However, I haven’t been slack in my fundraising and other efforts in raising awareness for Veteran’s Support Services.  I have contacted numerous local businesses requesting support and sponsorship for my fundraising and have had a few promising leads and some disappointing rejections.

Being an ex-Soldier and current Defence employee I contacted a few of the larger companies that are contracted to provide services to the Department of Defence.  My thinking was that these companies would be willing to spare a few dollars from the hundreds of millions Defence pays them to support an ex-serviceman raise some money for wounded Veterans and their families.

Well, shit! How wrong was I!  I won’t name and shame them (yet!) but I received a couple of abrupt rejections and one very sarcastic and disrespectful reply to my very reasonable request for support.  I took it with a grain of salt and contacted the respondent’s supervisor; but I was extremely disappointed with the attitude shown considering their supposed support of Defence members.

Anyway… Thanks to a small number of family and friends donating at this early stage we have reached $605 raised for Soldier On.  I’m extremely happy about this and very thankful; and with a few months to go I’m confident we will surpass last years total.

I’ve been riding a fair bit lately and gaining fitness quite quickly.  I’ve competed in two rounds of the 2013 CORC XC Series and have been riding my road bike around Canberra and to and from work.  As usual I’ve been riding with The Berm crew on a regular basis and that keeps my spirits high and head level.  There’s nothing quite like being encouraged, bagged out and enjoying a coffee and breakfast with people that love bikes as much as I do.

The Girly has been very supportive as always and understands that I will randomly go for a 3 hour ride when it’s freezing cold outside. She understands I ride because I enjoy it and it’s my rehabilitation for PTSD and depression.

I got to wear a Soldier On jersey at the CORC XC Round 2 Race at Sparrow Hill on Sunday 9 June 2013.
A nice and chilly Canberra morning meant for some fast XC Racing in my new kit and on my new bike Kate.

It’s no secret that I ride bikes as a form of therapy and rehabilitation.  Exercise is an amazing tool to soften the edge of anxiety and depression.  Mountain biking is something I can fully immerse myself in; the riding, the technology, the competitiveness and the social scene.  Canberra has an amazingly inclusive and tight-knit mountain biking community.  One of the reasons why I have enjoyed riding so much these past nine months (the first time I ever road singletrack was on 9 September 2012 at Bruce Ridge) is because of the people I have met and ridden with from The Berm.  It doesn’t matter if you are a novice or an elite rider, if you enjoy riding you are welcomed with open arms.

So this week was supposed to be the start of my new training regime.  The plan was to restart my daily commuting on the roadie and get as much singletrack in between as the girly would tolerate.  I have a lot of ground to make up and the weather in Canberra is not very accommodating; we have had a lot of rain and sub-zero temperatures.  This past week I have woken up, checked the weather on my iPhone and walked onto the balcony to gauge my tolerance of the early morning temperature.  Only once did I brave the cold and ride to work.

I did however use every opportunity before and after the heavy midweek rain to ride my new Giant XTC 29er 1 – Kate.  I managed to get a couple of rides in at Mt Stromlo, two at Bruce Ridge and two at Sparrow Hill/Kowen Forest.  For my sixth week of recovery riding I ended up having my second biggest week in the saddle since my crash.  After today’s 66.6km road ride around Lake Burley Griffin I amassed 209.1km.

So after six weeks of Recovery Riding I am now transitioning  in Training Riding.

Wednesday saw the arrival of my long awaited Soldier On jerseys and a quick 22.6km ride home on the roadie.

Thursday was the day I picked up my new Giant Composite 29er 1 Kate, which I spent the next two days drooling over and swapping out components before her maiden ride at Mt Stromlo on Saturday morning.

Round 2 of the CORC XC Series was held on Sunday and after a sluggish start I was very happy with my finish and even managed to have an off on Kate without letting the new carbon frame bike hit the ground.  How did I manage that you ask?  Well I just made sure my body hit the ground first and I lifted the bike into the air and made sure she didn’t make contact with the ground.

After a big week in cycling, mostly off the bike, I was happy with my 74.1km in the saddle and left with a huge smile about a new bike and my Soldier On jerseys.

By Wednesday I was still sore, so still no riding… and Thursday became SSDD.  I was getting a little anxious to get back on the bike; but Friday was spent driving to Melbourne for some Wedding planning and a going away party for the future in-laws.  But in the back of my car was Zooey.

Saturday was a typical Melbourne morning; cold and raining.  I drove to Lysterfield Park for some muddy MTB fun with a friend from my Army days.  I followed up with another couple of solo laps after a quick bite to eat.  Lysterfield Park is a great MTB park, but I didn’t get to experience it’s full potential with all the mud and the many, many slower riders who just don’t understand the concept of moving out of the way.

With the next CORC XC race on 2 June, I’ll be putting some more kilometres down to build up more fitness and hopefully keep my recovery in check.

It’s during rides like these you have simple offs.  A misjudged corner and you hit it with too much speed and end up in the trees or in the dirt.  Other times you can’t get your shoes out in time and end up on your side with a large chunk of mountain bike using you as a pillow.

Then there are days when you are dialled in and everything feels good.
…And then you meet the ground…

Luge at Mt Stromlo did a number on me this day
I bruised my patella, tore some ligaments and got some nice gravel rashAn attempt at a “wicked” jump at the end of my first CORC XC race saw me come off at speed and smash into the ground.  Lots of gravel rash from my feet to shoulder but the best was yet to come.A Grade 2 tear in my pectorals major and a few weeks of sling and painkiller action to come.

Currently I’m off the bike for a few weeks while my chest and shoulder heals.  It’s a huge let down considering the amount of training I’ve been doing in the past couple of months.  I’m faster and fitter on the bike than I have been before and now I have no choice but to not ride or risk further injury and time off the bike.

I’m hoping I will be back on the bike in time for the next CORC XC race in early May, but only time will tell.

The 2012/13 XC series was my introduction to club cross country racing and my first Olympic distance XC race! It was out at Kowen and I ran 5th in A grade. Defending series champion and TeamONYA rider Brad ‘Morto’ Morton ran second behind the seemingly unbeatable Dylan Cooper who won every clubby he entered except for a DNF.

Round two saw Morto take the win ahead of Ed McDonald and Ben Comfort. I didn’t race this one, neither did Dylan.

Round three was lame with a tiny field lining ip in A grade. Morto, myself and one other faced off. Morto dominated as usual!

CORC Round 3 @ Kowen

Round four Morto and I finished 1-2 ahead of Ed McDonald.

Round 4 – Top of the switchbacks

At this stage we were looking good in the series and likely to secure a permanent number plate. Morto was looking to defend the number 1 plate.

Round five saw Dylan turn up and put in the hurt. This race was on Sparrow Hill. Dylan and Morto were nearly always in sight on the long dragging fire trail but they weren’t battling. Morto was a fair way back from Dylan but was not going to give up. I had young Jack Lavis to worry about. The two of us were at each other the whole race until on the last lap he made a mistake behind me and I was able put a minute in to him. Coops 1st, Morto 2nd and 3rd for me.

Round Six was canned.

Round seven saw 13 riders line up in A grade. The larger than normal A grade field was boosted by the attendance of the Willo Development Camp. I had a great ride this week and found the legs to overtake Morto on one of the fire trail climbs and placed second second behind Dylan. It was the first time I had ever beaten Morto and was a big confidence boost!

Round 7 – Great pic!

I think the best thing about CORC races is the atmosphere. They are family friendly, fun, encouraging and supportive. Every one knows each other in the MTB scene and most are just out to challenge themselves or race their mates! There’s none of that over serious/number crunching/excuse making/boasting crap that you can easily find in the road scene!

Round 4 – Chatting after the race

Round eight went to Dylan ahead of Ed McDonald. Morto and I were at the Jet Black 24hr that weekend.

This made the series a little closer between Dylan and I for second place. Morto had pretty much sealed the series.

Round nine saw a STACKED field line up. Dylan Cooper, Dan McConnell, Jarrod Hughes, Azza Bashford, James Downing, Morto and I! Wow. Straight after the start, Dylan flatted and DNF’d. He just jumped back on to continue the race/training ride. After lap one McConnell was way back, deliberate I assume. Jarrod attacked and rode away from Morto and I. Halfway through McConnell caught and passed us. He proceeded to catch Jarrod and Dylan then ride away. Morto left me for dead on the last lap, I was hurting. 1st McConnell, 2nd Jarrod, 3rd Morto.

Round 9 – Shortly before Morto unhitched me.

All of a sudden with one round to go, the series was very interesting… For me anyway. Morto had the number 1 plate sealed. TeamONYA were guaranteed to defend the CORC XC series! But for me, I was keen to make it ONYA 1-2 in the series. After nine rounds Dylan was 20 points behind me in 3rd and I was sitting precariously in 2nd. I needed to finish behind Dylan to hold second. This would be a tough task!

Series standings with one round to go

Come race day Brendan ‘Trekky’ Johnston turned up and straight away I knew I was in trouble. Straight from the gun the pace was on and by the last fire trail pinch I was unhitched from Trekky’s wheel. Ouch.

Stoked to see Jess racing again!

Slowly but surely Morto caught me and we rode the last two laps together. He let me take him up the fire trail pinch in case of the unlikely scenario that Trekky had beaten Coops or one of them had DNF’d.

Loving the new berms at Stromlo!

It wasn’t the case but either way, Morto had taken out the series and I ended up 3rd.

Solid season of racing and some great fun! Can’t wait till next year!

ONYABike Canberra

Lewy’s Blog

When sitting down to write a blog of a 24 hour race, the first question is rather a large one:

Where should I begin?

Should I begin with numbers? The numbers can quantify the gravity of these races and display an irrefutable, tangible picture of just how much is involved.

Should I talk purely of tactics and racing? Of the surges, attacks, strategies and implosions? Of an intriguing show that plays out slowly against the backdrop of the mountain, gently illuminated LEDs floating around its contours?

Should I talk of the spiritual aspects? Of madness, hopes and dreams laid on the line through a tyre track in the dust? Of self-transcendence, redemption, or perhaps even a little self-discovery? Of the intoxicating drive to push limits and shatter boundaries?

Or should I reject it as nothing more than riding around in circles, and write of the banal.  Of the suffering, the implosions, the caffeine highs, and the sinking lows of sugar bonks.

Perhaps the best approach lies somewhere in between.  A fusion the spiritual with the tangible, of the banality of suffering with the circus-show of endurance racing.

A World in a Grain of Sand

Bike racing is its own funny little world, nestled in weekend epics and races, the occasional night-ride, and the imagination of plenty of people who end up bored and inside too much of the time.  There is a World in a Grain of Sand.  Tyre pressures? Tread pattern for the depth? Will it hold up, or blow out over 24 hours of racing? What is the course like?

In this particular case, the Solo 24 Hour Nationals was an interesting grain of sand.  A race perhaps more open due to some unfortunate injuries to the multi-time incumbent Jason English involving errant cars and kangaroos.  A course which soon became known for its brutality, with rocky sections to test fatigued riders, sapping pinches, and a rough, 600m, 13% climb to build the lap to a rewarding finish down Skyline and the Luge.  A course which would make or break riders, and indeed champions.  A course where I confidently and completely erroneously predicted huge time gaps, and lap times that blew out progressively through the race.  A grain of sand that produced a thrilling race.  With a fantastic support crew of Adam, Phil and Erin behind me, I was excited for a flat-out race.

“Yep, there’s something wrong with your derailleur”

The little world of bike racing began with a relaxed, comical start.  Scott Chancellor and I had vaguely discussed the idea of fool-hardy suicidal joint attacks to start the race.  When Scott didn’t know where the course went, I led the field out and up the first few climbs at a lazy pace.  Already, vastly differing approaches were on display.  While I had opted for the superlight Superfly SL hardtail to save my legs on the climbs – knowing I’d get beaten up on the descents – Scott had gone in the opposite direction, riding his 5″ Trance 29er, affectionately known as the “School Bus”.   He shot into Slant Six with a mischievous grin and soon vanished.  On the climbs, I could catch again, but soon decided the pace was too high and too risky, and focussed instead on starting a solid hydration and nutrition strategy, and riding to a very well defined exertion limit.

A slightly scattered leading pack of five was soon established, with Scott of the front, Callum McNamara and I having a little too much fun for this  serious racing business in no man’s land behind, with Ash Hayat and Jason English lurking ominously another minute back.  Despite feeling a little unmotivated and distracted,  my body began to settle into the rhythm of endurance racing, and loosen up a little.

Berms!

About 4 hours in, I decided to leverage the advantage of the lightweight hardtail to pull clear of Callum on the climb, and soon jumped across to Scott, who was settling back into an easier, more conservative rhythm.  I then spent a few hours off the front on my own, tapping away a rhythm, all the while with a foreboding sensation that Jason English would soon warm up, and come flying across the gap.

As day transitioned to night and the sun cast reds and golds across the mountain, the temperature dropped and the riding became a little easier.  Here, something bizarre happened, when my stomach started cramping on all the descents.  Any and all food and drink consumed would only agitate the raging inferno further.  Drastic action was soon required, and we scaled back to straight water, and a minimum of food as the lights came on to guide us through the treacherous rocks in the darkness.

Lights on and having fun

With the World in a Grain of Sand thus slipping through my fingers, it wasn’t long before I spotted a quiet and fast-moving set of lights slipping through the darkness towards me at a startling pace.  While I secretly hoped it was a local XC gun out for a play, an awkward silence was soon broken by a very familiar voice:

“What’s going on?”

With this succinct reminder that my pace appeared to be going to the proverbial, I had no answer as Jason vanished at a startling pace into the darkness.  I decided the only solution would be to throw a big bunch of time away, and make a highly unscheduled trip to the toilet to exorcise the proverbial.  With things now settling down, the other reality of winding back my carb consumption soon hit me, and bonking ensued.

I struggled with the World in the Grain of Sand slipping away from my grasp.  Lacking intrinsic motivation, I plodded on through the darkness with some rather dark thoughts about endurance racing for company.  Slowly, the Formula One pit crew of Adam, Phil and Erin loaded me up with pizza, and the carbohydrate reserves began to be replenished.  Midnight ticked by, and soon enough, the magic arrived.

Heaven in a Flower

There are many forms of intrinsic motivation that riders bring to their racing.  Pushing limits, breaking boundaries, discovering unknown internal strength.  To stray dangerously close to the bizarre world of fixies, sometimes riding a bike can offer startling moments of clarity and resolution.  When the world settles down into a beautiful, logical order.  When riding love becomes motivation in its own right, and the rider can see Heaven in a Flower by the track, accomplishment in clearing a rock garden, beauty in the glittering night sky, and redemption in recovering from a deep, miserable hole.

While the relationship of my first caffeine hit in two weeks to this sensation stretches the statistician’s catch-cry of “correlation is not causation!” into the realms of pedantry most occupied by, well, statisticians, my little riding microcosm became a beautiful place.   The course had a purpose and form, and pushing out for another lap was an enjoyable experience in a dark, timeless world pierced by a cocoon of light.  My reveries were frequently broken by innumberable crashes on Blue Tongue and Little Seymour, but not enough to break the love.

Slowly, the timeless night flitted by, and slowly, the gap to Jason began to shrink.  Redemption thus achieved, the race then built strength upon strength in a ‘spiritual’ dimension as the focus, drive and racing love came flowing back.  Descending from Willo Link one lap, I saw a very fast set of lights climbing the return firetrail.  Although to each, the identities were invisible in the blinding glare, the moment of recognition was unmissable to both: game on – again.

Riding without any form of time-keeping, I began to look expectantly to the Eastern sky for the first hints of morning glow, but secretly reveled in the cold, dark night air.  I found a bizarre alternative form of measuring the gap – a strange calling card of the leader – looking at the freshness of the splattered urine trails from a rider most adept at the much-hushed topic of rolling pees.

Infinity in the Palm of your Hand

The game thus became a question of numbers.  Retrospectively, some stats from the race show its enormous gravity – some 409km covered, with 9,600vm of ascent.  Probably somewhere in the order of 50,000 – 60,000kJ consumed.  Or, I could roll back to the training for this race.  Over the three months leading in, some 110 hours, 350 hours, 9000km, and 110,000 vertical metres of ascent.

But the game was one of infinite possibilities.  To attack immediately and risk an implosion? To ride to tempo and with conservatism?  How many minutes were needed over the five hours of racing remaining, and from where could they be pried?

With the transition back to daylight, the temptation to lift the pace again was too great to resist.  After a random hot lap, at 8am, the gap had shrunk to just 90s.  Here, the guessing games began.  Rather than continuing on the adrenaline, I chose to knock the pace back to what I felt was a sustainable tempo.   The gap opened a little.  Infinity joined the blood blisters in the palm of my hand.

Not so smiley at 11am. Photo by Steve Watson

Precious seconds rolled by.  Of the 86,400 seconds in the race, now every one seemed precious, and I mourned for those lost in the toilet earlier in the race.  The lights stayed on from the night laps.  The rolling transitions became spriting transitions for the Formula 1 crew, stretching their V12s.  Aero tucks were adopted coming out of pit row in the tarmac.  There is no madness more fulfilling than winding up the pace again after 20 hours on the bike.  None other that can produce a wry smile between the grimaces, chasing the void between riders, counting the seconds, trying to close a fluid, elastic gap, and grasp at the air to cling closer.  An infinite goal, almost in the palm of my hand.

Eternity in an Hour

However, much like the Scott 24hr in 2011, the downside of the early morning acceleration was the doubt about the remaining resources.  At 10am, the lights went out, with the combination of a rear end most sore from the previous evening’s debacle and a locked lower back robbing any pedaling power.  Slowly, infinity slipped away, and the race became a question of survival.

With 10 minutes to go, I made the decision to limp out on a final 33rd lap, and push a broken and abused body a little further.  The resulting hour felt like an eternity, as I grovelled over the climbs, rockgardens and descents of the trail.  Metres dragged out into endless expanses, and time became a relative function of misery.

Eventually, the finish rolled around to end an epic an exhausting day exploring the depths of eternal hours!

There are a few people I really, really need to thank for this ride happen for me:

• The amazing pit crew of Adam, Phil and Erin.  I used the term F1 crew in all seriousness.  Every transition was seamless and perfect, and between 2am and 11.50am, I didn’t spend a second stationary in transition.  It was an amazing team performance to dig the rider out of a massive hole, and have him push for the lead again!
• Target Trek MTB Team.  It is fantastic to see so much support across all disciplines of the sport, and to see Target stepping in to the MTB market.
• Onya Bike Belconnen and CORC for their continued support of this event;
• The whole community of MTBers.  You’ll never meet a better or more inspiring group of people to share these experiences with.
• Jason English for pushing the standard for these races perpetually higher, and schooling me in some late race pace!

Similarly, another nice aspect is the recidivism of racing.  That, in every race, mistakes are made, and you can walk out saying “what lessons should I have learned?” or even “which ones have I repeated?” – and then remember that racing flat-out on amazing singletrack is amazing in its own right.  It’s also worth pointing out that the monsoon-like conditions have  created some amazing hero-grip on the trails of NSW!

The first race was the twilight 3 hour held by CORC at Mt Stromlo.  Twilight races are always a personal favourite, because racing under lights adds an extra dimension and changes the nature of the race.

After a week of rain, it was an exciting prospect to race, even if in windy and cold conditions.  However, the rain had turned Stromlo from Australia’s version of the Dustbowl (complete with narratives of the dustbowl: either triumph over nature, or degeneration) into hero grip.  Conditions were ideal for some fast and fun racing, even if the gusts of wind atop the hill threatened to blow you somewhere into the Brindabellas.

The other advantage of local races at Stromlo is the opportunity to embrace some hippy-ism, and go for the zero-carbon racing approach.  Cycling is well known as a world that is the polar opposite of the rest of the world, as evinced so spectacularly and succinctly by the Great Lycra Divide of urban cafes.  Carbon is a dirty word everywhere but on the saddle of a two-wheeled steed.  Rolling into the wind with a Camelbak, the 40 minute warm-up soon delivered me at Stromlo.

Unfortunately, rolling into the wind hadn’t prepared me for the start of the race, as my legs did just about everything except put power into the pedals and I entered the singletrack far too far back.  Some rapid damage control later, and things were almost under control.  Fellow Target Trek junior gun Jack Lavis was flying off the front in a team.  Lewis Cressey thought Jack was racing solo and went charging off in pursuit.  Everyone else watched as he disappeared into the horizon.  Over the first few laps, I made an interesting study of projectile motion, as I discovered that lentil soup was the polar opposite of jam donuts.

After 3 laps, I was sufficiently relieved of lentil soup and it was time to try to settle down a bit.  Lewy was long gone, but the trails were riding delightfully well, and I was eagerly anticipating a few night laps.  Coming through with a few minutes to spare, a last-ditch lap was required severely in bonk town, before floating down the ever-fun Skyline and the berms to the finish.

The next race was the Willo Enduro.  Having heard rave reports from the past two years of this race, and having loved the trails during the Highland Fling, it seemed to good to pass up.  As a collaborative effort between James Williamson’s two clubs – the Southern Highlands Cycling Club and Canberra Off Road Cyclists – it also guaranteed that this event would have a relaxed and chilled vibe.  It also guaranteed one seriously stacked field at the start line!

As the stacked field barrelled off up the start line, the usual chaos of off-road bunches soon eventuated.  Dodging ruts and rocks, the field surged and chopped as everyone tried to position well for the singletrack.  As much as I’d love to blame a slightly silly road epic the day before, I did an appallingly bad job of positioning going into the first section of singletrack, which featured a few nice little rock gardens and tight corners.  Sure enough, the gaps soon opened as riders dropped wheels.  By the end of the first singletrack section, I looked up, and there was daylight to the lead bunch – a tangible yet uncrossable precipice of goopy, thick air.

While it’s slightly disappointing to see a race roll away 5km in, the balm of every mountain bike race is amazing singletrack.  Wingello has this in abundance, and even the fireroads are fun, plunging to the edge of the escarpment, swooping through ferny gullies, and traversing rolling hills.  Riding with Aaron Bashford, the fun soon began in earnest.  Downhillers can always teach a few things about how to ride singletrack, and following Aaron through the singletrack provided a few exciting near misses and plenty of deep drifts into the corners.

One lap rolled by into the second, and then the third.  Gradually, our patience was rewarded and we made a few positions up.  However, with the moist and tacky singletrack, the air was thick and humid.  In the pinch climbs, cramps soon emerged.  It was with a bit of a limp that most riders crossed the finish line!

So, with a hefty register of “Lessons Learned”, it’s time to look ahead to some exciting racing.  24 Hour Nationals are coming up, and then some nice long races around the bush.  Maybe even a very pretty new bike too!

The Nunawading Bicycle Superstore team was so impressed with my debut MTB race at Bendigo last month, they asked me back to join Kris, Richard and Jeremy to make up a 4 man team.  The BSS team was also bolstered with Blake and Ethan making their race debut in the scaled down 24 minute junior race.

The MTB pilgrimage started early Friday morning with a 3:30am rendezvoux at the Nunawading store.  Kris was at the wheel of the loaded up team bus which got us safely to Canberra around lunch time which gave us plenty of time to setup base and head out for a ride to check out some of the track.

The race circuit is made up of a 12km Red loop and 14km Blue loop.  The circuit, while challenging, did not appear to be as technical as as the Bendigo track, however riding at least 6 hours over a 24 hour window through the dark of night is definitely uncharted territory for me.

The team was a nice mix of youth and maturity with the combined aggregate age in excess of 160 which made us eligible for the Male 40 team category.  We all had our role to play with Richard running a tight ship and managing the rider schedule down to minute. A top 10 placing was the team goal which required us to do at least 28laps with an average of 43 and 54 minutes for the red and blue loops respectively.

Kris‘s made sure the bikes were all in tip-top condition. His reputation of having the number one service centre in the BSS franchise was on the line and he checked the gears, tyres, suspension and made sure the running gear was all clean & lubed ready to go. Kris was also head barista and would whip up a triple espresso when an energy boost was needed.

Jeremy was in charge of entertainment and had a good assortment of stories to go with the role. One of my favourite moments was rolling in the transition after completing my double lap at 2:00am.  Jermey had a captive audience and appeared to be in a very animated conversation and had not yet spotted me.  I had to excuse myself to his little party to see if he was ready to head out for his double.

My role was to take a few pictures and write a little story.

Race start was 12:00 Saturday.  The solo riders took off on the dot at 12, with the teams starting Le Mans style 2 minutes later. Bike handlers and spotters waving lures to make sure rider and bike united all added to the excitement.  Bevan‘s lure was a highlight.

Richard was our lead out man and rode the red lap to plan to have us tracking to schedule.  I was next and headed out on the blue lap which has a couple of nice wide fire trail sections where you can give it a bit of a nudge and I was able to pick up 6 minutes.  Jeremy also beat the red lap target by 5 minutes and Kris pulled back another minute on his first outing on the blue loop. It was looking good early.

The rider sequence alternates so that we all get to ride both loops so my next lap was red.  The red climb wound its way through the trees and over rocks.  I was handling it well and the confidence was sky high.  Richard mentioned earlier that there were a couple of A and B lines. He recommended to go B on the first one and A on the second.

I was following a rider who seemed to know what he doing and setting up good lines.  I missed the A/B marker at the 11km mark and before I knew it I was heading down the A line.  I panicked and my immediate reaction was to hit the breaks which sent me over the bars.  I felt the back of the head hit rock and heard the sound of crushing foam.  The helmet definitely saved me from serious injury.  I was very lucky.  Nothing broken however I did puncture the front tyre and seriously buckled the back wheel.

The change was a calamity.  I couldn’t get the tyre off.  I broke a tyre leaver, finally got the tyre off, then couldn’t get the dam thing back on.  Finally tyre back on, the tube wouldn’t inflate.   I had chewed up over 10 minutes.  Time was ticking.  I had a schedule to keep. I had team mates waiting.  No choice but to run it back.  In hind sight I should have done that earlier.
Kris swapped wheels/tyres around and got my bike going, while Richard and Jeremy continued on lapping.

As Kris headed out for his 2nd lap it started to rain.  It didn’t seem heavy under the cover of the canvas, however it was consistent and probably lasted an hour.  The tracks became very sticky and the water run off made the lower lying sections very boggy.

My next lap was was just before dusk and I had to get the lighting organised.  With the confidence knocked down a notch, diminishing light and a slippery track, the race took on a new personality.  I rode conservatively compared to first time around and managed to hit our self imposed time target and we were currently sitting in 12th position

The conditions were getting miserable, however out spirits were still relatively high.  The red track was also deteriorating and a less boggy alternate path was made to avoid the worst of the bottom of the blue lap.

My next stage was to be the midnight double run and it was back to the red track.  It was slow going through the mud but the climb was still in reasonable condition.  I reached my nemesis and managed to successfully navigate the B line.  Why I didn’t pick it first time is beyond me.  My time was down &  I tried to gun it up the fire trails, however the legs were getting pretty heavy.

All of our times were starting to drop off, however we were still on track to complete 27 laps within the designated limit to allow us to commence the 28th and final lap.  We starting taking more notice of the online results & checking the time gaps. After we completed all the double laps we were sitting in 10th.  We needed to pick up 10 minutes to catch “4 play” in 9th and we had about 8 minutes on “crankensteins the A team” who was sitting 11th.

We all managed to get a couple of hours sleep and I had the alarm set for 5:05am to get ready for the 5:45am run.  I was greeted by a fabulous red sunrise as I rode around the top of the red loop.  I still had one obstacle to navigate.  And you wouldn’t believe it, I missed the A/B marker again, however this time I managed to bail out before the drop and live to tell about it.

Jeremy’s last red lap was an absolute ripper and almost matched his first lap attempt.  Kris was able to head out for lap 28 with 10 minutes to spare.  As it turned out, the 11th team came in just outside the 24 hour time limit and therefore finished a lap down, however Kris wasn’t aware of this.  Kris was under orders to ride like the wind to make sure we held our place, which he did.

So mission accomplished.  It definitely was a wonderful adventure shared with a bunch of good blokes.

See also:

• more of my pics,
• overall results,
• Team of 4 Male 40 results 
• our teams lap times
• report from Frankie Sanders Solo Female Single Speed

3 hour races are an interesting length, because they are basically short enough that you can try to hold XCO pace throughout and usually end up blowing yourself to pieces.  For information on how not to race longer races, see below:

• 7/8 hour races
• 24 hour races

The 3 hour in question was a CORC Twilight 3 hour at Mt Stromlo, sponsored by On The Rivet.  With 2 hours of daylight and 1 hour racing under lights, this was a fantastic opportunity to get some good Stromlo race practice in before the Scott 24 hour.  Hundreds turned up, lured by a $10 entry, awesome trails, and the cool people making up Canberra Off Road Cyclists.  These hundreds were not disappointed, with a perfect spring afternoon and great trail conditions!

How not to race a 3 hour: Come in underdone

There’s been a lot of talk about “tapering” lately.  With a niggling hip issue after a spectacular crash at Back Yamma, I had had my quietest week on the bike in rather a long time, with only a few commutes to speak of.  Generally, legs need to be conditioned for what they’re about to face.  If it’s 3 hours at high intensity, then – instead of tapering by not riding at all – legs need some intensity.  Although I often do the opposite extreme and come into races overcooked, this time it was the opposite.  Heading up the first fireroad into Blackberry with a mild headwind, the legs really didn’t want to play!

No warm-up

The shorter the race and the higher the intensity, the more important the warm-up.  Suffice to say, no warm-up happened.  Suffice to say, the body spent the first lap in shock.  I was very grateful that Dylan Cooper was racing in a pair – because within the first lap, he vanished into the horizon.

Non-dialed in bike

Although I’ve spent countless hours on my Superfly this year, it’s always an adaption hopping back onto the bike for a race.  Positions are slightly different, and you need to work out how to handle the thing again.  Not having ridden this bike for two weeks, it felt bizarre.  This was compounded by a few supreme goofs of preparation.  I had new brake pads in, but had failed to bed them in at all, leading to very little power early.  I had also put way too much pressure in my front tyre and was understeering and front-wheel drifting off just about every corner, not unlike last year’s Twilight 3 hour, where I turned up with mud tyres at Stromlo.  At the end of the first lap, Lewis Cressy and Callum McNamara were firmly on my wheel trying not to follow my appalling lines.  Again, like last year, the classic sports cliche floated through my mind: “Failing to prepare is preparing to fail.”  With no handling skills to speak of, the only viable option was to embrace my inner roadie and attack repeatedly and stupidly on the climbs.

Fail to eat

It’s hilarious how often experienced racers forget very basic things, such as eating during a race.  Despite mountain bike racing basically being an eating competition on wheels, it’s extremely easy to get caught up in the racing and forget to eat.  I managed to get about 1 bar down during the race and, by the end, was probably racing on fumes.  I decided instead to try and get excited about racing, to use adrenaline instead of actual carbohydrates.  This can be surprisingly effective, but remember that adrenaline only usually lasts an hour!

Fail to drink enough

Last year I turned up to this race with two bottles and it proved woefully inadequate for 3 hours at Stromlo.  Of course, this meant I was doomed to repeat the same mistake.  Stromlo in the sun is like a furnace – becoming significantly hotter than the ambient temperature.  By the third hour of the race, I was longing for another sweet bidon of electrolyte drink.

The combination – cramp central!

The combination of all these factors meant that, about two hours in, my calves started twitching violently.  By the third hour of racing, this had degenerated into full-blown cramping.  My forearms and gut soon followed suit.  Since adrenaline is also good at suppressing pain, I decided I’d have to try to go a bit faster.  On lap 6, I pulled a stupid acceleration out of the Blackberry climb to try and get a gap on Lewy.  He closed me down twice, and between traffic, it seemed hard to get a clean break.  We came through transition with about a minute to spare and headed out for a last lap.  Only just holding cramps at bay, I managed to get a gap and roll in about a minute ahead of Lewy.

Thanks to On the Rivet for the awesome support and for sponsoring the race, and to K-Lite for the great night lights!  When’s the next race?

Sophie Maja

I took this picture in Armação dos Búzios in September 2010, a municipality located in the state of Rio de Janeiro in Brazil. The peninsula was popularized by legendary movie star Brigitte Bardot in the 1960s, and her statue sits along the main street of Búzios, the Rua das Pedras, the Street of Stones. While she was there, Bardot fell so much in love with the little town, that she stayed for months longer than she planned.

There are a lot of weird quotes that surround ultra-endurance racing, and particularly 24 hour solo mountain bike racing.  That you come “face to face with your very soul”, or stare oblivion in the face during the darkness of the night.

Pit lane at night. Photo by Russ Baker

There’s no doubt in my mind that the confronting, life-changing and mind-breaking aspects of these sort of races recede with experience.  It becomes less about pushing limits, and more about chasing marginal gains, thinking about your food, and simply riding fast.  I don’t think I had a single interesting thought out there on race track, let alone some startling revelation about myself or the universe.

But, for all that, I think 24 Hour solo racing still holds up an interesting mirror to life, like some strange form of bike-racing art that involves a sore derriere, too much singletrack, 400kms of racing, and somehow encompasses the full spectrum of Human Nature.  To experience Hope, Madness, Love and Infinite Joy in one intense microcosm of endurance.

Hope

The lead-up to this race could be described by “hope”.  A mild summer provided the opportunity to lay down some big weeks and build a good platform of endurance to get through the 24 hours without my legs falling off.  February saw the start of racing, and some continued building of form.  In March, the wheels utterly fell off the preparation.  After losing somewhere between 4 and 7 kgs in the disastrous Mountains to Beach gastro affair, my body’s reserves of more or less everything were gone.  Every week for the following month, I got sick, felt exhausted, and couldn’t put good days of riding together.  The notion of being prepared for the race turned from “peaking” to “surviving”.

Madness in the transition with Jase and Stu. Photo by Kevin Wells

So, I fell back to Hope.  I had no idea whether my body actually had 24 hours in it this time.  Other things looked good.  I had two identical Trek Superfly hardtails, a great course around Majura with loads of climbing, swooping corners, tricky rockgardens and loads of flow.  I had amazing support from a bunch of great friends.  I also had plenty of fun times to look forward to on track with guys like Brett and Andy, and the usual globful of pre-race smack talk.  In the spirit of Hope, on the morning of race day, I took out the permanent marker and wrote a one-word motivational slogan (stolen from Trek’s emotive American marketing) on my right arm: Believe.  I’ve never really gone in for motivational slogans before, so it was pretty amusing when it smudged with my suncream and resembled either an atrocious tattoo or nightclub entry stamp.  But what can you do before a 24 but hope that things will go to plan and you’ll ride to the best of your ability?

Madness

The start of every 24 hour race is aptly described by “madness”.  Although the race is extraordinarily long and everything will sort itself out in time, put a bunch of boy racers together and they will invariably try and tear each other to shreds.  Although the first part of the “Hope” plan read “don’t do what you did at the Sydney 24 Hour“, I couldn’t resist slipping off the front on the first descent and taking the #PRO first lap (imaginary) prime prize.  I tried to restrain the madness though, and soon found myself back in the folds of the lead bunch on a beautiful, sunny afternoon on the fun trails.

Photo by Dan Mackay

On the fourth lap, Jason went to the front and madness ensued.  All the talk became very, very quiet as everyone scrambled to hang on to the wheel and not to blow.  Sam Chancellor launched a huge counter-attack and the chase group was whittled down to last year’s top three: Jason, myself, and Stu Brown.  In the madness of rolling transitions and trying to keep the fuel and fluids up and establish a rhythm, we eventually caught Sam.  Jason cheekily suggested one of us counter when we caught Sam, and Stu obliged with another searing acceleration.  In the process of clinging on for dear life, I made a very stupid line choice and ended up face-first in the dirt with a taco’d front ZTR Crest rim.  It was rideable, if very sketchy on the descents, as Jason and Stu drove a torrid pace.  I began to ping-pong off the back, and soon found myself doing something I do very well: going backwards.

Photo by Dan Mackay

This at least provided an opportunity to escape the madness and try to establish a rhythm at an easier level.  The sun set, and golden illumination through the forest was replaced by the eerie glow of a full moon and the cold brilliance of LED light.  Struggling for motivation, I rolled around, trying to establish a good tempo while Jason began to pump around 2 minutes per lap into me and Stu.

Jase tearing away at night. Photo by Dan Mackay

Midnight eventually rolled around.  This is the point where the investment you’ve made in the race is sufficient motivation to keep on going.  The night was warm, and the pace still reflected some sort of madness.  Before the race, I had anticipated night laps blowing out to 45 minutes – they hovered more around 40.

I need more motivation than purely madness – and, to be honest, I think caffeine provided it.

Love

Around 2am, a magical mental switch flicked in my head.  I fell in love with riding and racing bikes again in a way I haven’t experienced in a long time.  The singletrack began to flow beautifully, the night was still and timeless, and every lap was actually great fun.

Riding love is something I’ve experienced all too often at Majura, particularly at night.  Somehow every single line works, every rock garden is enjoyable, every climb is rewarded by a great descent, and the world collapses into one single blissful blur.  I guess the long and the short of it was that I found the Happy Place.  Every lap, I picked up a new song coming through transition, and was singing away happily on track.

Andrew scorches the night. Photo by Dan Mackay

Racing love is something quite different.  Somewhere within each racer is either a ridiculous ego, or smoking mojo, or whatever you want to call it.  It’s potent motivation, if somewhat elusive in races this long.  Around 3am, I caught Stu – who had begun to suffer debilitating back pain, ruining what was a fantastic performance – and came into the pits with adrenaline pumping.  All of a sudden, I could think of the race situation in terms of motivation and relish the challenge of racing a bicycle.

Sure enough, dawn rolled around with a soft light slowly filtering through the pine trees.  Unlike previous races, I was keeping just below my maximum rhythm to allow scope for a late-race acceleration to retain 2nd, if required.  This is a tricky mental equation, and one that requires some pretty solid motivation.  Riding love and racing love certainly do the trick.  I relished the opportunity to push the descents harder with the rising sun, and enjoyed every bit of hero grip provided by the trails.  Although Jason was way too far up the road to catch – hovering between 20 and 25 minutes – I had the prospect of a charge on 2nd from Mark, who came as close as 10 minutes.  Riding love prevailed though, and I was able to keep a very consistent pace just under 40m as long as I needed to all morning.

Infinite Joy

At about 10-30am, I was informed by Brendan Den, roaming around the course, that the gap was totally safe behind me.  With Jason utterly unassailable in the lead, it was time to turn off the pace and try to cruise to the finish (as easily as anyone can cruise after 23 hours on a bike).  I was lucky enough to have some great company in these last couple of laps, first from Dave Coyles, and second from Jason McAvoy, who had wrapped up 2nd in the 6 + 6.  This meant that the last couple of laps were rolled along merrily with plenty of laughs, jokes and pleasant banter to get us through the climbs and rockgardens of the course.   On the last lap, all the COGs folks had gathered through the swoopy part of Telemark, and riding through the cheers led to a feeling of elation and achievement that is hard to match elsewhere in life: infinite joy.  After crossing the finish line, this quickly gave way to infinite exhaustion, but the endorphin high should last a little longer.

Cruising with McAvoy, photo by Dan Mackay

A huge thanks goes to Stan, Adam and Phil for the amazing support.  I would estimate that, before the last two hours, I spent about 2 minutes stationary in the whole race.   It was more of a team effort than a solo 24, and they were certainly the stars of the show!

I also need to thank some sponsors – On the Rivet for rebuilding my Superfly from the ground up, and Trek Australia for providing a second almost identical bike from the demo fleet.  The bikes performed immaculately and handled impeccably – G2 geometry and stability is a life-saver through rockgardens when you’re massively fatigued.  Despite racing for 24 hours on hardtails, I got through with no significant back pain due mostly to the compliance in the frames.   The other thanks is to K-Lite for the amazing lights that performed absolutely flawlessly, even when I pushed way over the specified runtimes (oopsies).  As an (almost graduated) engineer I can appreciate just how good these are – and for balancing reliability, power and light weight, you simply can’t do better.

Photo by Dan Mackay

A huge congratulations goes out to Jason English on a 5th straight national title, and to Liz Smith on a much-deserved women’s title.  It was also great to see Andy Hall and Brett Bellchambers make the overall podium with characteristically consistent performances.

Riding bikes is fun!

Against:

• My legs would be fried
• I’d probably still be dehydrated
• I doubt I would have cleaned my bike…
• I was in desperate need of sleep after the previous 3-30am wake-up call

For:

• Bike racing is fun!
• Kowen is fun!
• Sunday mornings are made for bike racing.
• CORC races are frequented by awesome people and a great community
• The regret of not doing it would last a lot longer than the pain of the last hour of racing when completely blown

Sure enough, I found myself firmly awake on Sunday morning and pretty keen for some racing, with absolutely fantastic company around at the racetrack, with over 280 riders in attendance.  A pre-race warm up revealed angry legs, so it was time to indulge in another timeless Jens Voigt quote:

Shut up legs, and get me coffee!

After the typical chaos of a self-seeded start, it was time to get racing.  The course was fast and furious – a swift 6km that climbed slowly through pine forest and native gums to the top of a fantastic descent called “Rolling Thunder”, which begged the rider to start burping tyres with aggressive cornering.

Dylan Cooper set a solid pace right from the start, and I decided to try and bluff and sit on his wheel for as long as possible and try to take advantage of the draft.  This bluff only lasted a few laps before my elastic started to stretch in a rather plastic way, and when I missed my bottle swap (foolishly riding straight past my table), a big gap opened.

The gap thus established, I went backwards faster than a sprinter up Alpe D’Huez and  completely faded.  So it was time to fall back to strategy number 2: cruise around and enjoy some fantastic trails full of friendly people!

This race has set the tone for a fantastic CORC 3 Hour series, with great racing and great people at an even better price.  It was fantastic to see so many On the Rivet jerseys out there in an event with such a great vibe, and I have to conclude that, despite the struggling that resulted from attempting to race hard two days in a row, the riding was such good fun that I’d even do it the day after a 24! (oh, there’s something I’ll regret writing).

The first of these was a CORC 3 Hour at Majura.  With a $10 entry fee and the mountain-bike nirvana of Majura promised, I was giggling with excitement the moment the race was announced.  Majura is usually great for SS, with some sapping pinches, rockgardens and lots of flowing singletrack, so it promised some very fun racing, and I chucked a few bottles on the Niner in preparation.  Riding a steel singlespeed at Majura is probably the most pure form of mountain biking possible for ponderous singlespeed folks with the trails touted as the “spiritual home of mountain biking in Australia”, and for me, connects with the days of blasting around the pines on a BMX.

I woke up on Sunday morning with my body severely wanting a few more hours sleep and rain pouring down outside.  I groggily forced myself up to check the radar.  It would possible the rain would clear for the race.  While the computer was on, I saw some nice inflammatory tweets from James Downing advising all to drink a cup of concrete.  I took his advice and stumbled towards the kitchen.  I found something that would taste equally horrible and have a similar (proverbial) effect – instant coffee.  Two cups later, and I was miraculously feeling rather more upbeat about the whole thing, and rolled over to Majura clad in the old Yeti / Pearl Izumi skinsuit.

The fun bit about CORC races is that they always draw a quality field, with Matt Rizzutto, Brad Morton and James Downing on the start line along with the scarily talented Prossers. James, for instance, is Australia’s veteran’s Cross Country and Marathon champion, and is a fantastic rider.  Blasting away from the start-line and up a fantastic little pinch climb through Auto Alley, I was able to whittle the competitive field down to the four of us and opened a small gap.  On the flatter sections – where I was riding my mountain bike like a triathlete (very appropriate given my skinsuit) – the boys reeled me back in easily.  This pattern then established itself for the next few laps – I’d open a gap on the pinches then get pulled back in, mostly by James.  After an hour and a half, the course was drying out to provide a mixture of hero dirt and treacherous roots.  Matt dropped off, and eventually, James and I prized a gap open over Brad.

I knew I could take time on JD up the first climb, but was fading badly everywhere else on the course.  Halfway through the 6th lap, James passed me.  I was grateful to suck his wheel for a while before making a few stupid dabs and allowing him to open the gap.  He capitalised and had 15s by the end of the lap before leading into the first climb.  I put in a big dig to smash the SS over the top of the pinch and past him, then (audibly) imploded at the top.  James came flying by again, and I (completely blown now) decided to inspect the first corner of Auto Alley at rather close resolution and spent a while trying to extract myself from my bike.  I limped home for the rest of the lap, continually making sure Morto wasn’t surging towards the finish, with JD storming home for a great win.

A day of great racing was capped off by some cool prizes thanks to Lonsdale St Cyclery, and a slow dribble home through some more rain.  A big thanks to CORC for running such excellent races at cheap prices – certainly the best way to spend a Sunday morning!

The original plan was to race Round 4 of the Singletrack Mind Series at Mt Annan on Sunday the 18th.  I was looking forward to racing Andrew Hall and Rod McGee again after the excellent battles at Wingello.  However, on Friday the 16th, I found out that my honours seminar would be on Monday the 19th, not Friday the 23rd, after the sort of administrative debacle that can only occur at a university…. and what’s more, the administrators had cunningly made these changes at the 11 hour, when debate or appeal would be a fruitless waste of time.

While the heart was keen to race, the head argued persuasively that racing for 8 hours and driving for another 6 was not good preparation for trying to present 6 months of work coherently in a teeny 10 minute timeframe the next day.  The heart went off and sulked in the corner, then came back with a seductive new scheme: race the twilight 3 hour at Stromlo on Saturday evening instead!

It was an excellent decision, so I found a daggy old pair of boardshorts, chucked a few bottles on the nearest bike, and headed out to Stromlo with my $10.  The course was fantastic, featuring the standard trunk trail climb and descending Skyline and the Berms, there were friendly people everywhere, and it was just way too much fun.  I also found out that riding down Stromlo with mud tyres is a hilarious notion, because you will spend more time going sideways than forwards.

When all was said and done after 3 hours of far too much fun, I’d had an absorbing 2h battle with Marc Williams and Greg Doerksen, managed to break away in the last hour under lights, and finished 4 minutes behind Dylan Cooper, who looked like he was putting in the effort of a casual stroll in the park while vanishing into the horizon.  Fun times!  Singlespeed was great fun up the climb every lap too!

If you live in the area, a good site to check out is GORC

Type: Multiple Loops

Description:
This trail system is made up of nearly 8 miles of tight, twisty, all-dirt singletrack in 4 separate trails, with a 5th trail in the works. Modest elevation gain, thick forest, and smooth hardpack make for rides which will satisfy every rider from beginner to advanced. The trails were designed in such a way that they would be a place not only for beginners to try out mountain biking, but also to allow more advanced riders an opportunity to test their bike handling skills by riding the narrow trails at a more rapid pace.

They are built partially on the site of an old outdoor amphitheater from the 1970’s, better known as the “Mississippi River Festival.” The trails are easily accessible from the numerous bike paths that intertwine the Metro-East, so if you live in the area, driving to the trails is not necessarily required. While all the trails are designed to IMBA standards, because of the all-dirt surface, it is recommended that you not ride these trails immediately following rain.

Please download a map and take it with you, so you will be able to find all the loops, as they are spread out among numerous cross-country running trails.

Directions:
Take hwy 255 North past Interstate 270, to New Poag Road. Turn Right or East at the end of the exit ramp. Stay on New Poag Road until the first intersection with a 4 way stop sign. This will be University Drive. Turn Right onto University Drive. The road will immediately bend to the left, at the end of the bend on your right is a gravel road, turn onto the gravel road. Follow the rock road past the hedgerow on the left, the road will make a 90 Degree turn to the right and then back to the left, then it will dead end. The Northernmost Trailhead is located at the 90 degree corner of the woods near that dead end.

View High Res Map in Adobe Acrobat PDF Format

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