Although this season was all about enjoying being back on the cyclocross scene after a few years out of winter skullduggery, I can sense that things are starting to get a little more serious when a mid week night ride on my fixed gear didn’t quite go as planned. Descending on the lanes of Farley Mount by moonlight is always a buzz, doing it on a fixie leaves no margin for error, throw in some squelchy leaves a few days rain fall and a John Deer tractor spitting out mud like I’m spitting out teeth after a round or two with Tyson and you're practically begging for a fresh road rash tattoo. But, the reason the racing seems to be getting more serious is because even before my knee, hip, elbow & arm simultaneously tried to spread themselves all over the tarmac in opposite directions to one another the little (and sometimes very annoying) voice in my head was already saying “ooh, that was silly, you didn’t want to go and do that now did you? Probably not the best prep for the race on Sunday, but I will give you 10 out of 10 for the landing”. The fixie got a flying lesson (not the first it has had) as it was swiftly hurled into the rough at the side of the road. I love that bike, such a loyal playmate, no derailleurs or stuff to rip off as it becomes acquainted with a hedgerow whilst his master vents some frustration. Spending a few nights rolling in and out of bed, sleeping only on my left and having limited mobility of major limbs is all part of the fun. It’s why we ride bikes isn’t it?

Somebody up there had obviously forgotten to Sky+ the X-Factor or something, wanting to take their bad mood out on the rest of us, if the weather this week was anything to go by. I was ready for anything, having spent a couple of nights garage bound breathing in way too much glue preparing a new set of Ksyrium SL’s with heavy artillery traction, known in the trade as Dugast Rhinos. Much to my amazement (and disappointment) the course at the War Memorial Park in Basingstoke had somehow dried out sufficiently to provide a quick (albeit slick) circuit consisting of fields, technical, a few planks to jump and a brief hack on the neighboring dirt jump track. Get your Mongoose, GT & We The People BMX’s outta there kids, when the gun goes it’s time for the big boys to come out to play with their “proper” big wheel bikes.

It wasn’t long before a little Wessex déjàvu started to form at the head of affairs. Cotty, Doyle & Lansley with daylight between the rest of the field. The first few laps were the best, with a clear course ahead it was possible to really race, work out who was strong on which sections and get a good rhythm going. Once again it was when lapped riders became a factor that another element was thrown into the mix. Credit to Adrian and Crispin for seeming to float past such riders. Maybe I was riding too cautiously today, not wanting to come off again after the fixie debacle, or maybe it was because I randomly had the all time Christmas classic “Little Donkey” in glourious surround sound bellowing through my bonce. Either way, it's no excuse. Playing around with tyre pressure on the practice laps saw me running the Typhoons at about 1.6 bar. At this pressure they are so supple, like flying on a magic carpet. Hammering through the technical, where balance is everything, as the ground beneath is ever changing is such a good feeling. The Stan’s have been flawless in the races that I’ve used them in, and for training they are untouchable, but since there hasn’t been a need to change bikes for the last few weeks I’ve been getting more race time in on the Dugasts. The gaps were small, but sufficient to decide the outcome. Third place (that’s 3 podiums in as many weeks) with Adrian taking another well earned win and Crispin second. JC made it two in the top 10 for the mighty black and green colours of Team Wheelbase/Cannondale with another solid ride to take 8th by the line, with four riders within sight.

All eyes were now on the prizes. A few quid in an envelope that just about covers the entry fee and a bit of petrol is always welcome but it’s the table of assorted “life changing” goodies that takes more time to ponder over. Initially it was the giant drum of 400 Chupa Chups that had my name written all over it, before suddenly thinking maybe a practical rear light may be a better selection. That was dismissed as I glanced up at my road bike, that I was about to ride home on, only to see it already had two fitted, poised and ready to start winking at the traffic behind. Ahh practical-smactical let’s bury that thought in a muddy field straight away. A bottle of South Africa’s finest (read cheapest) Western Cape was the only way.

As darkness fell I was feeling rather chuffed with myself. Was it the no crashes, mechanicals or the podium finish that attributed to this? Nope, it was the fact I’d Mobi washed the crosser off already meaning no bike cleaning tonight. The smug feeling didn’t last very long as I turned a left hander to see the road completely flooded (oh yeah, we’ve had a bit of rain this week) with the last part of the ride on dirtier tracks than I’d just raced on for an hour. I guess it’s one of those “is the glass half full or half empty” types of scenario where you can either look at it with positive or negative eyes. Well, to settle the score once and for all, let's forget about the glass and turn our attention to that bottle of Pinotage for just a second. That, my friends, is neither half full nor half empty. It is completely empty.

Sweet dreams...