BEEP BEEEEP BEEPPEDY BEEPPP BEEEP!! Wehhhh, go away alarm. As
I mustered up every last ounce of 7.30am effort I could muster, in return I got
to see the most laughably half assed claw for my phone through the furry haze
that used to be my eyes. A little like one of those arcade machines that can
never quite grab the fluffy bunny or rubber duck that you never wanted in the
first place. With a couple more attempts, I got a hold of my phone/alarm and
squashed it til it cried no more.
The night before I'd gone to bed nice and early, last bit of
recovery before the last XC race of the season. Unfortunately, try as I might,
I was still counting sheep til long after midnight: maybe I slept too much over
Summer. Consequently, the battle to conquer what lay beyond my bed on Sunday
morning wasn't greeted with much valour.
Many scrambled eggs, spinach, fruit and a cold shower later,
I was beginning to feel a bit more rad. Dude. All out of beetroot juice though,
much emotional distress as a result. Got some clothes thrown in a bag, some tools
thrown in another bag, some powder thrown into some bottles, and some shaking
done to said bottles. The main man, of Team Maxbo fame, Barry Van Kellett, was
most generous in offering me a lift for the morning, so all was left to wait
for himself to roll up. And what better place than back to bed to wait. It's
tough at the top.
I'd say something nice about driving through Lurgan and
Craigavon, but I'd only be lying. Van Kellett stopped to buy a bottle of water
and I put on my scariest face and sucked some air into my biceps as I guarded
the bikes. Ross Kemp come at mah'.
Got to Craigavon Lakes, I know, a Cross Country
Mountain-Bike race around a pond, it doesn't make much sense, but it definitely
does make for much pain. Being relatively light, I can pull away from the
heavier strong-men on climbs as it's all power:weight, but with it being a
pretty flat track, power:weight ain't all that important, so I was promised an
absolute hammering session from my fellow S2 men. I could feel my little legs
tremble at the thought.
Some craic, a practice lap, and a race number with nothing
to attach it to my bike with, later, I got back to the car to catch some rays
before kick-off. Zak Hanna was also rolling in the Barrymobile for the day, so
myself and him lay back, ate some food and listened to some radio. Little did I
know how much that'd haunt me for the rest of the race. Little Mix, you aren't
even a real band.
Next up, I'd a warmup to do. I was chatting away to Richard
Stewart by the car, probably discussing some super serious tactical plans(...)
as usual, having the craic. A little shooting pain in my back. What's that now?
Hurt a bit, but not too bad, fairly sure I was imagining things, carried on
chatting. Normally a little shooting pain like that goes away after a second or
two, this one, not so much. Was just around my HR monitor so I thought maybe
I'd snagged it or something. Trying my best not to look like a wimp and carry
on conversation, I stuck my hand up to have a feel around. See if Van Kellett
had really gone as far to shoot me, to sabotage my chances of winning. Felt
something! Like a burr off a tree, the wee prickly thing must've jabbed me.
Went to pull it out, but as my fingers gripped it tighter, it was far too soft
to be a bur, not to mention the fact it was moving. STING! Again. It was a
bloody wasp stuck down my bib-shorts and I'd just been stung twice. Never a
dull day. Pulled the remains of the wasp out of my leg in utter disbelief. How
it got down my shorts I'll never know.
Got a relatively good warmup done as far as warmups go.
Started a bit early, and then ended a bit early. I managed to get my chain
stuck between two chainrings when shifting down off the big ring. Effort
Daveee. Took me a solid 5mins (which feels like 5hrs when your race starts in
about 10mins) and some very oily hands, to get it pulled back out. Ideal race
prep. Never sweated so much in my life.
I love this next photo. There were no S1 riders on the day,
this is the S2 field - the fastest men of the day - lined up with only minutes
to the race. I don't think I've ever seen such a chilled out start line. So much
awesome, what a fine bunch of men.
The man with the whistle blew
his whistle, (with relative ease and finesse, must be a Flo Rida fan) and we
were off. Stuart Ballantine got a class start, and I made my way towards
him as best as I could. The first few corners were absolute madness, what used
to be Craigavon's finest grass had turned to the slideyestest mud ever, and my
fine choice of a Specialized Renegade on the front and fairly worn Racing Ralph
on the rear meant I was going nowhere unless it was sideways. I'd've been safer
bringing some ice-skates.
For the first time of
the day, things had gone to plan and I'd got clear of everybody else (apart
from Stu) so had plenty of time and room to get round the corners in one piece.
Got past Stu and was on my own for a couple of seconds, but that definitely
wasn't the plan. I hadn't mentioned this yet, I don't know how I'd forgotten,
but the race was 6 laps. 6 LAPS! Yes the tracks are always different, but we
generally do 4 laps, and my shagged knees limit my endurance training a lot.
Not good! So the plan was to sit in 2nd for as long as I could and let somebody
else worry about pacing. If I could make it to the end, super, if I couldn't,
shame, if I made it to the end with enough left in the tank to get into 1st,
perfect.
Robbie Lamont came past, and Simon Curry and Ross Blayney
were with us too, along with Stuart. The first lap was fast. I was sitting in
4th when Stuart attacked before Craigavon's one and only hill that we happened
to be going up, up the back of the course. Which normally would've been grand,
but this part of the trail was only wide enough for one bike, so I'd no mission
of getting round those infront of me and onto Stuarts wheel. I sat there as he
picked up ground, nothing I could do. Thankfully the trail then came to an open
grassy bit, so I was able to get round and catch upto him again. Sit in 2nd,
plan.
We were riding fast through the singletrack, really fast. Normally I'm super focussed in a race, there's
not much to think about when you're chewing on air for all its worth, but with
such a long race, it was a little different this time. That sitting in the car
earlier, so unassumingly listening to Radio 1, chilling out. Well from that,
that new Little Mix song was firmly wedged between my ears, and flippsake but I
could hear nothing else. My thoughts went a little something like, 'corner,
brake, pedal, mamma told me not... corner, brake, mamma told.. corner, pedal,
pedal, mamma told me not to waste my life, she said... sprint, corner, mamma
told me not to waste my life, she said spread your wings my little butterfly..
etc.' . For-ever. I was by no means ever a Little Mix fan, but I actively
dislike them now. Horrfic. 'least it wasn't Nicki Minaj.
Skip forward a bit, Robbie, Simon and Ross caught up, and
Stuart disappeared. For the next couple of laps we swapped places, but everyone
was looking very strong. I was able to copy all the sneaky XMTB lines and it
was brilliant fun to be riding with other people after spending so much time
racing out on my own all year! What an experience it was to race. I kid you not:
we met a horse, dogs, an old lady raking her mobility scooter, and countless
parents and kids all over the trail. More people in 90mins than Davagh forest has seen in its lifetime!
The track was taking no prisoners, and after gobbling up
Stu, Ross was the next to go, breaking his seat or something on the Ice Rink...
And then there were three. From here, there were probably one or two laps to
go. Very, very fortunately I wasn't as tired as I'd have expected, all was
going to plan. We lost Simon somewhere, and then there were two! If disaster
stayed at bay, we'd be on the podium. Sweeet as. For the last lap, my legs were
feeling like they would love a good cramp, so rather than attacking, I held
onto Robbie's wheel and rode as conservatively as possible... as you can see.
Got to the same bit as Stuart had attacked at the start of
the race, just a hill and the slippy corners to go, and attacked. Thankfully my
legs played ball, and we sprinted up the hill. Slid round the corners, sprinted
up some more hills, and I'd pulled away by a reasonable distance. Eased it off
a bit and spun over the line, job done. 1hr 36mins of racing, I could feel
every second. Couldn't have asked for a better finish to the season. A hell of
a lot tougher than usual, but such tight races are fantastic justification for
every night spent sleeping, and every morning spent training, when all me mates
are out on the rip. I love racing me bike.
Big thanks to everyone who's helped me out in any way over
the season especially me mammy and daddy for putting up with me. As always,
Rynopower and Green Oil have been a dream to use, Rynopower is so far ahead of
the game, and Green Oil does everything and more you could ever ask of it. To
everyone who's done my bottles, given me a lift, cheered me on, read this blog,
looked pretty with me on podium photos, taken photos, given me advice or lent
me parts, I love you, srs.
Next up is my first ever season of Cyclocross, from October
to January. Excited.
Monty's 2012 XC Season, over and out. Thanks again.
