Creaking arms

Just returned from 2 days riding bits of the south downs way and meeting one of the most interesting people in the world - who is both the current 'South Downs Double' record holder AND the person being the most helpful in advising Rob on his attempt. He is fascinating. The whole experience has given me renewed vigour about cycling. The camp he comes from couldn't be more different to Rob's but the 2 of them are united in their basic love of bikes and beautiful places - and challenging themselves. And a friendship has been struck up which is wonderful.

At the end of the day it's about riding bikes - and things like the SDD just provide wonderful testament to human nature. We like competition and challenge and we have been attracted to the perfect wholeness of riding 200 miles in less than 24 hours. It is attainable but tricky - and the SDW is attainable for almost everyone! I loves it.

But as for me - my riding has collapsed into a weak heap. I am tired. The 12 hour race followed by a weekend of chasing friends up and down the Welsh mountains has left me lack lustre and washed out. My riding is rubbish. Rob said he's never seen me climb so slowly! And what's worse is that I've picked up an injury. My wrist/forearm on my right hand is extremely painful and CREAKS! I'm hoping nothing serious but clattering over rocky singletrack is out for a while!

Cake, shortbread and trails

Just got back from riding with Jenn Hopkins, Lorraine Staley and Nigel Foskett at Afan for the weekend. We had a really good time, riding Skyline, The Wall and Penhydd on Saturday and then, tired and sore, riding White's Level on Sunday. I have a memory of blue skies, smiles and lots of cake stops.

The riding wasn't slack though, and we had some testosterone battles to reach the top of some hills (me and Jenn that is!) and some rattling decents that left us grinning foolishly from ear to ear.

I am left with a wet tent to dry out (it rained on Sunday), tendonitis in my wrist (those blasted forks kept locking out) and a weird sun tan where the mud splatters stayed pasty-white and the rest of my arms turned golden brown!

Here are some pics. Note the large number of food shots!

flip flops

Just rode back from Frenchay to Portishead in full IronHorse Extreme team kit... and flip flops. What a numptie. I forgot my bike shoes and ended up having to look like a complete wannabe cycling my single speed in all the gear... no shoes. My feet are now filthy and raw between the toes and the soles of my flip flops are worn away!

But the legs felt good and I'm really looking forward to a weekend at Afan riding FOR FUN!!! And then it's back to proper training and getting my head around Mayhem which is my next race. Seems like a long way away but is only a few months.

Back to work...

Questions

A new life, new house, new start. But rather than feeling secure and settled, I have too many questions.

Like what's the point in racing around in circles in the dark, not really enjoying yourself? I won the Nightrider 12 hr, my first target race of the season. But I didn't enjoy it. I just kept thinking 'I don't want to do Mayhem' and 'What's the point?'

I train hard, I focus. But why? I miss out on riding with my friends, on seeing beautiful places, on laughter and solidarity and friendship. I miss out on a lot. And I sacrifice it so that I can be the best? But I'm never going to be the best. I'm not made that way. I am going to be 'above average' and that is going to be a struggle.

But is there a way I can enjoy training more AND do fairly well at the events. Or will I be constantly tormented by 'you could be better if you trained properly'.

Do I have to leave this world altogether to find happiness? I feel like someone is trying to squeeze me (a square peg) into a round hole. I just don't belong here. The life of me has been bashed out. The energy and enthusiasm. I am trying to be someone I'm not. And last night at the race I was the closest I have ever been to being that person. The competition may not have been up to Mayhem standards but I raced well. I rode hard and consistently and made few mistakes. I smashed the field and should have patted myself on the back and said 'there you are, it's all paying off'.

But no. I feel empty, pointless, like a fraud. The best bit of the race was talking to friends before and after. So what should I do?

Koalas, gorrillas, Matts and superheros

Right: Daley Thompson and Daisy Duke get it on



Am exhausted today. Just got back from 3 hours of off road (with a quick shimmy to Portishead half way through to check it's still there - we're moving there on Wednesday!) and am now trying to work but can hardly keep my eyes open.





We didn't have a hugely late night but it was the straw that broke the camel's back. I was tired first... and then dressed up like Matt Carr and went to a fancy dress party, thinking it was clever to walk through Bristol in the rain in flip flops, shorts, a floppy mohican and a fake beard. As Rob would say 'my days!'





Next week is Nightrider, the first 'proper' race of my season so this week I need to sleep, sleep, sleep.





So when am I going to move house then? Erm...

Rob and I both as 'Matt Carr'

Perfection

I am at my desk. Tired stinging eyes. Mountains of washing surrounding me. Mountains of books to be read.

I shut my eyes and remember the perfectist of perfect weekends. Scottish singletrack, Lake District logs and climbs, berms and roots. Sunshine and snow. We had it all. No music on the road trip, just laughter and chatting and sleeping and weird ways of eating apples. And Mint Sauce jersies and babies and hugs and fruit loaf and sliced cheese and puffy fingers and broken chains and dusty trails.

Did I mention the snow?

Miles and Miles

I had a weird ride last night. 4hrs on the road bike. It started with me failing to get my ipod to work, then spending nearly an hour trying to get my tyre off the rim, blistering my finger and splitting my thumb nail in the process. The ride itself was perculiar. Time just seemed to stand still. I wasn't bored at all, in fact the opposite. It was just like the seconds were 3 seconds long in 'normal' time.

And although I was never lost - and in fact always knew exactly where I was on the road - I just didn't recognise anything. It was like being on holiday. The sunset was beautiful and the air was sort of story-book misty and I just pedalled along at a hell of a lick just wonding what gorgeous planet I had woken up in.

I seemed to go miles. I might work out how far it was because I seemed to go so fast and so far. It was amazing. I crawled up the hill back to Rob's house at 9pm feeling strange but happy. I saw a fire-fly just as I was getting off my bike - which made my evening.

Today I have a rest day and puncture-fixing and chain-fixing practice. Not sure what bike I'm going to do it on though...

Then it's packing for Scotland - 3 days of rinsing trails with my beloved. Heaven!

x