08:14

Strava link

Dyfi Winter Warm Up: Got me all wet

Star date: 26 Jan 2014
Location: Deepest darkest Wales
Event: Dyfi Winter Warm Up
Weapon of choice: Carbon hardtail 29er with gears
Greatest achievement: 5 minutes shy of first
Greatest weakness: 5 minutes shy of first
Result: 4th overall / 2nd vet

I spent Christmas umming and erring about whether to grab a Ryanair bargain and have a crack at the Lanzarote four-day stage race at the end of January with its promise of challenging climbs, rough-and-ready descents, stunning views, good company and awesome weather:

And then I remembered last year's Dyfi Winter Warm Up and realised that I could have all that and more without having to renew my passport, find a way of cramming 29" wheels into my hand baggage and trawl the Internet for suitably garish gender-bending Lycra. No contest really.

That said, if I'd known just how bloody wet I was going to get, again, I might have had a change of heart. We certainly know how to do weather in Wales, don't we? While at least the trails didn't literally flow this year, it poured it down the whole way up to Corris in the car, it chucked it down the whole way through fettling time, and it pissed it down the whole way out to the forest. At which point, as Sod's Law dictates, the rain stopped, just like that. But by then it was too late.

Despite my best efforts at waterproofing myself, what started as a vague dampness sitting in the car became a steady trickle down my neck on the start line (what would I have given for a sou'wester?) and turned into full-on immersion as we aquaplaned down the main road behind the pace car, dodging confused salmon, the spray flushing away contact lenses, mascara and any last vestige of dryness and warmth and giving one and all instant wet nappy syndrome. It was something like riding a log flume while being hosed down by the fire brigade, at the south pole. By the time we reached the forest I was soaked to the bone, if not beyond, shivering uncontrollably, speaking in tongues and feeling utterly miserable. Next year I take a wetsuit.

Rain pretty much stopped play in terms of pre-ride faffing. The naked man had stopped running around by the time I took this.

Luckily the course starts with a 250 metre climb. That's not a sentence you'll hear very often. And for the record, that's 250 metres of altitude gain (which is quite a lot). It's a steady climb, though, spread over about 2½ miles, and there was a tailwind, and it was just the ticket to warm you up, like a nice cup of cocoa and fluffy novelty slippers fresh off the radiator. Kind of. Anyway, I didn't feel cold again until the finish line, when I reached for a flapjack and it was like somebody flicked a switch, and I was a-shiverin' and a-quiverin' all the way back up the road to base camp and for some time afterwards.

The course was a variation on those of previous years, a little longer than last time but still somewhat shorter than advertised. Caff-to-caff it was 42 km, but ignore the gentle lead-out and the pootle back and the actual course for those doing the full distance was only about 33 km, taking the fastest riders just over two hours. This makes the event more XC than endurance, so you can just go hell for leather and not have to worry much about pacing and nutrition, which is a Good Thing. Also, unlike the Dyfi Enduro proper in May, which is one big loop, the Warm Up is three laps of a shorter loop. (Strictly speaking it's more like a lollipop with two sticks where you go up one stick and then round the sucky bit almost three times before heading down the other stick, only the start is a little way up the first stick, the finish is just before you get to the second stick, and on a map the course looks more like a toddler's random scribbling than a two-sticked lollipop. Got it?) This format gives you the chance to get to know the descents and lap people, making you feel like a full-blown riding god by the end, albeit with growing tiredness presenting a very real risk of the Welsh slate then puncturing your overinflated ego.

Cracking shot from Dan Wyre on a really murky day. Mud levels and confident look suggest final lap - riding god territory!

Despite it having rained for forty days and forty nights, the course was in remarkablly good shape. Yes there were plenty of puddles, and yes there were numerous official and unofficial stream crossings, and yes there was a fair bit of mud about (much of it attached to me by the finish), but the trails in the Dyfi Forest are generally a pretty free-draining bunch and held up well. Everything was rideable, both uphill and downhill, bar a short, sharp bedrock climb that has always beaten me in the dry anyway.

I'm proud to say that I led the race from the off. Unfortunately, this lead was rather short-lived, as I was passed after only 50 yards by eventual one-two Phil Morris and Matt Page. I'd hoped to stick with Matt on the climb after the Frozen Devil earlier in the month (what with now having 30 times more gears), but Phil is a top XC racer and set off at a fearsome pace. Matt went with him, but I decided to hold back (the Warm Up may be only 20 miles but it's a tough 20 miles) with a couple of other riders. The long drag up to the top (the 250 metre one) takes around 15 minutes in the dry, a couple more in the wet. The front two gained maybe a minute by the top and I never saw them again. I in turn had a small lead on a guy in blue and a biggish gap on a couple of others.

At least we didn't have to worry about dehydration.
Photo by Mark Wood.

I was expecting now to drop back down onto the main loop of the lollipop on one of two descents used in previous years, but there was a twist this year as we immediately headed even further up on a section of undulating singletrack from the Climachx MTB trail, ridden backwards. Well, not literally backwards, you know what I mean (but there's an idea if I ever do get round to organising an event). It didn't go much higher really, but it was hard work on legs already burning from the fireroad climb. Thankfully it led onto a never-ending descent. Yay! The top part was new to me, fast, rough, typical Dyfi. The middle section was familiar enough for me to know there was a big hole worth avoiding; I still contrived to pile straight into it, but managed to cling on. Note to self: Learn to bunnyhop! The last part was the famous Builth descent - fast swoopy curves, stream crossing, slickrock corner, loose rocky dash to the bottom. Fabulous, darling. Despite my best efforts, the rider in blue caught me right at the end, so I pushed hard up the next climb - and never saw him again. Result!

 
I don't remember it being as wet as it looks in this nice headcam footage of the two big descents by Ian Edwards but I suppose it must have been.

Soon after that, though, I rashly decided to challenge the routing of the trail by bulldozing my own line off to one side. With my head. A tree stump had other thoughts. Ever wondered what actually happens when unstoppable force meets immovable object? Well, you see stars, lose an inch in height and have headaches all week, but you don't bloody well stop when you're racing. You get straight back in the saddle and press on!

Sadly this bravery/stupidity was not enough: at the bottom of the next big descent (Dicko's 3-in-1) I was caught by another rider, Sean Grosvenor. Cue something of an epic battle for third place for the rest of the race. We were well-matched: I had half a minute on him on the climbs; he had half a minute on me on the descents. And we made a good team parting the Red Sea of back-markers on the last lap, Sean calling "Riders!" and "On your left/right!" and ploughing straight through, me calling "Thank you!" as I followed in his wake. I have to say I felt much more comfortable in the Good Cop role, as I wouldn't normally have the nerve to barge through like that. I do apologise if we upset anyone!

Two things made the difference between us in the end. First, I had a minor mechanical problem when my front derailleur stopped responding due to a freak cable failure. Stopping to investigate this and manually set the bike up in the middle ring lost me all the ground I'd gained on the preceding climb.

 

I believe the technical term for this is "buggered".

Second, I made the mistake of doing a gentlemanly thing when we approached a descent more or less together and I let Sean go first. I could, perhaps should, have stayed in front and held him up down the narrow descent before pulling away up the next hill. But that kind of Schumacher tactic doesn't come naturally to me so instead I tried to follow him down the descent, which went pretty well - until I fell off. That basically gave him a 100 metre lead starting the final hill, and I just didn't have the strength to close that kind of gap before the final descent, so fourth place it was.

What with this not officially being a race, there are no official times, but I've managed to cobble together the following results based on Strava and hearsay:

1. Phil Morris
2. Matt Page +2 minutes
3. Sean Grosvenor +3.5 minutes
4. Chris Schroder +4.5 minutes
5. Huw Thomas +9 minutes

Assuming I haven't miscalculated, then wow - I'm really beginning to mix it with the big boys. Last year I finished 11th; two years ago Matt Page lapped me. Strava tells me that I was 1-2 minutes quicker than last year on every climb and, more amazingly, 1-2 minutes quicker on every descent. While I have to give the bike some credit, I think it has more to do with bigger balls than bigger wheels. Which can only be a good thing.
 

Being chased down by Sean Grosvenor - again.
Photo by Dan Wyre.

Despite the initial soaking, my third Winter Warm Up was as much fun as ever. Top trails, a friendly, laid-back vibe, plenty of man-against-the-elements camaraderie, a good result, a proper carpark and a nice warm café - they just needed to unblock the drain in the gents as we might as well have pissed straight on the floor. Good job I'm not as German as my surname - it was not the place for socks and sandals...

Fingers crossed I'll be back for the Dyfi Enduro proper in May. All 800 places normally sell out in about 20 minutes and entries open in less than two hours - time for me to stop rambling and go set a couple of alarm clocks!

Red Kite Winter XC Series Round 4: Getting there

Star date: 12 January 2014
Location: Coed Trallwm, Mid Wales
Event: Red Kite Winter XC Series Round 4
Weapon of choice: Carbon hardtail 29er
Greatest strength: Determination
Greatest weakness: Route planning
Result: 2nd overall, 1st vet

Scrabbling to find the traction and momentum needed to get up the hill, carefully picking the line with the most grip to get safely back down again, all the while looking for banks and ruts and depressions to help you round the corners when braking is no longer an option... The moment when challenging turns into frightening, when your brain fills with the consequences of going over the edge and says no way, but you can't stop... The sheer terror when you realise that you're no longer in control but relying entirely on luck... The elation when you make it, followed by that sinking feeling as another hill appears before you and the whole cycle starts over again... And your mind starts to play those familiar games: why am I here, why am I doing this, why didn't I stay in bed?

Well, that was just the drive over.

It must've been much colder overnight in the hills, and the shortcut across 12 miles of remote mountain road was not, in hindsight, the best choice. Water running off the saturated high ground had solidified into dual channels of ice down the straights and whole sheets of the stuff across the corners. By the time I clocked that this was only going to get worse, it was too late to turn around, as I'd never have made it back up the bits I'd just crept down. Well, I won't be making that mistake again - it was the scariest drive of my life.

After all that, the race was a doddle. Still high on adrenaline, I felt strong on the ups and comfortable on the downs. I knew I had a real battle on my hands, with elite rider James Nixon and endurance racer Jon Roberts in attendance, but I was in a "bring it on" kind of mood. I therefore decided to shadow James Nixon up the all-too-familiar first climb - only to watch an unknown rider breeze past us half-way up. We went with him, of course, and probably both paid for it later.

Unfortunately my chain popped off again on the first descent, which cost me a little time. Dismayed to spot the trademark green helmet of increasingly strong young enduro rider Peter Lloyd plummeting down the hill towards me, I let fly down the rest of the descent and along the flat section after the café, so I caught up with the leaders as they emerged from the second ford.

Event photos courtesy of Carol Corbett at CAC Photography

Instead of looping back round to the start as in earlier rounds, we crossed to the other side of the valley to do a variation on Coed Trallwm's red trail. This started, inevitably, with a big climb. The first super-slippery 50 yards (rideable in theory but easier to walk) and a couple of surfaced but steep banks (testing both thigh strength and traction skills) were followed by a long, rough, muddy fire-road drag to the top. Winding up a clear-felled hillside, this was much more enjoyable than the first climb, as both the views and the eroded surface gave you something to think about other than hurty legs. Stray off the established line and you even got a free musical accompaniment, part crunch, part tinkling, the shale having been lifted an inch off the ground by a billion sparkling ice needles.

I passed James Nixon near the top and launched myself down the recently resurfaced descent, which was smooth, straight and very, very fast. That is, apart from the Stealth Step™™ and the Dastardly Dogleg™™ round a tree stump, both of which come right out of the blue (at least with my eyesight), and two tight 180-degree turns, one bermed, one flat, more obvious but very loose, making it hard not to lose the back end of the bike. On subsequent laps I knew they were coming and went a bit slower; on the first lap I didn't, and I have no idea how I made it down in one piece. Several people punctured on the loose shale here, but today the force was with me. I suddenly found myself back on the tail of the Unknown Rider, but then made such a hash of the next section along a flattish, unsurfaced section through the woods back to the ford that I lost him again, forever. It wasn't hard, that bit, just a bit fiddly, but all I could see was mud and ruts and roots, so I was expecting to slip and slide around - and I did. The next two laps I made an active effort to look further ahead, keep pedalling and believe, and barring a wee wobble at the very end I made it through cleanly both times. It's amazing what you can ride when you think you can.

James Nixon caught me at the start of the second lap as I fumbled with an energy gel (that ol' two-pairs-of-gloves issue). Again I followed him up the first climb, and again I was able to pass and pull away towards the top. The chain stayed on this time, and I managed to hold my lead back down into the valley. I knew that if I could now push up the second climb I'd gain the psychological advantage of being out of sight, and then second place would almost certainly be mine if I could just keep going for the rest of the race. Well, I did, and it was. Really pleased with that. Once again the 90-minutes-plus-a-lap race format caught me out, and I held back a little on lap 3 to leave something in the tank for a non-existent lap 4, but I'd done enough.

I finished a couple of minutes up on James Nixon and five minutes behind the winner, who told me afterwards this was his first XC race (!) and he normally does "a bit of downhill, a bit of enduro". Slight understatement there - it turns out he was none other than World Cup downhiller Robert Williams! Well, that's one in the eye for prejudices about downhillers and climbing - he was up those hills like a mountain goat. OK, so he's half my age and a couple of stones lighter, but even so, R-E-S-P-E-C-T!

And talking of youth and respect, Huw Higgins-Worrall deserves a special mention for finishing eighth in the race at the age of just 12 - there's one to watch!

The weather hasn't been overly kind to the Red Kite series this year, and coming up with different but rideable courses each time has been a challenge. This one was the best of the series so far: it was good to get back into the woods onto some properly muddy stuff, I loved having a slightly more technical climb, and the views from the far side of the valley were stunning (fortunately not literally).

The next round on 2 February sees a change to a longer format: a choice between two and four hours racing on a variation on this same longer (9km) loop. This was decided very democratically with a show of hands at the start of the race; I do wonder how the vote would've gone at the end... Anyway, this spells a lot of bang for your bucks, which is especially good news for those travelling a long way (or a stupid way). Unless we suddenly have some unseasonably dry weather, I reckon four hours on this course will be more than enough for anyone. I wonder if I should take the singlespeed...


Oh, and for the record: Although I'm a certified lentilist, I much preferred the pumpkin soup at previous rounds.


Official times
(I did come second, honest; there's something wrong with James Nixon's second lap time because I was some way ahead of him by then and finished about two minutes ahead; Jon Roberts punctured)

Robert Williams	1:41:14	32:38	33:51	34:44
Chris Schroder	1:46:17	33:18	35:52	37:06
James Nixon	1:43:58	33:26	32:59	37:31
Peter Lloyd	1:53:31	34:21	38:41	40:28
???	1:54:50	35:47	38:11	40:51
Lewis Hawthorne	1:55:29	35:50	39:17	40:22
Jon Roberts	2:02:47	34:05	51:11	37:31
Huw Higgins Worrall	2:13:17	41:07	43:57	48:13
Jon Heissig	2:13:42	43:14	44:30	45:57
Steve HigginsWorrall	2:16:48	41:10	46:15	49:22

In case the Strava embed code isn't working again: Manual link

Red Kite Events Frozen Devil 50km challenge: Tasty

Star date: 5 January 2014
Location: Crychan Forest, Mid Wales
Event: Red Kite Events Frozen Devil 50km challenge
Weapon of choice: Unavailable
Weapon of necessity: Fully rigid 26" singlespeed
Greatest strength: Perseverance
Greatest weakness: Legs
Result: 5th overall, 1st vet, 1st singlespeed

I suppose the Frozen Devil was supposed to be something like this:

But lately the weather has been more like this:

And the forecast was for this:

So only about half those who entered actually turned up. Shame, because the weather held up much better than expected, even allowing this baby to make a slightly surreal appearance at event HQ:

That said, the weather wasn't exactly balmy - cold and damp with odd patches of drizzle, and the ground was absolutely saturated, making the ups sticky, the downs sketchy and the flats a sprayfest. Despite being shortened from 55km to 50km to avoid ice and fallen trees, the course felt like 80km.

After paying dearly for a lack of preparation last time out, I was ready for the worst:

• 1 waterproof jacket 
• 2 pairs of gloves
• 1 pair long waterproof shorts
• 1 pair leg warmers
• 2 pairs of socks (one waterproof)
• 1 pair of shoes waterproofed with duct tape

And I have to say I never got cold, although I did get very wet feet: the duct tape disappeared in minutes and, as usual, the Sealskinz socks were better at keeping water in than out. But it was the leggings that were the biggest issue. A brief audition for the Ministry of Silly Walks before I left proved that, as previously suspected, my winter tights were too tight over the knees and so slowing me down:

A quick rummage in the kit box threw up a pair of never-before-used leg warmers. And to be fair they were lovely and soft and flexy and warm. However, I wish they'd come with a garter belt. I must have stopped a dozen times around the course to hitch them up. I know my legs are skinny, but even so. Any suggestions from female readers (or male for that matter) for how to get hold-ups to hold up would be very welcome!

Still not confident the 29er was quite right, and not really wanting to get it dirty anyway, I also took a bike with absolutely none of these things to go wrong:

• Gears
• Rear suspension
• Front suspension
• Inner tubes
• Dropper post

 

Rigid singlespeed leads the way out of Llanwrtyd. How manly was I?
Event photos by Carol Corbett

I set off at a sedate pace along the opening road section, surprised to find no smooth-chested gear boys taking off ahead, but just as I was beginning to think that maybe nobody fast had turned up, a voice said hello and professional endurance racer Matt Page drew alongside. Bugger. What I did next probably wasn't the brightest of ideas. Yes, I bested Matt Page up the first climb. It wasn't deliberate (well, maybe just a bit). It was just a fun climb (Oxymorons R Us) up a rough track with a heady mixture of bedrock and ruts and mud and puddles and streaming water and sheep poo and thorns and steep bits, and I had to maintain a certain pace on the singlespeed just to keep going. Somehow I was also getting better traction despite still being on semi-slick summer tyres, and I got carried away.

Anyway, it proved a Pyrrhic victory (private education not entirely wasted) because it led onto a road descent where he and James Green, the eventual one-two, flew past. I caught them soon after as we headed up the big climb to the forest, but it got very steep at one point and I decided to hop off the bike and push a short section to conserve energy. I wish now that I'd thrown caution to the wind, because they then had 50 yards on me by the time we hit the trees and I never saw them again. I went on to struggle with every single climb after that anyway, and it would've been fun to at least try to shadow Matt down the first descent, which was a muddy, rooty, slippery, rutted cracker.

I fell off near the bottom anyway, when my rear wheel decided to overtake the front wheel, allowing two more riders to catch me. We traded places for a while through some more muddy, rooty, slippery, rutted stuff until we hit the big - make that BIG - climb up what is normally an exhilarating three-part descent. They rode most of it and I walked all of it; my legs had gone.

I suspect this was the moment I spotted the feed station.

The Crychan Forest is in many ways the best place in Wales to ride a mountain bike, because it is absolutely riddled with trails: disused fireroads, cheeky MTB singletrack, rocky MX enduro runs, enticing quarries, lumpy bridleways, even a Roman road with a free bath and mudpack every 50 yards - something around every corner and down every hill. Like the Dyfi Forest, only more compact. The sheer density of downhills that make you want to punch the air (though obviously you don't because then you'd crash and die) never ceases to amaze.

And if there's one thing Red Kite do well, it's putting together a loop that leaves you knackered but smiling. I've ridden extensively in the Crychan (have I mentioned before that I am a fully MBLA-qualified and very reasonably priced MTB guide?) but the course still took in a fair few sections that were new to me. One area I haven't previously explored is the eastern fringe of the forest, where the trails skirt the edge of the Eppynt military ranges, complete with warning signs about live ammunition. I didn't notice any of those fake Balkan villages reputed to nestle somewhere in the valley below, but there were plenty of oddly named farms around: No. 1, No. 2, No. 3, etc. Makes you wonder just what they might be raising there. A crack team of WMD-detecting sniffer sheep, perhaps, those that fail to make the grade left dotted around the hillsides for target practice. I was a little disappointed not to see any soldiers running around with twigs on their heads; clearly their camouflage worked. But I know they were out there, I could hear the gunfire later as they picked off stragglers (think Southern Comfort in reverse), which would account for why there were so few finishers.

Descending into Hades

The highlight of the day for me was the final descent, culminating in a super-steep windy run down through the trees over mud and roots. Last time I tried it I was pleased to make it halfway down in one piece. Although the über-nasty rooty drop in the middle had been cordoned off, it was still the epitome of gnarly. You just have to keep going and pray. But first the comedy sketch. My dropper post has been suffering from erectile dysfunction recently, and I wasn't keen to follow suit, so I stopped to lower my saddle for this one. Which meant getting an Allen key out of my pocket. Sounds easy, but try doing that in a hurry with two pairs of wet gloves on (mid-race brain fog preventing you from clocking the obvious solution of taking said gloves off). And then I had to get the Allen key back into the pocket, which has a magnetic closure that just wouldn't let go of the damned thing... All to be repeated, at length, once I got to the bottom and put the saddle back up. As for the descent itself, well, I went straight down first time, no drama, no dabbing, World Cup DH here I come!

Action photo of the bike at the second feed station while I stuffed my face with cake.

Red Kite Events boldly claim to offer probably the best feed stations in Britain. Well, if Carlsberg did feed stations, I imagine I'd be able to refill my water bottle faster than drip by drip (and with lager). But the food was good, very good. The cupcakes even had arty decorations on them. Free energy gels, energy drink, fruit, various cakes, flapjacks, quiche, 20 different kinds of falafel. OK, one of those isn't true. I passed on the food on the way out when I was still racing (in fifth place, third and fourth in sight), but stopped for a cake or two on the return leg when I'd given up racing (still in fifth place, third and fourth still in sight - is there a message in there somewhere?). I should also add that there was free tea, coffee and toast (albeit white bread - er, hello!) in the school before the race, and a free bowl of pasta from the owner of the Drover's Rest inn after the race. All in all, we were exceedingly well catered for (I would say "pampered" but that prompts flashbacks to the full-nappy feel of my padded shorts for 90% of this event).

Although the myriad descents were the best bit, duh, perhaps the cleverest part of the course design was the run-in from the second feed station at 37km - mainly steady, flattish fire road, bridleway and then tarmac gradually winding back down to Llanwrtyd with no nasty surprises for tired legs. The only change I might have made would be to have the initial loop in reverse at the very end, giving one less nasty climb up front for prats on singlespeeds and one final breathtaking plummet down the hill to the finish.

All told, tough but not horrendous conditions, great trails, good food and organisation, and a genuine challenge - the last rider back took over six hours to get round. Another great day out in the woods for racers and weekend warriors alike.

Pos	Last Name	First Name	Time	Gap	Lap 1
1	PAGE	Matt	3:01:24		3:01:24
2	GREEN	James	3:04:25	3'01"	3:04:25
3	BESKEEN	David	3:15:23	13'59"	3:15:23
4	ASTLEY	Martin	3:15:26	14'02"	3:15:26
5	SCHRODER	Chris	3:19:38	18'14"	3:19:38
6	HARCOURT	Justin	3:39:40	38'16"	3:39:40
7	NAYLOR	Allen	3:39:43	38'19"	3:39:43
8	SMART	Andrew	3:44:37	43'13"	3:44:37
9	CALLOW	Andrew	3:44:42	43'18"	3:44:42
10	THOMAS	Huw	3:44:59	43'35"	3:44:59

Red Kite Winter XC Series Round 3: Fail to prepare...

Star date: 22 December 2013
Location: Coed Trallwm, Mid Wales
Event: Red Kite Winter XC Series Round 3
Weapon of choice: Carbon hardtail 29er
Greatest strength: Perseverance
Greatest weakness: Preparation
Result: 7th overall, 3rd vet

Festive tinsel on bars to show I'm not taking this race seriously? Check.

Bike model name massively overstating my ability? Check.

Shockingly skeletal upper body despite recent weight gain? Check.

I'm-lovin'-it smile and wave for the camera? Something to work on...

You know when people say things like "Fail to prepare, prepare to fail" and you just think "Oh, **** off"?
 
Well, it was almost Christmas, the last event of the year, not a red letter one, not one I was taking too seriously, and I wasn't in the mood for an evening of bike maintenance, which is up there with shopping and going to the dentist in my book. So I decided that the temporary repair of the hole in my rear tyre with sealant gunk alone would just have to do, and poured another glass of wine.

You know where this is going. Come the top of the first climb, the bike's feeling odd - best ignore it. Come the first hint of a turn, it's feeling squidgey - best start praying. Come the first little jump, it's just plain flat - best start walking...

Which was a shame, because it was shaping up to be a really good race - a four-way fight between eventual top three Carwyn Davies, Scott Cornish and Gareth Jones and little old me, all of us fairly evenly matched. But it wasn't to be.

As I discovered at the Dyfi Enduro in May, mechanical issues are bloody annoying for the first ten minutes of kicking yourself (sometimes literally) and swearing (often very creatively), but sooner or later you have to move on and make the most of things. The race is over, the pressure's off and you can continue at a sensible pace without blowing a gasket, enjoy the scenery and just have fun. Which does rather beg the question, why push yourself so hard in the first place? I mean, what's more important: winning or having fun? Well, winning, duh! Put it down to the mid-life crisis...

Game over, let the fun begin.

All photos by Carol Corbett

One of the many great things about racing XC at Coed Trallwm is that you're never more than half a mile from the café and your car, and so never more than half a mile from tools/parts/extra clothing/water/a cup of tea/a slice of cake/what have you. So you can afford to travel light, which is a good thing given the terrain. Some riders, though, and generally the ones who would benefit most from a little less extra weight to hoist up that there hill, choose to take a mahoosive pack anyway. What on Earth do they stash in there? How long are they expecting to be marooned for? I mean, there's preparing for every eventuality but it's like they've stocked up for a nuclear winter. There's only so much in the way of food, drink, clothing, tools and spares you could possibly need over the course of two hours (unless, of course, you're doing your MBLA Trail Cycle Leader assessment (did I mention I passed?) but that's another story). And most of these riders are already carrying a spare tyre around their middle (boom, boom). The mind boggles.

I, at the other extreme (which, to be honest, is where I feel most at home), was travelling light. Very light, as in not even a tube (if you exclude me). Gareth Jones did kindly bung me his spare tube, but I spent an age getting it up (oo-er) and within 200 yards the bugger was flat again. So I had to run all the way back down the hill anyway for a quick dash into the pits Formula 1-style while my crew got me back on the road. Oh, OK, so I grabbed a floor-pump and stuff from the back of the car. And off I went again, a good ten minutes lost.


Luckily my next mechanical was almost but not quite literally within spitting distance of my car. At the end of the second lap, the chain popped off on a drop and got well and truly jammed against the frame, grinding off tear-inducing amounts of paint and carbon. Another ten minutes was then lost to remove a crank and free said chain (thanks Neil), and then I really was just riding for pride, out for a jolly in the woods. But, you know, I wasn't the only one:

Time for a caption competition. Answers on a postcard...

Another slightly bizarre moment in the race was all my doing. At one point I caught up with fellow blogger Tom Stickland who I've never met face-to-face so I thought I'd say hello and instinctively stuck out a hand. Shaking hands mid-way through an XC race is pretty random in itself; thing is, it's clear from Tom's blog here that the poor man didn't have a clue who I was...

Anyway, race organiser Neil Delafield made a good call on the course given the recent spate of wet 'n' windy weather, cutting out the muddy bits from last time and sticking to the surfaced trails, taking us round the whole of the Coed Trallwm black route (previously ridden here) and most of the blue route. The trails were surprisingly well-drained in the circumstances, making for fun, fast descents. The café was warm and welcoming as usual, and Carol Corbett did a cracking job of taking pictures (she took absolutely loads), although she evidently buggered off home when the hail started on the final lap, which isn't really cricket.

What's more, my perseverance despite the aforementioned mechanical issues paid off in spades as I eventually finished third in class and bagged this stunning prize:

So, despite many trials and tribulations, this was half-full:

And this dude was back:

Can't wait for January, with two top events coming up: the Frozen Devil on the 5th and the Dyfi Winter Warm Up on the 26th, both over 40-50 km and featuring wild enduro descents and a whole lot of climbing - the perfect recipe. And, of course, the XC series itself returns on the 12th with a new longer-lap format, which sounds fun.

Happy New Year!

Pos		Name	Time		Lap 1	Lap 2	Lap 3	Lap 4
1		Carwyn Davies	1:39:03		22:48	24:58	25:17	25:58
2		Scott Cornish	1:42:14		24:07	25:37	25:57	26:32
3		Gareth Jones	1:45:30		24:52	26:28	27:04	27:05
4		Andrew Evans	1:50:27		25:16	26:55	28:45	29:30
5		Peter Cartner	2:00:23		27:17	30:39	30:33	31:52
6		Paul Roberts	2:00:28		28:32	30:35	30:16	31:04
7		Chris Schroder	2:03:32		35:34	34:18	25:58	27:40
8		Wayne Davies	2:04:18		27:45	30:35	33:49	32:07
9		Alan Fardner	2:09:06		28:25	33:29	32:53	34:18
10		Tom Stickland	2:11:17		29:50	32:46	33:37	35:03

And finally a load more pictures nobody will want to see:

Lap 2: Gurning down the top descent

Lap 3: Turning the QE2 (or 29er as they're also known)