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.

Irish XC NPS 6, Davagh Forest

Today, some boys ran round a field, faffing around after a ball on tv, and falling over a bit. Closer to home, some boys sat on motorcross bikes, ploughed a field in Desertmartin and blew apart some old ladies' hearing aids. The real men, you'll have found in Davagh Forest, in a fearsome battle against every force mother nature could bring, armed only with some bottles of juice and a bicycle. Man vs. much mud and many midges. Heroes of war we should all be crowned, for just surviving.

As I finally scrape enough of Davagh Forest's finest mud out of what's left of my eyes to get two clear bits I can see through, I guess it's time to put some words down. I was told once that if you've a couple of sore bits, the body tends to pick up the worst pain most, and forget about the other ones. After punching my arm silly before going into the dentist's one day, coming out tail firmly between my legs: throbbing arm, some deadly painful holes were there used to be teeth, and an incredible vengeance at who-ever was winding me up, I was less than convinced. Only today did it strike me where I went wrong all those years ago: I needed a yellow bottle of 'midge repellent cream', that someone had used all up, then decided to keep their Hydrochloric Acid in. Who's was that? Boyyyy did it burn. Suddenly all the other niggles disappeared, my brain seemed much more concerned that the skin on my face was about to disappear too. I may stick to the Skin So Soft in future...

As I left the house, with only the directions on Carn Wheelers's website and my worse than awful sense of direction, I tapped 'Davagh Rd' into the Sat Nav... 'road not found'. Hmm. I'll try the next mentioned road. 'Sixtowns Rd'... 'road not found'. Technology, eh. This was looking good already!

We finally got up to Davagh late Saturday evening. Most of my family lives up around that end of the country, so I thought it'd be handier to get a lap in on Saturday, kip up at Granda's for the night, then scoot back over to Davagh in the morning for my day's bog snorkelling. At about 7.30pm, mother and myself pulled into an empty carpark in the furthest depths of nowhere's rear end, and Mum's expectations of a happy little camping village with lots of nice people on bikes milling about, fell faster than the Greek economy. Definitely a potential spot for a good scary movie. Didn't have contact lenses in, do have a box of 30 of them or something, but thought I'd save them to the big day, counting my pennies. While lying on my head in a bush in the first section, I decided it would've probably been better if I could see where I was going.

Looked at some fancy lines through the first section, tried riding them, fell off some more, and eventually just thought screw it, we'll probably still be congested by this stage so I'm not going to make or lose much time: ride the main line. Some technical climbs and descents round the rest of the track made for great fun, but it was a true hard-man's course, no let-up at all; pedal, pedal and pedal some more. Tyre choice was going to be a huge factor. Mud tyres seemed logical, for half the track was riding through bottomless bog, but then the other half of the track was smooth singletrack or fireroad. Oh what to do? Go with my worn out driest tyres obviously. Semi-slick Specialized Renegade on the front, kinda grippy Schwalbe Racing Ralph on the rear: it would be doing the steering.

Fast forward a bit to race day, woke up and the sky was still leaking; the track wasn't gonna be any drier anyway. Race was off at 2pm, so hopped on the turbo at about 1.45 and got some blood moving in the legs. Let out as much liquid weight as possible, and headed down to the line. Gridding got started for the mighty men of S2 and our Junior selves, and I was on the front row somehow, awesome. There was no pressure for a good start as the track had about a mile of fire road climbing before any singletrack suffering began. That said, I still did intend to put my foot into my pedal rather than the ground as the whistle went(or whatever they do to start the race, is it only me that honestly can't remember!?), but didn't quite get it in, so was about 20th before I knew it. 

Up the fireroad it was crazy as usual. People ducking and diving everywhere, one side of the road to the other, anywhere there was a gap, or they thought there was a gap, they'd jump into it. More times than not it was only in their imagination, resulting in the glorious tune of tyre buzzing and f'ing announcing our arrival. Men and mice separated, we hit the first bit of bog, through a puddle, or pond moreso, and then a slip and slide down til we hit the gravel singletrack. Would've loved to have been a spectator for that bit, boys everywhere and every shape. Thankfully there's not much else to do where I live than ride around fields, and most of the time it's raining, so I was well used to the terrain.

Got through the start loop and onto the main track, sitting in 5th or so at this stage. Unfortunately Moses was no-where to be seen as we neared the red sea, so we could do nothing but ride through it and hope for the best every lap. Pre-jumped into it and held on tight. Hit the thing so hard on my 3rd lap my front foot clipped out on the impact!

Still a couple of people infront of me, so put in a good effort to get by them to get to the trenches first in the hope I wouldn't lose too much time on my dry tyres. As promised, this bit was deadly. Was like nature's own turbo trainer, you could sit there and pedal as hard as you like and still make no ground. Only managed to clear the whole thing once in my 4 laps, but it was great fun just trying to keep the bike upright and moving in it. Back onto a fireroad descent, into 1st now.

After that I just held it steady and gave her the beans every time I caught a glance of an S1 rider on up the trail. Tried my best not to slack on the fireroads to ensure I was doing my dry tyres worthwhile. Many many slips and slides came and went, to be expected on that type of track. Brilliant fun had. All overshadowed by almost losing it on a super high speed but really tight little bit of gravel singletrack towards the end of the lap though. Must've been doing a solid 20mph as my front wheel caught the inside of the corner, front end started to fold, all my weight went over the front, rear end started to slide a lot, all the ingredients for the perfect face first smash. Thankfully my foot magically appeared and saved my life... and then got caught in the hedge and the whole thing started to happen again! Like there wasn't enough soil in my bib shorts already! Some great descents on the track though, most of them were fairly high speed slidey rooty bits, kept you on your toes.

One of the bridges in the boggy bit had no wire mesh on the first half of it. Front wheel popped on fine, this was going to be ok, back wheel on, go to pedal off it... ABORT! Feet were only starting to dry out a bit after the river crossing, then boom, both feet in half a foot of water and half a foot of muck below it. Need a better offroad diff installed! Eventually by the 4th lap I'd caught on that riding over them would be quicker than falling into them; eased off a bit and made it over. Just.

Caught me bud Matt Adair halfway round the last lap, so cruised with him in to the finish. Crossed the line for the last time, 1st S2 and 1st Junior, happy days. Matt was shouting at me to come for another lap, but as tempting as it was, I'm still carrying far too many injuries to be able to risk doing any more than required! Laughed at him having to drag his body round the battlefield for another lap, and took the much more inviting fire-road back to the car, to get some food.

Big thanks to Rynopower and the much needed Green Oil for the support. The bike cleaner was definitely of use! Thanks to Carn Wheelers for the class show they put on (lovely trophies too), Martin Grimley for keeping things running smoothly, all of the photographers, me mummy for taking me down, Brian Kellett for doing my bottles, everybody that moved over when I called 'rider up', all of S2 for leaving me alone, and Paddy and Stuart for a big hug on the podium. Oh and whoever supplied the box of bananas at the end can't be forgotten either, cheers!

Monty, out.