IronHorse Extreme

Welcome Our '09 Team Pimp My Ride Tales of Adventure Seven Deadly Spins Sponsors Links Tales of Adventure Click to go to Josh's Blog D2D - by Josh For me Dusk till Dawn was the most important race which I have taken part in. This season has been extremely important to me as a rider. After a few years of difficulty due to overtraining (both physically and mentally) I finally managed to sort myself out and have a good solid winter of training and began racing consistently again. However my break-through came when I won the Torchbearer 12h race at 24/12 (my first 12h race). This was a major achievement for me as I finally began believing in myself as a race winner although admittedly the field at the Torchbearer 12h was not the strongest. Dusk till Dawn represented an opportunity for me to take on the best Enduro riders in the country and see how I faired. So there I was sat on the front line at the start of the race. I had worked out a race plan in my head beforehand. I knew that I needed to get close to the front and get clear of the pack to avoid bottle necks at the start. I also figured that it would be better to be near the front and drop back then start at the back and fight my way up. The favourites for the race were defending champion Matt Page and my former IronHorse-Extreme team mate Antony White. For plan was to start fast and then tag onto one of their wheels as they have much more experience than me. If the pace was to fast then I’d simply let them go and ride a pace I knew was sustainable. At 8 o clock the gun went off and we set off on the short start loop paced behind the quad bike. I managed to get right to the front early and set a quick pace off the start. About halfway round the first lap a group of four was established including Matt, Antony, Adi Scott and myself. Adi punctured at the end of the lap and Matt had some problems and had to stop in the pit leaving me and Antony out front. We stayed together for 2 laps, although he was faster on the first half of the lap I caught him by the end of each lap. By lap 4 Matt had caught us and we cruised around together for a while. At the halfway point we were still together but I had to make a pit stop to change lights. Matt and Antony carried on through so I decided that I’d settle in at my own pace and not dig deep to try and catch them, after all there was still 6h to go! So I cruised around for a few laps at a sensible pace expecting Ant and Matt to be battling it out for the win. I was quite content at this point as I was in third place and had been setting the pace for the best guys in the country in only my second 12h race. Imagine my surprise then when I caught Matt with 3hours to go followed by Ant 10minutes later! We were all back together entering the final phase of the race. By this point the consistent rain had caused the course to deteriorate rapidly. Every lap was getting worse and some sections were hard enough to stay upright on let alone go fast. By now I was setting the pace for Ant and Matt again, as I was feeling strong. Half way through the lap Antony dropped off the pace, although it took me half a lap to realise he wasn’t actually there! This was an unbelievable scenario for me… I’d just dropped 2 times mountain mayhem champion in the biggest 12h this year with 2h to go and only Matt for company… I had to pinch my self to make sure it was happening! However near the end of the lap a slight lapse in concentration in the worsening conditions cause me to make a fatal mistake. The course was changing all the time and I managed to hit a rut which had developed sending me sprawling into the bushes. Matt saw his chance and took it lifting the pace. Entering the last 2 laps I was a minute behind and furious with my self for my schoolboy error. I gave it all I had to catch Matt but unfortunately it wasn’t enough. By the last lap I was totally spend and I had to focus on getting to the finish rather than trying to win. After what felt like the longest lap in history I finally crossed the finish line over 13hours after we began. Congratulations to Matt for winning, his speed over the last 2h was impressive and I’m sure he would have won anyway but I wish I could have pushed him further. Also congratulations to Antony, the three of us had a great battle and it was a pleasure to race them. Thanks to my pit crew for looking after me all night and especially thanks to my team IronHorse-Extreme who have helped me so much this year and also Thetford Mtb Racing for organising a great event. I’m glad the year is over, it’s been a long one and I’m looking forward to a bit of time off and a few beers. Hopefully I’ve managed to establish my self as on of the top 12hour racers this year and I’m looking forward to taking on the guys in 2009! www.josh-ibbett.blogspot.com/ Click to go to Clive's website Dowka Marathon Downhill - Bovec, Slovenia As the sport of mountain biking goes from strength to strength it would seem that there is one element in particular that has grown in popularity over the last few years - Marathon DownHill. One of my latest adventures took me to the picturesque country of Slovenia for there first ever event of this type. The course descended over 1700m in 14km and I estimated run times of 25 min would be posted by anyone who was fairly competent, up top we had to ride down a piste consisting of fine granite dust through to football sized rocks, this stuff was super steep and super scary to ride, it was like snow on de frost only with less grip, the best way to get your head around it is to imagine riding down a shingle beach at 60 deg, words just can not describe how gnarly it was riding solo let alone elbow to elbow. After the piste calmed down into the tree line there was a short up hill section before dropping into the “bike park”. This mid section was used for the qualification runs and was just awesome fun, super single track with lots of exposed rock, tight lose turns on the loamy forest floor and then a super gnarl single track rock garden that went on for about 4km, I was informed that this “path” was created by the Italians in the first world war lugging ammunition and supplies into the former Yugoslavia, if only the mountain bike had been invented.... The bottom section consisted of forest track and country lanes that traversed the hillside for another 3-4km before descending on tarmac into the town centre. Saturdays - Qualification The format for qualifying was a new one to me, we were to run solo up against the clock down the bike park section of the main course, this did include a short climb and traverse but the advantage would go to the dh orientated rider. For this reason I decided to run with the IH Sunday and not my usual Horse the 6Point. With a slow 70’s chairlift practice on the Friday was limited and most riders only got to see the course once or twice, this would bode well for the locals who had come out in force all gunning for that €2000 first place prize money. My run went average to say the least, A steady first section and I discovered myself riding into a piece of tape that was not there the day before in practice, I hopped off the bike walked back up hill and stood staring at trails that I did not recognize, I eventually (after reminding myself I was in a race) jumped on and continued on what luckily turned out to be “the line”, I nailed myself on the traverse to make up for the error and pinned it on the climb, my effort was worth it and I qualified in 6th spot with a time just over 8 minutes, fellow Brit Jonathan Tubman was not so lucky and suffered 2 punctures and would be starting from way down the grid. Slovenian Junior national champ Nejc Rutar was the fastest down the hill with a very impressive run time of 7min 58sec. I thought all would be good for the main event with a start position on the first row (typically 20/25 riders at Maxi and Mega events) but was a bit disappointed to find that it would only be 5 riders per line thus demoting me to row 2 on the grid for the main event. On the upside they had been filming the event for Eurosport and various Slovenian Tv channels, fair play to the organizers for pulling out all the stops on the publicity front. In the evening they had a band play in the town center and all the locals got a chance to join in and party the night away. I however was tucked up in bed so I would be ready for the early start and the long lift to the top. Sunday - Race day. The laid back attitude was a welcome relieve and for once we had time in the morning to prepare, this proved to be a good thing, it gave the sun chance to burn off the morning cloud and we had another sunny hot Slovenia day on our hands. I had feared it may be a damp start and some slippery lime stone could have dealt the pack all sorts of problems. We arrive up top and the glare from the “white mountain” was almost to much, the concept of riding down this piste at pace was daunting enough let alone with a whole load of lunatics, the last thing we needed was any more obstacles to overcome. With a little shuffle of bikes and bodies we finally lined up in some sort of order and prepared for the off. There is always an air of anticipation unlike any other start grid I have sat in, as the helicopter got closer and closer we all knew the time to haul arse was upon us. The signal was given and I pinned it out the start, only to come to my senses and almost immediately grab a load of rear brake and begin the process of trying to maintain some sort of control over the situation. This surface is like no other, if you touched the brakes the bike would snake about and squirm around under you, if you let them off you had no chance of slowing to make anything like a turn, add to this the drifting “off line” and into larger and larger holes and rocks and you still get no idea of quite how bizarre and nerve racking this was. Everyone thinned out into the very familiar chain gang and gaps were appearing between riders and the more distinctive “fast” group out front and “not so fast” group bringing up the rear. I sat on the back of the fast group and waited my turn to serve up a portion of punishment. The first climb came and I needed to make up some time, a few mistakes in the upper section had cost me, I pinned the climb and made up some positions and ground, the flowing singletrack that followed was bliss and I gapped the 2 guys behind, another small climb and the gap ahead closed but was looking like a big effort would be needed in the lower section if I were to close it down. The next 4km of rock strewn singletrack took it toll and after a km of false flat on forest tracks my 4th place was being threatened by an attack from the 2 guys behind, I had nothing left in the tank and could drive the pedals round no faster, the gap closed and on the last 2 rises the guys passed me and I could not respond, with a km of flat and 2km of road down into town I settled down and accepted my fate, maybe my effort on the upper climb was to much, maybe I have just done to much riding this season, who knows.. I was stoked to see hoards of people in town cheering us all on and from a country where mountain biking is banned on certain trails. Oh yer let me try and clear that little myth up for you. From my understanding after in depth conversations with many locals regarding this matter I can conclude the following.... Mountain biking (as it is in the UK) is banned from trails of a particular nature and in the entirety of the National Park. There seems to be a miss interpretation of the wording used to describe the situation. So one more report to follow before I hide away for winter, Italy next stop for the final round of this years Saab Salomon Avalanche Trophy, who will win that swanky estate car? Watch this space to find out.... www.ss01mbc.com Click to go to Rob's Blog MaXx Exposure - by Rob... With the press release live regarding my new “Seven Deadly Spins” project, and having spent the whole week on holiday working to get the wheels well and truly moving towards my new goals, it felt slightly surreal to be sat on the grass at the entrance to Queen Elizabeth Country Park waiting for a coach to take me to the start of the MaXx Exposure. Such a great feeling though, sat in the sun, anticipation of the ride ahead tangible amongst everyone gathered. Lots of questions to field regarding my new direction, but also regarding my immediate intentions for the night that lay ahead. I wasn’t expecting any more from myself than a good steady ride; some kind of respectable position if all went to plan. The old nutshell of “it isn’t a race, it’s a challenge ride” cropped up and we all threw our wood on the fire and laughed in unison. Anyone who thinks you can allow more than rider to enter an event and expect them to all cruise home without battle commencing just simply hasn’t been paying attention in life have they? Ever? Laws, rules, whatever, simple fact of life = humans are competitive. So with the sun setting over Eastbourne, and the sea gradually blending to one with the sky, we pointed our bars back to the West and prepared not to race each other the 80 or so miles back across the South Downs Way! For the first time since I picked up a bike 15 years ago and started racing I became aware that others were watching me. It was very obvious that plenty were expecting something more from me than my own anticipated performance. As we left the start the pace was amazingly subdued, almost as if no one, myself included, dare make a move that would unleash a crazy dose of high speed chaos into the approaching envelope of darkness. As we took on the first couple of short climbs it was immediately apparent that there were three very strong riders with their sights set on being the first guy back to QECP. All of them were stronger than me, that I was certain, but strength and fitness are only two tools from the box and besides the SDW has her own way of rewarding or punishing those who dare to venture across her contours. So into the first real descent and the first twist was unleashed as the rider I felt was the strongest among us took a puncture and was left to repair as we darted away from his fate. I fully expected to see him again but was to later discover he’d suffered no less than 5 punctures before making it to the finish! Luck has this way sometimes, so cruel. As each mile passed their were less of us, until eventually just myself and Charlie (Eustace) were left in each others company. The two of us took it in turns to set the pace, open and close the gates, and give each other a little punishment along the way. The miles passed, smells and views, and blissful motion as the world seemed to roll below my wheels like a delightful dream as animals dart for cover... Rabbit... rabbit... rabbit... BADGER!… The whole world skids, slides, glides and in a second I’m all but consumed by the sickly smashing around my skull and a searing wave like spikes thrusting through my entire body! It spins, and aches and all my cells scream at me like a million alarms ringing in my ears. Black, dark, stars, dizzy. Have no doubt, you absolutely do not want a badger to come between your front wheel and the trail! Charlie standing over me, looking down “are you ok?” “man that hurts… thank you for stopping” “no worries Rob, we’re all in it together” As I come to my feet the world spins a little then settles. That hurt, that hurt A LOT, but at least I’m not properly broken and so tell Charlie to get on with his ride while I continue onto the first checkpoint. He’s reluctant, I can tell, Charlie's true colours come through, a true gent and I am humbled. He waits for me at the next gate, looks me in the face and we both realise that I will be OK and we head always onwards, Charlie with his mission, me with the need to just chill and get to checkpoint 1 in one piece, and with that he is gone. Approaching checkpoint 1 I realise that I’m not stopping. I don’t know why, don’t question it, or the logic, I just know that I’ll not be pulling out just yet. Concerned faces and a few questions and I’m back out into the darkness with my music playing and a feeling of pure indulgence smoothing out the pain. Charlie comes back into view! Gradually the gap shortens, then lengthens, then shortens so suddenly that I know something is wrong. His bike is up-side-down and as I pass and hear confirmation that he has everything he needs to fix it I’m torn between stopping anyway or cracking on. I decide that he’d not want to beat me back because I waited for a puncture; he’s a real good guy but he’d still love to kick my arse! For miles and miles I lead in utter disbelief whilst knowing, almost with a feeling of relief, that someone is gaining on me. At the halfway check I’m still first man but know I’ll not hold the chasing rider at bay. He’s either stronger or risking all to catch me, and catch me he will, but which rider is he? His name is Rob (good name for an endurance athlete;-) and I’ve never met him before. We ride side-by-side for a few miles, enjoying the night, chatting away like we have not a single care in the world. The dude really, really doesn’t realise how good he is but should have a damn fine idea now. He’s absolutely stoked to be at the head of affairs but completely deserves to be there and dances away into the night as I marvel at the ease with which he does so. But no panic, do I hear anyone singing? No, so therefore it’s not over is it? I continue onwards at my own pace, fueling the engine, fighting the pain, wrestling the cramp and keeping the glow of his lights just within reach. Because when he punctures, and how the hell did I know that would befall him? I’ll be back in the lead and on my way to checkpoint 4 at the Cocking road crossing! For some weird, spooky reason my friend Scott is at checkpoint 4. How does he do that? When Scott turns up out of the blue only one thing ever happens. I’m starting to wonder if he even exists of if he’s some sort of “god of endurance” who pops out now and then and bestows his powers to me on loan for a bit! Rob Lee “bike racer” left Eastbourne six hours ago and now I’m gonna leave him all over this trail for good. I’ve never ridden a bike faster than I did from Cocking to the entrance of QECP. For the first time ever I threw every single ounce of caution to the wind and revved the engine to the max. It roared. I stamped my bike to the top of the last climb and lifted it to the sky and screamed, absolutely released, free, unleashed, the overwhelming feeling of everything primal that still exists deep within us that all the teachings and trappings of our society and culture deny and protect us from. AMAZING. I wasn’t at the finish line but realised without any doubt that I’d found MY finish. I lay my bike on the floor, took off my helmet, looked up into the beautiful, awesome, clear as my mind, night sky, breathed in the deepest most gorgeously wholesome breath and said goodbye to the racer that was. Did I find the thing I’ve been looking for as soon as I stopped looking for it? Maybe I did, maybe I’m crazy, or maybe I’m just a little bit too honest? And with that I picked up my bike, freewheeled down the last hill, popped a wheelie as I crested the last rise and then cruised into camp as a very happy man who really loves riding his bike. Roll on 2009, next stop: Adventure... sevendeadlyspins.blogspot.com/ Torq in your Sleep 12 Hour - By Rob... Since I broke the South Downs Double record back in May this year I have been struggling to regain my health and retain my fitness. June and July were low points but into August things started to turn around and with health returning I’ve been gradually rebuilding the hard earned fitness that has slowly, but steadily, slipped away. Being a long distance endurance racer presents a problem when returning from illness in that it’s very difficult to work out just when would be sensible to start racing again. Riding a bike offroad for 12 hours is no small task at the best of times, often it is the very nature of the event that causes the problems in the first place, and being competitive is a whole different league. Sometimes you just have to bite the bullet, enter an event with a view to using it as training, and hoping you have the sense to know the difference between it getting really tough, because at some point it will, and digging a great big hole that takes you back to rock bottom. This weekend I entered the Torq in your Sleep 12 hour with that goal in mind and a deep feeling of apprehension. Having not done anything competitively since May I was starting to feel a bit like I’m letting my team and sponsors down. It’s easy to feel this, I’ve got a lot of commitment to them and a deep ingrained sense of obligation to honour those who back what I do. I have to remind myself that breaking the record was actually a pretty big accomplishment and sometimes, when you lay everything on the line to achieve such goal, there can be a real health and/or fitness cost involved. I put all the eggs in the Double record basket and some of them got broke! Being as this was a training race I set things out fairly low key. My girlfriend came along to help support and we took the team E-Z-UP but that was pretty much it so as we rolled into camp it was great to bump into my old riding buddies, Les and Scott, and their families and know that Zoe would have some company whilst supporting me at her first mountain bike event. The pit can be a lonely place. The course designers had done a pretty good job. There were a few places where the course was gonna get cut up and a bit messy if it continued to rain but I figured even if I broke it’d be about 70% ridable and at least passable without resorting to a stick, to remove the mud from around the tyres, for at least 90% of the course. This was good news as being a bit of an idiot (I’ll say it was just a lack of practice as I’ve not raced for a while) I’d forgotten to pack the skinny mud tyres! The race started smooth enough. I got out near the front, watched the usual suspects disappear up the trail, resisted the MASSIVE urge to go with them and settled into a steady but quite respectable pace. My heart rate was ridiculously high; higher than it has been in any race for at least the last 4 or 5 years but my legs felt ok so I just knuckled down and bit deep. Lap one always feels bad so I ignored it, lap two was a lot better. By lap three I knew finishing was going to be a tall order. My body had moved straight into the hurt box and every part of me seemed to be having some sort of dispute with another part. Not good. To be told at this point that I was in 8th spot was a bit of a pleasant surprise. OK, I’ll come clean, I was really, really pleased to be in the top 10 so I cracked on and thought lets just see how far I can ride without breaking myself again. The only things I can report from laps four through to eight are that it hurt lots, I got more and more tired, it got dark, it rained, the course got more and more chewed up and with my currently reduced power output it was becoming harder and harder to clear each section. My body got closer and closer to imploding with just about every revolution of the pedals and I felt for hours like I was just hanging on by the skin of my teeth! I think if Zoe had seen me race before she’d have pulled me from the race but she didn’t know what to expect other than tales of me pushing myself real hard and go a little too far. Dave was on the mobile to her giving guidance and everything else was in the hands of the stubborn old git on the IronHorse who simply refuses to die! By hour 8 I was up into 5th! Ridiculous, lost health, lost training, lost fitness; I’m rolling round the woods delirious and barely able to see straight, the bike hasn’t been washed whilst everyone else changes theirs every lap, I’m on 2.1 dry weather tyres in the pissing rain and pitch black with a bent saddle and a broken seat post clamp that won’t allow me to sit straight on the bike and I’m in 5th? OH MY GOOD GOD!!!! And with that revelation my body exploded and threw in the towel! Or at least it would have liked too but unfortunately I tell my body what to do so we continued round the woods, mind and body in the mother of all arguments, for another two and a half ours of pain and insanity before eventually riding and walking myself to a complete standstill a mere hour and twenty four minutes shy of the end of the race. Eventually the race finished without me and I slipped down to a respectable 10th position. My lowest ever 12 hour finish but something that filled me with quite a bit of satisfaction. I’m not back to where I want to be, far from it, but I did make the right call and I did give everything I had whilst keeping my ego in check and eating a big slice of humble pie. It’s easy to smash up the field when you’re in the form of your life; not so easy to keep going when everyone expects you to win but you know that the fitness isn’t there to do so. If this was a test then I’ll consider my ride to have passed. sevendeadlyspins.blogspot.com/ Maxi Avalanche European Cup - Rounds 5 & 6, Cervinia, Italy - By Clive For the 5th year running the UCC crew and Maxi Avalanche return to the base of the Matterhorn and one of the earliest ski resorts in the alps Breuil Cervinia, its not often you get to race in 2 countries in 1 dh run!! The super fast snow start is on the Swiss side of the ridge and as you leave the snow and enter the super steep rock strewn mountainside you cross the boarder into Italy, with no boarder control. Now I thought the trails at Val Thoren were pushing the envelope but this has to be the gnarliest place I have ever ridden (and believe you me I have ridden some gnarl over the years). To start with I thought it was just 1st run jitters in practice but Aston and Morgan both agreed. Belta had never experienced a mass start dh and was here after being so impressed with the efficient high class event the crew put on in Les Arcs and just had to experience the carnage. Practice went well although I thought it wise just to complete 2 runs in the bottom section (the upper lift is only open on the Saturday morning) as it was such a demanding course. Friday afternoon passed and the clouds loomed over the Matterhorn, luckily they did not let go and all was looking good for practice and qualification tomorrow. Saturday and down to business, we boarded the lifts early to get the best snow conditions and we were not disappointed.. Frozen and fast just fine for now, but come mid morning all would be different, those of you who have been up on Pic Blanc at Mega in the early morning will know just what I am talking about, I think people get the wrong idea regarding the snow situation at these events so let me set the record straight. if your not near the front or up early practicing you miss the best conditions, this is when its at its best and is in a true rideable state, this is when it is possible to ride and not slip and slide, this is where the rumors of 50 - 60mph are born.. We sectioned the top 1/4 in awe at the scale of things, the size of the rocks, the gradient just the whole imposing surroundings. Time for some lunch and some final preparations before another lift to the top and qualification. The qualifier started just after the snow and would prove hard to find places to overtake. Luckily for me I can still pull out the old dual slalom start and pinned it out into the lead with a comfortable gap, I let Remy Absalon slip by as we dropped into the steep sections so I could pace myself for the effort ahead, another 2 riders sneaked by but I was still on track for a position on the front row. We were hauling across the massive rocks and pulling a nice gap on the rest of the field when I felt the front end go loose, I pulled off the line and the nightmare >of Andorra hit me once again.. I had punctured my front tyre, a frustrating situation especially as I had chosen dh tyre?s and tubes >to try and eliminate the problems from Maxi rounds 1 and 2. I tried in >vein to run on a flat front but as soon as the off camber kicked in it >was game over. There was no point holding people up on the tight >singletrack paths through the mid and lower sections of the course and >walking such a huge distance. Aston continued the good work only to >suffer a torn tyre in the lower 1/4 of the course, luckily it was a >rear and with some tube untangling he was able to carry on and finish. >Ben?s qualification run went a whole load better and he would be the >only British rider on the front row of the A final tomorrow.>>Back to bike fixing and heaps of condolence tea. I helped the Aston >pit try and rig up some sort of working machine for the main event and >for once had no anger or post flat depression, is this a huge step for >my personal development regarding anger management or am I just over it?>>Sunday - Race day.>>As I had not completed the course I had to start on the last row of >the B final, a very unfamiliar feeling of no target and no pressure >filled the morning air. For once I could lye in and get to digest my >breakfast, I was last on the lift and enjoyed watching Paul and Ben >disappear down the snow, the start line banter with Dave Welch (one of >the only other Brits to race these events) was a welcome change from >the head down approach to racing I normally have. Had I found a new >me? NEVER.. As soon as the tapes went up and I found some space I was >gone.. After all this is still racing. I picked my way through the >field and into some sort of position before the now melting snow >finished, the steep sections provided a new challenge with slower >riders in the way but I found some good gaps and headed into the >singletrack in the top 15. As riders tired i kept at a steady pace and >eventually popped over the jump into the finish area in 3rd place. >Astons race had not gone to plan and the makeshift chain device had >failed within the first 2km and plagued him the whole way down. Ben >had a conversation with the floor and was nursing a staved thumb so he >was going to be out of action for race run 2. All was not so sweet >this week in the Brit camp, time for more condolence tea and lunch.>>Race run 2.>>Now the snow was well and truly FkED we were forced to start on the >rocks in the same location as the qualifier. This would make >overtaking a lot harder and I expected little other than a safe fun >run down the hill. Aston had opted for the big green machine in favor >of loosing his chain (and mind!!) so a hard job lay ahead. I started >once again on the back row in the B final with Dave and the other >riders who had suffered mechanicals the day before. A clean start >avoiding what looked like a painful pile up and some some lunatic >behavior put me into 1st place within 1km - sweet... I was happy to be >out front away from the traffic. I could hear a rider on my wheel and >in no time he passed me, my new laid back approach kicked in and I did >not respond just focused on riding clean lines and avoiding any >possible punctures. About 4km in and I clipped a rock with the back >end, my gear cable broke and dumped me into 9th gear, I run a single >ring set up so it was a grinding mission to the finish. I held my >position and was guaranteed a place on the podium. Click to go to Josh's Blog TransWales Stage Race - by Josh Day 1: Builth Wells to Cilycwm 68km with special stage 1 at 8pm The first stage of the 2008 Trans Wales began from the main event HQ in Builth Wells. We rolled out in good spirits despite the overnight rain showers. The stage started with a long undulating road climb and groups started to form. I was in the front group but unfortunately took a wrong turn after waiting at a gate and ended up off course for a few minutes. I quickly found the trails again and joined up with a large group. Position at this time did not matter though as the stage was a transition stage. About half way through the stage was a short 500m timed stage to set the running order for the first special stage later in the day. This was extremely entertaining! The course basically followed a vague rutted track through a wet, muddy rooty wood. I crashed a few times, hit a few trees and ran a few bits! I still came 8th so ensured a good early start in time trial. For the rest of the stage I joined up with Matt Carr and Jim Shaw and we were the first to arrive back in the campsite. The evening stage was a night time trial around the Cily Cwmn trail centre. Basically it was a 5mile circuit which went up to the top of a hill on fire road then descended on the sweetest single track back to the finish. Riding it for the first time at night was interesting! I struggled a bit on the first climb but ripped up the decent and caught my 20second man. I had a slight crash at the top of the hill due to a bit of mist and me going to fast but nothing major! I finished in 10th position and Fi won the stage in the ladies race. Day 2: Cilycwm to Brechfa 64km with special stage 2 at 4pm The first part of day 2 included a lot of fire road, road and rain! It hammered it down all day. Once again I rode with Matt and Jim. After an extremely cold and boring first half we reached Brechfa forest. As soon we hit the forest trails the mood lightened as we jumped the massive tabletops and railed the huge berms. The smile factor was huge and we probably got a bit carried away riding the transition stage a bit to fast! The smile soon vanished for most people once we reached the ‘campsite’. The ‘campsite’ consisted of a water logged field on a slope with catering in a smelly cow shed! Unfortunately for me I couldn’t make the most of this experience as we have friends who run a B&B in Brechfa so I had to have a nice warm bed and a warm shower! DAMN! The knock on effect of this is that I was christened cotton pony rather than iron horse for the rest of the week! The evening special stage was shortened due to the weather conditions and consisted of a very fast non-technical green loop at Brechfa. The course undulated gradually and suited the power riders. I finished 14th on the stage and dropped to 14th overall. Fi was second but still retained her leaders jersey. DAY 3: Brechfa to Tregaron 75km Day three was the first day with no special stage which was a relief after the conditions the previous few days, although there was plenty of bog snorkelling involved! Again I rode with Matt and Jim and we were joined by Dan from the RAF. The stage went by pretty uneventfully and we arrived near the front again and had time to visit to local fish and chip shop followed by the pub! DAY 4: Tregaron to Machynlleth 79km Day 4 began with a flat ride along a cycle track following the river. Again me, Jim, Matt and Dan rode together. Once we reached Aberystwyth there was a long road climb to ride. This also coincided with my first bad spot of the race. I suffered like a dog up the climb and dropped way back. Luckily the lunch stop was at the top of the hill so I was able to catch the others and stuff my face! With energy levels back up I felt great for the rest of the stage. We reached Machynlleth near the front again and swiftly made our way to the nearest fish and chip shop via the pub! Day 5: Machynlleth to Ponterwyd 65km with special stage 3 at 9am The day began with a special stage around the climax trail. I was looking forward to this stage as I had ridden the circuit before and felt it suited me. The course started with a long climb followed by some undulations and a cracking descent back down to the trail head. I caught my 20second man in the first km and got in a good steady rhythm. On the flatter top section on the course I began to struggle a little but was still gaining on my 40second man. Unfortunately the guy behind me caught me up so going into the decent there was three of us together. I managed to put in a little dig and got into the single track section first then hauled down the hill as fast as I could. I put almost a minute and a half in to the riders who were with me which placed me 8th on the stage and 11th over all. Fi won the stage in the ladies category and retained her leaders jersey. The following transition stage crossed the moors to Ponterwyd. However, heavy rainfall had turned most of the trails into rivers. This provided many funny moments as we rode through knee deep puddles. However the best part of the day came at a swollen river. We were some of the first to arrive and waded in one at a time. Matt Carr decided to ride and his bike was swiftly swept from under him much to the amusement of everyone there! He then proceeded to go completely under a couple of times before I managed to grab him before he was washed away. By the time we reached the campsite everyone knew of the adventures! Day 6: Ponterwyd to Strata Florida 72km with special stage 4 at 9am Again the day started with a special stage around the Nantyrarian trail centre. My aim today was to reach the top 10 overall. The guy in 10th was 15 seconds ahead on GC with 9th place at 27seconds so it was everything to play for. I started well and managed to catch 10th place on the first decent and then started to catch 9th place on the long dragging climb. Unfortunately the Dutch guy who was in 10th flew by both me and 9th place on the climb so it was still all to race for as we reached the top. I finally managed to catch the 9th place guy on the final technical climb but managed to give my self a stitch as I crested the summit. I took the decent pretty slowly to avoid crashing, knowing that I had 10th in the bag. In the end I finished 10th on the stage and 10th on GC. Once again Fi won the stage and secured the overall…well done! The transition stage actually took place in sunshine!! (almost). Unfortunately I managed to slide off on a slippery single track decent near the start and jarred my knee. It was ok for a while but after a long hike a bike section after we took a wrong turn it began to really hurt. At the finish it was really sore but I hoped it would be good to ride the next day. Day 7: Strata Florida to Builth Wells 84km This was the final stage and with all the racing over was set to be a good fun day. To get into the mood I decided to ride in fancy dress! My race number was 118 so I decided to ride dressed as the 118 118 man of the TV! However this entailed wearing some rather short white shorts and a dodgy white vest. I was worried that chafing from the shorts would be the main issue of the day but unfortunately my knee was still playing up. It was ok standing at the start of the stage but as the day drew on it began to become more and more painful. On the final 20km it became so bad that I had to ride with one legs and get a helping hand up the hills from Jim and Matt (cheers guys). I made it back though and finished of a great week with some ‘great’ dance moves in a dodgy club in Builth! Thanks for the guys I rode with all week and everyone who I hung out with at the camp each night. It was a brilliant week and I hope to do it again. www.josh-ibbett.blogspot.com/ Click to go to Josh's Blog Bontrager 12 Hour - by Josh... Finally the time had arrived when the inevitable happened. I was about to make my 12hour debut. This moment has been looming ever since I joined Iron-Horse extreme in 2007 and it took a while for me to get my head around it. Initially I had planned to use the Edge of Darkness 12 in the G2 revolver series as my first 12h, but an encouraging 6th place at Enduro6 in the elite category, the cancellation of the 24hour road race and our team kicking arse at Mountain Mayhem gave me a moment of madness where I thought it would be a good idea to mention doing 24/12 to Rob. He loved the idea so I found my self sat in my van packed to the roof on the M5 heading to Plymouth! Thankfully I arrived in Plymouth to clear skies and sunshine. We found a suitable track side location and set up the Ironhorse Easy-up. The pit crew for the weekend was Fi and Rich with James racing the 24 solo, keen to make amends for pulling out of mountain mayhem after a nasty crash. The circuit at Newnam Park was the best Enduro circuit I’ve ever ridden. I’d raced here a few times as a junior so had a fairly good idea of what was in store, from my last experience this it was lots of muddy un-rideable climbs and slippery single track! Thankfully my practice lap revealed the opposite! A good mixture of gradual and steep climbs was interspersed with fast flowing single track which was begging to be pinned every lap! Starting a midnight is a funny feeling. The 24h race began at noon on Saturday and James promptly began to knock out consistently fast lap times. Initially he had the second place rider for company but as darkness loomed the gap started to grow. Slick pit work by Fi and Rich meant that James didn’t have to stop at all in the first 8 hours. Mean while I was sat in a chair doing nothing! I went through phases of excitement at the thought of ride the super fun single track, then moments of worry as I realised I’d have to ride my bike for 12hours. Finally the time came where we had to line up on the start. As this was my first 12hour I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect or how I’d feel so I just planned to ride my own race and see what happened. As the gun went off I took the lead onto the start straight and got into a nice easy rhythm. No one came by me so I just carried on riding my own pace and pinning the single track as fast as I could, easier said than done when you start in the dark with little time on the track before! After a few laps I was still feeling great and starting to learn the track it bit more. The biggest battle in a long distance Enduro race is keeping your mind occupied and I soon found out that the best way for me to do this is by singing out loud and talking to my self! I tried make sure I only did this when I was alone, but apologies if scared anyone in the dark woods with my singing (I promise I’m not mad)! After a few hours I was still feeling great and had found a happy place in my mind. Every time I passed the pit Rich and Fi seemed increasingly worried that I was riding far to fast this early in the race so I decided to back off a bit even though I was feeling good. I told my self to go steady until dawn then see how I feel. I chilled out and started to chat to riders as I passed, particularly remembering to give James a hard time! As dawn broke I got confirmation that I was leading form the commentator and I started to think about winning. This was short lived though as I went trough my first bad patch of the race. I was caught by a fellow competitor on the first climb and struggled to hold the pace. I was convinced that I had just been caught by second place so just sat on his wheel for a while. He wasn’t going as fast as I had expected but I presumed he had worked hard to catch me and was now relaxing for a while. I began preparing myself for an epic fight for 1st place. Then I started to draw away from him a little and he’d catch me back so I carried on at my own pace. When we got to the end of the lap it became apparent that he had been in his pit and that when he caught me he was unlapping himself. This gave me a massive confidence boost and I started to pick up the pace again. I then began to get time checks to 2nd place which acted as another incentive. I was 13minutes up at about 4 hours to go. By this point James had lapped the entire field in the 24h race and as I passed the pit he was having a nice tin of rice pudding, all he had to do now was cruise home and victory was his. I was not so sure so carried on pushing as hard as I felt I could with out blowing. However by now the sun had started to get very warm and I entered my second bad patch of the race. The tarmac climb became very hot and I started to feel a bit dizzy. I kept drinking as much as I could but it continued and I began to think I may need to stop for a while and risk loosing my lead. When I got to the pit I had some water poured over my head and jersey which worked wonders. I got straight back out and carried on pushing. My pit crew were concerned that I was push far to hard and it took a talking to by Rich for me to realise that I had the race won unless I did something stupid or blew up. Unfortunately this gave me a massive boost so I carried on pushing hard on the single track and cruising the climbs. Having water poured on my head each lap was making me feel amazing and the gap to second was increasing so I decided to try and push hard and lap him! Coming into the last hour of the race there was time for one last lap. As I left the pit the guys told me that I just needed to go really easy as 2nd place was 3minutes in front of me. Instead I decided to go as hard as I possibly could to catch him! This plan worked well until the top of the first climb where my back gave in. I quickly realised that this was a bad plan so plodded my last lap. When I reached the line James was already there comfortably winning the 24hour race, and I cruised in with my first win since 2005 and my time out due to overtraining. The commentator summed up the weekend when he said ‘Ironhorse-extreme are really the best enduro team out there’. I’d like to congratulate James on his win, you’ve deserved it for a long time. Also thanks for Fi and Rich for doing a great job in the pit. Big thanks as well to Rob for having faith in me and letting me join the team when I was over trained, Gav for teaching me to train and Clive for making me go downhill fast. www.josh-ibbett.blogspot.com/ 10 around Kirroughtree - by Rich... First off, let's get one thing straight.... KIRROUGHTREE ROCKS!!! (dude). OK, dear reader, now that's out of the way, pull up a pew and a brew and I'll begin. I was really looking forward to this one (again!); I've only ridden Kirroughtree once before but couldn't really appreciate it as I was busted (I had done Ten Under The Ben two days before!). But I know how good the trail is and everybody who did Ten at Kirroughtree in 07 raved about last year's race. So when I pulled up for a practice lap on Friday night and people told me the course was even better than last year, I got right in the mood! And what a course it was! Ten miles of switch back climbs, rock drop-offs, berms and a liberal scattering of rocky outcrops to skitter across. There were also a couple of slimy off-camber rooty and loamy natural sections to keep you on your toes... Brilliant. And there was minimal fireroad. Hurrah! My only concern about the course was that the huge amount of singletrack would present few passing opportunities. As it turned out, this was not a problem as the technical nature of the course really spread the field out and bottlenecks didn't seem to happen. Oh, there was one other concern.... the Flying Scotsmen... they turned out to be a bit more of a realistic worry.... Saturday morning. 9:30 kick off. (Horrible time to start a race!). We were paced up a long road climb by a Police car to start and when it peeled off, the pace went through the roof! After doing two 24hrs in the last two months, I had been stupidly lulled into seeing this as 'just' a 10 hour! It seemed that the competition had gone one better and was treating it as a 2 hour XC! Apart from the fun of the course and the friendly Scottish crowd, I wanted to do this race to see how I was going after Mayhem. I hadn't intended to treat it as 'A Race' but the red mist came down and I floored it to hold the wheel of the usual suspects. The first couple of laps were super fast and I really put myself on the edge through the technical sections (i.e. on 99% of the course!) to stay with a couple of contenders. But at the end of the second lap, a fern wrapped around my cassette and it was so tightly wound on that it took me a good few minutes to get it out and the gears working. Gutted. I lost touch with the two guys I had been riding with (at least one, Michael Bossard, went on to get placed) and I ended up on my own, as can often happen when you're one of the quicker soloists. The time lost really came back to bite me at the end of the day... (but this was my only mechanical and I had no punctures so I can't complain). The race continued at the same furious pace. I caught Bossard and rode a couple of laps with him. It turned out to be a bit of scrap as we exchanged places and it was great fun duelling through the technical sections because he's a very skilled singletrack rider. People sometimes mistake a red route as 'tamer' than a black route but in a flat out race situation like this, it all changed to high speed white knuckle stuff! Great fun! Frustratingly though, I lost track of where he, and the rest of the competition was, and ended up back on my own. I did not know where I was in the field, who was in front and who was behind (I hate that feeling!). So it carried on... full speed lap after lap. Not sure what was going on.... lungs hanging out... I finished my ninth lap at almost exactly nine hours. Whilst it was a ten hour race, the cut off for finishing your last lap was 8:30 pm (essentially making it an eleven hour race!). So it was either give it everything for at least one more lap (and see what happened after that) or go for two even one hour laps and try to squeeze eleven laps in (a one hour lap at this point was pretty tough...). This was the decision I made and it wasn't the best... For one thing, I came in at ten hours and one minute so couldn't start an eleventh lap (surprisingly, nobody went out for an eleventh lap). Secondly, I then found out I was fourth and third had come in 50 seconds ahead of me... Doh! This is the first race I have finished outside the top three for seven races and I won't lie; it hurt. I had ridden hard and felt strong; surprisingly so considering Mayhem was only three weeks previous. I hadn't raced over the border for a while and perhaps I had forgotten just how stiff the competition is in Scotland. Anyways, it was a great ride and an exciting race. The course was fantastic, the weather held back and the Scottish crowd was as good humoured as always. It was also very useful for me because I've been thinking about setting concrete objectives for 2009. This race helped me do that. Objective One; sort out my slippery root skills.... I consider myself a decent technical rider, particularly when it's rocky, but I know that a REAL weakness of mine is slippery roots; two sections of the course were root-tastic and I lost time on them... and had to use a lot of energy to pull that time back. Objective Two; ride harder and faster. Bit obvious this one! However, I need to put myself on the line more often and finish races with nothing in the tank. To do this I need to find out where the line is so I can step up to it more often. Objective Three; Increase upper body strength. After about lap three at Kirroughtree my arms were sore.... by the end of lap ten I could hardly pick up a full cup of tea! This course was particularly punishing but it exposed what I already knew - I need to develop my arms and shoulders. So all in all A Grand Day Out. Thanks to Charlotte, her mum and my dad for doing the 'Stand in a field and watch Rich go round in circles for ten hours thing'... again! Thanks to the Scottish hardcore for pushing me hard. And thanks to Frazer at No Fuss Events for reminding us all not to take it too seriously.... as if I would! Clive in lycra-clad XC shocker!!! I have to say this has to have been one of the best competitions I have entered in many years, I have a love hate relationship with xc racing mainly due the poor course design and “village fete” atmosphere that goes with it but this put the record straight on all fronts. The course was super good, technical and demanding both physically and mentally, short enough not to make it a slog yet long enough to give you a sense of purpose. This reminded me of how things used to be when I first started racing mountain bikes, it reminded me of why I love riding and racing mountain bikes, it also reminded me of just how bad things have got in the UK for xc racing, no wonder we do not produce World class short course xc racers (sorry Liam but your like 1 in 1000’s of xc riders - or should I say Roadies playing off road). So my whole experience was enhanced by the fact that Champery was the host town to the Portes du Soleil Pass Port event, a weekend of demo’s and riding that was a true spectacle in mountain biking. 1000’s of riders passed through the race arena on there way to the gondola adding to the atmosphere. I had made my decision last minute to enter as my previous day of dh action left me feeling a bit low on energy and I was unsure if I could pull even a half descent ride out the bag and did not fancy a DNF on the results sheet. I lined up while the names of the top competitors were called up and found myself on the last line of the grid - Great!! I had to start behind all and sundry as I had not raced in the series previously so had no points.. I deployed a bit of Maxi/Mega attitude at the start to put myself half way up the field at the end of the start strait, into the techy dry dusty descent I picked my way past the hardtail xc boys and into some sort of position, I had no idea on where I lay in the group. The following 2km was just the best, rooty rocky and slightly dh - just my cup of tea. This was followed by a huge lung busting climb where I dropped a few place’s before popping out back in town and the race hq loop, the next lap begun and I started to slip into a nice rhythm. Each lap I would pick people off on the dh with the IronHorse MKIII working like a dream only to drop 1 or 2 place’s on the climb (who said 5” bikes do not go up hill). I had no idea wether we were on for 4 or 5 laps so played it safe and rode at a pace I could sustain for the 5 if necessary, as it goes we were on for 4 which was a shame as I was having so much fun. So after one last blast I rolled over the line content with my performance (I still had no idea where I had placed). A traditional cup of tea and time to check the results - WOW!!! is this right??? NO WAY..... I was over the moon and had to stare long and hard at the results sheet - 5th place.. Now I know its not a podium but considering I entered for training purposes (and a bit of fun) I was over the moon with my result, consistent and semi descent lap times also confirmed my performance was one to be happy with. So there goes it, all those winter days riding in terrible conditions seem to have paid off. A big thank you to Gavin from on-point-performance for the training tips and schedule and to all the people who made my stay in Champery a very pleasant one, a special mention to the crew at Mitchells restaurant for what has to be the best steak I have had in years and their generosity during my visit, if your in the area this is the only place to eat... Cheers Mayhem '08... by Rich This was to be my first Mayhem. Excitement levels? Through the roof! I was determined to control these feelings and not fall foul to the 'Mayhem Madness' that I've heard jumps out and sweeps away even the most experienced soloists. So what better way to start proceedings than in the jeep with Clive on the long drive from The North, laughing, chatting and putting the world to rights! It really started to dawn on me that this was far more than a race trip; it was a weekend away in the company of the like-minded fools that you know are out there, but only gather on mass on such exceptional occasions. When we arrived at the campsite it was great to catch up with the team and the other 'Friends of Ironhorse'. The atmosphere was nice and chilled... and Fridays Drag Racing was hilarious! I'd heard that previous Mayhem courses were dull with little technical interest... well, the organisers had clearly listened to those criticisms because this year's course was a blinder! (Its shortcomings were to become apparent later…). Josh and I set out on a Friday evening practice lap and I completely forgot about the race; the course swooped and twisted with loads of technical singletrack; great fun! After the mind numbing boredom of Wild Boar, that practice lap reminded me why I love 24s; each lap would keep you thinking; trim a line here, pick up some speed there... I had planned on camping Friday night but Martin from Ironhorse offered Clive and I bed at his parents who lived nearby - much appreciated Martin! We headed of into Ledbury for some quality food and hit the sack after what had already been a long day. I crashed in seconds.... ...and woke up to what we all had feared but tried not to talk about.... rain! I had been warned about the horrible consequences of rain on the Malverns and eating my breakfast it felt like I was going to the dentist.... and he had a very big drill... Standing on the start line near the front I felt like I was going to fall asleep! It must be some kind of bizarre nervous reaction... not good when there is a huge edgy pack waiting to stampede behind you! And avoidance of running is one good reason why I ride a bike... The rain had stopped and was holding off for now but it was heavy, muggy and misty; there was an unspoken feeling of resignation amongst the riders... The gun went off and I pegged it. Half a mile felt like a long way but I got a good one; my bike was easily grabbed (good job guys) and I was off, trimming down the outside of the main line. Up the first big climb and I avoided 'slotting in', choosing to bat through the tussocky grass and pass people who couldn't maintain a pace on the long climb. I then slotted in before the start of the singletrack proper. A Good Start. Now, I had a very definite game plan for this one. At Wildboar James had given me plenty of good Mayhem advice; 'Ride your own race', 'Don't let The Mayhem Madness sweep you away’. It was advice I fully intended to follow. A number riders had their sights well and truly focused on Anthony. Now, I've only being soloing for twelve months and I'm pretty pleased with my progress so far... but at the moment I accept that I am not a match for Anthony. And I certainly don't have explosive pace. So, I let the leaders go to fight for the lead and I hung just of the pace at a steady speed I knew I could sustain. Ant can go the distance at that pace and I knew that others would try to match him.... I wasn't sure exactly when, but there was going to be a train crash.... I would just sit back and watch... The easrlt stages wore on and I had a chat with Ian Leitch who seemed to have similar thoughts about the boxing fight going on up the track. We ploughed on and Ian pulled away but I felt remarkably calm in a nice steady pace. The weather was going to be such a big factor in this race and as the sun went down in spectacular fashion I got the sense that the race wouldn't really start till after midnight... Correct! Up till this point the weather had been relatively kind; it had drizzled occasionally but kept stopping in just enough time for the course to hold up. The night was warming up and a few naive souls commented that it was now 'A lovely warm night'... (The rising temperature set the 'BRACE!' 'BRACE!' alarm off in my brain). Sure enough the showers where now getting more frequent and longer. By around midnight it was time to 'baton down the hatches', here it was; full-blown heavy rain. Let the carnage begin! In the space of about an hour the course had disintegrated into a porridge of horrendously sticky mud, nettles, ferns, brambles and roots. Even many flattish sections became virtually unrideable as many were slightly off camber and as slippery as ice. The idea was to keep on the vegetation, but as many other riders thought the same, many sections were getting wider and wider…. This presented the greatest problems on the previously fun swooping sections; what had been a fun singletrack hill traverse had now disintegrated and fallen down the slope. At some points the only way across the traverse was to put you bike on your back, get high up on the hill and grab trees or stand on any plant life you could to just stay upright… If you lost your footing you would go skidding down the bank where you would end up like a beatle on its back with your bike on your head (if you were lucky you might land in some nice soft nettles). At one point I got stuck down the Bank of Doom and just couldn’t get back out for about ten minutes… I’ve heard of unrideable courses but vast sections were unwalkable! I had 1.5s on and wasn’t that a good idea! Wider tires meant that even some hardtails were reduced to 50lb immoveable objects! Passing through one particular Valley of Hell was surreal; people and bikes were fixed like statues in the mud, unable to ride, push or pick their bikes up. On an earlier lap I had made the mistake of swapping to wider mud tyres and boy did I pay! I became like Them; desperately scrapping mud out of the stays only to put the bike down and for it magically to fill up again. A big error that cost me around twenty minutes and an indefinable amount of energy… Plenty of people had totally lost the plot at this stage… the conditions were a killer blow at the hardest time of the race. Swearing! Kicking! Shouting! It just made me laugh! If I could have captured all of that wasted energy I would have won the race! It must have been just after midnight that I heard the sad news that James had been forced to pull out after a heavy crash. He had hit his head and was concussed; the clue was when he entered the pit and called Clive Gavin! I think he even asked him what he was up to tonight…. Oh dear… you know when you’re done. A real shame, but a big relief that it wasn’t worse for him. Soon after, I nearly had my race terminated… I was railing down one of the fast grass descents; a full tilt sweeping right hander. A group of riders were in front of me so I chose to go to the right of a marshal post. It was a straight grass bank; what purpose could the post possibly have? Well that little post had a very ‘Special Purpose’; it guarded a hooog hole, which threw me like a rag doll down the hill, my bike cart wheeling of into the dark. It was one of those, ‘Don’t move and everything will be OK’ moments… (I broke my jaw about four months ago and the Dr. had told me not to do anything stoopid for at least nine months…). Miraculously, I stood up and stayed up! I wish I could crash like that and get away with it on demand; it’s one of the funnest things in mountain biking! We were approaching dawn now and it was as spectacular as the sunset. At the time that the sun came up, the cloud broke; it went from black pea soup to morning sunlight in what seemed like minutes. Time to snap out of night time energy conservation mode and re-assess the race. I had been lapped by Ant and anticipated being lapped by Ian. I was sitting at around 4th or 5th. I’d heard that James Lister had pulled due to the early pace. Mathew Page was apparently fading for the same reason but was a lap and ten minutes up on me. Still I stayed calm which I’m very proud of. I ‘unlapped’ myself and stuck twenty minutes or so on him in the next. It was clear he was now one of the walking dead. Sure enough he bailed soon after. My Evil Plan was working! I had moved up into 3rd and was not under any immediate threat being a lap up on fourth and fifth. Then it turned into a right nice day! The sun got hotter (and hotter…) and the wind picked up to a pleasant gale force. The marinade of mud, twigs etc. now formed a sun baked armour casing on my lycra. Nice! I had also spilled a energy gel down my shorts (no, I don’t know how either) and gave myself a good ‘waxing’. Whipping (sorry, ‘ripping’) my shorts off in the middle of the pits was perhaps the most painful / least glamorous moment of the proceedings… (Thanks for the ‘humbling’ observations on the effect this had all had on my ‘gentleman’s equipment’ DaveB!) Fresh shorts on and I was again a Happy Camper. It was clear that Ian was uncatchable but I now just had to keep going to secure third. My second and third last laps really hurt. My balance had gone, I was dizzy, I hadn’t eaten enough (despite Steph’s better efforts; ‘Open wide little bird!’). But a couple of cups of tea and an overdose of energy gels saw me through probably the hardest couple of hours of the race. And then I crossed the line to start my final lap and something strange happened. It dawned on me that I was going to get on the podium at my first Mayhem! All the discomfort and pain seemed to magically disappear (I had been well and truly knocked about and was covered in cuts and bruises). My last lap was spent talking to people, sharing a joke and congratulating them on their achievements. It was a beautiful day and the apparition of the night was fast becoming a dark hazy memory. Coming down the finishing straight felt great! Familiar and unknown faces applauded me and I appreciated that so much. Some of them had not raced at all but had stood there, often with their kids, clapping and shouting ALL NIGHT! Top job! I chatted to and congratulated Anthony who had ridden a blinding race considering he had been under attack virtually all the way through. Fi deserved special congratulations for also finishing third in the women’s race; I know she struggled pretty much all the way through and to hang on like she did when she was near snapping on a number of occasions was a great show of character. Well done. And of course thanks to Rob, Clive and Josh for some really hard graft in the pit. Josh did an amazing job being the official ‘Bike Cleansing Officer’ and remember; four bikes needed ‘cleansing’ every lap during the worst of things… I calculated it as around fifty to sixty bike washes for the full race…. Rob and Clive did a fantastic job keeping our bikes running super smoothly in demolition conditions. And thanks to Ironhorse for my Azures! The bikes were unflinching throughout the duration. I didn’t miss a single gear shift in 24hrs and 12 minutes! I felt as comfortable as was humanly possible given the circumstances and when I could ride the bike it was sprightly up the climbs and snaked through the fun bits. The Exposure lights with the Piggyback battery were awesome as usual! My bar light ran all night and it was just turn on at sun down / turn off at sun rise; brilliant! All that was left to do was get on that podium! As pleased as I was standing on the box, it was very sad to not have Charlotte there – she continues to encourage and support me in this crazy game (maybe she shouldn’t?!?!) and is major factor in my current run of podium places. Mayhem. Could the name be any more appropriate? Wildbored 24... Grizedale Forest - The Lakes... by Rich I was really looking forward to this one! Who wouldn't? A 24hr in the Lake District.... and not just the Lake District but the Singletrack Maze that is Grizedale. It hasn't rained in the Lakes for oooh... ever, (which is definitely a record) and the ground was baked dry. What could be better? The event also had a particular attraction for me because the Lake District is like my spiritual home. I love the Lakes and know most of it like the back of my hand. A few years ago I spent a couple of seasons chefing in the Lakes (one particularly fun packed season spent in the kitchens of Hawkshead gave me the chance to explore all corners of Grizedale, Claife Heights, Hodge Close etc.) and I ride here most weekends, so I know all to well how good the riding is in the area. My dad (who lives in Keswick) joined us for the duration which was really nice because he has never been to anything like this and has had to listen to me ramble on about bikes... bikes... bikes for years, without actually seeing what the events are about (and that even a 24hr could be exciting for spectators!). Charlotte and I arrived just after mid-day to pitch-up on the lovely soft green grass of the camp site near Satterthwaite village. The weather was overcast but not threatening and the sun looked like it was going to make an appearance at some stage. Rob and Josh turned up on their way to Kielder, which was good, and they set-off for an 'off-piste' session, Rob on an Ironhorse Mark II; ideal for the rocky trails in these parts. and Josh on his Azure (with his pace at the moment, I don't think a short travel bike would have held him back!) And that was perhaps my first mistake; I should have gone with them! Instead I did what any respectful racer would do and headed off for a practice lap... Well, I say headed off, what I meant was I began the scramble up the ONE MILE rock strewn track TO THE START! Just cleaning sections riding up I thought, 'This would be good on the Mark II.... going down'.... and then it clicked, 'Hell; this is the 'Le Mans' running start!!!'. This wasn't a mountain bike race! It was a duathlon! I made the decision to wear trainers for the run so as not to risk a twisted ankle. On to the course proper.... down a fast fire road descent... slippery corner... up a fireroad climb... and up.... and up... and up. In fact it carried on going up for exactly one mile. Phew! I thought, glad that's the fireroad section out of the way. And then the fireroad levelled a bit... then started going up again. And then it went down. For quite a while. Next - into a rocky singletrack bit that had some nice flowing corners in it... This is more like it; the course proper! And then out I popped onto... fireroad! OK, just a blip I thought as the course turned off and took in a section of the North Face Trail. So it went up and against the flow, but at least it wasn't fireroad. And then it ended and I was back on fireroad (FR from now on to save space... the word fireroad will come up a lot in this report!). Now, the next section of FR was long... and 'up'. And then it went down and into a classic bit of Grizedale singletrack; a fun rocky chute and then a VERY steep ribbon like descent. Note to self; no mistakes here in the middle of the night. The steepness of the descent resulted in a great height loss and dumped me.... at the bottom of a FR (again). Now after some ups and downs (mostly ups) The Climb started proper! And it was a beast (Did I mention it was FR?). And so it continued.... FR... little OK bit... FR.... fast FR (exciting eh?) FR climb... I knew the course was over ten miles long and my computer was creeping up to nine. Panic washed over me... I WAS BORED ON MY PRACTICE LAP!!!! How would I do 24hrs of this??? Then came the only saving grace; a long and vintage rocky Lakes downhill classic. This was the type of descent that makes the Lakes such a mountain bike mecca.... fast, multiple lines, rock steps, loose corners.... love it! (And then you were spat out into the transition and the FR nightmare began again...) So, mathematically, the course could be described in the following equation; Wildboar24 - (Wild = 10%) + (Boar = 90%) = (Very) bored rider. My! How Rob and Josh chuckled when, ashen faced, I told them of my predicament! They cheerily waved goodbye as they set off for some jolly japes at Kielder... James arrived to pit for me and his workmanlike but friendly manner took my mind off the wall I was facing.... So the start proper. The run felt as long on foot as it did scrabbling up on a bike. I got to transition quite far up the field but took a bit of time swapping shoes, putting on helmet etc. My game plan was to get around or off the front so I could watch and control the lead as much as possible. I pushed hard and took the lead after about one and half laps. And then just as I had put in a gap; disaster... I punctured (on flat FR!!??!!). This proved to be decisive as I never got the lead back, no matter how hard I pushed. It's not a nice feeling not knowing where the field is and due to the nature of the course, you rarely saw anyone, never mind your competitors. The afternoon wore on and as night fell, the sky started to clear. This was pretty special because the moon was two days away from full, the air was crisp and clear (due to the northerly winds) and straggly clouds skipped across the increasingly starry night. It was like a kind of Sherlock Holmes / Beast of Bodmin Moor effect. Nice! I knew it was going to be a cold one though. The ribbony downhill was 'challenging' and the final descent was great fun (every time) but the remorseless FR was hard to block out - this was head down grinding stuff. Perhaps the highlight of the night was a bizarre optical illusion - when I was following riders, due to the incredibly dry conditions, rear wheels were spraying out a plume of dust. With my lights shining on the dust, it created a black flame flying off the rider's tyres! Would have made a great photograph! (Oh the dust I swallowed when hypnotised by 'The Flames'.... I'm still coughing it up now...!) Early in the night my gear cables were getting increasingly sticky (probably due to The Dust). I tried to ignore it but it was getting worse and I knew I had to do a bike swap. I knew I couldn't waste time but it was inevitable. James sorted the second bike and I was off again but increasingly aware that I was dropping back, James and Charlotte did a great job of booting me out of the pits as quickly as they could and into the increasingly cold night.... thanks guys! The sun came up and the gap remained. I really pushed it but, bizarrely, 'the bad bit' didn't come in the hours of darkness but as the sun came up (and I thought I'd got away with a sleep deprivation free 24!). Mid morning I was feeling fine again and I pushed consistently on. I spent a couple of laps in the company of Iain Payne, which was cool (he was sitting in third which is where he finished - well done Iain). A good bit of lively conversation was just what I needed and a good laugh can really help the passage of time. He was quick downhill and showed me some new lines downs the final descent. However, the gap remained and it became apparent it wasn't going to be bridged save a disaster from Tom Owen, the leader. So there we have it; I finished 2nd. Can't grumble. You always learn something in endurance races; I carried away a few kit / bike set-up lessons but more importantly I learned something about my resolve. It's horses for courses, but this horse didn't dig the course; I was bored. I like fully technical riding. However, I was proud of myself for keeping going hard even when overdosed on FR. This bodes well and I surprised myself with my determination to 'just keep pedalling'. Can't wait for Mayhem! Many thanks to James for making the journey up from Oxford; can't wait to hurry you through the pits at 3am at Bontrager! Respect to my dad for making the effort to do something which, lets face it, is pretty uncomfortable even for us 'spring chickens'! Everyday I thank Charlotte for lovingly putting up with this persistent nonsense. Big Cheers to Rob; for doing so much work behind the scenes to make sure we all have top kit to work with; the Ironhorse Azure is a great race bike and Exposure lights are 'The' Endurance race lights - no arguments. And the team; I've only done two races for Iron horse Extreme and it has really dawned on me what a special team this is; some people may think it's an unfair advantage to have such a good team but 'advantage' is certainly not why I am part of it; it's the enthusiasm and camaraderie combined with the excitement of watching everybody else do their thing that makes the experience special. The Hobbit (or there and back again) - By Rob... Well I made it, I'm back and I survived! The South Downs Double, 100 miles each way, 200 round trip, a new record time of 20 hours, 55 minutes, 51 seconds and a most amazing mountain bike adventure with memories that will stay with me forever. Here is my report... The thing I enjoy most about cycling is that there always seems to be another "next big thing" to aspire to or challenge myself with. It's a seemingly endless opportunity to do something different, to up the challenge yet again and in doing so to see something, either within ourselves or in the world around us, that the majority of the population misses out on. The core of my interest lies in these new experiences applied to the weave of an endurance athletes tapestry! Sometimes you see the beauty because it is really there, before your eyes, and other times simply because you are too tired to see anything but. As my good friend Gav is often keen to point out "people pay good money to experience those sort of hallucinations!" The question I'm most oft asked by riders and racers I meet is "how do you ride a bike virtually non-stop for 24 hours?". The answer is simple really: I built up to it gradually and can clearly remember the days when an hours race would leave me sore and battered for a week. Eventually, I guess, I was going to end up going for the South Downs Double. It's the next step, a long ride, similar in demand to a solo 24 but built with one inescapable difference: the passage of time brings you closer to failure as opposed to the end of the challenge! Having finally taken it on the inevitable question is then "what did I think?" The first thing to note is that it's a bloody long way, second, it's a bloody long way and third, yes you guessed it! It's a bloody long way the South Downs and back, but beyond that it's a great big, amazing, magical adventure. One rider, one bike, that silly long distance to cover and the ridiculous absurdity of turning around and coming all the way back to the place you started, a metaphor for life perhaps? I don't know, maybe that is too deep and not really something I'm into, but I can say that despite the pain, the dehydration and the peculiar rash I now have on my chest, back and forehead, it was one of the best things I've ever attempted and possibly the closest I have felt to being spiritually touched. I know there are a lot of people out there who will have expected me to have undertaken this with a bit of a serious head on and prepared rigorously for the task ahead so I'll start by laying that one to rest before we go any further. Due to certain aspects of my personal life a big chunk of my training has had to be forsaken for the best part of the past 10 months. That's a fact. I'm not as fit as I have been by a long way but, and it's a serious but, I do have experience, confidence and the sheer stubborn headedness required so I thought I'd follow my heart, have a damn good go at it and to hell with the outcome. Failure was a distinct possibility. The real adventure started a week ago when I made the decision that trying and failing would feel a lot better than not stepping up to the challenge at all. After all who's the loser, The rider who fails trying or the one who just sits on their butt at home and talks the talk? When it comes to the SDW Double I've been talking the talk for far too long and with that realisation it got easier and easier to just do it (which is how I ended up setting out from Winchester virtually unannounced) and harder and harder to not be nervous. On Tuesday the 6th of May 2008 at 8.30 in the morning I loaded my kit bag and bike into the car and drove to work. I work in a bike shop in Bristol and so spent a 9 hour shift, on my feet, talking to customers, fixing bikes, trying to eat, trying to get hydrated and gradually get more and more nervous and excited. At 7pm I left work and drove to Swindon, had dinner in my old house, had a shower, got changed into my ride kit and phoned a friend for a quick chat. By 9.30pm I was in Marlborough to borrow some pedals from a friend, a short chat, best wishes and into the car for the final drive to Winchester. I arrived at 10.30 and decided that a 30 minute nap would be better than nothing so set an alarm and lay across the front seats of my car. 11pm, showdown! out of my slumber I had just enough time to down my pre-ride bottles of For Goodness Shakes, put on the final bits of kit, checked my lights and set out to meet the current record holder, Neil Newell, so that he could fit the tracker and gps to the my bike and start the official "atomic" clock on my attempt. Everything felt amazing and being alive became very real all in an instant. Texts from a few friends and sponsors came in as Neil made the last checks on my bike and the tracking kit. We shock hands as he told me how he wished he was going for the ride (but that he didn't fancy carrying the 7.3kg bag of food and goodies!) and then wished me the best of luck in the way only a true sporting person can, with pure honesty. He counted down and I set out into the night. It was invigorating. I'd decided that the only way to ride this first time out was to go purely on feel. I had my heart rate monitor on but didn't look at and I had a few ideas about where I'd need to be in what sort of time in order to be in contention but really I just wanted to ride it and see where that took me. I zipped out of Winchester, over the motorway and into the awaiting countryside which enveloped me in darkness and the indulgent privacy of my own personal ride. Trail after hill, after drop, through a wood, another hill and on. A constant unreeling of familiar tracks and unfamiliar shadows, of owls that would fly away two fence posts and land only to await my approach and repeat. The deer in herds too big to believe they survive undisturbed in our congested Southern counties. Badgers and stoats and sheep and rabbits all running for cover. The night was pure magic and I felt so happy as I made my steady progress hindered only by the ridiculously heavy bag (contents included 48 SIS gels, 12 rounds of sandwiches, 12 SIS Go bars and 2 bottls of For Goodness Shakes. All my spares, lights, water and tools where strapped to the bike which added another 5kg to the overall riders/bike/kit mass. My power-to-weight ratio was very much not as it could have been!). As I passed through QECP I decided to take the longer of the two possible routes as it had been left undecided as to whether the cyclists should follow the equestrian route or the mtb trail. It added a little bit of time but nothing major. My first tap-stop was at Cocking and was also the first time that I actually realised what I was doing! The enormity of the thing was too ridiculous to contemplate at that point so I concentrated on the practical side of things, the process, and just got on with it. I suppose I stopped at that first tap for maybe 10 minutes; I don't know for sure but I certainly wasn't rushing and a good long look up at the stars in the night sky was high on the agenda. Cocking through to Amberley went without incident and at a fair pace that was easily sustainable. My legs felt good, the air was good and as I climbed away from the rivers and upwards towards Amberley Mount the morning bird-song hit overload with a clarity that took on a surreal feeling. These are long climbs here but it all felt good and I was surised by how fresh I felt. I thought of others who had had incidents with the wild life, crashes and near-misses, so kept the speed down and well within my reaction time and had little worries. I figured that this approach would also protect my tyres and preserve upper body strength through reduced battering. Sunrise was the deal-setter on this ride for me; the sky went through a gradual twist of colours and with a beauty that competes with any sunrise I've seen in any other place on the planet. I was mesmerised for a few minutes and simply had to press pause and absorb the view. Time slipped, was only minutes but my brain knew no difference between a minute and an hour at the moment in time. Burnt to memory that sunrise will be replayed for a long time to come. The sun was rapidly accending as I approached my secong tap stop at the YHA on Truleigh hill and I took the opportunity that the new day presented with a quick sort of my bag of tricks and wash of bottles before setting onwards across to the biggest hils of the day. All I remember from this part of the ride are short glimpses of Rory and Neil as they tracked my progress and took the odd photo and an increasing sense that the temperature was going to get murderously high. By the third tap stop at xxxxxxx my fears where starting to manifest, it was going to be really hot today, so I stripped my clothing back to the bear minimum, doused myself in icy cold water, applied copious amounts of sun block and headed for the turn. It was only about 8 in the morning! By the turn it was HOT! I'm not good in the heat; give me 24 hours of rain on the side of a high mountain and I'm your man but heat? forget it. Still it was a good, safely paced turn time which gave me the best part of 13 hours to make the return journey and still get in under the record. I knew I could do it but it was just going to hurt and the degree of hurt would dictate the final time. On the way out I was riding at a pace that I had considered I could produce a negative split - ie: ride back faster than I'd ridden out - but the sun had different ideas, which I hadn't considered, and had I thought about this I'd have started sooner, kept cool for longer and smashed out the first leg a good hour faster. Hindsight eh? never mind, maybe next time. As I got back to the tap at xxxx my head was baking inside my lid and things were feeling rather hard. I spent a long time at that tap, mixing drinks, staggering around, drinking, pouring water over myself and desperately trying to reduce my core temperature. The enormity hit home with a vengance at this point, it's a freeking long way, and the reality of what it would take just to finish the thing at all sunk in. I rembered an email Mike Cotty sent me last year at a very hard point in my life that talked about looking in the mirror and being ready to face the World. The truth about the record, and that it really did mean a lot to try and take this, bubbled up from inside, I thought about my team, my family, my existence, the enthusiasm Rory and Neil had shown for me trying this and from that moment on it was all forward motion. Sometimes in a ride of this length it's like being outside your body and watching it happen to someone else. So weird. I can feel the pain yet can't feel it, everything hurts, every cell in your body seems to be telling you to stop yet you don't and you don't even consider stopping. Coming over the hills towards Chantry Ring the bit was well and truely between my teeth. This was pain, this was me defined, a lone rider hauling arse, stood up, powering the biggest gear I could manage. I don't ride these climbs in the big ring when I'm fresh but today I was accessing the once-a-year reserve power system. Smashing it. Jenn Hopkins was out there to see me pass, a rider I respect so much, it meant a lot to see her there, so much... and then Neil... and then others... word was out, I knew it then, I'd finish even if it broke me forever. As I dropped into Amberley I rembered the tap by the river. By now I was properly cooked and solid food as remaining just that, solid and tucked away in the bag of tricks. I could chew but I couldn't swallow and 50 miles on gels and water is a bitch when you have been awake for 30 hours and still have another 5 to ride. Gels where making me gag but the only source of calorie I could muster, water was making me gag, thnking about eating was making me gag. It was soooooo freeking hot I can't describe. Anyway, the tap, I rembered it and decided that I'd wack it on full and just crawl under it for a bit! All the way down that descent all I thought about was that tap. The tap, there's a tap down here, nice cold water, lovely tap, can't wait. I pulled up at the tap, it was hot, I was cooked, dropped my bike and walked over to the tap. Press button... one drip! Press button... nothing! SOB I didn't think, didn't swear, just picked up my bike and rode up the next climb. At Cocking there is a tap! I Once lived in East Wittering and so from Cocking onwards I feel like I'm on home turf. I know this part of the SDW so well and I know how long each section should take me. To get here with a good few hours to spare was splendid. I knew I could do it despite the pain, despite being sick if I ate anything, despite the fact that I was deliriously thinking about falling asleep under every bush I passed, I knew I could do it.Just Butser Hill and I'm home I thought. Butser is big, Butser is a bitch at 6 in the evening when you've been riding for a night and a day. Butser is quicker on foot. I walked. I wasn't going to but got overtaken by an elderly gent with a walking stick and realised the folly of riding. A nice evening for a walk I thought. From here it really is a blur. I can recount a few places where I saw things that were not there. I can recall which hills hurt me and which I sailed over. I can see the sun setting over Winchester. I can remember powering the last few miles as I realised I could duck under 21 hours. I can remember the hurt of my entire body. I remember what it felt like to finsish and the joy of seeing Fi, Neil and Mike at the finish. I remember, it felt good, I felt alive, I understood what it meant to do the double. Nightrider 12... Sherwood Pines... by Rich My debut race for Ironhorse Extreme! Rob and I rode as a pair; a new experience for me. I knew it would be exciting but I didn’t anticipate a finish like this one... Despite the persistent rain in my home patch of Northumberland I was pleasantly surprised to arrive at Sherwood Pines to find it relatively dry and fast A practice lap confirmed that this was going to be a quick race and good fun; the course was undulating but not hilly; generally smooth but with plenty of technical interest. Rob led out for the first five laps at a solid steady tempo; when I hit my first stint we sat in fourth. The plan was to go consistently; feel out the course, and climb up the positions through the night. Any nerves went as soon as I got out there; blasting music on the MP3; my Ironhorse Azure was flying and the singletrack was ripping... why don’t more people do this...? I also rode a steady tempo because consistency was going to be key. It was also the type of course you couldn’t force; tricky little rooty bits, sections to pump the bike through and plenty of twists and turns. Rob took over again at about one o’clock and we started to pull back the places..... third and then second by about five o’clock. Our pacing was working well; we were both sticking the laps in without any significant ramping up. So far so good... At the half way point it appeared the leaders had run off with the pie.... we had pretty much set our sights on second... but at about six o’clock Clive appeared, running along the track screaming and shouting that the win was a possibility. I charged into transition; handed over to Rob and he stuck in a fast lap... I waited nervously but fully charged for what would essentially be a head to head last lap showdown with the lead. Rob was making ground fast. And I waited.... Rob needed to be in soon to give me the chance of a final lap. It was twenty five past seven. The seconds ticked by. I knew something was up because Rob had been hauling it. And then the news came through that he had snapped his chain; at this point even his quick repair counted us out. Unbelievable bad luck; particularly gutting for Rob who had worked so hard to get us back into contention. So we took second and agreed on a good job. It was a great race in all categories. Fi rode a blinder to take the female solo class; well done on a first win. Clive’s good humour and chat helped the cold pit time pass and I could relax knowing Rob had things in control on the course. Driving up to Northumberland wasn’t an option after racing and no sleep so I crawled into the tent I’d pitched in the event area the day before and fell asleep thinking about how that final lap would have gone..... And then I woke up at mid day and fell out of my tent into a virtually empty car park. Did it all really happen? Why is that family looking at me funny? Look it’s called Tramp Style OK. All the kids’ll be wearing it soon Click to go to Josh's Blog Student Champs 2008 - By Josh... This years BUSA championships were held at Cwm Carn in south Wales….my local trails!! After a wet and windy practice day on Saturday, the weather cleared and the forecast rain and snow just about managed to stay away. The course was over 3 laps the Cwm Carn XC trail (pretty long for an XC!) with technical climbing and fast single track dispersed by a few fire roads. On the first lap we raced up the main forest road to spread the field. I managed to get a good start position on the front row of the grid and when the gun went I got away quickly and settled in to 2nd position. However, I struggled with the early pace up the road climb and by the top I was struggling with breathing and had drifted way back down the field to around 30th place. Once on the single track I managed to get my breath back and started to catch people. Passing was not easy though so I freewheeled most of the descents as I couldn’t squeeze by. I also started to notice a funny noise coming from my back brake but thought nothing of it as I had just installed new pads so they were probably bedding in. Coming into the final descent the rattle got worse and suddenly by rear brake stopped working altogether! I crossed the line in 27th place after the first lap but had to stop shortly into the second lap to try and sort my brake. On removing my wheel I found that my rear pads were not there! They must have rattled loose after I wrestled to fit them the previous night. So after pushing the pistons back in a set off again after a 2 minute stop and a ‘polite’ conversation with my bike! Front brake only for the rest of the race! Now we were using the technical climb rather than the road I began to slowly pick off riders again and over the course of the second lap I managed to claw back some places and was in 17th on crossing the line. I started the final lap after nearly 2h of racing but still felt relatively good sat at my own tempo. The other racers didn’t seem so happy and I managed to pick off quite a few more riders over the course of the final lap. Coming into the final descent down to the car park I could see up to 9th position so gave it my all on the final descent (still remembering to style it up for the crowds!), but unfortunately was just behind them coming into the finish. I placed 12th overall, which was just outside my original top 10 target. But I am still pleased with my ride considering how bad my lungs felt on the first lap and with my stupid mechanical. Overall I thing the length of the race and toughness of the track played into my hands. Now I’m going to have a rest and hopefully I shall fair better in the dragon XC in two weeks time and the Mids XC the week after. www.josh-ibbett.blogspot.com/

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