Thomas Lindup Ultra Endurance Bike Rider

Heat Treament

2012-01-20T01:28:00.002+13:00

So full of life is this land. Teaming with bugs and reptiles that every bush moves with a scurry of hurried panicked dashes and you can’t stand still for want of swatting the million flies that patrol the air for a victim to lazy or weak to brush them off. Relief comes aboard a bike pushing though the air and past the bushes. Keep the speed up and the snakes and flies fall behind.

No I’m not acclimatising but merely accepting that hanging in for another two weeks is feasible. Nothing fade the feeling of inescapable heat here, I liken it to cabin fever but going outside makes in worse. Past a certain temperature, about 33 I reckon, there is even no relief from riding though the air. It’s just feels more like a giant oven on fan bake and the moisture is grilled out of you faster than a drip could counter.

Aside all this I have been a while and I have ridden one or other of my bikes to try and bring on some form of fitness to ready for this year’s activities. First off is the Brevet, which is very soon and the reason I am departing this land so soon. Been going over the course and think about my bike that sits in pieces in a garage very far from the start line. Yes it’s another trick of a series of last minute rushes to prepare for a big event. Lessons learnt and ignored and all that talk, lecture even.

Riding to work has been the regular thing here. Most weekends have involved a backpack loaded mission of 120km or more to Brisbane to hang with friends. After six or seven goes I have developed a reasonably direct way into this city of 3.5 million without getting tangled in motorway networks and industrial estates. Late Sunday returns have become real world training for the evening dashes of brevet’s, helped by the lack of reasons to sleep the eight hours on Saturday nights.

This time it’s all business with the bike; Freeload racks, aero bars, cycle cross tires, lights. I will be doing it again in the spirit of marginal Brevet technique but a touch of the deluxe. So instead of a glorified rubbish bag I have a bivy bag and instead of my usual down jacket I have light weight yellow one. The main difference this time is that I actually have enough money for food, whoop. Gee there is going to be some smashing dirty truckers breakfasts.

To the fringe where I like the feel of the grass

2011-12-09T00:38:00.002+13:00

Not been one to keep to norms or even followed reasoned advice has its joy placed in unusual corners of time and space. 12 hour racing hooked me in at 15 years then 24 hours shortly after at 16. With the failure on the parts of others there were no Worlds for 24 hour solo racing last year, which gave me a chance to not be racing, disappointing on many levels as I had the time to train.

This last while I have been riding on my terms, mostly whimsical and occasionally extreme. Many great times have been had to the credit of body and mind, life happened. But on I must go to the future with the guide of a plan.

There now runs a widening gap in the 24 hour solo community. One side is the well established outfit of the 24 hours of adrenaline. They have not full faced up as to why and who is accountable for the absence of a Worlds last year. But have come up with a date in later 2012 for a Worlds race in the same location as 2009 and 2008.

The other is a the mighty club of Corc which has got the pip with the adrenaline outfit and made their own Worlds after running the 2010 event with great success. First up is Italy in May 2011 and with confirmed dates and venues for the next two years following that.

All considered it would be safe to say the Corc are ones for action and have come through with and attractive plan. But the question remains to which winner of either event is the honour of a World title?

Before this all came out I decided to put my energy into an event that had dates and locations fixed. The Tour Divide, a race for those who want more than a weekend spins around a park. With around 4000km for adventures to develop and problems to grasp your heels, it’s an undertaking.

My earlier length of NZ attempt was in a similar style to The Tour Divide. No support and no outside assistance are the basics. You can pick up anything that is publicly available along the way; food, shelter, bike parts etc.

So that’s June sorted, before then it is another crack at Length of NZ again and the Kiwi Brevet. Both of these with great challenges deep within. Looking forward to putting myself though the dark miles of riding into one’s mind.

Currently I am earning a wage in a small town northwest of Brisbane. With marginal riding missions already pilling up in the wedge between periods of work. I hope to get some form of coupling fitness before February and the Brevet. Yes yes.

Mud and Hair

2011-07-01T18:50:00.002+12:00

Mud, what lovely stuff. All sticky and dirty. All over my bike all over my clothes. The other day I spent 3 hours covering everything with butiful stuff. Just great. Halfway though my bike didnt want me to use anything but the big ring, for the remaining hour or so.

Ah what fun we have making hard work for the washing machine. Playing, folly, good times under the clouds of passing showers. Keep playing, keeping warm with the movement.

Then when its time to lay down the mud incrusted machine its for the soft drinks and chasing the girlfriend with offers of hugs to make her muddy too. One sweetly dirty mess munching on miny choclate bars and suger drinks.

I think I have mud in my beard.

Rainy Return

2011-05-26T14:31:00.002+12:00

Some time has passed and with it not many hours have been spent on the bikes. An offseason of sorts anyway. After pulling the pin on the big LoNZ because of my knee bad times I figured some time out was in order and combined with ducking down to Blenheim for a couple of months of which I had two days off made bikes easy to avoid.

But now back in wellington with the freaks and the hills there is time to spin the legs and find that grove. And where does the grove lead, plans they are a making. Rides, races, records all lie out there for those who train. Still having an eye of the obscene distances big rides will be a factor in the coming months.

In the weekend I rode the first race in n age it seems, the Wainui six hour. With next to no training (honestly) and having cut and bruised my knee the day before in a lame little crash I didn’t expect the world of performance. Rather I had a quiet little time with no support crew and no idea where I was the entire race. Edged but into some of the old ways but still lacked all the things I would expect from myself in a race this length. Somewhere to move on from then.

An old friendly steed has returned to the stable. Back in 08 I raced my first World champs in the sludge fest that was Nordic centre in the Rocky Mountains of Canada. That day’s I charged down and up the hills on a bike that has since then been hardly ridden, the Black Panther. So named because it is one of the dam good looking machines I’ve seen. All black and silver it was something of a patriots. But it was ahead of it times been the one of first 29’er duel suspension bikes made.

After taking it out the other day to get it muddy I am dam glade it didn’t sell. And with the Rohloff fitted it will be seeing many coats of wellington mad this rainy season.

A Week out and Delusional

2011-02-23T11:01:00.004+13:00

Not been one to face things too well organised things are not all in place. The mighty Richel (my km eating old road bike) stands with missing parts waiting orders to come in, which they will. I am yet to find the locations of every 24 hour food outlet in route or even have defined and finalised route. But do have the madness and silliness to dive into this kind of mission. Can’t wait really. Riding all day, then all night, then all day again, repeat till further notice until your mind snaps. At this point sit on the side of the road and have nut bar. Then continue as before. When the road ends you may stop. All yay’s really.

It is hard to ignore the force of nature that has dealt out such destruction and lose of life in Christchurch. My good wishes go out to those put at ill by this disaster. The ride will continue as planned at this stage although a deviation around Christchurch itself for a variety of reasons.

The start time will be early morning on the second of March, probably around 6:30am. It looks like it will be wet in the Deep South on that day although the winds look almost favourable. So it’s a quick run out of there hopefully. Then straight on up the east coast to Picton. Sounds quite quick but is around 1000km or about halfway.

The North Island is a tad more complicated. Auckland is of course the most so but there are also a multitude of routes present themselves once you head north of Bulls. But at this stage the loose plan is to hit the dessert road then follow the western access around Lake Taupo. Then make my way into the back of Tokaroa and head east of Hamilton towards the big smoke. Though which I will likely get lost several times and end out on the northwest side and wined my way back to SH1 then continue till the road ends.

There is one glaring misgiving in my plans that I am unable to fill at this stage. I’ve got a flight to Invercargill and then I ride to Picton, ferry, then ride again. Then when I am done I will be at the Cape, but I live in Wellington. So I guess I will take a photo or two and turn around, perhaps hitch, perhaps sneak into one of the tour buses. It’s good to have some mystery in such a well oiled undertaking.

Length of New Zealand Now

2011-02-18T07:04:00.001+13:00

I quite literally decided to do this on the way home from work on Saturday. It was a work were I was told that the cut in my hours that I knew was in the post was about to kick in. so today I handed in my notice and have given myself a two week window to complete a mission. And what mission could fill this time gap with? Own that has been on my case file for a while, riding the length of New Zealand.

But this ride will bare virtually not resemblance to all precious attempts to break or set a record. There will be no support vehicles, no helicopters and crew of people helping with my every need. No it’s just me with my bike, alone and unsupported for battling the length of this fine land. Oh and I’m also doing the ride backwards, south to north, against the prevailing winds. The reason is because the cape is pretty and it’s about time some did.

With such a spur of the moment decision comes urgency to the preparation. Yesterday I built my first ever set of wheels with the main purpose of completing this ride. There are tires, bags, chains and new helmet to be obtained before the end of the month. There will be hustle for a while yet.

The pure practicalities of the ride are simple. Ride until further notice, stop only for food gathering and essential nap time. Only the ferry ride in the middle will present a meaningful time off the bike. Think fast brevet, but with no one else competing.

Just Moments Away

2010-10-08T10:59:00.001+13:00

Good to see the ozy’s are been modest in their build up with an article in the Australian mountain Biker that portrays all riders competing this weekend as time wasters and pretenders. Well done on the sportsman ship front. This only adds to the motivation to rustle the feathers that are placed so high and bright.

The course is half similar to that of the Scott that I did in 2007. Climbing up Mt Stromlo twice in a figure of eight like pattern. A technical rocky decent makes up the back face of the mountain followed by a long four wheel drive climb that will make the best feed opportunity. The home run decent is just lovely and fast, jumps galore and berms big enough to keep a truck on track. Definitely section that will keep you going out to have another run at it.

The weather seems to be holding up in the mainly fine a hot margin with steady winds to keep u sane. Not nearly as dry as last time a popped over for spin. Although it ‘rained’ last night but you would not dream that it did seeing the track by time I got out on my morning ride at around noon.

The transit was a bit of a series of surprises and hassles. First been told it was going to cost $360 to get my bikes there then $410, then $585. In the end I paid and the expected $175 for two bike boxes on AirNZ and bluffed then rest in a manor not fit for publication. Having to rush though a crawdad Sydney airport to make a connecting internal flight was a great time with a trolley stacked high and wide with bikes. After offending and bumping into numinous faceless feigners it became clear that it was fruitless and I was going t miss it anyway. Got on a later one and all my bikes and bags arrived safely despite the check in ladies warning that potential only one would make it on the plane because it was a small propeller one. It turns out that small is anything less than a full blown jet liner.

I managed to get myself a brand spanker of a new bike for this attempt, a shiny white and glorious Jet from Niner. Designed as fast, stiff race and trail bike it’s making mince meat of the fast and at times rough and rocky Mt Stromlo. I had new light wheels built fresh for it to add to the speed factor. But what are really making the k’s fly by are the new ultra light low tread tires. A choice that was aroused some questions from locals as there are thousands of sharp rocks, although in practice there are been no problems. Botrager XR1’s are not likely to make the picks for many New Zealand races but here in the dust and the crave for speed and efficiency I am going with them. Last time I was running even skinner tires and it went swimmingly.

By chance I dropped in on the one shop that stocks Niners in ACT and also the biggest seller of them in Australia. Been in a couple of times just tuning up the Jet and the Sir ready for some steady punishment on the mountain. So a plug for Mel.Adgusted in Dixon, Canberra, cheers guys.

So registration and briefing tomorrow along with my final crack at the course. Ready? Well who knows really is all a guessing game even at this level. I can but turn up having done all that I have with the will to race.

Closing In

2010-09-29T07:22:00.002+13:00

All the mornings, days and long evenings of hours in the zones. Honeing my body, refining the rough edges. All the in-between is now stretching behind me and all that’s left is the small few steps towards the goal. In which there is only opportunities to make mistakes. Recovery has become the watch word. The hazy drifts down country lanes will be missed for a while the ride become legit.

Yeah soon it is to the time for yet plane food and rigorous custom searches. Bikes in boxes and plathinths of worries and last minute rushes. Every time it seeks up like a cousin’s birthday you never mark on the calendar. Hell I only booked the flights a matter of weeks ago. This time though there is not 30 hours of dealing with un-helpful strangers in a transit to a far off land.

Prep is going well. Bike sessions are been dominated by the mountain bike, making a lovely change from staring a tarmac for more hours a week than I spend in paid employment. My road machine is principally become a commuting work horse and my Niner Sir is pretty well always dirty. But oh is it good to be hitting the dirt.

The mojo is creeping on back in. Further and further I have been pushing passed that point of comfort braking. Giving Dorothy (Niner Sir) the treatment it is built for. Although a hard tail it may be, it still gets down from them peaks with a whippet like style that makes some duel sus’s blush.

Air-Conditioned Whiskey

2010-06-01T14:21:00.000+12:00

Wrap up and stay inside, keep warm by the fire with a whiskey to dull the noise of the winter at the window. Shut the blinds and sleep in, like them bears, they have the idea, just sleep thought the rough stuff. It’s all numb feet and sharp wind out there. No glimmers, no real salvation. Just endless roads significantly coated with water barely holding off freezing itself. Layers of wool and technical shells help but you are still out there battling in a sweaty ball of wishing for summer days.

Most bikes take after the bears of the north and hide in dark holes while the rain and marginal mornings creep by. Some brave the notion of the cold wet and trudge out the door and instantly regret it. Soaked in seconds as the first few meters grind out.

Mountain bikes take the worst with the pasty soil sandblasting every component driving the whole to an early grave. The simple survive here. Years of trails have proved this. Gears and suspension work great on the summer all days but in the slushy bowls of May and June things are less friendly to the bits conceived on a dry air-conditioned desk in California.

Road bikes drown in the archaic spray. Grit marks from the environment encroaching on the road space. Rotting from the inside out they pound out the hours of the hard shit. Group therapy dose not even make things easy. Just more spay in the face really, maybe kick some shit about titanium bottle cage bolts. All avoiding the point that what is really just a bit of a bad time.

Till one day the madness comes down and it all becomes absurdly clear. A back road somewhere near that turn off where you take the left to get to that road with the barn. A square sky and bent trees. Gears click over for a while with lucid pedalling. No real motivation, a lapis in purpose one free moment. The rain still comes down but hell your wet anyway. Over the hill and onto the next valley. Further, more, plus, multiple, away from the comforts, the fires, the whiskey and rug and arm chair.

Crash the Old and Start a New

2010-04-07T17:41:00.003+12:00

Been Easter it is clearly time to get serious about training and started eyeing up the worlds start line. Summer now slipping though too harsh mornings and good old dreary plods though the hours of damp back road wonders. Wonders of why you did pick a sport like squash or figure staking. They don’t require thousands of hours of ignoring the logic of staying inside on when the southerly kicks in. But out there I am and will be repeatedly for the next six months.

But to set these hopeful predictions for now as I have a new coach in Andy Patterson. With an impressive list of credentials he brings so much experience and knowledge to the table that I have already been swamped by new ideas and I am sure that I have barely scrapped the surface.

In the last few rides I have been fighting my heart rate down against much of the thinking I have been coming up with. Trying to knock out two, three or more hour rides around the region known for hills and wind without getting your heart rate much above idle is something of challenge.

I have now joined the ranks of the real side of the cycle industry with my first job in two years. Now during some business hours I can be found playing with bikes in the Porirua Avanti Plus. Having sent a large amount of my time in bike shops as well as most of my income it is familiar domain. But with this comes the very real risk that I will spend my pay at work. The temptation has so far been restricted to some long overdue brake pads for my road bike which I now ride the 40km return to the shop most work days.

Recently I felt it was time to throw myself down some trails of technical nature. But first to deserve this there are some rules. First one must ride up some steep technical sections that will require riding to finish and pushing to start. Then one has to gain the fearless bravado style that will intimidate anyone in sight. Then after making sure the seat post is all but hidden by the frame and there is enough squishiness in your suspension you are ready to hurl yourself to gravities will. So long as you despair from the sight of all riders that saw you drop into the trail you are safe and have are now a peg high in the descending status game.

Thankfully there was no one anywhere I went on my technical exploration. So I lost out on the visual based status gain and have to rely on the respect won by telling tales of my conquests. Which should go something like this; ‘yeah I went down trickle falls the other day, great track. Reminded me of all those runs I did on the north shore but just allot easier. Probably have to hit it with some real pace next time, I was just going easy.’ It’s always good to make a caparison to a more difficult track or tracks, this maximises the emphasis that even though it was expert track that for you it was easy.

However what happen to me after trickle falls was something that should be left out of any bravado. I went for a run down a familiar track that is rated intermediate but amped by my recent conquest I wound up the speed. This meant when I drove the Niner into a slight left hand curve I failed to bring my 720mm handle bars inside a tree. What followed was brief and violent disperse of energy that left all involved unhappy.

For a long time I maintained a record of only injuring myself in crashes. I broke this last year at the 24 hours of N-Duro when I went down in lame crash and tarcoed my front wheel. And again in this much more vigorous and spectacular crash I also pulverised my front wheel. Tragedy. Oh and not that I matters but I writhed in agony for a good few minutes before limping home bruised, felling sick, tail between my legs and knowing that I had been done over by nature and my own miss judgment.

The Wellington Scale

2010-03-18T08:13:00.000+13:00

God must have very angry when he created the Wellington region. Maybe he foresaw it would be a hangout for wasters and degenerates and tried to punish them with an unavailability of flat land. But what has really been created is a dangerously interesting place that attracts the best young people to land of magnificence’s.

When going anyway in this city you bound for a rough time. There is normally a gale on the loose and a few hills to climb. This, it would seem, explains the apparent lack of the old set and there certified know hangouts suspiciously called ‘rest homes’. This leaves one of major cities in NZ and indeed the capital in the soft and adventurous hands of the youth to the bravely middle aged.

Along with the steep drives and terraced houses comes the landscape feature that makes riding bikes worthwhile, the hills. So taking to them you will to find a different scale than that found other corners of world. On the roads the small hill that you leave out of route guides when describing to friends go from a few decent pedal strokes to solid 5 minute slogs. And the hills that you leave out when route telling to strangers are the same as the ones that you point out with warning in other regions.

When you depart the road and take the dirt things get more interesting. It is always clear cut here, just up or down. And like on the road hills they are jacked up. With trails smashed out of the hill side which consist of rocks and giant worms at great respect for three things arise. First the good souls who put in the hundreds of hours they could have been sitting at home polishing furniture in to creating a strip of winding track down or up a hill side. Second and more immediately is the need for focus on not ditching in the rough rock strewn surface that is bound act as an effective skin/flesh remover on contact. The third is something unrelated and vastly absurd.

So with this platherinth of intimidating terrain one can only adapt. And the rewards are great for those who open the front door to a northerly howler and lock themselves in for an adventure with the snap of the helmet strap clip.

Basing with Pre-Punctured Tubes

2009-11-29T22:49:00.003+13:00

So I may have been a little slack in putting up blogs lately, and my hard drive is growing full of ‘started’ blog entries. But my training has not been like this and neither has my races. It is a quite time of the year for racing and training. Facing up to hours of mindless base training miles interrupted by the odd club race.

After an excellent run of good thousand k’s with no punctures thanks to mostly blind and the odd bit of sighted luck, I have had a flurry. Of course I prepare for these incidences by carrying a pre-punctured tube to give the delusion that I can finish my ride from this point. So I stop and waste a good ten minutes putting the new tube in the trying and failing to get it to inflate. Then I give up and have a nut bar while I conceive a plan to get but the place of warm showers, food and a change of clothes.

The first of these recent incidents occurred while throwing my bike along a mountain road. After the obligatory failings of tube replacement therapy I was in a pickle. 30km from shower etc and no coverage for my mobile making an SOS difficult at best. Lucky nearby was the home of friend of mine secluded in the native bush. After interrupting with drumming session I call around people who I thought might like a drive out of town on a Sunday. A training buddy came though and came out to collect me and my stricken steed.

The second of these convent happening was in the mighty centre of Inglewood. An almost unavoidable point on any good ride in these parts. The tube replacement performance this time had an audience of anyone trying to get around the centre of town. This time no one I call was immediately available. So I did what I have always done when shit goes down on the road, hitchhike. Which is easy than you think with a bike. People see that you’re in serious need of a ride, probably have a bad day and wanting to be in a different location. Thanks to a nice woman I got back quickly no trouble.

So days slip by in the routine of base train and unemployment. Now it seems like my job for now at least. It might as well be with nothing to waste my time with. So until I sink into the depths of employment I consider myself a full time cyclist, if a broke one. The events in the coming year demand that I build up my base even higher than before not only because of the natural progression of training but also there are some whoppers in there. At least two events on the table are multi day and will test my metal beyond the 24 hour mark.

One of these whoppers is the Kiwi Brevet. Starting from Blenheim and taking in a full tour of the northern half of the North Island while staying off road for about half the time. Self-sufficiency is the name of the game for the 1200km of spectacular south island scenery. I plan on ride a modified version of my Niner Sir fitted with my Rohloff hub. I have all the necessary gear left over from my cycle touring a couple of years back. Can’t wait to get on the start line, so much so that my name was on the confirmed starters list before I had even confirmed my interest.

Well Not Really

2009-10-14T23:54:00.002+13:00

It would be nice to tell of how I was hardly tested by the Whaka 100km and that I blasted it in two wheel sliding fashion. The harsh realities of this race were a clear from about the 30km mark. Cramp came a knocking when tore my legs apart with its vicious jawors. Debilitated to the point of feeling embarrassed at the pace I had to take some hills that towered throughout the course ahead.

Because of team budget restrictions I had to leave for the race at 4am. Dark damp back roads in a car that would raise the hopes and lower the brow of any common highway cop. Clearly the start of something truly great. I had scrounged what race type food left over from the Canada campaign and polished my Niner Rip to a high sheen that only top end bikes can acquire.

On the starting line feeling calm now, I can deal to this, 5 or 6 hours of Rotorua tracks. The distance or time of race rarely worries me now. Most of the field I could tell were placing this at the top of their worry list. What was at the top of mine, making a fool of myself again in this year of disappointing results and course of concern. I was going for a solid race with no mistakes and respectable result.

So I blasted into the lead for the first 5km of single track with a general abandon. I knew the chasing riders would be think of the assault to race would add up to be. Whereas I knew come what may I could ride out 100km. About this time a learned that my Rotorua track tearing skills were not as they use to be. Despite pulling gaps on the descents the bike was not at its limit.

This was the theme on the trails of the entire race. Feeling as if I was riding at 65%. Very careful line selection, under control. Aggressive but measured, conservative by my standards. The Rip is real trail machine, enough pushiness to iron out mistakes the largest obstacles I would see all day. Added to the 29 wheels and the Rohloff gear box it is one of the easiest bikes to ride regardless of the speed or tail conditions. So why was I this tentative, I knew the tracks better than most? Off season and off practise.

Bitten by the cramp monster and disillusioned with my trail ripping performance I was half way through this ordeal and only able to take comforted in that I was somehow near the top ten. Then I was directed the wrong way down a gravel road and lost a decent amount of time and energy just before the climb that did not end. A constant grovel in the mid range gears.

The remainder of the race come though in a blur of increasing frustration and pain. Ends less hills tore at my legs consoled only by pass two riders in the last 6km. I revelled in riding old favourites again and for the first time on my Rip that made things just pleasant.

A painful trip down memory lane. But a concerted effort at a respectable result. Perhaps given no cramp I could have worried the podium but for now 8^th will do and its all clear to get on with preparing for 2010.

Ready to Race?

2009-10-02T17:32:00.000+13:00

It could be conscrewed that I have become a fair weather rider. I may indeed have gone a little soft since my return from Canada. There it was at the opposite end of the scale and verging on the very comfortable. But hey it’s off season right, well not for long. Events loam on the horizon and local and national races are slapping themselves on my schedule.

The New Plymouth MTB Club (NPMTBC) is making resurgence with a veritable flurry of races and track building. A three hour race recently highlighted my lack of readiness at the time to taking on hard racing. This was the first event of this kind hoisted by the NPMTBC. At soon they are stepping it up with a six hour to celebrate their 20^th anniversary.

This weekend will be trying to again to finish the 100km Whaka in Rotorua. Last year my drivechain ate itself to my tentative relief at the 50km mark. I was having a shit of race. Thankfully the spring is giving a show of spring’s diversity and rain has be blessing the region for that last week and looks to continue on race day. Should be a muddy delight good times. A chance for the Rohloff to prove itself once again.

I looks like my beloved Ellsworth will once again be gracing these shores. But its stay is uncertain thanks to my financial plight. The frame, fork, headset and seat post are immediately going on sale. Don’t think I’ll even ride it again, although I will miss it. There will soon be a replacement to fill the void in the form of and new Niner JET.

Packed the caffeine, gels and perpetuem to make sure it at least ward mid race hunger. Will be nice to thrash the Rotorua trails again, it has been a while. From memory there is only one of my favourites the race will miss so all going well fun will be had in shovel full’s.

Notes from the Garage

2009-09-14T23:48:00.002+12:00

Off seasons are always fraught with confusion and frustration for the highly addicted endurance junky. Do I ride? Do I lie of the couch eating chips? Paranoia of missing out on training opportunities lurks in the back of your mind. Short of sedatives and mind altering substances there is no clear cure for this condition. And seing it is not a medical recognised condition yet dealing with terrible affliction is a yearly routine.

Since my return from the stifling hot forest of Canada I have been trying to rain in my compulsion to hammer out six hour rides every other day. Driven by the desperate need for some black numbers in my bank account I’ve taken to trawling the internet and papers for employment opportunities. Hold up in my garage writing to editors and anyone who will listen pleading for paying work. So far only limited luck.

Receiving a rambling email with a CV seems a little impersonal and easy, especially when asking for them to take you on and do you a favour. So I combined my ability to ride great distances with my need to get word out about my availability and rode to Wellington from New Plymouth. Another motivation was that my car has a condition called fuel light surprise of which the cause is that the owner has not enough money to ever turn the fuel light off and you are surprised every time you don’t run out of petrol.

At about 6pm on Monday evening I made the call and started to get ready for 5am departure. Couple of hours sleep and hit the highway south in the dark Tuesday morning air. With a northerly gales forecast this was about as ideal as it could be for this ride. After warming up my average climbed to well over 30km/hour. In the end I pulled into my mates flat under 12 hours later with an average of 32.8. Off season, got to love it.

The North Shore has proven a vast contrast to the local riding in New Plymouth. No trying to keep up with Carrie and Leigh down the most technical trails I have seen. With my nearly new Niner Rip I’ve been making my own new lines around trails and generally trying to make them seen a bit like what I quickly got use to in Canada.

With the jobs not forth coming and not big k’s to put in, all that is left to do is to look forward. Like everyone and every summer I hope this one to be the best yet with a few more events to eye up this time around there is potential. One that has taken my fancy is the Kiwi Brevet held in the northern region of the South Island. At 1200km it is right up my alley. The main point of this event is that you are not allowed any support. Elements of navigation, cycle touring and general hardness come into the fold. 50% off road it is still a mountain bike event and takes its inspiration for the Continental Divide ride from Canada to Mexico. One thing I may struggle with is that speed and acts of self harm are not overly encouraged. Times for the 1200km loop under four days are only recorded as four days zero hours.

Conveniently the dates for this fall a short time before I plan to do a slightly long and more road based ride challenge. Official announcements pending.

Hair of the Dog

2009-08-15T17:05:00.003+12:00

The north shore of Vancouver the birth place of free riding. A place where the rebellion and persistence (but really blatant stubbiness) got mountain bikers there way with most of the forest surrounding the northern half of the city. A veritable platherinth of options of ways to harm yourself. And the best possible place for my recover immediately after my hardest races of the year.

What I was not prepared for is the face melting heat of the place. As the doors of the airport opened I thought they must be taking the piss or have an above the door heater grill. That sensation of opening the oven with your face in the way is like walking outside in this place. The costrophobic cling of the humidity even at 9pm made my shirt stick to add to the burden of a cumbersome bike box, heavy bag, backpack and total lack of local knowledge.

After periods of confutation and been lost turned to frustration and finally been near where I needed to be but still needing to drag the now pain in the ass bike an indefinite distance up a road, I found some piety. Asking for directions maybe against the man code but it often is a great call in a strange city. Some kind souls gave me my first decent directions and then just took me there, bike box and all.

The next morning I woke from my floor/bed and it was time to get into them hills with my mate and expiate OE’er Leigh. The sun raged hard as we did what most free riders don’t, ride up the hill first. In NZ I take pride in taking on technical trails with my seat un-adjusted. but here its best to swollow and stop and put it down.

The first trail was only a blue square (intermediate) but sure was the north shore style. I blindly follow Leigh down and across things I had only seen on mountain bike movies. The stopover was worth it by the time only half the trail was done.

The following days I explored the Shore in search of the classics and my limits. I found the limits, the classics, repeated thirst issues and got a scale of what this place was about. Trails here were the start of an exploration into what is possible or conceivable to ride on a bike. I found myself easily out of my depth.

Rocks and wood have taken over dirt as the principal ingredient in the mixing bowl of these trails. So ruts and erosion are not common features as the integrity of the trail is foremost. A contrast to NZ trails i had to quickly get accustomed to. I also became very glad that I had chosen the longer travel Niner Rip to take where it is unusual to have a bike with less than six inches of give.

On the shore I mostly rode on From and Mt Seymour. But I made the effort to get up the road to Squamish, another place where hills have been riddled with single track and at times ambitious structures. Real mission of a day to get there and back with the aid of grey hound disorganisation and mine. Arriving at close to 4:30pm I quickly got lost and made it more difficult for myself. Again water ran low even in the evening sun.

I found myself, after the farting around, deep in the forest and at the start of epic trail. Then I could hear the noises of something heavy breaking branches. Normally in NZ I would assume it was another rider. Out here though, in this country, in this forest I was not prepaid to make that assumption. After some poking around and listening I decided that actually I’d rather not find it and promptly went the other way.

The riding was catching up to me. So pop up the road a bit for a final sample behind a plush but isolated university then called it a evening. While I waited for the last bus back to Van I tried to replenish my fluids with an oversized drink form the seven eleven.

In all the areas I rode it was but a side dish of what is a vast menu. Months of trails await someone with more time. But I felt satisfied with this dish as packed my orange steed in the now expected heat up for the 13 odd hours to home to a rainy cold morning.

Doing it the Hard Way

2009-07-31T08:36:00.009+12:00

There is no easy way to do a 24 solo, but there are ways of making it not so cushy. But nothing takes away the fact that you still have to ride for 24 hours wether your organised or not. And this year Canmore pulled off the surprises again with the weather, the course and riders from far flung places. This to add the difficulty of overseas endurance racing on a tight budget.

In the week leading up to the big days Canmore remained bathed in beautiful summer weather in the under of the sheer faces that enclose the wide Bow Valley. It was quite evident that everyone but me wished for this to continue. Last year the rain had brought the race my way and a repeat was on my wish list. Forecasting here is as hard as it gets with thousands of mountains and valleys disturbing the pattens, reflected in the vast array of predictions for the race weekend.

The hard days arrived after the usual last minute rushes. The temperature was way past 30 before noon, and shade was hard to come by. Andrea, my support crew, and I did our best to stay cool while setting things in place for the long times ahead.

Andrea was new to this but has been around and involved in 24 hour and mountain bike races for a while. Pre-race she had the whole site set up and very organised, well on top of the challenge that is being a support crew.

After much mucking around we were called to the start line and ready for one of the worst parts of a 24 hour race, a run to your bikes. Bike shoes were never meant to be walked far in, let alone run in. But run we did, over fist sized rocks up and down some not so small hills before really starting.

I had tried to counter my 73 rank by edging my way up towards the start line after we were called up, no one did notice or really mind. My fellow under 25 riders had much lower numbers and losing touch early on is not a good way to start even with 24 hours to make it up.

I managed to get towards the front in the run. But that was the end of the good charm. I grabbed my first bike only to discover that the front tire was almost running on empty. By the time I realised this was going to be a real problem it was unfeasible to turn back and grab my second bike. I began tearing my spear tube from my frame and looked for a good spot to do a quick change.

The first real climb, I stopped and ripped into the repair work as the riders streamed past. The stress was enormous as I lost time hand over fist, dousing my plans to make an early break to get a good run on the long single track sections. So I made a real hash of getting a tube in, flinging tubeless sealant across every surrounding surface. The tire bead would not stay and still the riders flew past and my patience went with them.

At last I tried the CO2 I had to get me on my way. But not on your life, it didn’t work, from bad to worse. The only thing left to do was to take advantage of the rules and leave the course and tear back into the pits and return to the course on my second bike.

By this time obviously I was vast minutes behind everyone and didn’t have long till the team riders would be on my case too. I turned the hurt on full and started to reel in the other solos. By the time the dingle track was served I was well into the business of passing.

I always endeavour to pass with courtesy and care, when dealing with solo riders this is needed in spades. So I picked my way through the crowds still loosing buckets of time to the leaders for the next two laps, but not getting off side with the throngs of few racers.

From here on I was out to salvage what I could with plenty of time on the clock. But like everyone else I was trying to deal with was the relentless sun. A lot of the course was indeed in a forest but there were sections, particularly climbs that were exposed and horrendous.

Cramp was setting up camp at the top of the long steep climbs, adding to the pain of the acid that was already in the background. I pedalled though the worst parts while grinding the enamel off my teeth. It seemed to continue despite the copious amounts of electrolytes I was chugging every hour.

Eating is always a bit of a mission on these races, as well as being of the utmost importance. This occasion I was struggling with the solid stuff and ran most of the race on fluid or gels. I could not handle the bars and pizza till very late in the race. More on the consequences of this later.

Meanwhile I was steadily climbing up the leader board and was eyeing up the age group lead. This was helped no end by the sight of clouds enveloping there way up the valley. Up until now I had only my imagination to keep me cool.

I had tried to pretend that I was not being roasted alive as I willed my way up the mountain, but was in fact far under water and the currents were moving the trees, not the wind. But the storms making a b-line for the Nordic Centre brought some reality to this synchro.

It was a little bit of dejavu as last year a thunderstorms had turned the race into a mud fest and I loved it. But the clouds this time had little to give. A light shower and a massive drop in temperature from 36 to 18 was all we got, but still everyone was grateful.

So I could stop biding my time and get on with the racing. Soon I took the lead under 25 and crept up the overall leader board again. Still no hope of catching the overall leaders, my nightmare start had put pains to that.

The night came on slow and late. The sky was still light at near midnight. I slipped into my night groove and got some consistent laps in. But the brutal course was giving me grief. And I was starting to feel that I need solid food. I asked Andrea if I could have some but not ‘those bars’.

As a change from last year the course now had a lot more technical single track. Being high summer it was very dry and so the course tore up with the hundreds of solo and team riders doing their best to get through it as fast as they could. This took a tremendous toll on all the upper bodies torturing them self’s out there.

I had been spending most of my time on my shorter travel bike as it was familiar, but now I was leaning towards the longer travel, new, brand new in fact, Niner Rip. Which ate the rough sections with ease, giving me more time to relax and save myself for the steep pitches strewn about the lap.

As the hours became a little more reasonable I did not. A feeling of severe motion sickness was coming on and I spent the good part of one of the fast downhills dry wrenching, I didn’t slow down but it was far from pleasant.

I got down some pizza and warm water and pressed on. The situation failed to pass and things were not looking up for my bike either. Some air had departed from my front tire for what reason I am not sure but it was left with less than 10psi. I was about the furthest point from the pits and with no way of inflating it, so gingerly nursed it along. A technical descent proved my undoing though, as the tire popped off and sent me into the dirt.

After the post-crash check I started to walk my bike to the next check point. Thanks to a kind fellow racer I acquired a pump which I then handed to a guy manning the check point and asked him if he could change my tube. Seeing my state he obliged.

This however was not the end of my woes. I thanked everyone there by throwing up all over the place. I took my leave and tried to make the secondary pit area.

After a grovel I turned up at the second pit area in a bad way. I sat down and things got worse. I could feel my body giving me notice and walking out the door, shivering despite feeling warm, nausea and with an inability to eat or drink anything. Words dropped out of my mouth and the medics were called.

After a brief examination they took me to their base in the nearby building and told me I was unlikely and not recommend rejoining the action. In my state I could not argue or process the ramifications.

A full hour later I had pleased them by being able to eat half a piece of toast and only felt like rejecting it multiple times. Then I feel asleep, my race was shot.

I woke some time later with the race still carrying on with out me. I convinced the medic I would be fine and managed to get out the door. After it shut behind me I immediately had to hold on to something as another wave of nausea overcame me.

I made it to my pit and met Andrea. I tried to clean myself up a bit, had a shower and changed clothes. All the while trying to eat anything that I thought might stay down, chips mainly.

Because of race rules I had not officially finished until I completed a lap after 11am and before 1pm. So if I wanted to set my second place in concrete I would have to finish the lap I started many hours ago.

Much debate was had, but in the end I decided to put it in stone and finish the lap.

It proved to be quite an undertaking. Dry wrenching and feeling sick the whole time as Andrea helped me walk my way around the seemingly endless course. But finally I glided down the final hill and walked across the line.

Straight out hard race, that started and finished as I shouldn’t have. But time to look forward to it being a little easier in Australia next year.

Big Thanks to:

Andrea (fantastic support)

Everyone who followed the race

Waiariki Academy of Sport

Niner Bikes

Rohloff

Ay Up Lights

Forte Body Reconditioning

Puresports

Bike Vegas Rotorua

Andrew and the guys at Bicycle Café (Canmore)

Kara Gainsford, Hamish Smith, Gregg Brown and The Pig and Whistle for running my fundraiser.

iRule Sports wear

Mountain bikers and people of Rotorua (particularly those who came to my fundraiser)

The many Wineries that donated for my fundraiser

Mum and Dad

1 day to go Race Info

2009-07-24T05:27:00.003+12:00

Here is the event live website: http://www.24wsc.com My race number is 73 and I am in under 25 age group.

Still hot as here but chance of rain some time before the race end.

Andrea turns up tommorow and almost eveyrthing is in place, sort of anyway.

Sweet as.

Two days to go

2009-07-23T05:10:00.004+12:00

A quick update from the Canmore Library.

After lots of fluffing around I am more or less ready to take on The Rockies. One of my bikes is all sorted and has done a few laps of the course during this week.

The course is not quite as steep as last year, but for the Solo's there is a lot more single track. At this stage rain is only a chance but it will make the course very interesting if it arrives. Here's hope for a storm like last year.

It is hot and very summer-like. The evenings are long, light until 10:30.

San Fran proved to be not too much of a hassel on the way over, but my attempts at humour in security were not acknowledged or appreciated. Geryhound was lame as, security here also as well, has been just a lame ass bus ride.

Am wishing I had a car to get to the race on Saturday but may end up getting a taxi.

Adjusting to the altitude much better than last year and maybe the heat too.

Sorry to the spelling police - I am writing this fast and on a public computer.

21 Days to Race Day

2009-07-04T21:57:00.002+12:00

Ready for race status: on track maybe solid 7 out of 10.

It’s just as well I’ve been riding in these harsh winter climates as I near my date with the stifling Canadian summer in a matter of weeks. Recent rides on the roads round Rotorua have seen many cautious moments as I glide off patches of crisp frost. So far so good at resisting the temptation of tasting the frost despite its every attempt to look good.

Now that I have finished pretending to be a journalist at Waiariki, I have been sent out into the harsh world pen in hand. I have skipped regions and absconded to New Plymouth to warmer climates and free rent. Two things that bode well for an overseas racing complain. New Plymouth does lack the world class-highly maintained tracks, but cakes and eating etc...

The other weekend an opportunity arose to have a slightly longer than normal ride. A trip to the biggest Pacific island city but without using any of that ever-expensive fuel. Challenges then, Rotorua – Auckland return over three days. I left Rotorua at an unreasonable (for a student) hour of 8am on Friday and quickly set about demoing the k’s after dodging the frost on the Mamaku’s. Eight and a half hours and a million sets of traffic lights later I found myself on Queens Street.

The return journey was to be not such a carefree event. Having gained negligible amounts of sleep over my stay in Auckland I awoke early to get through those horrid traffic lights on a bitter Sunday morning. A breakfast stop atop the Mamaku’s was the peak of the ride. I disappeared into the box for the mindless k’s to come. Regularly falling asleep for seconds, dazed, confused and keeping the wheels turning. Eventually with the air near on the whiff of sulphur my flatmate picked me up on the way back from his weekend adventure. At only 20km to go I felt a day’s riding had been done and nothing would be proved by stubbornly riding down the hill to compete with the painfully inconsiderate Rotorua traffic.

Out of my garage-like room in the shadow of Taranaki I am running my final preparation for the peak race of the year. Many road kilometres have already been seen too. But with it being a mountain bike race on the horizon I am working in the dirty miles as well. Seeking out similar terrain that will greet me in the Rockies is hard in little old NZ, but the basic aspects are easy enough. Hills, hills and more hills. Go up go down. As the fluid like bike situation I have been complaining my rigid single speed Niner Sir. This makes both these up’s and down’s harder and more intense, particularly when doing speed sets.

Pig & Whistle Fundraiser

2009-06-17T16:45:00.000+12:00

Thanks to Gregg Brown at the Pig and Whistle there will be a fundraising night on Thursday the 25th in the Upstairs bar to raise funds for my World title defending trip to Canmore in Canada.

Last year I raced the race of my life to claim the Junior World title in 24 hour Solo Mountain Biking in the Canadian Rockies. Without doubt the toughest course I have ridden for 24 hours making the most of the wild terrain of the famous mountain range.

This year the event again returns to Canmore and the gruelling mountain course on the 25th and 26th of July.

Armed with knowledge from last year I hope to back up this performance and improve my overall ranking this year. This will be greatly helped by this fundraiser

As it is on the other side of the world it requires considerable amount cash. Some of which will come from this evening at the Pig and Whistle.

There will be a presentation of photos from last year’s event and the winner’s jersey and medal will be on display.

I will be leaving everything out on the course in Canada as i smash myself for 24 hours, all you have to do is indulge in evening of at the pub.

So to all those in Rotorua, come along for a great Thursday night. And to those not in Rotorua, why not make the trip and have a long weekend on the trails while your here.

Things will kick off at 7pm in the upstairs bar at the Pig and Whistle on the corner of Haupapa and Tutanekai Streets in central Rotorua.

Here We Go Again

2009-06-10T11:57:00.005+12:00

June is crunch time, worlds rise large and ominous just over a month away. Training is hitting hard and time is not there to waste. The weather is playing its part in making things difficult. In the last month 10 degree highs are the best it has gotten. Last year’s preparation seems so very distant but painfully familiar.

I fear it is some time since my last confession and my sins have not eased accordingly. Although my good for nothing knee injury has been forgotten and none too so soon either. My longer hours have meant lots of hours pounding the k’s out on the road machine. Not only does it make the odometer readings on the speedo look good it is an easier way of getting in 4 plus hour rides.

At my usually 12 hour test ground things went moderately. I blew myself up in the first few hours and slipped into 24 hour cruise mode for the next ten. With the exception of the last lap where let a few taps loose. I felt little incentive to push to my limit on this one and the organisers abusing my support crew did not encourage a stellar performance. Controlled then, a check that everything is working and capable of stepping up to thigh plate, pass.

It goes without saying the arctic temperatures bring the need for more attire when in the great outdoors. But when I am training for summer in the Rockies there is a greater need to wrap up. Temperature adaption is one of the killers when travelling to overseas events, especially when crossing the equator and the height of the seasons. So I’ve become somewhat of over dresser on both the trails and the tarmac. Getting use to being on the edge of uncomfortably warm in winter is not a normal run of affairs. But now I’ve being trying it for sometime, I can’t leave the front door without at least two layers on.

With my decent into to my training, and it is a decent. The time to let my mind wonder on those long hours turning the pedals through a blur of landscape increase lineally. Here is an abridged snippet; ‘was that a bat, no wait it’s a nothing. Gezz only four hours and I’m hallucinating. I wonder if anyone else is out this was on a bike. Is there anyone behind me (quick glance back) no. Well I’m banking points anyway. What would it be like if rode straight on at this next corner, hmm could be interesting. Would be different down there, I could be still. No come on. Quick drown that in logic. (Long interlude of me staring at things as I pass, consumed by my perspective changing as ride past.)

Now don’t fret if none of this seems coherent of seneschal. The truth is that on long rides I can become semi-conciseness, a daze if you will. Referred to in business as “The Box”. I’ve taken the time to make my “Box” a happy place. Now it is more of a sphere and is bright friendly colours.

One point I touched on in my snippet earlier was the mention of ‘points’. Again a hypothetical concept. These are sometimes used a bragging rights. A general rule is the more epic or cool something you’re done the more points. Ride to the dairy and back equals no points. Ride from Rotorua to New Plymouth equals big points. Another rule is the amount of points awarded or accumulated is neither defined nor mentioned, merely referred to in relative terms as larger or smaller.

This is an extension of bicycle riding’s inherent nature of competitiveness. Whether a person will admit it or not, most of the time they are driven by the goal of catching someone in front of them or loosing someone behind. I am happy to come clean on this, I am chronic for it. I see the slightest glimpse of someone ahead and that’s it, lock and load. I will chase them down for all money. Likewise a rider or riders appear behind me I will endeavour to keep them at bay.

Such a situation came up not so long ago. I turned right into a road and a little later a group of riders turned left down the same road. As usual I was by myself and a little bored. So I did something not all together nice and taking full advantage of the unwritten rules and I have mentioned. I did what I like to call fishing. I eased up till they got close enough for them to think they would have me, and then I put some coal on the fire and disappeared out of sight. To my amusement they took the bait hook line and sinker. This cycle repeated three or four times before I felt a little sorry for them. One of the group pulled alongside and stated what was all too clear to me ‘we’ve been trying to catch you for ages’. I acknowledged this fact and he commented that his bunch had broken up because they had been chasing me.

So I did the only thing left to in the game of fishing. I rode away again and never saw them again. Unkind maybe, but I need my entertainment sometimes and there has to be the occasional fringe benefit to filtering your life away aboard a bike.

Hard Day at the Forest

2009-04-08T22:37:00.002+12:00

In the course of 24 hours there are normally problems to overcome. Most just slide past with a good rhythm and support crew. Sometimes though things fall apart at the seams early on and you can’t get a break. Instead of a glorious blast through the fine single track, it becomes a slog with the hours still pilled high in front.

So this was one where things went tits up. It might be said that I am not clean of blame. I was coming into this race with a recurring injury. But the thing I particularly regret is not finding the time to notice or fix the punctures on my spare bike, thinking that I have very rarely needed a spare. These would both turn out to be right pains in the ass.

It started like these races usually do. Some tear off the line, some ease off. I shot midway and tried to settle in. Happy to cruise in second and whip into lap two. Just settling into track position at this stage does not usually mean jack this far in. Although I do like a good gap given the chance.

It was not long before a drive live gremlin reared its head to set the tone for the race. It was not disabling, but made the hard and smooth riding I like very difficult. I knew it was not a side of the track to repair even if I was carrying tools, so I ground on further exacerbating the problem.

I rolled into the pits and handed the Ellsworth over with a little disdain. But of course my spare bike now not only required suspension and gears, but also air in the tires. I quickly fixed this with some help. So out I went for my first lap ever in a solo race on a single speed rigid.

Although my Niner Sir is an amazing bike, it was never meant to be a 24 hour solo bike with the rigid steel fork installed. However despite losing time hand over fist I cranked through the lap, then another, then another. By this stage I was beginning to take the hint it was not my day, and became a little disconsolate. The downhills were very painful as I flung the Niner around nearly as fast as I did on the full suspension. The uphills were not much better as the lack of gear ratio variation was working on making my knee pain come to the fore.

To my delight my Ellsworth was waiting for me at the beginning of the sixth lap. I merely jumped aboard and floated out of the pits on my cushioned ride, thinking to myself that suspension and gears had been invented for a reason.

After blasting out a lap at race pace, my spirits returned a smidgen. I later learned that I was the fastest solo rider on that lap by a good way. Clearly this would not last, it was simply too good. And later that lap it all fell apart again.

This time it was all me. I made a rudimentary error and went down in a heap. I was fine but the bike did not take it so lightly. The handle bars were rotated 90 degrees which I quickly fixed. But the real problem was evident once I set off. The front wheel was chipafied or hopelessly bent. This left me no confidence in it given its unstable nature.

Back at the pits I changed front wheels with my Niner and set off again. It was later on this lap I realised that of the eight I had completed, only two of my laps had been a race pace and gone off without a hitch. Not long after this I was lapped.

Throughout these goings ons my knee was slowly getting worse. The pain, although very uncomfortable, was not disabling. But slowly drifting behind my two competitors was becoming a little unworthy of the pain. And just before half way I pulled the pin.

Not a great performance then. However lessons were learned and it is better to have an atrocious race in New Zealand than to have one on the other side of the planet at the Worlds Champs. With regards to my knee, it turns out that I packed up and went home in time for it not to be further injured too badly.

Build it Up, Tear it Down

2009-03-27T08:33:00.004+13:00

In recent weeks chaos has been an appropriate description of everyday life and training. In true form the biggest 24 hour race in New Zealand has crept right up behind me. I now have a flat closer than before to the forest with ample room for my fleet of bikes. Study has kicked well into gear. And above all, training is piling up in waves.

Even with this event looming, most of my training has been with the Length of New Zealand (LoNZ) record attempt in mind. Having tickets to the recent WOMAD festive and not much funds to cover travel costs I came to an obvious conclusion. I rode the 300-odd kilometres back to my home town of New Plymouth. And 11 hours and 9 minutes later, I was at my parents' back door. This gave me the chance to get some very early morning riding prep for the LoNZ. It also staved off my cravings for riding, hence enjoying the 3 days of WOMAD.

Back to this weekend. Despite my routine of "last minute organise everything" performance I feel as if things have a distinct chance of falling into place. Blind hope it might be, but there is hope. With many friends at the race throughout the event am sure that things can’t go too wrong.

After a few practise laps this week it is clear this will be a fast race. There are real steep climbs like I saw in Canada. But like Canada there are quite a few open gravel sections. Of course being in Rotorua there is some wicked single track. It has been a week or so since the last decent rain in Rotorua so the tracks are in prime condition. I think this year could see the first 400km solo at this event.

I do consider myself unusual in the fact that I enjoy pushing the limits of endurance, pain, etc. But I do have a few friends that are sometimes in the same frame of mind. Last weekend an epic was planned. It was floated that I ride to Wellington while my mate rode from New Plymouth. We would meet in Bulls and work together along the boring straights to the capital. Then rest a day, and ride back again.

As luck would have it there were chronic head winds predicted and low early morning temperatures. Even so I was not backing out. So I got up at half past two and hit the road south at three am. The winds for me never eventuated. I battled the elements up to the spectacular Desert road.

But as I neared Bulls it was clear my mate was not doing it easy on the coast. His knee was playing up and the head wind was reducing him to a crawl. Soon after he caught a bus from Wanganui back home with his tail between his legs. Facing a knee problem of my own and with my Ay-Up 24 the next weekend I pulled the pin too. But with my loathing for buses I hitched back to Rotorua. Despite only getting to Bulls it was still an over 270km ride.

This little ride kindly left with me with a recurring knee injury. This originally came up due to what Heidie my sports massage therapist calls ‘classic circumstances’ i.e.: a very long hard run with no prior run training while in high km base training. However, after some serious physio and exceedingly painful massage it has passed in time for the race.

I would like to commend the actions in committing to building the first length of New Zealand cycle way. It might well prove to be a piece of good fiscal policy. It represents a long overdue change from the seeming anti-cycle attitude of most government actions, like more motorways and buses. This is of particular distinction for me as I am not, nor have never been, a supporter of the parties in power.

With regards to my record attempt - although a record might be set on this cycle way, the roads I am sure will prove the faster and more practical route.

Covering Your Bases

2009-02-16T23:32:00.004+13:00

When heavy base training and mild sleep deprivation tune in to the party sound control bound to turn up, things will get messy and eventually the party will be broken up by disgruntled night shift police. In the morning you will be left to truffle through your flat to find most things broken or discredited in some way.

Life between training rides becomes a hazy blur mostly filtered away in an insipid hopeless organisation of pre and post rides. Your brain packs up its things and vacates to somewhere in Latin America and leaves you with a dull ache and difficulty with syntax.

Social situations become a little bit hard to take and all you really want is to sleep. The kind of night's kip that leaves you realising how truly horrific you have been feeling. Only this much awaited sleep doesn’t come as you are too tired to sleep well and end up stuck in the semi-conscious state where you can’t read but don’t sleep.

Thankfully these effects soon disappear after a few days of easy training. Thus the training cycle is completed and it’s time to dive yet again into the hazy monotony.

The interesting thing about this state is that when you are out riding, you feel great. Just as if it was a normal poodle about on a summer’s day. The thing is that after 5 or 6 hours this wears off and you are left a glazed over idiot, greasy and out of water, food, money, patience, energy and strength (this is on top of you being 100km from the solution to all these problems).

In one of the small windows of time that I was not riding I purchased a wall planner. After which the realisation that I may have less than two months before I set off on the ride that could kill me dawned on me. There is a somewhat limited window in which I can complete the ride. It is also likely that there will be one shot, all or nothing, gosh.

But before all this, it's easy to forget, I have to complete the now traditional 24 hours of N-Duro in Rotorua. Having competed in it every year since it started, the only soloist person to do so. Last year I failed to defend my title for a second time when Andy Fellows (from across the ditch) put in a solid performance and had a bit of bad day at the office.

Recent rides have seen me face epic road time. Last weekend I attempted the triple summit ride on Mt Taranaki. This involves riding around the mountain and completing the three climbing roads to around and above 1000 meters. Totalling around 200km, it is not a spin around the park. After things going well apart from a couple of small wasp stings on the back it looked as though I would crack out the ride nicely. But as I neared the final assault on the mountain a front crept around it. Being a hot summer day I had not counted on this, so a riding shirt and shorts is all I had and wore.

In a mildly delusional state I stopped for food in Inglewood. With an ice block, cold can of fizz and a packet of chips I merrily peeled on the pouring rain. Fortunately I managed to work out that doing the last climb was not wise with the temperature falling with the rain.

Hardship on the Hard Stuff

2009-02-09T21:25:00.008+13:00

Recent times have seen my training rides begin at different locations. Now operating from a surprisingly homely garage spitting distance from the jugular of New Plymouth’s walkway/bikeway system it is hard to say that things have turned for the worst.

The summer months bring to the fore one of my banes. The increased plant growth and general flowering etc bring with it an equal response from the insect kingdom. Most of which evolution has ruled intelligence to be somewhat of a low priority. So when confronted with an oncoming object with their ultra-violet or otherwise complicated/incompetent vision system they fail to comprehend the significance of the impending situation.

It must happen once every couple of minutes that I am happily (it does happen occasionally) riding in my box with drum and bass lulling the hours by, and out of nowhere - insect to the face. Often though it is insect to helmet. Then I am left wondering if it will unleash the affliction of a sting to my brain.

This does not come unjustified seeing as in the not so distant past I have taken a bee sting to the forehead. After which I had to perform a bee, helmet and glove removal procedure with vigour all while riding at over 30km/h.

Despite all fears I have been spending much time pounding, and being pounded by, the tarmac around the Taranaki region. This in part has been to do with my various mountain steeds temporarily out of play (punctures do get old). Also seeing as I have a dauntingly large ride of exactly 99% road riding freighting soon ahead it seems wise.

And with large quantities of k’s on any bike some problems arise. Although road bikes vastly out last mountain bikes in both k’s and hours things still go wrong. A particularly delightful quirk of my shifters is to once every year or so break the gear cable inside the shifter. Being branded wire cable it splinters out to about 40 times its original size upon being cut. So it is stuck inside the shifter housing and it is easier to feed a cat a worming tablet on Thursdays.

So far I have found it easier to ride with two gears than extract the remains of the cable. Admittedly I have been avoiding steep prolonged climbs as my low ratios are not in reach, but on the whole it is not as bad as I thought it might have been. The long time idea of adding a fixy road bike to my collection is gaining merit.

Big Realities

2009-01-13T23:14:00.012+13:00

After recovering from my New Year celebratory actions it is now time to slide into the routine of spending a fair portion of the daylight hours aboard bikes - as well as some of the dark ones. Luckily I am feeling refreshed and gnawing at the bit to be knocking out the hundreds of hours it is going to take to compete at my two big events in the first half of this year.

The dates and venue for the 2009 World 24 hour Solo Championships have been set. The guys and 24 hours of Adrenalin have gone for "if it an’t broke don’t shift it". So again Canmore Nordic centre is set to become a masochism haven. As well the race will be held in last weekend of July. So naturally I am hoping for a repeat performance of reckless Rocky Mountain weather.

As for the other big ride this year, progress is being made. Reality is nipping at my heels. The 2000km is still a long way away. Things are starting to form and shape the true scale of the bit I have taken on. But with long thorough chewing, things should become more manageable.

At the moment I am working out (with able assistance); this task is going to cost much to do right. Scary the figures may be, but I am sure not to care once I’m riding. I am painfully aware of how inexperienced I am at ultra cycling, planning and gaining money for this type of thing. So I would like to appeal to anyone who might be able to help. Even if it’s the odd tip or even a few bottles of water at the gate en route.

Living back in my home town of New Plymouth with the imposing form of Mt Taranaki to the south, when it’s not obscured by cloud, it is always tempting to have a play on it. Unfortunately because of the silly classification of bikes as vehicles, and a few hot tempered traditionalist trampers enjoying the surrounding bush, access on bikes is not feasible.

But there are many challenges laid out for those not on bikes. A group of mates have been discussing the possibility of running the round the mountain track in a day. There are two different routes both of which are normally walked in between 2 and 5 days. We chose the much longer route of over 50kms of tracks of unknown quality. As far as we are aware no one has completed this route in one day. So with no run training ever on my part we set off at 4am. And 13 and a half hours later I was quite prepared never to set foot on the mountain again.

The tracks on the far side of the mountain proved to be very unmaintained as we expected. The rivers were down and became a cool relief as the day wore on. Running turned into shuffling. And the few others we passed on the tracks were left a little bemused or maybe ever scared. Truth be told, this ‘run’ hurt a lot and it took nearly a week for me to walk properly. As of yet I have not gone back on the mountain.

So running is definitely off the training menu for quite some time. Back to bikes, bikes and more bikes in the summer sun.

Photo credit Marcello, a harsh morning in Canada at 24 hour Solo Worlds.

Big Plans

2008-12-26T07:57:00.003+13:00

With the transition into the new year approaching and Christmas already been it is a time to look back as well as forward. It has indeed been a big year for me. But the first 6 months of 2009 are set to be the epic'est yet with two 24 hour solos, one 12 hour and an attempt at the length of New Zealand record.

2008 has seen me for the first time at the World 24 hour solo champs. Undoubtedly the pinnacle of the year, the shear toughness, speed and overwhelmingness of this race was awesome. All those hours spent sliding around my home forest of clay (Mangamahoe) on inappropriate tires pay dividends.

A 24 hour solo mountain bike race requires major organisation and planning to run smoothly but my first major goal for 2009 will supersede this by four fold. With the current record for the length of New Zealand standing at over four and half days it is likely that I will be riding for a great deal longer than 24 hours. The date is set for April and many things need to come into place before then. As well as not losing sight of the other big race of the year, my second 24 hour solo world champs.

There will be much more updates on the length of New Zealand attempt in coming months as I start to sort out billions of finer points. I am not hugely experienced at ultra distance cycling so I am looking for advice, warning, assistance, reality checks, etc. There are already quite a few people really interested in helping and advising/warning me and I suspect it will take more than a few more.

The racing season will again kick off in my second home forest of Whakawerawera in Rotorua in March with the 24 hours of N-Duro. The Australian invasion is set to step up again this year, but most will just be competing in teams. With their 24 hour solo champs two weeks after it is unlikely there will be a trans-Tasman show down like last year.

For now I am off on an adventure around the Northern South Island over the New Year's holidays. With three of us travelling with bikes we hope to hit up some epic single track in the mainland.

Ay Up 12 Hours of Woodhill

2008-11-25T00:45:00.008+13:00

Past 12 hours of Woodhill have been fun events where I have completed more laps than other soloists. Dean and his crew reflected this by giving me the number one race number, all I had to do was live up to expectation. But this year I almost didn’t make it to the event. On the drive to the park an oncoming car took over my lane and I had to almost turn the car off road to avoid a major crash; despite this, my wing mirror was shattered. This behind me, I started up the sandy hills of Woodhill Park for 12, the biggest ride since the beating I gave myself on the Canadian Rockies. The result came to be similar.

This was the first real test for my nearly new Rohloff internal gear box. Although the 30km race in Taupo was a taste, it lacked the distance to see what it was really like to race with no derailleurs. I had also lacked the organisation to arrange a support person. Luckily Andrew from Ay Up lights offered to lend a hand.

Last year had seen me and XC and BMX Bunny Lee battle it out for the overall lead for the first few laps. This time the pace was just as hot but after some place swapping I came in 3rd overall after lap one. In light of this I backed off a little and settled in and turned on my beats machine that I had missed so much in the lonely forest with bears and cougars.

At the four hour mark I tried to find out my position in the solo field. With only six starters I was comfortable that if I had a good race a win would be on. But I had in mind that I had only just got back into training post worlds and had not ridden more than four hours since that ordeal. It was soon confirmed that I was leading the nearest soloist by two laps. No doubt I was now well placed, but I still pushed on with the pace. Nothing is secure with eight hours still to run.

I was surprised at how many people recognised me and cheered me on throughout the event. I even managed to have the occasional chat to the passer by. In general there was an overwhelmingly friendly atmosphere before, during, and post the 12 hours. One team in particular went out of their way to help me. I ate numerous peanut slabs they handed to me. They were also riding the big wheels, there seems to be a camaraderie between 29’er riders.

I knew that I might hit the wall at some stage during the hours due to my lack of training recently. I hit it alright with a great thump. I asked Andrew for a soft drink to bring me out of it and get the lap time back to constancy. Few laps later I had a cold can of coke shot gunned down the hatch, thanks to Dean who sourced it from the Woodhill shop.

As the darkness encroached my lead looked secure. Andrew quickly fitted me out with appropriately coloured Ay Up lights and I began to burn a beam through the forest. I do enjoy the airy spookiness of night riding. It can be a bit too much after 15 hours in the saddle and a myriad of hallucinations. But this being shorter than that, and with a steady margin too, I could just enjoy the tracks and the powerful Ay Ups.

Soon after I started to back off as to not run myself into the ground too much. With just over an hour and a half on the clock I came in for what I decided was my second to last lap. I searched my feed bag for the long anticipated beer. I pulled up alongside the organiser’s tent and chatted and drank my last nutritional beverage. I thought it almost traditional as last year I was two beers down before I stopped riding. I was soon ordered to put in one last flying lap.

So I finished up with a little over an hour to spare. The Rohloff had its first victory and the Ellsworth a flawless race. A perfect record thus far, three for three. Another adventure on the sand with a slice of pain.

Enough Rest, Time for a Test

2008-11-06T13:18:00.005+13:00

It is quite a while since I last tried to ride for more than four hours. But it is about time I did. Once again this Saturday I will line up for another 12 hours of mountain biking. Last year I competed for the second time at the 12 hours of Woodhill north of Auckland. There were only two of us trying the full 12 hours solo, so most of the time I raced against the team riders. The other soloist had a bad race, which became obvious to me when I passed him as he threw up on the side of the track.

This year I will be going to three wins in as many appearances. It is not clear if there will be riders coming over from across the ditch to make things more interesting. My form is not likely to be great as I have only been training a month or so. I am sure, despite this, that I can get through 12 hours of sandy trails.

Last weekend I competed in the first round of the mid north island XC series held at the Craters in Taupo. At only 30km I was not expecting much. This proved to be a correct assumption. I placed seventh in the open men's. Not great considering there were 10 starters. However I got some big time speed work in and the Rohloff hub made its racing debut.

At first I was running a 44 tooth ring in combination with a 16 tooth sprocket on the rear. But this proved to be a little tall even with the wide range of ratios in the Rohloff. So before the race in Taupo I changed the 44 for a small ring. I increased the chain tension as well to make sure the chain stays where it should be.

The Ellsworth frame presents a small problem when it comes to mounting the Rohloff front chain guide. The bottom shock mounting takes up most of the room on the seat tube where the chain guide usually clamps. With the bigger ring it worked, but with the small diameter ring it can not go low enough to be useful. So at this stage I am solely relying on the chain tension to keep the chain on. So far, so good. But the real test will come on Saturday, with 12 hours of rough sandy tracks.

One thing I find a great aid in ultra endurance racing is music. Let's face it: you're out there for a long time and some tunes are ideal to let the time slide on by. I often find when a favourite track comes on I ride a little faster or smoother. Music is known to allow people to find rhythm or even slip into a trance a whole lot easier. Rhythm is critical to riding an ultra endurance event well. And yes, I do often slip into a vague trance-like state when racing or even training.

2008-10-25T13:28:00.009+13:00

I have found my camera and taken a few pictures of my Rohloff set up. All's working great and looking forward to hitting the tracks again today.

The Rohloff Arrives

2008-10-23T23:58:00.007+13:00

Yesterday saw me take my first ride on a Rohloff internal gear box rear hub. This follows me becoming a Rohloff sponsored rider. Thanks to Chris from Puresports for fitting my Ellsworth Evolve with the alternative gear system.

I now have 1925km of mountain biking to wear it in. This is required to allow time for the internal parts to mesh efficiently. From then on the hub should only need an oil change every 5000km to perform flawlessly.

I won’t attempt to explain how the system works, mainly because I don’t fully understand. But there is a link to the Rohloff site and Puresports on the right, both of which explain the finer points. There also will be photos of this hub in action once I find my camera.

After a 50km ride it is clear there is a huge range of gears. The 44 tooth chain ring I am running may have to be changed for a 40 or 38 tooth ring. The fact that it makes no noise upon free wheeling is uncanny, seeing as my last rear hub was the loudest on the market. Although in the higher ratio gears you can hear the planetary gears whirring, I think this will decrease as the hub wears in.

So I plan to get that 2000km out of the way long before the 24 hours of N-Duro in March next year. This means loads of summer single track, poor me.

One of the rides I plan to do apart from my everyday training is to have another go at the Queen Charlotte track. In the past I have tried to ride this return in one day. At 72km one way it is New Zealand’s longest piece of single track. Past attempts have fallen short on the return trip because of light failures and time restraints.

This time there will be substantially more day-light as the plan is do it in late November. Also I will be using Ay Up lights, so running out of power won’t be a problem. Mountain bikes are not allowed on the furthest section in the peak season of December and January so late November is the best time for me to reattempt this 142km ride.

I don’t know of any previous record for this ride. But upon talking to the Blenheim information centre about the ride they thought it was impossible.

Closer to hand there is the 12 hours of Woodhill on the 8th of November. Not sure what kind of form I will be in by then, but it should be a fun race all the same.

Worlds Pictures

2008-10-19T22:15:00.006+13:00

Here are two photos that show what the 24 hour Solo Worlds did to me. Before and after. Photo credit: Dimozantos.

Whaka 100km

2008-10-17T19:42:00.003+13:00

The Whaka proved to me how much my race speed has fallen off. Although 100km is relatively small compared with the distances I cover in a 24 hour race, it still is quite a ride. It didn’t have the greatest race day preparation either. I woke up late and rushed to get my gear together and ride to the event. Unfortunately I didn’t know the race was based at the other side of the forest, so I turned up with just minutes left to register. And having had to sprint 6km there.

The day did really improve from there. I started alright but rapidly went backwards through the field. I persevered chatting to many of the people that seemed to stream past me. After 20km I stopped thinking I could come back to place top 10 and just tried to enjoy the ride through almost all the tracks in the forest.

Unfortunately my race came to an end around the half way mark on Pondy DH. My chain committed suicide into my rear wheel, dragging the derailleur with it and taking out a few spokes on the way. I was a little too slow to lock up the rear wheel to save the situation and it locked of its own accord. So that was the end of a mediocre day of racing and I scootered to the nearest forest exit. Despite my Rohloff chain being dented back on itself several times it failed to break or even pop any pins, anything in Rohloff cap.

I spent the rest of the day helping the event organisers at the finish line. It was interesting being on the other side of the finishing situation - cutting off peoples' numbers on their bikes while they struggled to stay upright after leaving everything out on the course.

There is a plan

2008-09-27T17:06:00.003+12:00

My meandering, instinctive approach to training post-worlds is about to draw to a close. I have met with my coach John Lee to go over a plan for the next year. The time is right seeing as I have now recovered from 24 hours of grinding up and down the Canadian Rockies.

So what does this plan entail? Lots of riding is a given. But there are also some rest periods (shock, horror). Again the major focus is on the world 24 hour solo championships in who knows where. The other major event is not so much of a race against other riders but a race against the clock and vastly different to my usual style of racing.

I have been thinking about trying for the length of New Zealand record for a while, and now there is a window in my training program for it. Basically I will be hopping on my road bike instead of my mountain bike and riding on roads from the northern tip to the southern tip.

The record currently stands at four days 16 hours and 40 minutes. So all going well I will pull into Bluff well ahead of that time. I don’t want to take away from the current record holder so much as to improve the record. I would hesitate to put a figure out there of how much I would like to knock off the record time.

Also this summer should see me compete in my first XC races in ages. For sure it’s going to be very different to what I am used to. The point is to help with my speed and keep myself entertained. No doubt I have not a chance of putting the leader in danger, but I’ll have fun.

Presently I have taken off to my home town of New Plymouth. And I feel at home with the rain pouring down. Already I have hit some of my old favourite tracks and caught up with friends and family who I have not seen for a while, and some I have not see since I returned from Canada. I will be back in Rotorua to take on the Whaka 100.

2008-09-24T08:39:00.004+12:00

Today marked the first day back in the gym. My last season was over two months ago before I left for Canada. And my body let me be well aware of this.

Despite being in an effective off season, I have not been keeping the bikes locked away in a dark room. I have for a long time ceased trying to pretend that I am anything apart from a complete mountain bike addict and endurance junky to boot. So my ‘off season’ involves more riding than many people on season. But I only ride if I feel like it, which is nearly every day.

For example the day after stepping off the plane from Canada a mere four days after I finished what was by far the hardest and most intense race of my life, I went for a ride. Although I was riding an Ellsworth Rouge with eight inches of silky sponginess.

One of the areas that helped me to my under 25 world 24 hour solo title was my descending. The downhills in Canmore were nothing amazingly hard compared with what I have ridden here in NZ. But they sure got a whole lot more interesting when the rain streamed down them. In the early part of the race when the track was dusty I was not making huge time on the descents, but certainly not holding anyone up. But when 100mm of mud was layered on top there was no one who I could not lose down the rooty sections. So the years of playing in the mud and coming home and having my Mum threaten to hose me off outside paid off.

I have wanted for a while to have a dabble in freeriding. But for over a year I have been training or racing. This meant that I could not risk doing dangerous new stuff at the risk of injury and loss of training time. Therefore upon my return to New Zealand, post the biggest race of my life, was the perfect time to get some airtime.

So I borrowed a six inch travel trail/light freeride bike and headed out with my mate to do some sweet jumps. We started with some not so small jumps and worked towards linking an entire track together. It involved several sections of jumps as well as drops and structures. The first time I did anything, naturally, was terrifying. Even though I have spent a large chunk of my life on bikes I don’t often depart the earth on them for more than micro seconds. But the rush of more hang time was awesome.

More recently I have been enjoying the improving weather and hitting the trails. Both my Ellsworth and Niner have been regularly out cruising the Redwoods. Not far away is the Whaka 100km single loop race that I am really looking forward to, having missed it last year. I was busy getting ready to attend my first international race at the Scott 24 in Canberra.

24 hours of Adrenaline Worlds Solo Championships 2008 Part Two

2008-09-03T10:51:00.003+12:00

So when I heard thunder claps echo down the vast valleys, I sighed with relief. The temperature dropped and I immediately felt better as the light rain added an extra edge to the course. Coming from a New Zealand winter where it had snowed on my last training weekend, I was not intimidated by a little mud and slippery roots. I maintained my fast-is-best policy on the single track downhills that were riddled with roots. The first shower to hit did not stick around to saturate the soil. It really dampened the dust and the roots dried after a short while. Even so my support crew spotted the difference as I came through the pits. I was more comfortable even if I was a bit damp myself. My laps only suffered a small amount and were very consistent. The gap to Joel was also staying steady at around six minutes.

This however, was just the entree. A huge thunder storm loomed over the mountains and served the main course with vigour. There were near thunder strikes, and enormous rain drops saturated me quickly. I was glad for the first shower because of the temperature loss and the course changing a little to suit my tires and style. But now my tires were struggling to cope with the deluge. The dirt parts of the course soon were minced into quagmires. This was turning into an epic race. Lap times were now suffering in a big way, sub-hour and forty-minute times now were blistering fast. I quickly noticed that most riders in the race were not totally at home on the slippery roots and deep mud. I thought back to the thousands of hours I spent playing in the mud at Mangamhoe Forest, time no longer wasted.

The compulsory time for lights was 7:30 pm even though sunset was more like 9:30 to 10 o’clock. So everyone had to lug their systems around for a good two hours before really needing them. Luckily my Ay Up system barely weighed anything so I never noticed any difference, except when darkness did come and I turned on the powerful beams to see me through the summer night of mud. It was at this stage that I started to notice a disadvantage I was at with my set up. All the people I was competing against were using at least two bikes. My poor Ellsworth was taking the full force of the course, conditions and my relentless riding. I started losing gears on the rear sprocket to a frustrating bunch of neutrals. Only the bigger cogs were functioning regularly. This is common in muddy races but I still had 14 plus hours to go.

The main thing I try to maintain through these events is constant lap times. With the dark hours setting in and the track not in prime condition my times were certainly getting a lot slower than my first few laps in the dry. But everyone had eased off and I was deep in my rhythm and singing to myself. As midnight was drawing near, my constancy was paying some dividends. I got news that the gap to first in the Under 25 Category was closing rapidly. This buoyed my spirits and I put a little more effort out to reel him in. And around the midway point of the race I came up on Joel. His lights had failed and he didn’t look great. I am not proud of how I passed him. I went wide on the ski trail and snuck past to avoid him noticing me.

As I pulled into my pit, Marcello and Heidie were ready to do a big midnight pit stop. Heidie helped me get into some warmer iRule gear, and wool socks while giving me food and pain killers. Marcello did his best to get my bike going more like it did after being tuned by Bike Vegas and Bikesmith and changed my Ay Up batteries. All this while a camera man videoed our every move, not that any of us cared, too focused. I pulled out of the pits in seconds again, but with my biggest pit stop done and dusted. I caught Joel again on the first climb. This time I pulled alongside to say "Hi", and asked him if it was muddy enough for him. I knew that he too had come from winter riding and would not be adverse to the conditions. We both knew what was going on position-wise, and I pulled away. Again he was racing his race and going as fast as he could go, and so was I.

Thorughout the race I was thinking back to New Zealand where I knew people were watching the live web cast. I thought of how I was communicating with them by my actions. I’m sure they would be cheering me on if they were here. I found out later that my Dad was broadcasting race updates via text message most of the night. So my extended family knew I had taken the lead shortly after it happened across the other side of the world.

At around 1 am on the solo-only loop, something happened for the first time in a number of hours. I had until then been passing everyone in sight including the team riders. Really charging though the adverse conditions. But now I had someone coming up the hill behind me, catching fast. Soon he was alongside; it was Tinker Juarez. I was about to go a lap down on the elite’s and overall race leader. I felt a little in awe but I managed to have a chat about the race and conditions. He seemed more equal seeing as we were both in the same or similar circumstances. He slowly pulled away.

Being in the lead of a race gives you a sense of control. I had Heidie and Marcello keeping a watchful eye out for the gap to second. This grew quickly in half a lap to eight minutes. After this the gap became over 20 minutes and they could not stick around to find out for sure as they had to make their way back to the other feed zone. However, at no point did I feel comfortable with my position. Always pushing to extend or maintain the margin - I was not sure which. My support crew and everyone else seemed to think that it was fast becoming an unattainable distance. In past races I have chased down near half an hour deficits in the later stages of 24 hour solos. So I knew others could do the same to me. Joel seemed to be a strong rider and entirely capable of making a late charge. Hence my urgency to keep pouring on the acid and pull away further.

Marcello and Heidie began to feed me my overall standing instead of category ones. I had mentioned that I would like to be in the top twenty, and top ten would be excellent. And in the early hours I crept into the top ten. Sitting in 8th place I could hardly believe it, although my façade of pain and focus kept most of my elation under wraps. Also there was a very long way to go before any of this was for sure.

24 hours of Adrenaline Worlds Solo Championships 2008 Part One

2008-09-03T10:10:00.001+12:00

As I lay sprawled on my hostel bed after the hardest ride of my life I was wondering if there is any part of me that did not hurt. The 24 Hours of Adrenalin was always going to be a real test. First I had to travel half way around the world to a country I had never been. Then get used to the time zone, altitude and riding with bears. Also had escaped a harsh mid north island winter for a balmy Canadian summer. All of these factors knocked me for six upon my arrival in Calgary two weeks out from race start. Fortunately my Ellsworth turned up in the oversized luggage area in near perfect condition and was ready to tear up the local tracks before I was.

After a couple of days of sleep and general laziness Megan turned up and we made for the mountains. Megan is the other person making the trip from NZ to take on the world. Unfortunately she was not so lucky with her bike and bag initially not making it past Sydney. However we drove to Banff and had a first look at the venue in Canmore on the way. The setting for the race and the general area was spectacular, beyond superlative.

The event was based at the Canmore Nordic centre, which serves as a cross country ski facility in the long Canadian winter. But in the summer, like other ski resorts in Canada, it turns its focus more towards mountain biking. In 1999 it played host to the first 24 Hours of Adrenaline World Solo Champs. So it was a historical return to where it all began on the side of one of the many enormous mountains that make up the Rocky Mountain range.

Even though the event was over a week away the course was loosely marked so riders could get a feel for what they were getting themselves in for. And we were in for a very hard time indeed. Sustained steep climbs dominated the mountainside course. There were a few sections of technical roots and rock garden that required some concentration and a fair bit of speed. But overall the lap was not technically challenging and would favour riders that were powerful climbers.

Somehow I managed to keep my nerves in check until the day before the race when I was flooded with a wave of anxiety. I knew that I could ride my bike for 24 hours and if things went well I could be in contention in my age group. I had hopes of giving the top 20 or even 10 a nudge. With 200 soloists this looked to be a tall order. The elite field was rumoured to be one of the best ever assembled. I was hesitant to say for sure how I would do. A few things were certain, it was going to be hard; I would be competing against riders with more experience, support, bikes and crew. And there was going to be a lot of pain happening.

On the afternoon before the race my support crew turned up. Marcello and Heidie had driven more than 20 hours from Oregon USA where they were on holiday, just to be there to support me. Like me, they too live in Rotorua near the internationally famous mountain biking Whakawerawera forest. Having people who knew me and what I’m like in these races at this the biggest race of my life was huge asset. Marcello was quick to take to my bike and set about race tuning it.

Finally after more than two years of build-up I was on the start line of the World 24 Hour Solo Championships. I was surrounded by famous names and the hot Canadian summer air. Like most 24 hour races we had an annoying run to our bikes. This one was a good 600 meters before starting the prologue lap down through and then back up from the town of Canmore. After much anticipation a simple count down from five set this massive event underway. Both Megan and I had low numbers and so were near the front of the bunch for the start, and were instantly swamped by the pack. I tried to stay clear to be in a good position for the opening prologue lap. At the same time I was holding back a little not to drive my heart rate too high too soon, there was a long time to go.

I entered the pits in a top twenty position and picked up my bike from Marcello and Heidie and headed off out of the pits for the first of many times. I was not too keen on the idea of a prologue lap as it was sure to be significant descent and climb, the Nordic centre stands well above the host town of Canmore. It turned out to be quite open and I did my best to draft behind the lead bunch that were setting a hot pace. We honed through the west side of the town giving the locals a spectacle before starting the ascent back up to the Nordic centre. I maintained my top 20ish position into the first real lap. But I was behind Andy Fellows in his outrageous helmet and bright Ay Up shirt. I had competed with Andy at the 24 hours of N-Duro earlier this year.

I knew as we headed out on official lap one that I was clearly ahead of the rest of the Under 25 field. Not wanting to go out too hard, I toned down my hill climbing and made for a steady pace. At this stage the track was dry as, and there was traction aplenty. So the route descents and rock gardens were a breeze. My Ellsworth seemed to have infinite speed in the rough sections and when I had room I was pedalling where others were dragging their brakes.

After a small battle for overall positions I came through the second feed zone and got a new bottle from Heidie and had a few words with Marcello and confirmed I was in the lead of the Under 25’s. But with less than an hour on the clock this meant nothing. I left the feed zone and entered the fastest section of the course. A flat out gravel track over bumps that served as jumps then a bridge followed by some fast dippers. As the race went on I enjoyed this section more and more and gained chunks of time.

This second loop after the secondary feed zone consisted mainly of undulating 4wd tracks. There was a lot of time to be made here if you could keep your momentum up and my big wheels made this easier. After this there was a nasty technical single track climb that later became purely a bike push session. Soon after this the course split and the solo riders went off on a 5km section whereas the team riders headed straight for the pit zone. This gave us solo riders a chance to get some peace and find a rhythm. However, this was one of the toughest sections of the lap; it was dominated by a demoralising climb that gradually became steeper towards the summit. And of course it also became steeper as the hours crept by. This was followed by a very fast 4wd decent interrupted by a techy rocky section.

I came through the first official lap still in the lead of Under 25’s. But soon after this, Joel Donney from Canberra was right up with me with his team mate Troy. We rode within the vicinity of each other for quite some time. However, I eventually settled into my own pace and he rode away. I knew my support crew would keep an eye on any lead he incurred. Passing for major position in 24 hour races is different from your average XC event. They are all about your limits and your race. Most of the time it is best to ignore what your competitors are up to and focus on how you feel and your pace. So I was happy to politely chat to Joel and his team mate about the track and weather. He made a comment, ‘Is it hilly enough for you?’ Clearly no one was going to have an easy time with 640 metres of vertical gain in a lap.

It was still a hot Canadian afternoon and I was struggling to get the fluids down. Thanks to Heidie and her magic potion I was able to stave off cramp. I was definitely not in my element in the heat of the Canadian summer sun as it slowly cooked me on every exposed section and climb. I had seen a forecast that suggested some precipitation in the afternoon or evening. Boy was I hanging out in hope for it to pour down.