Mud, Sweat, and, emmm Little Mix.. (Ulster XC Series Round 6 - Craigavon)

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.

Lady Dixon - XC NPS 4

After round 3 back in Tracton, I was not in a good shape. It most definitely cut my life expectancy by far too many years. Me back was broke, I couldn't walk on my left calve, and then I got a throat infection. I'm not even just gurning for the sake of gurning, I had to get me mummy to put on my socks and shoes for I couldn't Ben Dover, thankfully her mind isn't logical enough to realise that there was no reaching my feet in the shower either...

Many hours spent sleeping(it's a tough life), painkillering, hobbling round the house, and the back was getting better, and I've just got used to my left calf being a selfish brat. But then came the throat. Oh baby. There's only so many Soothers a man can eat in one day! Yearly recommended sugar allowance within a week, not to mention whatever other crap is in there. Difflam spray is class at numbing your throat, but unfortunately every bite of food still went down like a fire breathing cross between a rock and a cactus. That combined with not being able to sleep for more than 3hrs at a time: negative craic. So much so I was tidying my room at 4am one morning.. Disclaimer before the mums and dads force-feed their kids Soothers and Difflam.

2 weeks, 2hrs of bicycle riding. (n-2hrs) of thinking. Very dangerous. Not recommended.

Throat started clearing up a bit on Thursday, so rested and then took the bike out on Friday, hoping to get a few taper intervals done and get the software reinstalled in the legs. All good, got myself a new Strava KOM and all, buzzin'. Then came Saturday morning, and Friday's heavy breathing and time spent in a Sauna far too close some hairy 'big boned' men, had me back on the ever-diminishing anti sore throat collection, wondering whether I could race at all on Sunday or not.

Mummy thought I was wise not racing. Father couldn't believe a cold was stopping me. After Saturday morning spent reading as many stories of people racing with deadly throats as I could and checking the corresponding obituaries when I'd time in between forcefeeding my throat remedies. Turns out not many people died from racing with no throat, so I thought I'd head up to Lady Dixon for a practice lap or two and decide after that.

I'd write about that, but I want to get to bed at some stage before sunrise, you probably do too.

T'was Sunday morning, all lubed up with Green-oil's dry wax, digestive system lubed up with Rynopower's carbs and a few electrolyte tablets - not sure whether they give you diarrhoea or take it away - the mighty Saab's engine was ignited and wheels got turning in the direction of Lady Dixon park. Well, beforehand, I'd forgot to close the lid on the protein shaker and most of it was over the floor, left half the toolkit at home, but I HAD remembered to put my contact lenses in for the first time in many centuries, so everybody was smiling.

Got cruising did I and Father, and rolled into the Park before long. Thanks to XMTB for trying to tell me I'd missed sign-on even though I was an hour early, and Martin Grimley reiterating this ;) Take me to your time machine.. Got some fancy waxy rope rather than cable ties to put on my number, so was already saving grams on all the early sign-er on-ers of S2, loving it.. until I was tying the bottom one nice and tight round the head-tube to be super dooper aero, and it ripped through the number. Saving more grams. Was good to see Matthew Adair showing his face, and huge thanks to his family for doing my bottles!
Also I love good weather. I love how suddenly it's deemed appropriate for everyone to walk around with no top on. Why isn't it like that all the time. Best not to stand chatting round the toilets to other men while sporting the topless look though..

Brought my turbo, but couldn't decide whether I wanted to use it or not, there was already little enough grip on my rear tyre let alone sticking her on the grindstone on a hot day! Jumped on anyway as I'd nothing better to do. Oh boy. If you've too little money for a mx bike, but too much to have any sense, buy a hardtail and stick a Specialized Renegade tyre on the rear, on a turbo, and get some mx videos on. Some major clutching and throttle was given, and I got the engine worn in. As tempted as I was to stay and race my imaginary mx friends, Martin Grimley was getting sweatier and sweatier over by the start line, so I thought I better head over and get gridded.

A nice gridding spot was had, 2nd man in on the 2nd row. After a bit of a laboured start, the effects of my super pro warmup wearing off, and beginning to need the toilet a little, we finally set off and all further humanely thoughts were ejected. Animal time. First corner was always gonna be interesting, sprint into 90 degrees right hander, luckily I got by a few boys and got a smooth enough line through it, not too many elbows brushed. First section was carnage, a fairly large tree in the middle of the track that didn't seem to want to move for anybody, as good as their game of chicken was. Riders going everywhere, roost going everywhere, lethal craic.

Held her steady for the first lap, probably started in about 10th, think I came across the line 2nd in the first lap, happy days. I'm not gonna lie, I've no idea what happened after that. Just know I managed my main goal of not falling off, and was cornering fairly smooth by the end, so fairly happy. Got into first in the 2nd lap I think, then held it steady, thinking it was plain sailing from here. Pass a few s1s, pass a few ladies, then realise there's someone hanging about my tail. Ahhh go away.

Think it was lap 3 as he got closer I realised it was the man himself Marc Potts. Started off in A4 cat. on the road this year and is almost an A1 now. Man is a machine. The race had just begun.

Coming across the line onto the final lap I said to him to go on by, being the tactical genius that I am(not), I thought he'd probably be quicker in the singletrack, and I could slipstream him a bit on the grass, so it would all be much more civilised with me behind him rather than the other way round. Inevitably he didn't pass, ah balls, smash the singletrack and see if he can hold me. By this stage I was loving the singletrack, on the 4th lap lines be dialled. Pulled a couple of seconds on him occasionally, but I don't know whether I was going fast or he couldn't be bothered being tight on my wheel, as he always seemed to be dangling around my rear like a dingleberry.

Sat on the limiter for the grass, trying to make the most of a passing a few backmarkers and having a man between us both, but there wasn't much loosing him. Drank all me juice in a tactically genius realisation that my bike would be lighter if the contents of my bottle were in me, and I'd go faster. Maybe this helped, maybe it didn't, but by the bottom of the last climb towards the finish line, Marc was still behind me. Meanwhile I think my quads were still somewhere halfway round the lap, I'd dropped them somewhere, for every time I stopped pedalling came on a deadly cramp, my legs were crying out for their fallen friends on the battlefield. 

Slacked off a bit, again thinking I can save some energy if I ride behind him up this last open climb, and then hopefully pip him just before the line if I make it. Turned out as he came past, there were 2 S1 riders on his wheel, or something that seemed a lot more complicated than i'd expected. Then coming into the corner before the climb there was a lady rider, and he got infront of her, but I was stuck behind her in the corner. Basically I rode my spherical bits off to catch him again, but such a ship had long sailed. Crossed the line a couple of seconds back, 2nd S2 and 1st Junior.

Fairly happy, bike stayed in one piece, I drank up well, and spent no time on the ground. Quite the opposite to Tracton.

Well done to Marc for winning S2, Barry for not being last in the sprint, Dan for riding round in 3 gears, Matt for being Matt, Gareth for 2nd in S1, Findhan for riding round in a cotton t-shirt in 25 degrees, Simon for coming 4th S2, and I haven't seen the results so I don't really know how anybody else did, but if you did well, well done. And a huge thanks to XMTB for an awesome event, and Martin Grimely for keeping things running. Big up the Green Oil and Rynopower. Oh and thanks to everybody who took photos. If I stole yours and you don't like that, let me know. I'm sure I've forgotten somebody, for that I apologise, but its inevitable.

Skinsuits rock. Monty, out.

I may or may not add some more photos when I find them.

Oh and my throat is sore again, thanks for asking. I have my recovery tights on though so hopefully it'll be ok.