Well it’s been a pretty reasonable first season back so far. Adjusting the outlook of racing endurance and 24hr solo events to a 60 minute hack around a water logged field is not only a rather extreme shift in what you’ve physically trained your body to do, but at the same time the two disciplines are just about as far away from each other mentally as they can be. Both require focus and concentration but it’s a different type of mindset. In a 24 you’ve got to embrace the feeling of having your stomach turn itself inside out, and I mean that literally, nauseous sub-conscious thought as you continually ask your mind hour upon hour to shred every sinew of your body, regardless of the outcome or damage it may cause. It’s not possible to inflict the same level of self harm upon yourself in one hour. Believe me, I’ve tried, the deep down pain that practically tears your soul in half just can’t be reached. It’s much more important to focus ‘real time’ in a cross race, adjusting train of thought in a split second depending on what happens on every section, turn or lap. I’m struggling to explain what I mean by this. I guess if you've taken part in both forms of racing then you’ll have an idea of what I'm hampering on about. If not, please feel free to disregard the above and proceed to paragraph two.

The South of England Championships. The Queen event of the Wessex calendar and one of the races I was wanting to ride well at. Two weeks ago gave a hearty prelude as to what could be expected, on a similar course at the Southampton Sports Centre. That day I crossed the line running after my rear mech bailed on me in the closing moments, suffocated in the mud whilst tearing itself off the hanger. The practice lap confirmed what was already very, very evident. The thick stuff was back, just this time it was looking even stickier.

2.15pm, the whistle sounds and it’s time to put into practice what I’ve been visualising all week. Immediately traction is hard to come by, but we’re all in the same situation trying to get grip on the rear and turn power into forward momentum as quickly as possible. Through the first section of slick mud and it’s a case of letting the bike follow its natural line as opposed to being too aggressive demanding where you want to go. Although I was in the top three or four, the spray was immense. I spent a good 20 seconds to the next bend rapidly blinking, trying to clear the muddy water from my eyes. Pretty surreal riding full bore for that long and not actually seeing anything. Bike on back and through the first run, still in the top three as we hit the next section of bends that were so slippery they were faster to run. Approaching the hurdles for the first time and I had a good line, moving into the lead. I was happy to have made the first half lap without any major dramas and to be in a position where we could now start racing.

I’m still learning a ton each week when it comes to bike set-up, especially tyre pressure. In these conditions it is absolutely critical to get it right. The Rhinos felt good but as the bike was fast becoming a dead weight by lap two it was time to change. Stu Bowers was just ahead and seeming to make light work of the conditions. At first I thought the Typhoons on my second bike were too hard, but I’d spent a lot of time before the race setting the pressure to what I thought was right. I just couldn’t seem to get any traction at the front or rear and signaled to the pits to knock some pressure out as I switched bikes again. In reality, even running them practically flat they were out of their depth in this mud, never getting anywhere close to the performance of the mud hungry Rhinos.

With Bowers gaining time at the head of the race, really giving the rest of the field a master class in mud riding, attention turned to the close fought battle each lap with Crispin Doyle and Sam Allen. Adrian Lansley just a handful of seconds ahead remained a constant focus throughout. Even in this trio it was easy to spot the train of red, yellow and brown clad Hargroves predators in the likes of ‘The Badger’ Warner, Mikki Groves & Matt MacDonald in close succession as we hit the mid point. It was time to try and distance myself from Crispin et al, over the hurdles and I had made the gap pushing hard past the first pits and closing on Adrian. As I hit the off camber I knew I was going too quick, it was impossible to pull the bike off the line it had chosen – hard left and straight into a three foot course marker. Handlebars twisted and I was on the deck. Only seconds passed before I was back up and running but it was time I couldn’t afford to lose. I stopped to straighten the bars but I’d made a poor effort of it so needed to dismount again and do the job properly. As Crispin passed he shouted “come on Mike, get back in there”. I thought that it was a particularly kind gesture in the heat of the moment, considering we were effectively going to war at one another. It’s one of those little things that reminds you there are a lot of great people in this sport.

I got my way back up to Crispin and took a couple of deep breaths. “Come on Mikey, you can podium today” was the only thing going through my mind. The next lap I rode pretty attentively, looking at where the others appeared to be suffering. I was back on the Typhoon equipped bike so didn’t want to push too hard for fear of washing out.

Two laps to go and my original CX9 was clean again. It was now time to make a bid for 3rd. I had the lines I wanted to take dialed and knew where I was better off running, where I could gain time, if I could keep it together and avoid a mechanical. The gap from Crispin grew and I could still see Adrian just a couple of sections ahead, really exciting racing all the way. What a buzz, just the way I like it. Punching my way up the road climb, as the rain started to fall, to start the bell lap and I was on my own quietly praying that the equipment would last just a few more minutes. I didn’t bother change bikes as I knew I’d still be faster with this set-up despite the extra weight that was stacked onto it.

Bike shouldered through the final run and just the off camber and technical second part of the course to go. Pit crew still yelling their encouragement as I passed, what a feeling. The closing corners still being ridden with full conviction. I hit tarmac for the final time and sprinted the drag to the line to take 3rd place in the championships. Respect is deservedly due to my support team today. Without your help I’d never have the bit of bronze I have now. Thank you.

With a rare weekend off now, racing will resume on December 20th for Round 11 in Reading. Time to recover and get some more mud riding in? No way Pedro. With about a years worth of holiday to take this month I’m doing the smart thing and heading to the sun, endless open roads and blue sky. Needless to say I won’t be 'tapering back' the miles before the next round. I will however be changing yet another set of brake pads after just one race. Oh the joy of cyclocross!

Peace out.

MC

Photos by Cotty, Robins, Powell.