11.30pm, Saturday 26th September. Finally both bikes are together. It was touch and go in the week with a few, how shall I put it, surprises that looked like it could scupper my plans for a cyclocross debut after a full decade away from the race scene. Yikes I’m showing my age, honestly I’m still only 22 (in my head). No time for test riding, I guess a race is the best test for a couple of new bikes anyway yeah?

The forecast looked like it was going to be a fast and dusty affair, not like the inevitable mud bath that will come in a few weeks time. Being the first round of the Wessex meant that motivation would be high in the field, not to mention that this event also doubled up as the second round of the Western Cyclocross League pushing numbers up even higher. It’s amazing to see 120 racers ready to do everything they possibly can to punch their heart clean out of their chest whilst simultaneously bursting two lungs. Remember, this is fun. This is cyclocross.

What’s not quite so amazing is realising that having not played this game for a while I stood no chance of being gridded. It was a learning curve straight from the gun. Getting away cleanly to avoid haphazard line changes from riders in front was priority before hatching my assault on the rest of the field. Lap one and I’d avoided all crashes, nicely positioned and feeling comfortable when reality struck (AKA the ground) as my front wheel washed out on a tight 180 degree bend. I was back on it in seconds but I could have done without the distraction. Through the technical and back out on to the fast fields where I found that I could jump the queue, picking up a handful of places before heading back in to the technical. Onto the second lap and still moving up the ranks, by the midpoint I’d snuck into the top 5 and had the leaders in sight. It’s exciting this cross racing, probably why I got over zealous on yet another switchback, this time with slightly more serious consequences twisting the stem & handlebars on impact and needing proper assistance to realign them. No injuries (shame) just a whole lot of precious seconds passing by along with a stream of riders eager to capitalise on anyone’s mistake.

All the hard work had to be done once again, jumping past people where possible (without overcooking the corners) sitting in line when it made sense and trying to negotiate lapped riders or moving obstacles as I fondly refer to them as. Each lap I learnt a little more about the bike, what tweaks I’ll make in the future depending on the course, and conditions, to get the most from it and myself.

An eventual 6th place finish wasn’t a bad start to the season, jeez that hour goes fast when you’re used to sitting on your bike for 6, 7, 8………24 times longer. But, let’s not forget something here. I’m still an endurance rider at heart. Why any other reason to pack three bikes into the cyclo-labyrinth that is the back of my car. Surely two are more than enough right? Correct. For a normal person. But I pride myself in being different so as the dust settled and the smell of burgers gently drifted in the afternoon breeze I was back doing what I enjoy best. I-pod maxed out with tunes I could ride all day and night to, a cloudless sky and 65 miles of open roads as I headed away from the melodrama and into the distance in search of serenity.