Having spent the week in the sunny 25 degree heat of Gran Canaria, rolling along the open roads for more hours than I’m technically contracted to do in a working week, you can imagine the shock as I stepped off the plane to discover that Mr Met Office’s forecast wasn’t a load of pie (or snow) in the sky as I’d thought, hell it’s got cold all of a sudden! So, not only was the thought rattling around my mind on how to recover in time for Round 11 of the Wessex in Reading, but now also how to acclimatise to arctic conditions whilst simultaneously attempting, with all the vigour in the world, to puncture two lungs and redline the old ticker for an hour. It’s been two weeks since the last race, little wonder I’m needing a serious cyclocross fix. So the acclimatisation process started with an icy shower, not out of choice mind but through forgetting to put the hot water on for my return home from GC. Great start. Well, it didn’t induce any sign of a head cold or worse by the following morning so in my own random assumption I figured the immune system was in peak condition and it’s time to man up, shut up, face the reindeer and dance.

Minus one was the reading on the thermometer as I packed the car this morning. Freezing your hand to the boot handle isn’t in my top 10 of 'ideal starts to the day' but it’s early, 8.30am, so plenty of time to warm up. Not a cloud in the sky, the resonance of blue from above always lifts my spirits. As we headed north the whisper of snow began to thicken on the field lined roads whilst the temperature continued to dip in the wrong direction. -2, -3 and eventually by the time we slid into the race venue the gauge had settled at a rather nippy -3.5 degrees. With ice covered roads the journey had taken a fair amount longer than it should have and with less than an hour until the start it was all systems go to get things prepped for the off. Fortunately word soon got around in the chill air that the race had been delayed an hour to cater for late arrivals so it was panic over.

Now, I’ve got my hard-pack fast tyres and I have my mud tyres but nobody said anything about bringing studded snow rubber to the party (well, not this party). The first practice lap was done on the Rhinos, playing around with the pressure to see what was giving the best ride over the whole of the course, which was mainly quick snow covered fields, flowing technical singletrack and a crazy anti-clockwise/clockwise spiral at the finish. I’m not going to try and describe this, you just had to have been there. All I will say is if you weren’t dizzy by the end of it you weren’t going fast enough and one chap got so confused he gave up and lifted his bike over the tape, staggering like a drunken sailor (in Lycra) to rejoin the course. The main concern was the lack of feeling in my fingers after just one lap. The cold had ripped through my gloves as if I wasn’t wearing any. A couple more practice laps soon had both bikes dialed and a little more blood pumping to all extremities.

The sound of freshly cracking snow under trye broke the silence as the race began. Immediately fighting for position and traction as an eighty-odd strong herd of thermal clad crossers headed out to war. I slotted into the top three with series leader Adrian Lansley and South East Champion Jamie Newall for company. In these conditions it’s best to be at the front. One slip and it’s game over if you’re caught in the pack. By the first section of technical we had a gap on the chasers, time to relax and let the bike follow the natural line through the woods as opposed to fighting it too hard. It was clear this was going be a three way battle. Initially Jamie took the lead but it was short lived. The early laps were spent together, cajoling for position until Adrian jumped and pulled out a few metres. There’s no way you can allow a rider of Lansley’s caliber to lead from the front or you’ll rarely see him again. Sensing the danger I passed Jamie and put my head down to try and make contact with the leader once again. Despite the conditions the course was fast throughout, with the snow and ice it really added an extra element to the racing, something that hasn’t been experienced yet this season but in my opinion one that is welcome back anytime. It was so much fun out there today, the type of innocent fun you had as a kid playing around on a bike but seldom experience now. Two wheel slides into an easy left, followed by a sharp right, power down and back up to full speed. It’s amazing how something so simple can make you oh so happy.

Pulling away from Jamie and having Adrian in sight was all the motivation I needed. As we approached the bell Adrian appeared to be having difficulty clipping into his pedals and I passed him to lead out the final lap. I knew it would be tough to get away and we rode together. I wanted to get in front before the end of the last technical section as I was quicker over the final log (which I was riding) as opposed to Adrian who was dismounting and running. As I pulled alongside, Adrian decided it was finally time to ride the log and in all honesty he hit a pretty bad line on the approach. I scrubbed the brake to avoid contact and had to follow. With a couple of lapped riders to get around and poised for the final sprint Adrian was still leading. Line in sight, the sprint began and to stand any chance of getting past I had to bare right and into thicker snow. Closing in but running out of course before the chequered flag, so close but yet so far, I had to settle for second place. Damn! That’s putting it politely. Plenty more four letter words quickly sprung to mind but I managed to contain them for the crowd……just.

And they say Christmas doesn’t come early. How wrong can you be? Awesome course and conditions, not to mention vouchers to the tune of £30 from race sponsor AW Sports and Tackle. Now, considering how low the mercury had dropped my immediate thought was to redeem these against some sort of thermal ‘tackle warmer’ but on reflection that’s probably not the type of tackle this reputable retailer would want to advertise. Guess I’ll have to add it to Santa’s wish list.

Until Boxing Day for the final showdown of the year, ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas!