What happened to sunny 24hr races?
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This weekend will see the 11th Mountain Mayhem take place and once again the UK weather forecast does not make happy reading. Aren’t we supposed to ride in grim conditions in winter to earn sunny summer races? I’ll be part of the UK 29er crew representing in the mixed category, hopefully with more luck than I’ve experienced in the last two years…
In 2006 at the inaugural Bontrager Twentyfour12, where I was racing in the solo category, everything seemed great. It was hot, dusty, a great course, but then about eight hours in it rained for twenty minutes. Everything changed. The dust instantly turned into a sticky paste. Coupled with the humidity it felt like jungle warfare out on the course. After dragging my American designed and built full-sus bike with clogged up wheels for three laps I’m ashamed to say that I quit. With that a dangerous precedent was set, it was the first time I’d not finished a race.
The following month at Kona Sleepless In The Saddle I was entered with some friends in a mixed team and again it started off fine. After two great night laps racing round on my Rig I was back at camp getting into my sleeping bag for a few hours sleep just as it started to spot with rain. I awoke at dawn to discover mutiny in the ranks, backed up by tales of awful weather and multi-hour waits in the rain at the handover point by team-mates as lap times quadrupled (a friend and team-mate hasn’t ridden his bike since). And so, with four hours still on the clock, we quit.
A new year brought new hope, but the signs were ominous. At CLIC24, which I’d chosen to miss for the first time because it clashed with the second round of the national points series, the weather was grim and the course quickly resembled a ghost town as riders called it a day. Three 24hr races in a row with rain and mud! Surely Mountain Mayhem 2007 would mark a change in fortunes? To me the race is synonymous with Sandwell Park Farm, a course as flat out fast as the M5 motorway it crossed twice every lap. And for the two hours it was actually dark, you were faced with dust clouds because the trails were so dry. Nevertheless, I arrived at Eastnor Castle in the middle of June with mud tyres, wellington boots and a big umbrella. Me and my team-mates James, David and Matt had seen the weather forecast, were prepared for the worst and we were going to finish this race.
What we hadn’t anticipated was David crashed on his first lap, smashing up his elbow and leaving us a man down less than two hours in. By the time it went dark we were all cooked. Maybe it’s different when you’re chasing for the lead, but we were barely in the top 50 and we sure weren’t having any fun in the sticky, claggy conditions. Matt proposed that we each do one night lap then go to bed. If we all had a decent nights sleep, we’d be up for carrying on in the morning. I’m sure I’d have disagreed with him when I was younger, but I thought it was a great idea. With the team being a democracy, that was the casting vote and we called it a day. It was inevitable that conditions had worsened by the morning. I went out for a lap, desperate to avoid defeat, but when I got back to the change-over area nobody was waiting for me and so, once again, I wouldn’t be shaking Pat Adam’s hand at 2pm.
Was this it? After taking part in sixteen 24hr races, was the writing on the wall? Had the time come to sell my stash of Assos chamois cream and spare li-ion batteries? Kona Sleepless In The Saddle 2007 seemed to be the last chance to put the record straight and remind myself of the many reasons I love 24hr racing – the festival like atmosphere, a weekend camping with mates, the formula one qualifying style of racing (half a dozen or so chances of putting together a flying lap), the smell of bacon cooking as dawn breaks over the course… With so much at stake, rider selection would be crucial and bike choice critical. If we were honest, we wouldn’t be aiming to win, but I didn’t want any missed hand-overs, frayed tempers at three in the morning or mechanical failures half way round the course. The first friend I could persuade was Phil R. Although he doesn’t ride much, he’s quick, really strong and is the sort of rider who turns up to a ride in December wearing shorts. He wasn’t going to quit if there was bad weather. Next was Roger. Don’t take a knife to a gunfight? I remember when Roger went to Morzine for the week with his virtually rigid Pace RC300 and kicked everyone’s full-suspensioned ass. Last but not least was Phil G. While I’ve spent an eternity ummming and ahhhing about doing the coast to coast, Phil G just goes out and does it. Probably with rigid forks and 1.5” tyres. “Because that’s what I had on at the time”. No nonsense.
What I didn’t mention till they were onside was that we would all take part on singlespeeds. It would keep everything on a level playing field between us and they wouldn’t be affected by any adverse weather. None of us owned one, but that didn’t matter. No singlespeed, no race. The director sportive’s (my) word was final. Plus, if there is such a thing, Catton Hall is a singlespeed friendly venue. There’d be no pushing of bikes, just winding up the 32:16 till you couldn’t spin any faster.
As nobody owned a singlespeed, it probably explained why with 3 hours till the start of Sleepless in the Saddle 2007, none of us had a working bike. Not that we were worried. Our lights were charged, we were camped next to the course and the sun was shining. I timed my bike fettling well to avoid having to do the run and the first lap, so Phil G had the honour of leading out the “N.U.Bike Singlespeeders”, with me going second, followed by Roger and Phil R. Each of us doing single laps throughout the afternoon, going round as quick as we could to get back to camp and back in the shade from the hot sun.
And so it unfolded, one of those summer races you dream of: A chance to wear your white race socks because there was no mud to get them dirty. A rare outing for the only sleeveless jersey you own, revealing farmer boy tan lines. The novelty of coming back in from a lap covered in dust that had stuck to your sun screen. When it started to spot with rain on my first night lap, I feared for the worst, but this time luck was on our side and it didn’t start to pour down, merely dampened the dust down, making things a little sketchy till the sun re-appeared in the morning.
With the last quarter of the race left, we had our eyes firmly set on the finish and were back competing to set the fastest lap of the team. It was just like the old days, the rose tinted memories of successful 24hr races - although some things had changed for the better. Everyone had turned up with a partner, helping to steer the conversation away from only talking about bikes between laps. And the food was much improved too. Gone were the student friendly two dozen muesli bars and giant tub of pre-cooked pasta and sauce to last the weekend. This time, courtesy of Phil G, we had a proper barbecue accompanied by jacket potatoes, fresh vegetables, even home made cake! With friends riding over from Birmingham and Derby to hang out at our base camp, it was easy to forget it was a race.
Unluckily for Phil G, there was still business to attend to and as 2pm approached, our lap times weren’t slowing down (Roger was actually getting faster). It was clear that we wouldn’t be doing an equal number of laps each – somebody would have to do 9 and that man was Phil G. In hindsight, maybe I should have gone out for the last lap, cross the finish line myself and break this cycle of quitting races. But we agreed that Phil G had had the longest time to recover from his previous lap, so it was only fair that he do more than the rest of us, obviously. He did his duty, grabbing us 23rd place in the process and my curse was lifted. No finishers medals, a great sense of relief and for the first time in ages, the simple pleasure of being able to pack the car in the dry!
After the wonderful deep sleep that always follows a 24hr race, it was time to start nagging people about 2008. This was followed by viewing the results as soon as they went online, finding out Phil R beat me to the fastest lap by 11 seconds. Git.
