Welsh XC Series Round 4: Almost perfect

Star date: 19 May 2013
Location: Margam Park, Port Talbot
Event: Welsh XC Series Round 4
Weapon of choice: Carbon singlespeed with suspension forks and fixed seat post
Greatest achievement: Pretty pleased with everything really
Greatest weakness: Ditto; could usefully have gone a bit faster I suppose
Result: 7th in race / 4th in Welsh champs / 4th in Welsh series / 1st and only singlespeed 

 ******** NEW FEATURE ********

 Executive summary for those with the attention span of my children: 

Weather sunny and hot, trails dry and dusty, descents scary as ****.

Best XC course ever. I love Margam!

OK, so you look cooler than me...

 

But who got up the hill?

All photos with ROYBEVISPHOTO on them courtesy of Mickey Mouse, d'uh.

So basically it was good. Very good. But things weren't looking too good beforehand...

Wot no wheels
After the Dyfi Disaster I went surfing for a new rear wheel and found a nice set of tubeless-specific rims on good hubs set up tubeless with nearly-new tyres going second-hand for much less than a half-decent rear wheel new. Perfect. Except: "Parcelforce say the label came off..." And then: "Parcelforce can't find your address on their system..." Cue frantic tearing out of what little hair I have left. They eventually turned up the day before the race. Too late for a test-drive or tyre change, but at least I was tubeless. I hate inner tubes. They are without doubt the work of the devil.

Wot no dropper
After fitting the new wheels and offering a long prayer that the rear wheel would stay on properly (long, boring saga to do with chain tugs), I was giving the bike a quick pre-race wash (like you do, it's a bit like adding go-faster stripes to your car) and it struck me that the reason why my number board is always wonky during races was because the cable to the dropper post was routed wrongly. So I unscrewed the handlebar switch, moved the cable, screwed the switch back on - and snapped the clamp. Oops. No way of activating dropper post. No time to get a spare clamp. No dropper post at Margam. Yes, that Margam, the one with the crazy steep descents where a high saddle is liable to rip your bollocks off at any time.

Wot no happy ending
This was not what I needed when I'd already spent most of the week with ice in my pants. Honestly, you've got an achy back, you find a nice young lady in the phone book and slip her £30 for a handjob, you really don't expect to come out of it with a seriously sore groin. Bloody osteopaths.

Almost a perfect day.

In light of all this, I decided to get to Margam early and do a gentle practice lap to test my equipment. I wouldn't normally bother (I'd rather stay in bed) and I'd done most of the course nine times before, but I wanted to try going round with the saddle jammed up my arse without the pressure of other riders around me. And I'm very glad I did.

Wot no balls
Ambling up the big climb, enjoying the sunshine and taking pictures of the view on my phone, I tried to snap some riders coming down a little extra section added at the top. Looked a bit steep, but nothing to worry about.

Only then I got to the top myself and looked down... Plenty to worry about. No way was I going down that. The start didn't help, with a tight left turn round an awkwardly positioned mound and then what looked like a sheer drop for about 20 feet before easing out slightly and then swinging sharp right at the bottom. The path, for want of a better word, was less than a foot wide, far from even and littered with random loose rocks along its length, lying in wait ready to grab your front wheel and catapult you over the bars to your doom.

Problem was, there was no chicken line and it was too steep to run down. It had to be ridden. I traipsed back along the trail to get a decent run-up, got to the edge and... stopped. I was petrified. It looked impossibly steep. Certain death. Partly, I suppose, because the hill carries on down well beyond this actual section, and it seemed like you could end up somersaulting all the way down to the sea. I honestly don't think I'd ever have done it - except a girl then arrived at the top of the hill to recce the drop. There was no way I could not do it now. Sad, I know. But I can't help it.

I said it didn't look much from underneath.

So over the edge I went. I completely missed the line and went down about six feet off to the right through grass and bracken, desperately trying to avoid big chunks of rock lurking in their midst. Total panic time. I shifted my weight as far back as I possibly could. Too far back. Now the saddle wasn't under me but in front of me, somewhere around my navel. Double panic. Drop any further back and the rear wheel would chainsaw off my wedding tackle, while any sudden movement forward would leave my nads dangling off the back of my saddle. Two children are more than enough, but even so...

Of course, I made it down intact. I bumped into race organiser Scott Bugden and octogenarian MTB legend John Lloyd a little later. Scott said: "Take the inside line at the top and you'll be laughing." John said: "It's really not very steep, it doesn't warrant a dropper post, just man up." Only more politely.

I went on to ride that section six times during the race and didn't fall off or sever my testicles once, which was nice. As usual during a race, they did their best to hide, which helped, and I must confess I also dropped my saddle an inch below normal height before the start just in case. I never managed to take Scott's line, which was even steeper than the more obvious one. But John was right, it wasn't that steep in the end. I did just need to man up. On the final lap I even managed to relax - a bit - and feel a degree of control. Quite a few people did come off there during the day though and will forever bear the scars to prove it.

The fast bit in the woods. Photo: Blood, Sweat and Gears.

Next up on my practice lap was the rooty section that defeated me in the wet in February. Easy. Plenty of grip from the tyres, just needed enough oomph to get over the last big fat root at the top. And then the steep loose rocky chute. As usual, hang on and pray. Again I struggled to relax into it but made it down in one piece every time. Ditto the bobsleigh run down through the rhododendrons, careering from side to side and willing the bike to go in the right direction, which it more or less did. Last time I had rigid forks, whereas this time I had suspension; I have to say the descents felt no less rough, but Strava tells me I was a bit quicker.

With the ground being so dry, the impossible climb from February was also now possible, though I only bothered riding it on the last lap, just for the hell of it. Another new section took us down a hill on woodchip, which was novel and soft and slidey and fun, and then it was back through the not-so-muddy woods to the start.

All in all, a dry, fast, grippy, scary monster of a roller-coaster ride. I couldn't wait.

Another place gained on foot...

 

But clipping back in can be painful!

This time I'm going to do it...

... even if it kills me

And the race itself? Not much more to say really. Same course, faster, lots of times. Sunny, hot, sweaty stuff, lots of fluids needed. I had vague plans to really go for it up the first hill and then see if I could stay on the tail of eventual winner Mark Spratt, but the pace off the start line was fearsome and I had no chance of keeping up on the flat without gears - indeed I probably would have struggled with gears. By the time we hit the singletrack climb I was maybe 50 yards adrift of the first dozen riders. With a bit of grunt, I managed to close this gap before getting to the top, which also meant I pulled away from the riders behind me, allowing me to tackle the Descent of Doom in my own time and space. I duly survived but then lost ground again on the leaders due to first-lap schoolboy errors on the roots and never saw them again. To be honest, looking at their times, I never stood a chance.

Starting in pole position didn't help much on the singlespeed.

It was very hot out there, and by the end I was beginning to cramp and feeling pretty tired. As usual, I walked the steepest climbs to conserve energy, but I gained quite a few places riding the other climbs, so if I could only build enough strength to get up the steeper climbs comfortably... Or get some gears... Hmm...

No place on the glory trailer for me. (Maybe my fashion sense just didn't cut it. Miaow.) Winner Mark Spratt is the one standing in the wrong place doing a Robbie Fowler.

I ended up 7th in the race and 4th in the Welsh Championships, so no medal this year... It's ironic that after two years taking bronze despite having terrible races and getting lapped, this year I finally have a problem-free race, I'm stronger and fitter and faster and less technically inept than ever, and I don't make the podium. But fourth is still pretty damn good and I enjoyed the race more than I can possibly say.

Best XC course ever. I love Margam!

So, what next? Apart from the odd dabble in the Red Kite summer midweek XC series it's time to have a rest until the autumn, when I hope to have another go at last year's two highlights, the Brecon Beast and, of course, Margam Madness. But after today, it'd be hard not to do the third round of the British National Series also at Margam on 7 July... And the stupidly long Red Kite Elan Valley Challenge on 23 June is also whispering sweet nothings in my ear... Spoilt for choice this year... Need to exercise some self-restraint... Yeah, right...

Results:

Welsh Champs - 4th 
No medal this year but well beaten by the first two. Next year, Mr Porter... 

1 Mark Spratt, Cardiff JIF
2 Vincent Thomas, Forza Cycles Racing Team 
3 Ross Porter, Cwmcarn Paragon Cycle Club
4 Chris Schroder, Sarn Helen
 
Welsh XC Series 2013 - 4th
Again well behind the first two. Next year, Mr Butler...

		Rd1		Rd2		Rd3		Rd4		Total
		Position	Time	Position	Time	Position	Time	Position	Time	Points	Time
Mark Spratt	Cardiff Jif	1	01:33:36	5	01:13:09	3	01:23:48	1	01:31:00	5	04:07:57
Lee Hayward	Southfork Racing	4	01:39:06	1	01:09:22	2	01:22:56	4	01:33:56	7	04:06:14
Nick Butler	Southfork Racing	5	01:40:42	4	01:12:42	5	01:26:35	6	01:43:49	14	04:19:59
Chris Schroder	Sarn Helen	6	01:43:16	10	01:25:36	8	01:33:49	7	01:45:59	21	04:42:41

On the day - 7th
Way off Mark Spratt's blistering pace but check out the consistency of my lap times... I clearly wasn't trying hard enough!

1	01:31:00	Mark Spratt, Cardiff JIF	00:14:55	00:14:53	00:14:57	00:15:05	00:15:28	00:15:42
2	01:33:24	Brendan Murphy, Mondraker UK	00:15:05	00:15:12	00:15:39	00:15:41	00:15:56	00:15:51
3	01:33:29	Vincent Thomas, Forza Cycles Racing Team	00:15:54	00:15:54	00:15:54	00:15:35	00:15:24	00:14:48
4	01:33:56	Lee Hayward, Southfork Racing.co.uk	00:15:45	00:15:40	00:15:45	00:15:28	00:15:44	00:15:34
5	01:38:48	Ross Porter, Cwmcarn Paragon Cycle Club	00:16:08	00:16:10	00:16:08	00:16:39	00:16:46	00:16:57
6	01:43:49	Nick Butler, Southfork Racing.co.uk	00:16:46	00:16:42	00:16:46	00:17:02	00:18:39	00:17:54
7	01:45:59	Chris Schroder, Sarn Helen	00:17:43	00:17:40	00:17:45	00:17:34	00:17:47	00:17:30
8	01:47:44	Christopher Bates, Sosban Riders	00:17:30	00:17:31	00:18:08	00:18:18	00:17:43	00:18:34
9	01:58:01	Chris Ames, MachenMigglyMods	00:18:55	00:18:50	00:18:57	00:19:53	00:20:32	00:20:54
10	01:39:15	Alan Gardner, Brecon Wheelers bi-ped cycles	00:20:10	00:20:11	00:19:52	00:19:45	00:19:17
11	01:40:04	Steven Higgins-Worrall, Abergavenny Road Club	00:21:03	00:19:03	00:19:50	00:20:10	00:19:58
12	01:40:07	Brian Preece	00:19:30	00:19:30	00:19:18	00:20:42	00:21:07
13	01:40:55	David Davies, TRCC (Towy Riders Cycling Club)	00:20:16	00:19:16	00:20:25	00:21:07	00:19:51
14	01:41:30	Nick Welsh	00:20:28	00:21:28	00:20:00	00:20:18	00:19:16
15	01:49:49	Sion Clarke, Onit Sports	00:20:17	00:20:18	00:21:59	00:23:12	00:24:03
16	01:52:45	Jonathan Howes, Cycle Training Wales	00:21:27	00:21:28	00:22:30	00:23:35	00:23:45
17	01:02:27	Mark James, Team Jewson/Thule/Kinesis/CNP/MI Racing-Ride	00:15:28	00:15:40	00:15:30	00:15:49
18	01:35:30	David Jones, TRCC (Towy Racing Cycle Club)	00:22:53	00:22:54	00:24:11	00:25:32
19	01:42:40	Gerwyn Evans, West Wales Cycle Racing Team	00:24:38	00:24:39	00:25:56	00:27:27
20	01:41:34	Steeve Cooper	00:25:54	00:25:55	00:27:49	00:21:56
21	00:21:26	Paul Gibbons, Climb on Bikes RT	00:00:28	00:00:29	00:20:29
22	01:20:12	Leyton Shilibeer, Rhiwcieliog Riders	00:25:35	00:25:36	00:29:01
23	00:40:20	Darren Caines, Yeovil CC	00:20:10	00:20:10
24	00:55:49	Ian Newton, Sosban Riders	00:27:54	00:27:55
25	01:37:05	Simon Owens, Sosban Riders	00:48:32	00:48:33
26	00:19:28	Steven Horne	00:19:28
27	00:22:53	Rhys Gravell, sosban riders	00:22:53

Dyfi Enduro: The kindness of strangers

Star date: 5 May 2013
Location: Deepest daftest Wales
Event: Dyfi Enduro
Weapon of choice: Carbon singlespeed with dropper post and suspension forks
Greatest achievement: An awful lot of overtaking
Greatest weakness: Dealing with flats
Result: 433rd!

Having hugely enjoyed the Dyfi Enduro's little brother back in January, I was really fired up for my first taste of the event proper, complete with drummers, aliens and other random mid-Wales nuttiness. While the first and last parts of the route were the same, conditions couldn't have been more different, the course being almost bone dry. Perfect for racing, then.

Of course, only boring people actually race the Dyfi. It's supposed to be all about the laid-back vibe, the banter, the drinking too much beer the night before. Boring sod that I am, though, I did race it - for all of about 20 minutes.

Words cannot do this justice. Photo: MBNW.

My race lasted the first two climbs and about 20 feet of the first rocky descent. I didn't get off to the best of starts, being too polite to shove all the way through to the front on the start line and then being unable to work my way forward through the motorcade up to Corris (on the singlespeed it was a job just to keep up). Once we were let off the leash on the first big fireroad climb, though, I proceeded to shoot past pretty much all those I consider my peers. I know I always go off too fast up the first hill, but I really wasn't pushing very hard. I felt strong, really strong. I was absolutely on fire. By the time we hit the top of the world after the second climb, I must have worked my way into the top 20.

Then, just 17km from the start, disaster struck as half the air escaped from my rear tyre. Not much of a disaster as disasters go, but it was enough to put me out of contention. A broken axle on my normal rear wheel during the week had forced me to run a more freeride-type wheel as an emergency solution. This proved an absolute bugger to set up tubeless, as the tyre kept popping off the rim, and I think the rim was to blame here on the mountain. The loss of air in itself wasn't that big a deal, though; it was the cack-handed way I dealt with it that was the real problem.

In a perfect world, I would simply have pumped in some air and ridden off, losing no more than three minutes. In reality, I managed to make a mountain out of a molehill and turn this minor setback into five, yes, count 'em, five flats, with maybe 90 minutes lost on repairs and begging for help.

Error #1. Use of pump with known dodgy connector, thus releasing more air and causing tyre to come right off rim, forcing me to remove wheel and insert inner tube.
Error #2. Failure to check carefully enough for thorns before inserting inner tube.
Error #3. Failure to dry tube and tyre carefully enough before patching tube (twice!).
Error #4. Failure to maintain pump, which went on to seize up completely, forcing me to borrow one (three times!).

So, five flats, all self-inflicted. I will learn from my mistakes.

I did enjoy it, honest. Check out the swanky new Team Sarn Helen top, though. Photo: Jon Brooke.

 
But there were upsides to all this.

First, I was seriously impressed by the number of people offering help as I stood beside the trail, ranting and raving at my upturned steed à la John Cleese. They were genuine offers, too. And I accepted them three times. Twice from the same chap, in fact. A true gentleman. And not forgetting the rider who wanted to give me a tube and really didn't want to take no for an answer! Soppy as it may sound, it was this generosity of spirit that kept me going through some of my darker moments. Thank you!

Second, it is so long since I did a ride just for fun. No Strava, no racing, just a ride. I'd forgotten just how good it can be. (Though obviously I'll still never do it again by choice!) Descending at a sensible pace was strangely rewarding - it doesn't have to be frightening. Only the World Cup descent scared me, partly because it's hellishly steep and rocky and exposed, but mainly because the previously sound guy in front of me started doing some very strange sideways things half-way down...

Third, I got to see how the other half live - the fun-lovin' riders there for the laid-back vibe, the banter, the drinking too much beer the night before. I have to say, though, I didn't actually see that much fun going on other than at the finish. What I mainly saw were people walking or pedalling very, very slowly up hills in a great deal of pain (or was it just trapped wind?) and moaning about congestion, mincers and dangerous overtaking...

With so many lengthy periods of enforced recovery during the ride, I was flying the whole time that I was moving, and the climbs came unbelievably easily. Between my third flat and the feed station, a distance of just 12km, I overtook no fewer than 277 riders! That was a real ego-booster, even though I know they weren't in any great hurry. And of course I then flatted again, twice, so they all went back past.

Rare shot of me using the saddle on the singlespeed. Photo: Acejoy

A high-quality video of the event by Will Sanders

I eventually finished in 4 hours and 19 minutes back in 433rd place. The last time I did 60km and 2000m of climbing (the equivalent of climbing Snowdon twice, from sea level) I was left a broken man, but this time I got back feeling just mildly tired and, despite the day's travails, very upbeat. It was a great ride - wild and exhilarating descents linked by endless but uncannily singlespeed-friendly fire-road climbs - with some great people. I will be back!

The top ten finishers, including Sarn Helen's Gareth Payne in an impressive seventh place.

No Strava today - my Garmin packed up again on the start line...

Welsh XC Series Round 3: Flat course leaves me cold

Star date: 21 Apr 2013
Location: Fforest Fields, Builth Wells
Event: Welsh XC Series Round 3
Weapon of choice: Carbon singlespeed with suspension forks and dropper post
Greatest achievement: Staying strong
Greatest weakness: Falling off
Result: 8th veteran / 1st singlespeed

Struggling to find much to say, for once, so I'm going to keep this one short and sweet, unlike the race (ho, ho). Not that there was that much wrong with the course, the organisation, the bike, the weather or my performance. It was just nothing special. I rode up and down some hills as fast as I could, fell off a few times, got a bit muddy, all the usual stuff, end of story.

In fact, it's tempting to limit this to a photo feature, courtesy of the wonderful and nigh-on omnipresent Mr Bevis, a man with an peculiar fetish for spending whole days lying around in muddy places:

"OMG, if I get stuck in this mud I'll end up in the stream!"
(It was muddier than it looks)

"OMG, if I don't change direction fast I'll end up in the stream!"
(It was tighter than it looks)

"OMG, if I don't make it up the bank I'll end up in the stream!"
(It was steeper than it looks)

Cheeky rear view of the same section

However, there are just a couple of things I need to get off my chest:

1. Cold start

For once I warmed up properly. I arrived at the start exactly one minute before the allotted kick-off time, stripped down to an admittedly optimistic short-sleeved top and shorts after spotting a ray of sunshine - and proceeded to spend more than 15 minutes being shunted back and forth like Thomas the Tank Engine's grumpy coal trucks as the commissaires organised and reorganised and gridded and regridded all the different categories. By the time us wrinklies started, my heart rate had pretty much flatlined and I was shivering like a jelly on a wobble board. Not good.

And what exactly was the idea behind gridding us five across on a track only wide enough for three abreast? Given that we then headed straight into an open field, we might as well have lined up there 50 riders across. What difference can a five-second head start possibly make over a 90-minute race?

All the difference, it would seem. As soon as we got off the track, nearly the entire field went sprinting past me in a desperate lemming-like urge to get a good start. Only when we then turned onto the inevitable fireroad climb, the ol' singlespeed rhythm kicked in and I promptly sailed back past most of them without any increase in my effort. Why sprint all-out for 400 yards and then drop into granny ring as soon as you hit the hill? Madness. But then who am I to lecture anyone on pacing? 

2. Flat course

It was billed as a course for climbers and there was indeed one very big hill (which was as quick to walk as to ride), but somehow it still seemed rather flat. The climbs were a bit dull and, aside from the first muddy slide back down through the woods, the payoff was limited. The level section at the bottom seemed to go on forever, and the endless roots at the far end of the course got on my nerves after a while.

The bloggers and forumites of xcracer.com (the only place to go for XC and endurance racing news, results, reviews, debate, spares and so much more) seem to have loved the course, however. It was proper old skool, apparently. Meaning what - dull? If this was old skool, give me nu XC any day.

Originally the course was supposed to have even more climbing but the descent was deemed too slippery on the day. An interesting decision which kind of says it all for me. The course definitely felt bowdlerised.

Of course, it might have been a very different story in the wet.

The technical challenges were limited to the likes of this monstrous three foot drop.

 
As for my performance, I didn't run out of energy, I only hurt myself once and I went pretty much as fast as I could the whole way round, which was faster than most but not as fast as some. Given that the guy I was battling with until I fell off was waaaaay out of my league two years ago, and the guy who finished two places behind me lapped me in Crickhowell last year, I suppose I did quite well. It just didn't feel like it.
 
Next up, my two big target races for the season: the Dyfi Enduro on 5 May and the Welsh XC Champs on the new World Cup course at Margam Park on 19 May. Can't imagine either of them being flat!

1	01:22:44	Brendan Murphy, Mondraker UK	00:19:18	00:20:20	00:21:04	00:22:02
2	01:22:56	Lee  Hayward, Southfork Racing.co.uk	00:19:45	00:20:51	00:21:20	00:21:01
3	01:23:48	Mark Spratt, Cardiff JIF	00:19:42	00:20:44	00:21:23	00:21:59
4	01:24:06	David Watt, VC Melyd	00:19:58	00:20:56	00:21:33	00:21:39
5	01:26:35	Nick Butler, Southfork Racing.co.uk	00:19:56	00:22:19	00:22:22	00:21:58
6	01:29:05	Christopher Taylor, Wolverhampton Whls	00:20:01	00:21:36	00:22:58	00:24:30
7	01:31:43	Ross  Porter, Cwmcarn Paragon	00:21:47	00:22:48	00:23:14	00:23:55
8	01:33:49	Chris Schroder, Sarn Helen	00:21:44	00:22:55	00:24:35	00:24:36
9	01:34:19	Robert Orr, Matlock CC	00:22:05	00:23:11	00:24:29	00:24:35
10	01:34:48	Terry Breen-Smith, mtb-marathon.co.uk	00:22:04	00:23:43	00:24:45	00:24:17
11	01:37:09	Philip Bromwich, Evesham & District Whls CC	00:23:03	00:24:09	00:24:42	00:25:16
12	01:37:21	Paul Gibbons, Climb On Bikes CC	00:22:32	00:24:46	00:25:16	00:24:47
13	01:38:04	Jason Tompkins, Cycle Coaching Wales/Lodge Cycles	00:23:14	00:24:22	00:25:17	00:25:11
14	01:48:39	David Davies, TRCC (Towy Riders Cycling Club)	00:24:23	00:27:36	00:28:11	00:28:30
15	01:51:14	Steven Higgins-Worrall, Abergavenny Road Club	00:25:26	00:28:03	00:28:53	00:28:52
16	01:53:10	Alan Gardner, Bi-ped cycles	00:26:28	00:28:14	00:28:27	00:30:01
17	01:29:17	Sion Clarke, Onit Sports	00:27:34	00:30:06	00:31:37
18	01:36:10	Arwel Ace	00:29:27	00:33:27	00:33:17
19	01:43:24	LEYTON SHILLIBIER, RHIWRCIELIOG RIDERS	00:31:36	00:34:41	00:37:07
20	01:43:27	Ricky Macgough, mtb-marathon.co.uk	00:31:34	00:35:02	00:36:52
21	01:47:47	Gerwyn Evans, West Wales Cycle Racing Team	00:30:53	00:38:17	00:38:38

Series standings:

1 Lee Hayward	Southfork Racing.co.uk
2 Mark Spratt	Cardiff Jif
3 Nick Butler	Southfork Racing.co.uk
4 Chris Schröder	Sarn Helen

Strava and out.

Red Kite Devil's Challenge: I won, I won, I won, I won!!!!!

Star date: 7 Apr 2013
Location: Llanwrtyd Wells
Event: Red Kite Devil's Challenge 60k
Weapon of choice: Carbon singlespeed with dropper post and suspension forks
Greatest achievement: Winning!
Greatest weakness: Bonking!
Result: 1st!

You know those wildlife films where they follow some lonely furry critter that keeps limping on forlornly through the desert, getting thinner and thinner and slower and slower, until you start screaming at them to put the poor blighter out of its misery and end up having to turn the telly off?

That was me, that was. However...

We are the champions! We are the champions! No time for losers, cos we are the champions!

Did I mention that I won?

OK, so it wasn't a race, it was an event, a challenge. But I went as fast as I could, I wasn't the only one to do so, and I was first back over the 60k course, so I think it's fair to treat it as a first win.

That said, a challenge it was. Forty miles off-road in the Cambrian mountains with a whopping 7,500 feet of climbing and some really long, physically demanding descents. I've ridden further, but I've never climbed as far or descended as fast. It was an absolute beast - and, until I hit the wall, an absolute blast!

The climbs were both numerous and endless, but mostly on fireroads with very manageable gradients (except for some prat on a singlespeed who increasingly found himself hopping off the bike to conserve energy as the race went on). Of course, what goes up must come down - and the descents certainly made all the climbing worthwhile. They were fantastic. Enduro trails, rough doubletrack, singletrack old and new, a bit of everything. Steep, loose, rocky, rooty. Bedrock, mud, grass, snow. And all very rideable, thanks to the amazingly dry ground conditions. It would've been a very different story in the wet!

I've previously ridden four MTB Marathons in Wales and the descents have seemed few and far between, a little bit safe, ultimately a little bit disappointing - perhaps because they have to cope with up to a thousand riders, often in seriously wet weather. Today's course felt like what a marathon ought to be. Descent after descent after descent. Untamed and fun. Proper wilderness riding. It was an absolutely wonderful course, and although I currently feel like I'm never going to be able to ride again, I really hope I can do the next Red Kite challenge in the Elan Valley on 9 June, which promises to be even better. Apparently it will also have an insane 130k option, which I have to admit is very tempting...

 Just after the start. The calm before the storm. Photo: Red Kite Events

Of course, it was supposed to be a gentle ride, a chance to get some miles under my belt, get my mojo back, chill out and enjoy the stunning Welsh countryside. Especially as I was also beginning to lose the fight against a full-on man-cold. In fairness, I did have enough self-control to stick to the plan and do the 60k route, not the 80k. Nutter that I am, though, I chose to race it.

Unlike lapped races where you do everything three, four, five times and the course becomes etched into your brain, this was one big - BIG - loop and most of it is frankly a blur. It started with a big fireroad climb, naturally enough, and obviously I went up it faster than I should have, turning onto the first descent on the wheel of the leader and eventual clear winner over the 80k route, Gareth Payne. The first section of this descent was something of a baptism of fire - snow-covered ruts - but set the tone for the day. There followed many more climbs, a little rough moorland riding, a couple of stream crossings, and lots of loose, eroded enduro descents. Good old-fashioned mountain biking.

I never saw Gareth again after the first descent and rode the first half of the route in and around a group of five riders, including a couple of guys who've beaten me in XC races this year, so I was clearly pushing hard. I wasn't afraid to walk steeper climbs from the off, which would drop me back a little; whereas on gentler climbs I would catch up and push ahead; and on flat bits they'd sail past again, taking advantage of those infernal gear thingies all the young people seem to have these days. I also rode a couple of descents in the midst of this group, but I still find it hard not having a proper view of the trail ahead and having to trust the rider in front to have picked a sensible line. I was convinced my time was up a couple of times as rocks or drops appeared out of nowhere at speed, but ultimately my only two offs of the day were slow-motion affairs in unexpected pockets of mud and due entirely to a lack of concentration.

Stock photo from the Brecon Beast on last year's sunny day. Sadly no action photos at the Devil's Challenge, but it looked pretty much like this (except for the odd snowy bit).

Then, around 30k in, we went wrong. While shooting down a long fast fireroad descent we followed arrows pointing right and charged down a lumpy enduro trail through the forest. The more eagle-eyed among us smelt a rat. Yep, said arrows were indeed the wrong colour, orange not red. Turns out that after the Red Kite organisers marked up the course on Friday, someone had come along and put out a load of otherwise identical arrows for an upcoming motorbike event. We carried our bikes back up, meeting more riders coming down the fireroad and had one of those "what do we do now" pow-wows. Back up the big hill or carry on down? Eventually a local rider arrived who knew where we should be going. Best part of ten minutes lost, but at least we were on the right track again.

By now we had become a bunch of about 20 riders. I felt a bit flat - all of that effort staying with the leading group (bar the runaway leader) for nothing. There were some very good racers there and they'd had an easier ride so far.

There followed a short section along the A483 to cross from the Irfon Forest into the Crychan Forest for the second half of the ride. We rode this peloton-fashion, right on each other's wheels. Strangely enough, we'd been talking in the car on the way over about how hard drafting is and how MTBers never really do it. Cue salutary lesson in why they shouldn't. One clash of knobbly tyres and... yes, over they go like dominos across the road, other riders piling in from behind. It was real cartoon stuff. Luckily nobody was hurt, so it was OK to find it funny, if not to laugh out loud, and it was just what was needed to lift my mood.

So, another forest, another ****ing fireroad climb. But it's a good gradient for my gearing and I soon start pulling away from the main group. A bike passes me - sure enough another nutter on a singlespeed - but then drops away. Where did he go? Half-way down the next descent, two riders emerge from a side-track ahead of me. Where did they come from? I lose them too on the next fireroad climb.

Gazing up at the Alpine contours of the Sugar Loaf without wandering off the road is a familiar challenge on the drive up from Llandovery to Llanwrtyd. At one point today, though, the challenge was gazing DOWN at it without wandering off the trail...

I rush through the feed station at 40k, topping up my water bottle and grabbing a bit of cake I can't swallow. What happened to the others? Only one guy is with me now. Another strong climber, but I have the better of him on the descents (now there's a novelty). Eventually, though, just before the 60/80k split, I have to let him get away, as my back wheel keeps working loose and rubbing on the frame, so over goes the bike and out come the tools.

I rode the last 20k entirely on my own. I continued to enjoy the descents, but the climbs were getting very lonely and increasingly painful. After a while I started to lose it mentally as well as physically. I bonked. Big time. I just wanted to lie down across the fireroad and wait for someone to come along and call an ambulance. I couldn't turn the pedals. I could barely get off the bike without falling over. I forced myself to walk on, reminding myself over and over that this was my shot at a first win, it was mine for the taking, everyone else would be tired too, I just had to keep going. So on I went, driven by fear as much as anything, the fear of blowing that chance, and praying no bugger comes up the track behind me. One foot in front of the other, but increasingly like someone doing the walk-in-a-straight-line test after 15 pints. Urging myself on, fighting the delirium, the lethargy, telling myself that the climb couldn't go on forever. Except it could, and did. Around every corner, it seemed, lurked another ascent.

I never thought I'd say it, but bonking isn't fun.

The sun was out now too. My gels, energy drink and water were all gone. The tumbleweed was a-tumbling and the vultures were a-gathering. I was one of those guys lost in the Outback, cracking up both literally and figuratively, first walking, then stumbling, crawling, coughing blood, drinking their own pee, that kind of thing. (Not sure how they do it, though, to be honest. I drank 4½ litres of water during that race and didn't need to wee once!) I was just about to curl up and die when I remembered that I'd stashed an extra energy gel with my tools just in case. This lifted me psychologically (it wouldn't have had time to work physically) and got me to the top of the Hill from Hell.

I then freewheeled down the other side to find myself... at a feed station! Now on the one hand this was a really good thing - more food and water and a breather - and in hindsight it was probably what got me over the finishing line. On the other, it was worrying as there wasn't supposed to be a second feed station on the 60k route... And it was the same feed station as before, only approached from the other direction... And there were no arrows saying where to go, and the volunteers didn't know where I was supposed to go... Initially they tried to get me to do another loop of the bit I'd just done, and in the end they had to ring up to find out where to send me... I might have seemed a little tetchy... Sorry...

Another stock photo. The next generation takes the teddies for a spin. I could've done with a lift at this stage.

The break and the food gave me a second wind, but what happened next was downright cruel. I thought I was on the home straight. The long and winding road down the valley must surely lead back to base, what with my Garmin showing the 60k almost up. But no, the course turned out to be more like 65k and there was a whole extra off-road section to come, complete with a couple more climbs. And, thankfully, a couple of fun descents. As the first rider through I catch a couple of marshals napping. Shit, there's a rider. Bloody hell, he looks knackered. I ask how much further. Dunno comes the reply.

More confusion about the route ensues as I ride over my first-ever level crossing (imagine having to wait for a train mid-race!) and come face-to-face with riders heading towards me... It dawns on me that they might be doing the 30k route. I ask. No, they say, we're on the 80k, ha ha. Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer.

One more climb, one more descent, and then, out of the blue, it's not a mirage, it really is a terrace of red-brick houses. Yes, that was me, riding down Victoria Road, Llanwrtyd Wells, at three in the afternoon with the inane grin and tears of joy running down my cheeks. I did it. A win!

No cheering crowds, sadly, just a man with a clipboard. I head back to the car grinning like the Cheshire Cat and await my chauffeur (well done Gareth for winning the 80k!), so glad I'm not the one driving home. My Garmin shows 66.6 kilometres completed, how very appropriate for the Devil's Challenge. It wasn't the longest but it was definitely the toughest ride I've ever done. A real epic journey and a harsh lesson in sports nutrition. 50k of heaven and 15k of hell. But I finished. And I finished first, and on a singlespeed. And I'm well chuffed with that.

Legal note: Any impression whatsoever given that the above event was a race or was ridden as such is entirely coincidental.

Red Kite Winter XC Series Round 5: This is the end, my friend

Star date: 17 Mar 2013
Location: Coed Trallwm
Event: Red Kite Winter XC Series Round 5
Weapon of choice: Carbon singlespeed with dropper post and suspension forks
Greatest achievement: Finishing?
Greatest weakness: Where do I start?
Result: 11th overall / 2nd singlespeed

I've tried very hard to take some positives out of this one - and failed. So I didn't hurt myself or break the bike or come last. But the balance of the course wasn't quite right and nor was I.

This rather sums up my race: running a section that was perfectly rideable while grinning inanely. Photo courtesy of Roy Bevis.

The course was much the same as Round 4, which I enjoyed hugely, but with a few significant tweaks. We were warned at the start that parts "wouldn't be out of place in a downhill race" - and unfortunately that was no exaggeration. I've previously been a fan of Neil Delafield's little cheeky techy trails cut specially through the forest for each round of the series, but this time he went too far.

Downhill racers are raving lunatics with balls the size (and possibly texture) of coconuts and no trace of a hint of a sense of fear - and they still wear full-face helmets and body armour and ride bikes built like two-wheeled monster trucks.

I, on the other hand, am a middle-aged XC wuss with mild vertigo issues, a bike made of fairy dust and a keen instinct for self-preservation. The descent this time was beyond me.

Maybe I would've made it down if I'd been in better physical and mental shape and the ground had been bone-dry (er, hello, this is mid-Wales), but rain during the week left us sliding on a greasy layer of gluey wet stuff over a loose layer of sticky drier stuff (given that the Eskimos have 50 different words for snow, you'd have thought the Welsh would have at least that many for mud) with the exact consistency required to turn knobbly tyres into slicks and make clipping back into SPD pedals a case of square pegs and round holes for the duration of the descent.

This reminds me, obliquely, of my one and only visit to a homoeopath, whose first question was: "How would you describe your stools?" Of course I should've said: "Three-legged." But even after I got over the shock I remained at a loss for words - and I make my living as a linguist. OK, this was partly because I don't really take much of an interest in my, er, waste (despite the German surname, we don't have a loo with a viewing shelf), but there are some things the English language just isn't equipped to describe.

Winner Jonny Pugh striking a pose on the bit I ran above. Photo courtesy of Roy Bevis.

I digress. Yeah, this hill, right, it was bloody steep. And to add insult to injury, the guy at the bottom clearly hadn't been to Marshal School. Four times I passed him on bike or on foot, and not a single cheery, encouraging comment was forthcoming. Perhaps he was mute, I hear you say. But each time he also looked at me in a way that said, unequivocally, "I hate you, you big XC ponce, and I want to eat you."

Now I'm not averse to a bit of mud and a bit of running in an XC race, indeed it favours me. I'm also under no illusions about the limitations of my technical riding, but I got the impression that the descent was beyond most of the other riders too, and that even those who could ride it didn't. To be honest, even if it had been rideable, it would still have been a shame to lose so much height so quickly. The previous rounds' formula of a fast, flowing descent with short tricky bits was much more rewarding.

The smooth, surfaced trail down by the river. Undemanding but fun. Photo courtesy of Roy Bevis.

However... I must stress that I am very grateful to Neil and his crew of helpers and to Coed Trallwm for staging this series. I hope it becomes an annual event and I will be back every time just as long as they don't lose sight of who is riding these races - and it ain't downhillers - and remember that we want to be challenged rather than beaten by the course.

Of course this race was supposed to be the Big Decider for me in terms of singlespeeding or adding gears, but I didn't feel right at any point so it's hard to draw any conclusions. I still had sore ribs from Coed y Brenin and lacked energy and balance throughout. I lost all the people I considered my peers within a lap and a half, and I was walking bits of the climb on the second lap FFS. I coulda/shoulda/woulda stopped after three laps but decided to trudge up the hill for one last shot at some of the technical bits, only to find I was now too tired to go down (insert smutty comment of choice) as well as up.

Not sure whether I'm run down from overworking or overdoing it on the bike, or maybe it's this nagging piriformis injury (a right pain in the arse, boom, boom). Either way, I'm going to tone it down a bit for a while and just go out for fun. Might even turn off the Strava (gasp!).

I'm postponing any decision about gears as well. I have no races until 21 April anyway. Next event I have planned is another Delafield production - a long, slow Devil's Challenge in Llanwrtyd Wells on 7 April.

Totally uncontrived shot of the start. I hope we line up again for another series next year. Photo courtesy of Roy Bevis.