3 Peaks Cyclo Cross 2022 - A big day out..

I started the day with porridge at 5.30 in the morning. Soon after, me and my two support team were hoofing it down the road to the Yorkshire Dales for the 3 peaks cyclo-cross race. In a nutshell, it involves getting up Ingleborough, Whernside and Pennygent with your bike and getting back across the finish line in one piece. It involves something like 10 miles of hilly road, 20 miles of track and another 8 miles or so of unrideable terrain, or thereabouts. Now, I've never visited any of the above peaks and if you've been reading this for a while, you'll know I’ve been doing not a lot of this sort of thing, so I was winging it to say the least having paid my eighty quid after pre-qualifying.  

We were sent 7 pages of rules and regulations. The mandatory gear was a whistle, a survival bag and a waterproof. The kit check was minimal once we had parked in the field. Self-reliance is big in the 3 Peaks. I had anticipated finishing in a time of four and a half hours. I diligently completed the back of my number with several emergency contacts - I've never really bothered too much about this before, but today for some reason, I was wondering if I'd bitten off more than I could chew. I joined the queue for the portaloos and caught sight of Chris Young behind me. He won this back in the 80's and I remember him riding away from the bunch in a road race i was taking part in, in Scarborough. In the portaloo, I had to strip 3 layers off and was desperate not to touch anything - these things are awful. A ditch in the open air would be more welcome. Around 350 lined up on the road outside the pub and we were off with our numbers pinned to the left shoulder and a dibber for checkpoints on your wrist. I had screwed an old aluminium bottle cage on the bike and had decided to go with a ron hill backpack to carry bits n bobs, gels, my phone and some nutrition bars. There was 5 miles of neutralised road before we headed up the track to Ingleborough. 

The heart rate was up as the ascent began and I found myself working past quite a few bikies as the impossible gradient meant that many resorted to pulling themselves up the fence wire beside the wall with the bike slung over their shoulder. At the top I realised that today's biggest challenge was going to be how to limit the time loss on the descents. I was not overly happy with the bike brakes and painfully short of experience in down hilling, I was passed by quite a few. It was back onto the road for a ride up to Whernside, where I think I passed Sharon Taylor, the fell=runner out with the kids. There was a drinks station at the toe of the hill and I stopped for salt, a gel and 2 cups of water. Again, I passed around 10 going up Whernside. The clag was still down and the wind felt like it was getting up. At the top I was already 2hrs.39min into the race and feeling some twinges of cramp.  My descent of Whernside was stuttering and was not helped by Mountain Rescue attending a crash victim as the ambulance made its way slowly up the track a mile later. My bottle cage snapped shortly afterwards. I stuck it and the bottle under my jumper. At Horton where the big viaduct was, the cramp appeared again and as I seriously considered jacking. I passed my bottle cage and bottle to a marshal. I had a strong word with myself. I rode on. I was 3hrs.14 minutes in and cheered myself up with a nutty syrup bar and the thought that I only had Pennygent left. 

I had spent minutes taking my gloves off, then putting them back on and after 5 miles on the road, I turned left onto the track leading up to the last peak. There was quite a crowd here and plenty of walkers, not to mention the riders in front who had already ascended and were descending, tearing down the gravel track in a suicidal manner. As I fought my way up the lower slopes I thought I might get flattened. Thankfully, it was not to be. As I ascended, the wind got stronger and there was beginning to get a hefty wind-chill-thing near the top. I was tired and the bike was catching the gusts, pulling my slight frame off the path as I cut a shaky looking figure, exhausted, cold and slowing to a shuffle. I was just ahead of a girl who looked to be a strong cyclist, but not so fast off the bike. 

At the top of Pennygent the clock said 4hrs.24min and I just wanted to get down and finished. My lightweight bike was blowing around like a rag in the wind. The descent was tricky and there was another casualty and another ambulance on its way up. But the track got easier toward the bottom where I saw my support team and, with 3 miles to go, I began cramping again and I let a further 2 get past me. I finished in 5hrs and 50 seconds. I was mightily pleased and after gathering my breath, I looked for the riders refreshments. However, it appeared you had to pay for drinks and food and shaking my head, I wandered back to the car where I was happy that I'd packed a flask, coffee and biscuits. I was pretty hungry and as I sat on the edge of the car boot, I looked at the results print out. 295th. I reflected this was the longest sporting day in my life. I had felt a bit teary once or twice on the ride and realised this is simply exhaustion. It was a big day out. They need to get the free refreshments sorted out, though. The bike took a hammering and performed like a tireless servant. The shoes worked well. Thanks to cat and marg for the support and photos.

Cyclo Cross Bedlington

my 'best' side

 I entered the local cyclo cross race, the first of the season. There are 2 leagues up here in the Tyneside area which makes for a busy winter if you do both sets of races - around 20 in all. This one was local at
Gallagher Park on an old wooded pit heap. Its very twisty-turny and technical. I've done it before in the distant past. This time around there were about 25 on the start line, a modest field.  I was wearing my new Dundee Thistle club top and was riding the Moda bike which I bought at a garage in Durham off a bloke I didn't know. Money changed hands, but I reckon I got a bargain, or at least I thought I did. 

The bike is top end and  I was keen to see if it was all I hoped it would be or if it would simply melt early in the race. It had been raining earlier and the grass, where exposed, was greasy. I started strongly on a steep incline and was in front of a group of 4 at the top largely because I weigh not a lot compared to the average cyclist (conversely I am a bloater in the world of athletics). I had a great first lap and was full of the positive intentions to 'do something'. Then I went and did it, and the bike came down as I pushed too hard on the adverse camber on the reedy grass. The beauty is that generally if you come down its quite a soft landing as long as you avoid going full-on into a tree.  The four behind me came past as I picked myself up and I remounted the bike. They were probably going to get past at some point, anyway. The incident resulted in me dropping from a heady 14th to a lowly but acceptable 18th, and thereafter things were quiet and controlled with only one other minor spill to report. All in all a pretty good aerobic 50 minutes of exercise. The bike took an age to clean afterwards. 

On the following Saturday (just gone) I cycled up to Thropton on the edge of the Cheviots to watch the Thropton show race. I had a mind to run the new 6.8 mile course, but arrived late and after the start due to a brisk headwind. I meant to take a pile of photos, but I got involved in a medical thing with one of the runners who retired and then his condition deteriorated. Hopefully, he's ok. 

Next weekends 3 peaks challenge is a bit daunting, but my new cheap cyclo-cross fell shoes are adequate and the bike seems happy enough; we just need to ensure that the riders properly fuelled and doesn't overdo it. Either way, I will be back into the gym today after a fortnight off with a hacky chest and will start to build the running and cycling miles up again.  

Scottish Mid Trail Champs (Falkland 2022)

 With the 3 peaks cyclo-cross looming late this month, I have been back in the gym for 6 weeks and have been increasingly on the bike. The trips have been modest, 20 miles or so each time. However, on Saturday I joined up with Steve and we took off toward Alnmouth for a 40 miler. A little way out of town we were pottering around 17 mph and chatting on. Having not seen him for a good while, I was doing all the talking. At the top of the hill at Hebron, along the peleton, much to my delight. A group of 10 EMC riders (EMC stands for 'early morning club'; yes, honest). I asked if it was alright to tag on the back and we joined the rear, clipping along for the next 10 miles or so at 23mph. They were heading to Craster but turned in a little toward Alnwick. We dropped off near Guyzance and rode in the light drizzle to Alnmouth. Armed with a fiver, I was mugged by one of the women at the village hall selling her baking wares and we negotiated two drinks and small slabs of banana cake for the rather soggy note. We caught up on the gossip and were soon back on the saddle, returning via Warkworth. It was 55 miles and most enjoyable. 

On the Sunday, we were packed up in the car at 9am and horsed it up to Falkland in Fife for the Scottish Mid Trail Championships. The traffic was well behaved and we arrived with sufficient time in hand for me to wander to Campbells for a coffee. There were around 140 signed up for this 6 mile affair. Speedy joe was 4th last time around and was looking to improve. I was looking forward to a good leg stretch and Mrs Mac was hoping not to get lost or be last. After a warm up we set off up a lane on the Falkland Estate and then disappeared up the side of a hill . It was humid and the heavy rain that had generated a 'yellow alert' from the Metoffice failed to materialise.  I was passed by three or four as we climbed then descended. I caught an Ayr runner, Maclean, on the third wee climb, and the 4th mile was through the woods and in the damp heat with a carpet of pine needles underfoot, very atmospheric, or it would have been if I had not been wide eyed and legless puffing like a broken down old git. On the final flat stretch of path I gave way to an Edinburgh AC girl Nikki Gibson as she cruised past me in the last kilometre. The Ayr chap was still close behind, but at the finish there was not enough road left for him to catch me and I dug deep with an unnecessary full on sprint that proved I had been simply malingering during the race. Speedy was 3rd and only missed 2nd by one second, but that's life. The Edinburgh Uni. girl in front of her was certainly trying her hardest at the end (photo).

It was an improvement on time and placing for her so all good.  I was 72nd in 44.44 (10th v50) and comfortably beaten by Tony Martin (Fife v70)...I want some of what he's having. I probably should have been a couple of minutes quicker, but its difficult to find the mojo recently,  when you find yourself not so much racing, but rather just running hard. The garmin heart rate monitor is just a wall of red when I race these days - maybe it was always the way? The cycling is much easier, so maybe that's the direction my sporting life will to take. Or maybe chess. Or watching the masked singer.....

Mrs Mac did indeed finish and was 2nd last, so no shame there. There was time for another hot beverage and scone at the Lomond tea room before a return to base.   

 (photo by Ant)