Team TWAT (Two Wheeled Assault Team) - Photo courtesy of the incredibly talented Adrian Kirby.  He even managed to make it look like we knew what we were doing!

I took part in a most amazing experience at the end of April in the form of the IXS No Fuss Macavlanache at Glencoe Ski Centre.

There was an initial terror which struck my heart when I saw exactly how big/steep/high Glencoe Ski hill actually was.  The panic increased as I waited in line for the first chairlift and topped out when I had to lift my bike onto it *cue a montage of me struggling to pick my bike up high enough to hook the saddle onto the hook, missing chair after chair and eventually having people feel sorry for my flailing attempts and helping me*. 

After this initial (pathetic) hurdle, we had good practice and qualifying runs.  The course was surprisingly good riding despite the bog sections and not way beyond my abilities as expected.  We went for some good food and lots of excited chat. See, I'm talking all sorts of good was going on that day.  You can't even make up that much good without feeling like you need a bad guy in there somewhere to even it out.....luckily, the bad side never came along...seriously, it was all so very very good that even when plans changed suddenly, all we could see was a half full glass of goodness.  The sudden change came when we were about to retire for the evening.

Our lovely accomodation and some race preparation - Photo courtesy of my rubbish phone.

I was really looking forward to staying in a bothy over the weekend as I've never had that pleasure. Unfortunately, the bothy plans went to pot at the last moment so we improvised some lovely accomodation from the car. 

The level of luxury was unexpected as the sleeping area was surprisingly spacious, there was an annex for storage (see little red hut on left hand side of photo), there was a rooftop fitness studio (see bikes), a tanning salon and a restaurant within easy walking distance.  The only thing glaringly missing was an en suite loo but I'm delighted that no one decided to improvise that particular aspect.

This most amazing race photo of me is Courtesey of Glencoe Mountain Resort  - look I'm  still on the pedals and everything when other people are already binning it :)

The race run was amazing.  The 45 minute hike to the snowy peak was a real test of fitness.  The nerves rattling around at the top were like none I've experience before.  The starting horn went off and I started scooting down the hill quite quickly.  As soon as I came off, I'd realized I would waste more time trying to get back on so just ran as fast as my little legs would carry me.  The mass start was bike and rider chaos with people tearing down the hill.  Some in control, others clearly out of control and many simply sliding on their bums.  My running tactic was paying off and  I came off the snow in 3rd place for the girls.  Once into the natural boggy section, things were going smoothly before I took a superman over the bars straight into a deep bog at a most pivotal moment.  I was overtaken and this put me in 4th which is where I finished.

I came off the hill positively buzzing and eager to go again! 

Here is a wee video of the snowy bit of the race run courtesy of super Nix, the best darned chuckling bike rider on the planet and a non-snoring carmate.  I'm in it for like a minute before I start swivelling my way down the hill.  Once you watch this video, it's pretty easy to start looking for videos on Megavalanche and realizing that perhaps this event has just struck the tip of the snowburg....



March brought the start of the race season and with it many adventures.

 

What I look like when I'm rocking the cross country vibe...

photo courtesy of Altura and Sam Needham

  

Tale 1:  The learning curve is steep….literally!

 

On March 3^rd & 4^th I took part in my first downhill race.  I was totally terrified of the prospect and spent all of Friday night tossing and turning in my bed.  I couldn’t sleep for the worrying that I’d jumped in way too deep once again.  I am not a downhiller.  I am hardly a decent descender on a cross country course…..so the fear was really overwhelming.

 

The dread continued with me as I drove down on Saturday morning.  I showed up early to ensure that I could walk the course to see just how close the course measured up to the course of my nightmares from the night before.

 

Surprisingly, it all seemed okay except the top section which was totally bonkers.  I got my kit on, found a girl I’d met once before named Morag and we chummed along to the first uplift pick up.

 

This blog is a breakdown of my weekend as a catalogue of chronological novice errors.

 

1. Walk the course – the whole entire course.  Not just the bottom bit for a while and then the top bit for a while.  It is important to know what is coming up and what your options are.
2.  Warm up on something sensible. - I have a tendency for getting junked up on adrenalin for the first run.  I’m awful with adrenalin and tend to just crash a lot.  What I should have done was ridden something that wasn’t totally new and totally challenging.  Instead, I crashed, slid and smashed my way down my first race practice run.  Not looking for the good lines, just suffering my way down life threatening obstacles.
3. Practice clever. – I never really stopped on the course.  I just rode it over and over again in practice.  I kept riding the same lines.  What I should have done was ridden the course slower and sectioned different options and how to approach them.  The weather totally changed for the race run and some of the grassy off camber options that I’d ridden in practice had turned into a total mud slide during the race run….this was rubbish because there was a totally weather proof option on the same corner but I hadn’t practiced it so didn’t get the entrance to it dialled.
4. Quit while you’re ahead. - I know I’ve got spaghetti arms and that my upper body fitness is my biggest weakness.  So I got carried away on the practice day and did as many runs as seasoned downhillers.  What a fool!  I was at my strongest and best on my 3^rd practice run.  I was fast and smooth – it was basically as perfect as I would ever ride that course.  I should have stopped after that run…but noooooooo, I battered on until I was so tired that I started making lots of mistakes.  This meant that instead of leaving the course confident after my 3^rd and best run, I left the course worried, fretting and overthinking places where I’d wiped out.
5. Go on 5 – This is something that is not obvious but would be if you took the time to learn the rules of the game you’d signed up for.  When they start counting you down to your race run, you can start pedalling when they reach 5.  Of course, I was stood there like a numpty waiting for the count down to reach one.  Luckily, the people behind me started shouting for me to get going so all my time wasn’t totally wasted.
6. Ensure the bike is fit for purpose. -  I knew my bike was little because it’s an all mountain trail bike, but it could have been set up better for me to get a better performance.  Simple things like having a bolt on skewer instead of a quick release on my back wheel (I know Brad!  You totally told me to do that as soon as I got that bike!), getting my shocks pressure set up so I was taking full advantage of the travel available to me and checking my tyre pressure.  Instead, there I was only using 2/3 of the travel on my forks, my upper body taking a pounding on my way down the hill.  The back wheels skewer rattled loose so my back wheel wasn’t tracking true in corners and was barely attached to the bike.  It would be kind to say I was riding an ill prepared bike when what I was really on was a death trap.  My bike wasn’t ready for the rigors of downhill and was still quite clearly a cross country machine.   

So there you have it, a whole list of things to do better. 

 

Thing is, I really enjoyed it.  I haven’t felt that challenged on the bike in ages.  I was actually really disappointed in my race run (where I placed last) because I knew that I was quick in practice and could have done much better had I been stronger and had my bike set up better….which just means I’ll have to try again until I do it better J

 

Tale 2:  “If in doubt, go”

 

March 18^th saw me take part in the Lakes APR.

 

I learned a hard lesson in my first road race of the season (3^rd road race of my lifetime).

 

I’m pretty sure it was Jens Voigts who said “If case of doubt, just go”….if it wasn’t him, then it was some other famous bike rider….anyways, it’s a pretty famous quote which basically says that you need to take risks to win and if you try your hardest you’ll never regret it.

 

I was feeling strong in the lead group.  A rider broke away.  I was fit and fast enough to go with her but instead I played it safe.  She won and I got caught by the 2^nd group, placing 8^th.  Typically the cash prizes stopped at 7^th.

 

Lesson learned.

 

I still managed a personal best for average speed over 30 miles (20mph) and didn’t suffer in the surges in pace like I did last year.   

 

 

Tale 3:  Do what you’re good at…..sometimes.

photo courtesy of Altura..

 

March 25^th had me racing in the Whinlatter challenge which was a 30 mile cross country event.

 

I had a new gear on my singlespeed which was quite a bit tougher than the one I’d been pushing previously (an 18 as opposed to a 21 for those of you who are geeks about numbers like that).  I was nervous about it as I’d only ridden it twice before.

 

The day was gloriously hot, the track was dry and I was riding fairly strong.  I was the only female singlespeed to take part so took that prize quite easily, was 3^rd in my category and 4^th overall in the women’s field, right behind the lovely Jo Cardwell so pretty delighted with that as an early season result.

 

I could feel the road riding helping my stamina and the downhilling helped me use the descents as a proper rest. 

 

I spent the rest of the day making jokes and hanging out in the sunshine with friends which is really what it's about anyways.

 

It will take loads of effort to reach the summit of mediocrity I’m aiming for this season, but I will continue to ride my bike in just any old way that seems fun to get there  

In my head, pictures of me riding my bike always look like this: 

 

You know, focused, calm, beautiful scenery, nice shiny clean kit, actually capable of whatever I'm undertaking.

I am lucky enough to have had the experience of getting my photo taken while wearing great kit, in great locations, by people who can make pretty much anyone look good.  All of this photo pampering has apparently set unachievalbe expectations and I find myself embarassed by the actual state of affairs.

This is a link to the awesome Roots and Rain website. It is a hub for downhill mountain bike racing and creates a community centre point which doesn't really seem to exist in other cycling disciplines.  Event promotion, results and photos all get posted to the one place.  Each rider has a profile history which has graphs showing placings in each race compared to category, fastest time and the ability to compare yourself against other racers...so for stat freaks there is loads of stuff to look at.  It even gives you the opportunity to name yourself a nemesis!

 Well, firstly, I'd like to apologise. 

In my first post I said that I would try to post regularly and it turns out, it was a big fat misleading lie.

I was good for a while and then there was the 'Kielder 100 incident' and I lost my mojo.  I lost my focus, my drive and a general liking for riding my bike.

And then it happened.  I read a British Cycling article which talked about the Enduros...not the kind where you bust your butt for hundreds of hours straight and only suitable for the super fit xc endurance types, the kind where only your downhills are timed and are aimed at the 'all mountain' type riders.

Shortly after reading the article I found out about a local enduro being run at Innerleithen.  One thing leads to another and I'm investing in a full face helmet, body armour and loads of time into learning how to ride my bike downhill.

Now it seems like I've been riding my bike a long time but never really bothered to learn how to ride it.  I couldn't do a wheelie, jump with confidence or ride with no hands.  These things may seem like childs play but as it turns out, these are essential skills that I should have been developing.  Why didn't someone tell me that I needed to learn how to ride my bike?  I thought I had been improving all these years but I had mistaken getting fitter for becoming a better bike rider.

So there you have it.  I've been so busy playing around on the trails that I haven't had time to do boring stuff like computers. 

I've started setting this years goals around testing myself further in the enduro/downhill arena.  Unlikely to break any speed records (more likely to break bones!!) but I will be trying my best and learning loads of new stuff along the way.

Uggghhhh....I've not been this disappointed in a long time....

I know that I've not blogged in a while - despite my initial promises of trying to do it quite regularly.  I know there are no good excuses for this either so I'll just tell you the truth....I was being superstitious.

In the sun, everything looks nice....even really muddy kit.

There was no way I could write a blog about my cycling adventures without mentioning, alluding or directly explaining that I had a plan.  Actually, I did kind of mention it when I was talking about coming up with a training plan in January.  The thing I never mentioned was that my big goal of the year was to be the fastest female singlespeed at Kielder 100 this year. 

The closer the race got, the more specific to this goal my thinking and training got.  I was feeling strong.  I was getting faster.  I was thinking confidently.  I'd bought some lucky race socks which were knee high and stripey - and really, what's more singlespeed than clown socks?

All of this preparation meant that I didn't want to mention my goal to a bunch of people...hence why I stopped blogging - I didn't want to jinx it - silly silly superstitious girl.

The rain started the night before the event.  You could hear it bouncing off the rooftop of our cabin. 

I'm a hardy soul.  I ride in Scotland which is pretty darn rubbish all year round so when it poured all night and then continued to rain as we waiting at the start, I was still confident.  I thought to myself 'this weather is ideal for singlespeeds!'. 

The race began well.  My legs were feeling strong, my thoughts were strong...however, I'm still new to my bike and learning about some of it's specialty components...and when I say learning, I mean guessing.  Unfortunately, in this instance guessing badly.

The weather was persistently soggy.  It was wet like standing in the shower.  It was wet like playing in a mud puddle.  I could feel the silt amassing in my shoes it was literally like stepping on a sandbar with each pedal stroke.

This is the inside of my shoe after the event.

Each switchback I turned revealed a greater number of bicycle corpses on the side of the trail with their muddy medics tending to them.  It was only a matter of time until I joined them.

You could physically hear the grit wearing down the brake pads.  That sound was my constant companion with only a moments respite when I sang a duet of Queen's Bicycle Race with the rider slogging it out next to me.

The first of my mechanicals occurred at 21 miles and another at 28 then 35.  My brake pads were totally worn down but I only had only one spare set so decided that I just wasn't going to do anymore braking on the descents to save the ones I had.  This was a great idea until I punctured on a particularly rocky and sludge slicked descent at about mile 40. 

Everytime I stopped I was getting colder and colder.  Losing more and more time and the worst bit, realising that my bike was not going to suddenly stop having mechanicals.  I was hypothermia frozen on a day which was a balmy 18 degrees.  Funny how that can happen.  I packed it in at mile 45....not even convinced that my bike would hold to the 50 mile check point.

I was gutted.  All the preparation throughout the year meant that this DNF weighed heavy with disappointment.  I started eating lots of icecream but it doesn't seem to be helping. 

So I've also lined up some fun rides.  The kind where you don't have to go fast, where you stop at the cafe for ages, catch up with friends and practice going off jumps or doing wheelies like a 10 year old - you know, the kinda riding that got me here in the first place.  Falling out of love with cycling so I could enjoy falling back in love with it again.

Well, I didn't think my new bike would arrive in time for 10 at Kirroughtree as that would be asking quite a lot of the company I bought it from so we spent the weeks running up to the event prepping my husbands old bike as my main bike and the Franken-Tank as my back up bike. 

The Franken-Tank is, as the name describes, a combination of old bits from bikes long gone put together lovingly a la the monster in Frankenstein......this particular model is a rigid 69er singlespeed.  It is a true horror on the trails and I really did not want to ride it in a race.

As any company with customer service at it's heart, the good people ensured my new bike made it within my asking the moon timescales.  It arrived on the Friday, we put it together in a slap dash manner and drove down to the event where my husband made some last minute adjustments which included a new chain.  This meant that I had the opportunity to spend the Saturday getting to know my new friend while riding my favourite race course.

Most seasoned racers would be thinking, 'Whoa! Riding a new, never been ridden bike at a goal event is incredibily risky'.  To this I would respond, 'yes, it is a risk but riding bikes that don't fit is worse and even worse than that is riding a bike that never should have been born'.  The new bikes arrival meant that the Franken-Tank did not join us for the trip and I quietly sighed in relief.

The race started well.  The weather was sunny and beautiful, the course was fast and flowing.  I was comfy on my new bike, feeling strong and leading my category.  It's at this point that I felt like 'That guy' in a good way.  I was skipping my way past slower riders and as I came to the off piste bits which are rooty and technical, there were people lining the sides of the trail pushing their way down.

But I was not one of them.

I flew down the roots like they weren't there and curved around the wet corners with ease.  This brought to mind the first xc race I ever did when I watched people dance down an off piste section light on their bikes and without fear on their faces while I tried to muster the courage to walk my way down.  Without even noticing it happen, I had become 'That guy' who seemingly laughed in the face of off camber roots as they zoomed down the hills.

I was just getting my race on when suddenly, my chain snapped....my mind flashed back to my husband saying 'it's got a stiff link but hopefully it will be okay'......oh rubbish, this was not okay.  A broken chain on a singlespeed is pretty terminal so I had to run/scoot for miles of the course watching with a heavy heart as people went flying past.

In transition I quickly swapped bikes for the spare bike and was off again but a mechanical of the body was developing into something possibly catastrophic.

I had food poisoning.  I was really sick.  I was starting to suffer majorly in the heat and was answering the not nice 'call of nature' 4 times or more a lap.  I chatted with my husband in the pits as I swapped back to the new bike and we agreed that I'd ride another lap and see how I was feeling.

The weird thing was, other than being really sick, I was feeling really good.  The course was drying out and I was getting used to my new bike which was amazingly fast and fun to ride.  Plus, if I stopped I'd lose my place on the podium.  So I just kept on riding to ensure I didn't lose 2nd place.  Now this is where I became 'That guy' in a weird way.  I can remember a blog I read from another racer who was having fuelling problems and kept puking at races.  That is, she was sick but kept racing and usually successfully.  I can remember clearly thinking to myself  'If I were sick during a race, I would for surely stop.  I can't imagine what would be so important that would keep me going while physically ill.'  But here I am, that crazy person that races through illness to achieve a goal she set months ago.  For me, the idea of not achieving that goal was far worse than the conditions of riding while sick.

Upon hearing the story of my race, a friend asked 'Have you no empathy?  Only weird people with no empathy can do things like that'.

Now I'm not even sure how to take that comment but I do know that I've been surprising myself lately and it's always nice to know that my perception of things are subject to change.

I haven't posted in a while because there is a tough topic that I couldn't ignore but I don't really have anything new to say.

Basically, a friend was involved in an accident commuting to work and sustained a list of injuries that made my stomach churn.

Amazingly, and a huge credit to his spirit, he is walking, been released from hospital and has maintained his sense of humour.

So, as a mom, I'd like to say:

-ride defensively....the only one looking out for your well being is you.

-wear bright kit. It's geeky but really, that's kinda in right now. Being geeky that is. Unfortunately, neon isn't likely to come back into fashion.

- light your bike up like a Christmas tree from national lampoons. It can't hurt and will be a fun project (man, I really do sound like a Mom).

- wear a helmet. There will be a time when you will be thankful you did.
- think on your toes like a clever bike riding jedi. It's a wild jungle of buses, cars, kamakazi pedestrians and constant decision making. It's what makes cycle commuting exciting and terrifying in equal measures. Your actions and decisions make a difference to how other road users behave. This is a huge power and should only be used for good (otherwise you become a bike riding sith).

- most importantly, have fun! Zoom down hills, go on adventures and keep riding. Don't stop doing something so good for you because of what might happen.
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I’m trying to get fit and fast.  It’s a never ending goal really as I’ve come to realise I will never be as fast orfit as I want to be.  However, right now, I’m trying to get fit and fast for my next event which is 10 at Kirroughtree.

 

In January I slaved away making up a training plan based upon a collection of magazines, books by famous people and ideas from friends.  I never stuck to the darned thing so now I am madly trying to get some mileage in my legs so that I have more experience of long distances.

 

You would think ‘June – what a great time of year to be doing some long rides!’

 

And you would be thinking wrongly.

 

This picture is  of my friend and I before we set out for the coldest, wettest ride I’ve had this year .  It was freezing, raining, windy and the forecast stated that it wasn’t going to get any better….but as you can see from the photo….I clearly wasn’t dressed for it.  This could be a good clue as to why I only managed 50 of the hundred miles intended.

 

So……having spent the last month or so suffering through winter type conditions in summer type equipment, I’ve learned some valuable lessons that I would like to share with you.

 

1. If it’s raining, take a waterproof……and wear it.  This may seem an obvious one, but if you’re like me, optimism gets in the way of good sense.
2. If you have brought a car, make sure that you bring everything with you. You’ll feel like an idiot for not bringing something small like your shoe covers (which clearly would have fit into your empty car) when the wind and rain kick up.
3. There’s being tough and then there is being thick skulled – know when to stop or take the lift home which is offered.  There’s nothing like being on the brink of hypothermia to really drive this one home…..
4. Take a spare bike to endurance Mountain Bike races.  Basically, it’s going to rain for the entire 10 hours.  The rear derailleur is going to get clogged with sticks, leaves and other bracken, fold back in an awkward way and snap it’s little carbon arms, the brake pads are going to crumble away on the steep muddy rooty section and you are going to be so thankful to ride your old rubbish bike with v-brakes, no gears and rigid forks simply because it works.
5. Make sure to use the magical memory erasing mechanism.  A beautiful day for riding will come along.  It will be a sunny day with no wind.  Use this day as the summer riding memory template and base all decisions next summer on this ideal. 
   

In the spirit of my daughter's new library book, I wrote a wee poem about my most recent event and new cycling experience.

Once again I've had to confront the fact that I'm really really lame and can't draw bikes for poop.

An ode to speed navigating.

A grey cool morning for my first Mtb orienteering event. We mounted our trusty bikes and off we went. We didn't know much about the compass and map
But we had local knowledge so planned our lap.

We got our first points, a great beginning to the day
And time was on our sides so we rode far away

Onwards we pedalled up some serious ascents
Finding the wee checkpoints on the sides of the fence.

We were racking up the points at a steady rate
But time was running out and we couldn't be late.

We finished too early with lots of time so spare
there was one possible check point but we didn't dare.

The fines for late returns are awfully steep to pay.
So we ate yummy cake regaling the ones that got away.

We placed first (that's an impressive first of two)
The prize was a voucher so we could buy something new.

Well, there you go. Feel free to shake your head while walking away scoffing.

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You may notice that I'm rubbish with technology.

I went through all the effort of creating my first ever blog about my new found first ever folding bike, then took a nice photo of that entirely geeky piece of machinery, to put it on the world wide web and proclaim to the world the obvious fact that I'm a bike obsessive with too much time on her hands.... and then, I neglect to attach my name to the darned thing.

Luckily, the good people at the blogging site managed to join up to my new profile thingy which makes me happy because, seriously, it's hardly a public declaration if you leave it anonymous.

Anyways, I'd like to introduce myself as Hervélo Girl.

I am part of a club called Hervélo and I'm a girl - hence the name. Plus, I like how it makes me sound like I'm a superhero.

Anyways, I like to ride bikes. All types of bikes really, I'm not picky. My true love lies with mountain biking but my mountain bike will tell you that I haven't been faithful.
He'll tell you that I've been spending sneaky weekends on the light and tidy road bike, lowering my expectations on the child hauling commuter and having a midlife crisis at the bmx park. My mountain bike will also tell you that I always come back to delight in his marvels.

Why bother blogging if you have nothing worth saying you may ask?

Well, the answer is, I have no tv and a culmination of forces came together on the same week which were practically impossible to resist.

First, I stripped the willow (a scottish folk dance - so get your head out of the toilet) with Mr Oli Pepper at 24 hours of exposure...thus introducing me to the much fun Morvelo gang and second, we have a great inspiration up here in Scotland called 'filles a velo' which is a hub for womens cycling stuff. She's asked for some bloggers at a local level...err...so here I am....boring the hell out of people on the internet.

These forces were so powerful that I felt compelled to lay bare my grammatical ineptitude for all to see.

This isn't going to be pretty but I'll at least try to post consistently to make up for the things that I lack.
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