Bike: Hunter
Distance: 7 laps, about 76 miles
Result: 26/191

It took me ten years of racing before I finally achieved a podium place. That was back in 2002, getting 3rd place on the Dusk til Dawn podium in mixed pairs, achieved in no small part to having a wife that was a similar speed as I was on a bike.

We repeated the feat in 2003. Since then Dusk til Dawn has been one of those races that occurs miles away. This year, having moved, we live a whole lot nearer, and this was definitely on my to-do list. Kirsty now has priorities, so I was going to have to do this all by myself.

The BBC weather forecast was for a dry night with patchy rain. Could they have been more wrong. It was raining with two hours to go, and continued to rain throughout. I joke about liking bad conditions because more people will quit. Was I about to be hoist by my own petard?

Let the chaos begin

The lead out was fast, but relaxed. Then into lap one. The trail was still nice and dry in places, especially in the trees. I didn’t remember Thetford being this flat. We used to joke it had a thousand feet of climbing per lap, in six inch whoops. Sure there were some climbs, but they didn’t feel steep. Some sections of trail I definitely remembered as uphill from years gone by, but they were definitely easier this year. Home run I’m thinking of in particular. I spent much of the first two laps drafting other solo riders, then once I had my breath back overtaking and sprinting to the next glow-stick.

My game plan was to go out with the NiteRiders and an awesome 10 watts of power then switch to my Lumicycles and their all night staying power, but only 5 watts, once I knew the course. Unfortunately due to a slipping USE alien seatpost clamp which I was having to fettle after each lap I completely forgot to switch lights after lap two. Cue brown out after two miles into lap three. Arse biscuits. My backup light, a Blackburn Voyager 3.3 pushes out a nice white light, but a very narrow beam. Not good for seeing round Thetfords corners. Still, there were plenty of people who had such bright lights I could hold their wheel and see where I was going. Thanks to the guys with the skulls who got me to Tom’s pit.

It was also very apparent as the course started to get wet that some of the team riders were out of their depth already. After holding the wheel of one guy in full waterproofs on the section between Helter Skelter and Howes Pit, with quite a queue building up behind us I might add, we finally reached a section long and wide enough for me to get past safely avoiding his wobbles. “On your right” I warned him. I was gobsmacked at both his response and the tone. A sarcastic, “If you’re fast enough”. Well, frankly. Fuck you Very Much. Thank goodness for riders like him that the trail still known as the Beast of the East* was replaced by the tamer Double Shock for this race.

One niggle on these early laps was a continually slipping seatpost head, a years old Alien from USE. By the end of this lap it was practically off the rails at the back, and either it had to be fixed or I was out. There was an Exposure tent in the main arena. Was it too much to hope they’d be carrying Alien spares? When I came in from the lap, I told Kirsty where I was going, and headed straight for the Exposure tent. The blokes behind the desk answered my query about Alien spares by slapping a new 3mm single bolt design onto the desk and sending me to the bike wash. Once I was back they even fitted the new clamp. Now that’s what I call service. No more excuses for long pit stops though!

By this time I was definitely detecting some climbs on the course. I settled into more of a long haul ride rather than race pace. There were less wheels to chase, and early leaders were now starting to lap me. The solo tent was getting emptier every time I returned. Either riders had had enough and fucked it off, or were in some kind of dazed and confused “what the fuck am I doing to myself/my bike” camaraderie. Food, drinks and tips for survival were being shared about. What had to be beaten was the course not your comrades. Finishing was a goal in itself.

Lap six was my last lap in darkness. By now there was definitely uphill on the course, and entire sections I was having to stand for. New lakes had appeared, which I definitely would have noticed if they’d been there earlier seeing as they were pedals deep. Riding lap seven I was finally able to place the sections of course relative to my old reference point of Mayday Meadow. Quite without intending to I finally finished at three minutes past 8. No lurking required.

My forks didn’t work. My brake pads were down to the metal. My bottom bracket was making horrible noises that I am hoping is a graunchy chain and not new bearings required. I’m fairly sure that if I’d had gears they’d have broken.

There were 191 entries in solo male.

156 started, or at least completed one lap. I managed 26th.

21 completed the 12 hours. Out of these I managed 12th.

There is no category for niche wanky singlespeed old giffers. I’m hoping I’d have had a podium place if there were.

12 years older in just 12 hours

* If you’ve ridden the beast of the east you’ll know that the beast in question is a mildly annoyed squirrel.

Bike: Hunter
Distance: 113.3 miles
Height Gain: 15,400 ft
Sleep: None
Punctures: One

Race prep consisted of checking the weather forecast a couple of days before the race and noting the distinct possibility of rain, hence mud, for the majority of the race. Rather than ride my Hunter (34:18) in the dry and Spot (32:16) in the wet I decided a tyre swap was in order. Besides, I’d finally get my mud tyres back from my wife.

Not wanting to preempt things too much I figured there’d be plenty of time to faff and fettle on Saturday morning, even with an earlier, and much more preferable, start of 12 noon.

The race venue had a much less corporate feel to it this year. Wandering round the arena it was possible to smell that Quavers catering was down to it’s usual standards. Fortunately there was a very good Indian and a coffee stall on site. That’ll be the pre-race food sorted then. It was nice to see old friends and look at all the shiny parts. Especially from Lezyne. I’ve been looking for a high volume pump to carry round for a while. My Blackburn is lovely, but I have to carry it round stuffed up the leg of my shorts because I haven’t got a frame mount. They’re not very good if you do have a frame mount, seeing as I’ve found two of them at races. So I treated myself to a combined pump and CO2 cartridge carrier. Mounted to the downtube it makes the Hunter look like it’s carrying weaponry that you could fire off at any moment!

After watching lots of people get wet on their practice laps race day itself dawned bright, but threatening. Now was time to change the tyres. Guess what? I had a puncture to fix too!

Sorting the rubber

Then it was just a case of walk around and chat to friends that turned up overnight. Working on the basis that it was going to be shitty weather I treated myself to a lovely team strip from Morvelo. Once my completist rival Tim Flooks had finished the rider briefing there was time to change into the Velocake strip and get to the start line.

Rider briefing by Tim Flooks

Velocake

As always I took the run at walking pace, though I try to be brisk. The first lap is always my recce lap. I don’t want to push myself too hard in case I run out of reserves later, and there’s always queues in the singletrack for the first two or three laps anyway. Even so I always pick up places on the first few laps, especially as the intermittent rain played havoc on the less technically skilled riders.

For the first three laps Kirsty didn’t let me get off the bike. She just sat waiting at the end of the track in the solo field, on a little camp stool, with a long wax riding jacket keeping her and food dry from the intermittent showers. On lap three I got a touch of cramp so went for the saltiest snacks I could when I rested. I knew already that I had a head problem, and I asked Kirsty to be harsh on me if I said I needed to stop. Physically I just felt flat. Legs had strength, and lungs had spare capacity, but my heart rate just couldn’t rise to the occasion.

I couldn’t believe the support in the campsite this year, all the kids doing high fives to the riders. The “Jump of Doom” was another hit, though the effort taken to get up to sprint speed knackered me out for the next small climb. And were those small children hiding under the pallet jump? Brilliant.

Everything for the next lap

After a proper meal at about 6pm it was time to get into the mindset for the night. The pit stops were smooth, though not necessarily fast. I was on a bottle of water per lap strategy to save weight, and there were a couple of places out on course I’d make myself drink. My lower back was playing up throughout the race, starting from early on, and I’m sure it’s kidneys not muscles as I’ve been doing much longer rides with a Camelbak already this year.

Food strategy was to eat whatever I felt like on the stop, then fill one back pocket with flapjack, twix, mini mars and chorizo sausage, eating it about half way round to balance out the pit stops. I usually end up craving savoury sandwiches during the latter portions of the race, but this year I had no cravings at all, so something worked better. The course was reversed again this year and there was plenty of time climbing to the monument to chew my way through a lump of porcine goodness. Maybe choosing picante chorizo was a mistake, but not too serious. Proper food and plain water meant I was a lot less bloated during the race than when I’ve relied on carb drinks.

In the end I made it through the night without the need to stop for a rest. By breakfast time it was obvious that I could do three more laps and finish just after 2pm, or relax and just do two more laps, with a bit of lurking for a 12-noon finish. The latter was in order.

I changed the feed strategy now to include a small packet of Skittles at the top of the penultimate climb. Then either the sugar or the rainbow of fruit flavours had a chance to kick in for the last effort to the top of the course and the blast to the finish. Last time I rode this descent was during a tandem downhill race at the Malverns Classic, which ages me somewhat.

Seeing as I’ve been beaten before by a single second (SITS 2004), rather than lurk I just rode the last mile extremely slowly. Where everyone came from when the commentator nearly finished the race a lap early I don’t know. As it happened I finished just 7 seconds after the clock ticked over, which was enough to beat a couple of other lurkers who crossed at 33 and 57 seconds respectively. 14 years experience pays off!

Then time for tubby bye byes.

Done. For another year.

Bike: Hunter
Distance: 113.3 miles
Height Gain: 15,400 ft
Sleep: None

I hear that a pre-race interview I did for an august publication was not published because it “wasn’t serious enough”. Not sure what part of having the dedication to do the same race 14 years running isn’t serious. I’m glad to say that if I took it that seriously I’d have given up years ago, what with crappy results and all.

Then this year on the back of nothing I think you’ll find I was tenth fastest in singlespeed category. Which includes teams. Overall, third fastest solo singlespeeder. Maybe I’ve finally found the niche wanky category in which there are sufficiently few competitors to get on the podium.

Serious enough for you? I actually take it as the best back-handed compliment I’ve had in years.

Still tired and broken and will post more about the race later.

Not kick, just change the tyres