30th Hell of the North Cotswolds

Three weeks and three events, this time it was the Hell of the North Cotswolds a 100km off road reliability trial. A mere 100km nothing compared to last weeks 300km? Today I was riding with Miles, I say with well that was the idea, but with twelve hundred other riders on the course it was always going to be hard to stay together. It actually proved to be near impossible.
We set off from the event HQ in Winchcombe at 9.15, but with so many riders I think we were still at the HQ fifteen minutes later. Once on the road it was clear that this wasn't going to be a quick start for anyone. First there was the bloke that crashed at the start and held up proceedings. (feel free to comment on my mini rant) but with twelve hundred riders with unknown abilities all moving slowly at the start you have to have your wits about you. If you wanted a race you've picked the wrong event. And don't blame anyone else if you end up on your arse with a bent bike. So excuse my scornful looks as I pass you sat in a ditch with a bent up cross bike.
Anyway....we soon turn into Gypsy Lane and the off road begins, problem is we've only gone a few yards so the bottle neck is inevitable. So begins a long uphill walk, and a lot of angry comments from the weekend warriors unable to show us all their climbing prowess. As the long march thins out near the top we can get on our bikes and ride. I like the comment from the rider I pass who says loudly 'Yeah had to use the granny coz of that lot, never use the granny' You don't impress anyone, you used the granny because it was slow and steep, don't be ashamed. Gears are there to help you, they ain't a challenge. It's now that Miles and myself have become separated.
By now we're riding and I vow not to 'dab' until it's all over. We come to a descent that carries a warning, but the main warning I get from it is that the 50psi I have in my tyres is far to much, fillings intact we climb up to Cleeve Hill. It's stunning up here, fast and dry. We drop off the hill and turn right saying goodbye to the 50km riders.
From this point on I never see much more than half a dozen riders at a time. The riding is a good balance of on and off road, I'm going well. A few riders come past on the descents, and we continue to yo-yo until we hit a long road section where I switch to roadie mode and big ring it off into the distance, the benefit I guess of the 50psi?
I'm on the way to the second checkpoint that also doubles up as the food stop, but it's a way off yet. I recognize  some of the route now. I did this ride many years ago, but there were many differences. First the wheels were smaller, suspension was shorter, the route went the other way and it snowed hard, so hard we had to sit some of it out sat behind a dry stone wall. I reach the river crossing, I remember it very well so I know the halfway and food stop is just around the corner. When I get to the stop I can't believe the sheer number of riders already there, bare in mind I've overtaken every rider in sight up until now, the long long wait at the start and hold up in the crash must have really taken some time.
Despite the slow start, an average of 6 mph up to the quarter way point, I've upped that to over 10 mph by the halfway point. I decide not to loiter, wee, water and food on the move to try and go sub six hours.
I leave the stop over guided out by HONC signs and marker tape, so I'm a little surprised to see riders coming towards me, clearly approaching the halfway stop the wrong way?
On the trail now numbers are very small. I hang onto the coat tails of a fast moving group from a club I recognise from my cyclocross racing, the Cotswold Veldrijden. Luckilly they wait for their slowest member so I can follow them for miles. Still their pace is blinding, a few others try and hang on but are very quickly dropped. The two ladies in their group are setting  an ideal pace for me, and I follow them up the steepest climb of the day, and we clear it wheel to wheel passing all the guys doing the walk of shame. No one else in sight rides it. I'm now in love with these two.
At the top the riding settles so I introduce myself to the group, we talk about cyclocross and drop in names. From now on I share their riding. And not long after I meet up with Miles, neither of us know how he got ahead. We ride for a while, but then a very strong head wind separates  us again, and we don't see each other again until the end.
I'm now on the final stretch. More flapjack and water at the final checkpoint and press on. At this rate I should at least go sub six hours, but all too soon the route throws in some nastys. Headwinds on the road sections and a hell of an awkward climb up freshly laid stone chippings, but that's soon left behind along with some of my energy. What then follows is a sublime descent. We turn right past a sign that states that riding here on any other day is forbidden. I clock 30mph on the tarmac descent. In the distance I can see four riders leaving a cloud of dust. The tarmac turns sharp left, but out route goes straight on ahead, I hit the loose  dusty Cotswold stone trail at 30. I think for a moment about the protection offered by the polystyrene cup on my head and lycra kit, then think **** it and throw caution to the wind. I think I actually say out loud 'Oh come on' when the descent then turns into a climb. I now admit to myself that this is hard going, far and away harder than last weeks 300km Audax. The road I'm on now is one of those heavy slightly uphill ones. I start to get passed, I get frustrated and wonder how come their bikes are so damn clean, every part of mine is covered in baked on mud. I recognise people that were standing in front of me at the start, how come it's taken six hours to catch up with them, even the lets say the 'pretty big' fella and his lad. I feel old. I pass all I can see and ride alone to the finish after a short detour with a Crest CC rider. I arrive at the finish in 5.50 and crash out on the lawn to await Miles.
It was a great ride, and we were lucky with the weather considering it snowed last time I did it, but that'll probably be my last go at it. Next year it'll be the usual North London ride a homage to the Paris Roubaix.

The final kilometres

3 Down 300km Audax

Another weekend and another Audax, though this week the anté is well and truly upped. Six of us again, but a slightly different six Keith, Steve, Vince, Trevor, Tim and myself. It's 6.00am bloody cold, dark and misty and we're in no real hurry to leave the warmth of the HQ in Chalfont St Peter. But we can't stay here forever, so one last pat of the jersey pockets a quick squeeze of the tyres and we switch on our lights and head off, destination Fordingbridge just the other side of the New Forest.
It's cold, my hands are freezing, it's misty but still. Other than that I'm feeling fine and looking forward to the sun coming out to warm us, then I remember the clocks have just gone back so it's going to be dark. cold and misty for a bit longer!
Our first check pont is in Pangbourne approximately 50kms away. We've set a target of 5 hour 100km sections, that includes navigation, food and check point stops and mechanicals. And if all goes well you build up a buffer. We cross the Thames near Bourne End, it's trés posh down here. We cross the Thames once again at Henley- On- Thames. Then past Sonning Common were once a year they host a round of my cyclocross League, Sonnings far easier today. Then we arrive at our first check point in Pangbourne where the check point is a café that stamps our Brevets and serves a special breakfast for the riders. The food we've taken onboard here will easilly see us the next 100km to the turn around point. As we leave the café and empty plates and head off for Kimbridge at 123kms the sun comes out. For a while we savour it's warmth and enjoy the surrounding countryside. I think it's about at this point whilst riding next to Keith that I say I should really write about this in my blog, but what do you say? I mean what do you say we're just riding from one place to another and nothing much else is happening. Then the weather breaks, first it's drizzle just in time for the climbs over the Hampshire Downs. Then the wind picks up and it's head on. Atop of the Downs it's sideways and poor visibility and in this weather we've managed to split up. So we pull over and re group and push on to keep warm. We arrive at the Kimbridge check point wet but warm and ready for the last outward leg. But first we help ourselves to the 'cyclists specials' and scoff them whilst firmly planted in the cafés comfy chairs. Then it's bottles filled and jackets on and off to the New Forrest which is a short section. Having never been to the New Forest I was feeling a bit excited about getting there, especially by bike so sadly I didn't take much in on this final section. Though I wasn't too focused to avoid the two lots of Deer leaping out from the woods and across our path.
We enter the New Forest and it's not what I had expected, it wasn't very foresty? more like moorland Hound of the baskervilles sort of thing, and it kicked off with a big climb. The rain was now visibly sideways, but the tough weather really was adding to the ride and we were in high spirits up here. In fact our pace lifted all the way through the park and into Fordingbridge.
This final outbound check point was old school Audax, a grim and wet garage were we had to get a receipt to provide proof of passage. We stand in the rain enjoying a hearty meal of flapjack and Powerade among the pumps and propane cylinders.
3 DOWN, THE RETURN JOURNEY
We leave Fordingbridge for the ride home, but first we have a splendid meander though the forest where we have to find two information controls. This is some of the wildest scenery I've ever ridden through and to make matters worse the place that my Garmin decides to play silly buggers. Thankfully Keith isn't having such issues and guides us along. We gather the info needed and exit the park and my Garmin comes to life again. We've also picked up a seventh rider who will stay with us for the rest of the ride.
Alresford at 216km is our next stop. Although it's going to take us over the 200km mark the journey there is tough and undulating and the wind that was in our faces all the way down isn't playing game for us. It's not hard going, but probably the least enjoyable section of the ride. On top of this whilst leading the navigation I take a wrong turn, Keith calls out I realise my error and turn hard as I do a huge pothole grabs my wheel, it isn't good the wheel won't turn even with the brakes right out, this looks like a show stopper and I can just talk of packing. Keith comes back for me and talks me out of my foul mood,  holds my bike and we get to it with a spoke key. It get's mended in a manner and we ride off to rejoin the others. We get to Alresford a bit late, the Tea rooms have shut so we raid the Co-Op. We're having a talk from a nutritionist next week, it's a good job she isn't here right now. Lets see six sausage rolls, one caramel slice, one flapjack and a pint of cookie dough milkshake for me. Another flapjack in the bar bag and a few bottles of Powerade go on the bike. After a long stop we set off cold for our next stop and final check point in Winnersh at 271kms. It's a long section with little navigation needed so we set off in small groups, each riding at their own pace. We stop at an awkward junction and regroup. We know Keith is riding solo to Winnersh, if he has an issue we'll come across him so that's fine, but we're a man down. Tim isn't here, mobiles aren't doing the job so a decision has to be made. Trevor came down with Tim in the car so Trevor heads back to find him. That's a tough call and Chapeau to him. We agree to meet up in Winnersh or at least make a call to see what the score is. So we press on now in the fading light without Tim and Trevor or Keith who is up ahead, but with our two new fellow riders. It's dark when we reach Winnersh and Keith calls out from the easilly missed checkpoint the kebab van.  It's here that we discover that although Tim managed to singlespeed his bike, Trevor later had terminal trouble so the pair had to call it a day after about 160 miles, such a shame. I really fancy chips here, still wish I had got some now, but we decide to push on for home.
Chalfont St Peter is only just over 30kms away, not far at all and I feel remarkably good. I take over navigation duties, the little Petzl LED head torch does a stirling job allowing me to read the Garmin easily.Though as we near the finish Keith and Vinces local knowledge take over. We get back at about 10.15pm with 307kms covered. Our average was about 14.6mph, just shy of our 15mph target but not at all bad considering the weather, the mechanicals and the navigation.
After a quick cuppa we set off for home, our real homes that is. We talk of the next Audax a 400km to the River Severn and back, myself and a few others are up for it, some aren't so sure.
I entered the 400km a few days later.

Steve, yours truly, Keith, Vince all done.

Stevenage Start of Summertime 200km Audax

Sunday 30th March  a very different year of riding began. 2014 isn't a year like last, a year where I sat focused on my turbos watching all the other cyclist pass my house in the glorious sunshine. Where a whole year focused on just one event, an event that changed the way I now look at my riding, an event so hard I just don't have the time and inclination to work to that level. I won't be riding the National road race championships this year.
Soooo here I am Audaxing instead. We've picked the Start of Summertime 200km because it's not too far away and supposed to be flat....more on that later. I say I'm here, but I'm also with Fraser and Keith whom I've ridden Audax with before. And here also are Gail, Steve and Ross, Audax virgins and also about to embark on their longest rides.
We have an 8.15am start, and the weathers fair with a slight tailwind for the out bound ride. With our Brevet cards collected we mass for the start. We're seen off by the Mayor (whatever happened to funny hats and Ermine?) So anyway we're on our way, 207km to go.
We were already on the towns outskirts so it's not long before we are rolling along country lanes. It's nippy, but riding through the villages with a tailwind is sweet. Before we even get to settle for the journey we come to our first checkpoint at Reed (about 22km) The checkpoint is also host to a motorcycle rally, the place is full with just about every two wheeled machine imaginable.

The next checkpoint is Thaxsted at 55km. We set off chased by the gentle breeze. This is the life, this is what it's all about, just a few of the words we share. It's hard to write about rolling along in such pleasant surroundings, where forward momentum is far greater than the little effort you're putting in, but if you ride a bike you've probably had days like these. We reach Thaxsted in good time. After getting our Brevet cards stamped we allow time for food, drink and some photos.
Our next stop is Lavenham, 50kms away and the turnaround point at just over 100kms. The six of us cruise the section, swapping position to chat and let each other see our smug faces. Lavenham appears very soon. This is our designated lunch stop. We park up our bikes on the square, get our Brevets cards stamped and file into the National Trust restaurant. We have a pleasant lunch, but six people ordering food causes our planned forty five minute stop turn into one and a half hours! Still the sun is shinning when we set off for the 50km plus return to Thaxsted. Although returning to Thaxsted for our forth checkpoint, we are taking a far more Southerly route. The roads and terrain have changed now, very narrow and slightly raised, almost Belgian like with heavily plowed fields either side and the wind that was once our friend is now blowing in our faces. Progress is slowed, banter is reduced, but spirits are lifted when we hit a new stunning village time and time again. We're relieved when we see Thaxsted again. We had thought we'd gone off course, but upon arrival we are kilometre perfect. It's funny how the road seems long when you think you're lost. After we load up on road food we set off for our last checkpoint before the finish. We set off for Hare Street at 185kms, just 30kms away. A relief or so we think after what seemed the longest section. However this far south of our outward journey the terrain is very different. Flat open fast roads have become leafy undulating ones. It's actually very tiring. Thankfully Hare Street is close by compared to the other sections. Hare Street is nicely placed just as the terrain settles down. The final checkpoint is delightful,  deckchairs tea and home made cake. We don't think we'd get back out of the deck chairs so give them a miss. Although the thought of becoming resident on the manicured lawn is strong we have to move on.

20kms to go. Each depart from a checkpoint seems to start with a hill just to get the café legs turning, this one is no exception, still it's a short run back to the finish and we are coming across more and more riders. I make a bit of a tit of myself during the navigation, bringing the ride to a halt when I think I've led us all to a footpath, but its a bridleway and a chance to play at being De Vlaeminck for a few seconds. We're almost home now and the organisers have put us on the red routes which is a fun and safe way to end the ride. We roll into the finish at dusk for the handover of our Brevet cards.
That was a pleasing little ride, all went well, no issues and good preparation for next weeks 300km Audax to the New Forrest.

Arrivee

The 2014 Season

Sat here still feeling ill and very very frustrated at not being able to ride. Still I've had plenty of time to sort a few planned rides for the coming year. And actually having a look over the list it doesn't look to shabby.
A few things are missing because we don't have any dates like the 'Gentlemens run' a brisk run from Calais to Boulogne Sur Mer and inland before heading North back to Calais.
There should be a Belgian 'cobbles' ride in there somewhere as well!
And the highlight, the Pyrenean trip. Though the 'relaxed' two mountain summits a day and the crazy French sportive might give way to a Pyrenean SR, 45,000 feet of climbing in 600km.. (sorry about mixing my measurement metaphors.)
But to the list, first up.......
Start of summertime 200km Audax.
3 Down 300km Audax.
Hell of the North Cotswolds 100km off road.
Severn Across 400km Audax.
Bucks Off Road Sportive 132km off road.
Then come mid May the road race season starts, though 2014 will be a shorter season with just perhaps ten or thirteen races. In between road races, well mainly Crits I'll be racing XC on the 29'er.
Slotted in between the shaven legged summer racing, like the proverbial 'Bulldogs Bollocks' is the mighty 'Buzzard' a 600km dash to Exeter and back, back being Leighton Buzzard.
Road racing finishes late August (for me) Hopefully allowing a few weeks in which to ride the SR Pyrenees.
We are not long back before the biggy in my riding calender.......
CYCLO CROSS.
Add into all this the regular Sunday bun runs, the evening mountain bike rides and the joyfull hours on the turbos and the year looks pretty fine.
That'll see me into 2015, and it all starts again

NEWSFLASH!
28th February the entries for the 2013 Wiggle Mountain Mayhem go live, time for my 10th 24 hour solo mountain bike race

Central CXL Round 11 Stanborough

So that's that, it's all over. No more cross until next winter.
So how was the last round at Stanborough park? Well I arrived there a little nervous. I had missed rounds 9 and 10 due to illness, so my form was in doubt. However once at the Park my form was the least of my worries. The circuit seemed to just plopped right onto a hillside, a proper off camber'fest, and on top of this I was freezing. I then spent as long as possible in my warm kit wandering up and down worrying, but it soon came time to strip off and get out there. After donning a jacket, wool gloves and warming oil I slipped under the tape for a practice. Just as I was about to go on course the commissaire came up to me just to let me know the Masters World and Masters National Champions were in my race; oh goody.
Now as it happens once on the course my mood changed, the reason being is I could ride this circuit, whilst many others seemed to be floundering, I was glad for the few hours off road the day before and the 25psi I had pumped into my tyres. I rode several practice laps to get my line and then rolled into the start a lot happier.
Next was gridding, please God don't let them forget me this week, I only want to stick close to Tony to keep my overall position and not drop any further down.
First and second on the grid were the two champions, followed by the three front runners then me. Me called out 6th for a front row gridding with the Rainbow Jersey.
The gun goes and the front runners are off, I won't see them again until the end. Tony is right ahead of me, we slip and slide our way around before coming to a section were you can put your foot down, Tony isn't speeding up? I reluctantly pass him and press on. I have to race now, it's the last one and I can rest after this. I curse my bad lines and remember the good ones, don't forget to pedal around the bends to keep traction I tell myself. I'm going quite well it seems, but I feel I shouldn't be. I get a chance to see Tony and Keith and they're a few sectors behind me. I press on hard but I'm nervous, looking over my shoulder expecting them to be on my wheel at any moment.
When I arrive at the sector where previously I'd seen the Trisports duo a few turns behind, I find to my surprise they're not even in sight this time around.
I keep going hard as I can, I want to please my team mates Julian and Andrew who are cheering me on. I think about Julian going next in the seniors as the course seems to be drying, well in places.
The race is nearly over, I know I could probably run the rest if I puncture, but there's one more small race to be run. Mick another Trisports rider has caught me, but as it's the last lap of the last race and nothing is going to change we have some banter. We battle for the best lines shouting AH HAAA like a pair of dueling musketeers as we beat each other into the turns, but Micks superior cornering on the last turn to the flag gives him the advantage and he beats me to the flag.
So there you go. How well have I done? I don't know as the final results haven't been posted as yet. However the final overall standings have? and I finished 6th overall in my category. A glance of the standings show me to have collected 110 points from the Stanborough race, so that would make me 5th on the day.
Perhaps the forced rest and the few gentle club runs did me good?
I'm now looking forward to a few steady months finding my mileage legs. I've got a few mountain bike enduro's booked as well as three Audax rides. Then it's back to road racing, though it'll be a steadier year, at 54 I'm in the final year of my age band. The plan is to go harder next year when I'm 55 and the youngest in the next age band.
Lots of happy miles ahead.

Start line with the Champions

With the National Champion jersey

Cog Café Mini8 Sportive

Never mind rule #5 or remaining a die hard Flahute, Sunday 29th December at 7.45am wasn't the best time to be setting out on a road bike. The roads were covered in ice and the sun was still behind the rooftops. If it wasn't for the fact that I was to meet ten of my fellow club mates at the Cog café in Tring, I'd have probably taken the mountain bike out on a massive XC loop or a session on the cyclo crosser followed by a session on the turbos. However as a man of my word I set off to meet them. The roads were un-gritted and treacherous and the twelve mile ride became a scary epic mince. The cars on their roofs and the one that had gone over the edge of Ivinghoe Beacon were a reminder to go easy.
So I was pleased to arrive safely at the Cog, and even more pleased to see a full contingent of club mates had made it.
Due to the conditions I was in no hurry to set off, it was clear that the sun would eventually come up and work it's magic on the roads, but my club mates had other ideas and were already up the road whilst I was still figuring out my newly acquired Garmin, my first ever computer!
I followed, quickly catching up with Iain and Chris. The others were way ahead setting a high pace. I said to Iain 'I suppose you're wondering why I'm staying back'  Well I'll tell you. First I'm still getting over Bronchitis, and I don't fancy sucking up frozen Sunday morning air. Second, I've got one more race this season and I don't want to jeopardise my overall standings because of bumps and bruises. And thirdly I'm two and half teeth down already due to 1970's Winter rides before we all wore helmets. So steady Eddie.
Less than ten miles down the road we came across our first fall, it was our group. I said we need to spread out, we need time and space to react in these conditions. I pressed on.
At about fifteen miles I was alone and wondering what had happened to my club mates, I felt a little guilty about pressing on, though I felt safer to be alone and that over rode the guilt. It was then that two Tring Velo riders came by, they looked far more comfortable than me on the ice and I was happy to see them ride off into the distance.
By now the roads were very unpredictable some were wet, some were dry and some were still ice. I was however getting my mojo back by now, that is until Winslow. The slow moving traffic in the towns back streets had turned the place into an ice rink. So taking a page from racing in Belgium I hopped onto the pavement to avoid the hazzard, job done and back onto the main road. I left Winslow knowing I had to turn off to head towards Stewkley, but I couldn't see a sign. I knew I had to turn here, but went straight on down the busy main road. At this rate I would end up back in Whitchurch. Finally I found a left turn and doubled back to were I should have been. In the end it only proved to have been another two and a half miles added.
I was now on familiar ground, and ground that was drying out. I fell into the drops and gave it the berries to Wing. I was feeling pretty happy, only six months ago this was the road were I had been dropped in the National Road Race Championships, I hadn't felt so happy then.
In Wing I came across another rider! who hadn't been able to spot the next sign. I didn't need route markers from here on and pointed out the way. We were just about to hit Mentmore when we came across a very icy bend, my fellow rider seemed to speed up before he quite literally hit Mentmore. I couldn't stop, but I yelled out to check he was okay, he was so I pressed on up the hill. I saw the photographer on the bend at the top, but I forgot to tidy myself up; I have the most bandy legged riding position you'll ever see, and it looks dreadful in pictures. Round the corner to the cake stop.
At the stop the two Tring Velo riders were just getting ready to leave. It's funny how you can get so far ahead, but when you stop it only seems like seconds before the slower riders you left behind miles back soon appear? As I was scoffing a couple of lovely Magdelena cakes Miles came into view with another Tring Velo rider in tow. It was going to be nice to have company for the remaining twenty miles. However it seems I got ahead at the lights on the bridge at Cheddington and I never saw Miles and the TV rider again.
Things were now about to get all pointy. First we had Ivinghoe Beacon to contend with, the tougher way up from Ivinghoe Aston. Up the first part of the climb, past the rescue of the motorist that had gone over the edge, and then a left turn up to the summit. That was followed by the fast run from the top all the way to Toms Hill, which thankfully was free of ice and allowed for a fast descent into Aldbury.
From Aldbury you had a further flat run to the next climb that would take you up to Wiggington. By this point, thanks to my newly acquired Garmin thingy I realised that I was on my slowest ride of the year. Slower than my mountain bike 100km and half an hour slower at nearly fifty miles than I would do a 100km on my road bike. With that hitting home I just whacked it into the easiest gear I had and pootled to the top.
At the top in Wiggington I was glad to get back into the big ring and head for the finish. Down towards Champneys, past the lad on the BMX and left turn towards Hastoe? In all my years I'd never ridden this road, certainly not in this direction, and it seemed bloody heavy. I actually looked back over my shoulder convinced the BMX lad would be on my wheel. I pressed on as I knew this would lead to a downhill finish. Even with that in my mind the road was tough going, and I'm sure I wasn't climbing as it looked so flat. Finally I recognised the fork in the road that marked the downhill to the Cog....Yeehaaaa.
That was a great little ride, thank you.
Back at the Cog my club mates were waiting after cutting it short in favour of bacon sarnies at another well know cafe. We sat around the table catching up on what had happened whilst we waited for Miles who was still on the road. I think under the circumstances anyone who braved the conditions to ride no matter how far they rode are true Flahutes.
Miles arrived soon after and we both congratulated each other over a gratis coffee and a slice of bakewell tart, classic.
By now I was warmed and feeling slightly stewed and the last thing I fancied was another ride home. Thankfully Miles had driven over and was able to offer me a lift home. I can't tell you how nice it was being chauffeured back home past all the pink waymarker signs.
It was ironic that after all these years I finally bought a computer, and the first time it was used was to record the slowest ride of the year. A shame it can't record the fun I had.

Mentmore. Thanks to Simon Gill.

Miles

Twelve months on two wheels

Okay there are a few days left...so shoot me. Actually the way I've felt these last three weeks I wish some one would. Sadly a bout of Bronchitis has robbed me of my last few weeks of riding and racing in 2013, but I've got a fair bit to look back over.
To summarise. 29 races started. 3 races I didn't get to. 3 races where I got a great big DNF. I had one win, three 3rd's and a shed load of top tens. Five reliability trials. Four sportives and one Audax. I rode in three other countries. I went to see the pros race on the Continent. I pedaled over the pavé and I pedaled over the Pyrenees. And I pedaled up and down this green and pleasant  land. I rode through wind, rain, snow and sunshine, I even rode for hours in my garage! I raced my road bike, I raced my cyclo cross bike and I raced my mountain bike. I cemented old friendships as well as making new ones. I smiled, I grimaced, I felt euphoria, I felt pain, I lost sweat and I lost blood. And all fueled  by coffee cake and beer.
The highlights of the year? The win has to be up there, even if it was a depleted field in the pouring rain, I still had to battle for it.
Then the Pavé. Surprisingly in the four decades I've been racing I'd never been there. I can recall that upon seeing the sign for the Arenberg I got a shiver down my spine. I conjured up  images of Eddy, Roger, Bernard and Greg, the sense of being 'on' cycling history is immense. The surrounding areas are perhaps best appreciated only by the cyclists, not one for the family.
The most memorable trip was the one to the Pyrenees with Fraser and Philip. Trips away are always great, but this one was made better by staying at Frasers second home in Luchon. Quite simply a riders heaven. Wake, coffee, Patisserie, ride, thermes and walk to the cafés, arrange chairs to admire the mademoiselles drink, eat and repeat.

Perhaps the downside of the year was the National Road race Championships. The race itself was second to none, but I was training hard for half the season for something that was out of my league. I did my best, I obeyed the rules, but in the end I didn't have the legs or the attitude. I remember getting angry at all the riders I'd drop eventually catching me up by riding over the white lines all the time despite the commissaires constant warnings, I couldn't bring myself to what is effectively cheating, could I have stayed in longer if I had? After the race I had a long hard think and decided I didn't have the time or desire to work any harder to reach the levels I'd need to be at to compete at that level. In a way it was a weight off my shoulders, and it'll free up a lot of time in 2014. Perhaps the 3 Peaks or another mountain bike 24 hour solo?

So back to the end of 2013. And a season of (as yet unfinished)  cyclo cross has gone pretty well, I managed to cling onto 3rd overall in age for the first nine races, illness probably means a final standing nearer 6th?
I haven't let this get me down too much though, and decided to marshal when I could. Wrapped up like Scott of the Antarctic I marshaled the local round of the National Trophy. Field was amazing, watch out you Belges.  And I had a chat with Roger Hammond, which was nice! and it sort of took things full circle as I remember going to Leeds in 1992 to see him take the World Junior title, and now here he was managing a team.of his own.

So there we have it, just a few words, but it doesn't go anywhere near capturing the entire joy riding and all it entails brings to me, wrapping handlebars, fitting tyres, hitting the buy button, getting lost, cutting rides short, training, racing, talking bollocks, beasting your mates, getting dropped, getting in a crafty one after work, the wind on your back, just everything, good times or bad times without one the experience isn't complete.

On the Arenbergs pavé

Summiting the Tourmalet 

cyclo cross action

Criteriums at the MK Bowl

In readiness for 3 hours of XC racing

Audax with Fraser and Keith

Riding for the hell of it