From Zero to 'hero' in 7 weeks. GB para canoe selection.

It felt very odd standing at the paddler briefing at the GB selection event. Lots of Team GB track suits and athletes who's faces I recognised. They must have wondered who I was, standing there in my cycling 'race team' kit ( I hadn't bothered buying any canoe specific kit yet). Only my boat shoes confirmed that I probably hadn't turned up to the wrong briefing! 

"Is everyone ok with the starting mechanism?" Steve Harris ex world champion and head of the para canoe program was asking.
I hesitated, then reluctantly put my hand up. There was an awkward moment when all the other Athletes eyes seemed to turn to me- the only one in cycling kit. "Im not sure how it works" I said. I had just admitted out loud to everyone that I was a newbie and that I had never been in a race.  

The day was precisely organised. Every athlete had to do 2 water 200m time trials, an ergo test and I, as a new athlete was to have my para athlete classification medical as well. 

It was time to head out for my water time trial - I wished my legs would stop shaking with nerves as I walked over to my boat. To my surprise, my coach had put my name in large letters across the bow making me smile which also seemed to calm my legs down a bit. 

Ready steady.... Last week I had capsized and frightened myself comprehensively by being unable to breathe in the freezing water as I struggled to swim to the shore.
This image was not helping! 

go! 

The bucket start mechanism released the boat and I plunged the paddle into the water. All technique seemed to go to pot ( frog in a blender comes to mind) as I furiously splashed my way down the course.  I vaguely remember going cross eyed as I pushed to my maximum. At about 150m everything was excruciatingly painful and it felt like my eyeballs and core muscles would pop. How can a minute or so of exercise be so hard? I told myself to "get a grip, it was only temporary" I put the pain out of my head, went more cross eyed, hoped nothing would burst and pushed harder. I had worked incredibly hard over the past 7 weeks, this was a one chance opportunity and I had put everything into it. I had been coached at Wey Kayak club 3 times a week under the critical but encouraging eyes of Claire Gunney. (ex team GB and marathon champ) We practiced until my body felt like a rag doll and my hands bled. I had travelled to Nottingham once a week for more torture. I squeezed in daily gym sessions which focused on changing my strong cycling core into a kayaking core. I worked on facilitating the strength I already had into specific kayaking patterns. ( being a physio is really useful sometimes and this is the kind of work I specialise in.)

At the end of the time trial I was too out of breath to smile but I knew I had done my best. I was really pleased that  A. I hadn't fallen in and B.despite being cross eyed had managed a vaguely straight line (not as easy as it sounds) I also felt it was a decent time. But was it good enough for the team?

My coach was grinning, he had been right. That games-maker he met in the coffee shop 2 months ago was a para-canoeist (even though she didn't know it yet). I had posted the fastest time of the day out of all the girls, including those already on the GB team! Yaaaaaay!

Not only that, I had received my official para classification enabling me to be a LTA classified athlete. I had had mixed feelings about putting myself forward to officially classify my 'disability' Admitting to this disability, in my mind was a failure. I had struggled on in denial trying unsuccessfully to race my bike, becoming increasingly frustrated and depressed with my weak leg limiting me. I was really very down about it until I was given this opportunity to do something completely different. It was as if a light had gone on in my head and I had something positive to work towards again rather than standing at a dead end trying to 'ride my bike through a brick wall'. One door closes but another one opens, and classification (despite being something I didn't want to be true) was the key to that door. 

I had made it! In seven weeks I had managed to achieve the squad selection time!

The official email followed welcoming me onto the GB squad with a list of dates- including the world champs 2013- to keep free.. 

I keep having to re read that email just to make sure. It doesn't seem possible that a chance meeting in a coffee shop at the Olympics (see my olympic legacy post) would lead to this. I still can't believe that I made it onto the GB squad never having raced a canoe and having spent nothing on canoeing except petrol and precisely £ 6.99 on a pair of boat shoes! 

It just goes to show that anything is possible if you are open to change, want it enough and have the correct support around you.
I could never have decreased my time to get squad time without the coaches at Wey kayak club and of course Colin the Games-maker/GB coach who saw beyond the lopsided cyclist. 

My Olympic "Leg"acy

This is not a normal Monday morning. I am sitting in a logo'd "team GB" race canoe and I'm using an uber bling carbon fibre paddle to splash my way furiously up the 200m sprint course at the National waters sports centre. ....

The Velodrome at 2012 Olympics

Working at the Olympics had been an amazing experience, but not for any of the reasons I could have predicted. A chance meeting and a casual conversation in a cafe with a random fellow gamesmaker turned into an invitation for me to try out for the GB squad para canoe team.

Gamesmaker

All gamesmakers have a real life job, and his job was GB paracanoe coach. In between sips of coffee he was explaining that he was searching for suitable athletes to train for Rio 2016

"you can have me if you like" I said

This was meant as a joke but his coffee was soon forgotten as I received a fast and furious Q and A session about my back injury, my weak leg and my bike racing history.

He left me feeling slightly giddy with a date in my diary to be assessed for suitability to join the team.  In the time it had taken to eat half a muffin I had gone from frustrated endurance cyclist with a dodgy leg to a possible GB para sprint canoeist. 


I was trialling for team GB in a sport which I had never done- did I mention that bit?- I've never actually been in a canoe.

I arrived at the water sports centre and met the gamesmaker who was now wearing his team GB coach polo shirt looking very official. He was talking to the other athletes and suddenly I felt like I was in the wrong place. They were all in wheelchairs and I couldn't help wondering What the hell was I doing here? My legs 'work' and I can't canoe!! 

GB paracanoe bay 

It was explained that there is a spectrum of disability classification for each sport and I am at one end, having reduced use of my leg, whereas they are at the other end having use of just arms. 

First things first-to learn how to 'paddle'. I had a swift half hour session on the ergo (dry land canoe) - I had no idea how complicated it all was.  "right, let's see what you can do. "

As an endurance cyclist I'm all slow twitch with weedy arms so a 200 meter sprint  at full pelt on the ergo put me into a whole new world of pain. 

Despite my time putting me 17th in the world for my category which I was actually ok with, it was a 'disappointing' time. In order to make the team I would have to be within sniffing distance of a medal on the world stage!

Race Lake at Holme Pierepont 

Then moment I had been dreading- actually getting onto the water. 

 The other athletes had made it look so easy! I scramble into the boat and wobble. One girl says "you will fall in - we all do in the beginning" ....thanks:-) 

I start off down the lake and massive a smile spreads across my face, I  work!! My arms, unlike my legs are equal and for the first time since my accident I don't have to struggle or concentrate on walking. I feel free, I feel like I'm flying!  whoaah! Plop!

It was 7 weeks ago that I was given the challenge by the GB coach to turn myself from slow twitch sloth into a fast twitch cannon with guns of steel. I was told that I had to drop a considerable number of seconds to be any where near the selection criteria.

 So much has happened in the last 7 weeks. I have been training, paddling, working and sleeping and not much else. I have open blisters on my hands, aching shoulders and quite scary looking biceps. I have learnt the difference between a Kayak and a canoe and stopped mixing up the words paddling and peddling!

This weekend is crunch time. I have a total of about 2 minutes racing time and a medical to determine my path for the next 4 years, and whether Im going to be paddling towards Rio.

Nervous? Me? hell yes! 

Please don't try this at home...........

......The SouthDowns Triple

Richard on the 'south downs triple'

"I want to be the first person to cycle the South Downs Way triple, what do you think? "

Richard looked at me earnestly. Inside I was struggling to know how to respond Yer yer funny joke. Only 25% of people who attempt the double have achieved it and Richard isn’t your normal elite athlete.....

He was still looking at me intently and I realised he was being serious – and he wanted an answer. 

"Really?" I said “Sure – why not!”.  He smiled and I realised that he had already decided he was going to do it. He was just testing me to see if I would be there for the journey.

The rulebook for the South Downs double hall of fame states that there are 2 categories - supported or unsupported – yes some people do the 200-mile double unsupported. Riding 300 miles off road in one go? Slightly crazy in its self, but to ride it unsupported would be crazy verging on dangerous. As the team came together we all wanted Richard to achieve his goal, but understanding the seriousness of his challenge we wanted to make sure that no one got hurt in the process – neither Richard, who was clearly at risk, nor any of the crew, who would also be getting fatigued driving for 36 hours on public roads. This was going to be a supported ride and, having some experience of 24 hour endurance racing and some personal experience at things going wrong, I volunteered along with Simon to coordinate the support.

Support riders rode behind and allowed Richard do all the gates

That conversation was 15 months ago and last weekend he set off from Eastbourne to attempt to ride the South Downs Way three times in one go - 300 miles nonstop, including 30,000 ft if climbing, in a target time of 36 hours. 

check point info

Richard is a planner, dare I say the spreadsheet king. He likes to know everything in advance to the minutest detail. Over the next 15 months he updated his massive file from his previous double achievement with information on the challenge. Photos of every gate and junction from both directions, average prevailing winds, every checkpoint with an aerial view. The location of 24hour supermarkets for emergency supplies for the crew or for if things weren’t going to plan. Each check point had instructions of what he wanted, his nutrition, his clothing, his desired average mph – even when to text his wife! Every situation and possible problem had been thought through with contingencies being planned.  Everything and I mean everything was in that file. 

Planning didn't stop there, Richard, despite having a full time job and a family, found time to train efficiently and intelligently - it wasn't just about the miles and the hours – it couldn't be. He enlisted my help to work with him on his core, and to help correct muscle imbalances we picked up in his core assessment, as well as Kate Potter from AQR coaching to work on fitness, skills and (between us) on bike fit.

The dynamic core assessment revealed issues which would have led to injury, either as he ramped up his training or as fatigue set in on the ride, if left unchecked. Working with Kate, Richards training involved specific exercises to rectify this as well as to develop a strong dynamic core, to help with performance and efficiency. Kate devised a specific training program both to deal with the specific challenges of the triple as well as to take into account Richard’s work and home life commitments. 

the support van

So on to the support plan.  Both Simon and I know 24 hour racing, but 24 hours with a fixed pit is easy.  36 hours with a demanding, moving pit was a completely different challenge. Enlisting support from the other half of AQR’s endurance race team, Ant and Rach both being experienced in 24 hour races, meant we could plan to work in 2 overlapping shifts, to make sure we didn’t get too tired.  I was also particularly conscious of the potential for something to go wrong medically and although I am reasonably well trained, I am no sports doctor.  We consulted with numerous experts as to the possible problems we might encounter and done everything we could to minimise risk. The final team was made up of a support van, a camper van, 4 support crew, a Physio (me!), a sports med doctor, and a team support riders for the last leg – to make sure this crazy idea was as safe as possible. 

With all this meticulous planning a date was set – Sunday the 3^rd to Monday the 4^th June - what could possibly go wrong?

The weather. 

A surprise storm coming in after 2 weeks of dry weather meant that the South Downs Way would turn from being perfectly baked to being treacherous, slippery and gloopy. As the forecast firmed up Simon, in charge of logistics, calculated that the best weather window meant pulling the whole thing forward two days – this was on the Thursday morning, which meant we had to go tomorrow. A few phone calls later and it became apparent that a Friday start meant that more than half the team physically could not make it. 

15 months of planning thrown up into the air - panic! 

I frantically looked through my contacts to see who might be able to stand in. Bingo! Judy and Roy from Dark Star Brewery’s endurance team. They were local, also knew the endurance scene and amazingly they were free.

The crew left to right Roy, Judy, Dr Jerry and Anne
(thanks to Mike Anton for the photo)

We scrabbled round trying to get more support riders who were free, but with this little notice on an extended bank holiday weekend it was proving a struggle. 

Almost sorted and then another phone call from Simon. "We are also changing the route” The normal prevailing wind is from the West, but the storm coming in was bringing in a strong Easterly wind for the final leg, which didn’t make sense to ride into on the final leg, so all change to as Eastbourne start rather than Winchester argh!!! By the end of the day my hair was pulled out and lying in a heap on the floor and my byro chewed down to the nib. 

trying to sort out logistics 

37 hours after the start, Richard cruised into Winchester. 15 months after that “innocent question” he had done it; The first person to ever to cycle the South Downs Way three times in one shot. The last 37 hours had been utterly brilliant, incredible, scary and exhausting and Richard had been absolutely amazing.

Richard at a checkpoint receiving physio and food.
(photo by Mike Anton) 

The crew at a checkpoint at 5 am waiting for
richard to appear through the mist

The hours and months of preparation and planning had been worth it. For sure Richard had ridden into the record books, and I don't know many people who could have done that, but the pit crew had been kept busy and not everything had gone to plan.  In the end there were seven core members of the support team as well as support riders making sure he was safe.  Every single member of that crew contributed and just about every “what if” scenario came into play.  

 quick medical check

in particular I would have hated to have been the one to take the call on whether to stop Richard from continuing when he started to waiver with 60 miles to go. A professional sports medic performing a medical exam and testing for cognitive reasoning confirmed his body was functioning normally despite being exhausted, is just the kind of reassurance we needed; and a fresh set of crew with fresh brains to take on driving duties and question decisions was invaluable towards the end.   

The team plus supporters at Winchester after 37 hours 4 minutes

Richard and Simon at the finish-
both looking exhausted!

So a marker has been set and no doubt someone will try and break it. I know Richard is in many ways an ordinary bloke who has achieved an extraordinary thing, but please don't be temped into thinking it is easily achievable. If you, like Richard, wake up one day wanting to ride a long, long way without sleep, please grab that thought with both hands and say Yes, but also be aware of the dangers involved. Plan ahead, make your body the best that it can be, get yourself a crew who can look after you, and plan for everything!

Remember, it’s about breaking a record, not breaking yourself… Good luck! 

head wind

Richards own blog about his ride is here:

Judys blog is here to give you the other side of the story. 

Thanks to:
 Pete from Kiss training for his in depth outdoor first aid advice

Dave Buchanan: guiness record holder for endurance mountain biking for his advice on what happens to your body after 24 hours riding

Jerry Hill - Sports Doctor

Dave Brothers, main support rider who changed his weekend plans umpteen times in order to help us

Judy and Roy from the dark star brewery endurance team who dropped everything to help us - they were absolutely awesome!

Mrs Sterry for a truck full of cake

Solo 24 hour racing-team or solo sport?

AQR teamwork

Sorry I haven't updated my blog for ages! The last few months have simply been too hard to put down on paper... Injuring my back last summer changed everything for me. As a physio my aim is to heal other people and help them reach their goal - but now I feel a bit of a failure because my own goals are so far out of my reach...

<><>

Dormant race shoes



The injured nerve in my back has left me with a numb foot and weak leg muscles. Mother nature has her own healing time and frustratingly I know there is nothing I can do to hurry this healing process. I have had to bury racing goals along with my new, unused race shoes in the bottom of the cupboard.

I have tried to be upbeat about it because in the great scheme of things I am fine - at one point I was worried that I might not be able to walk at all. So the fact that I am mobile, back at work and even riding my bike (albeit in variable straight lines with unpredictable steering) is brilliant.

Seeing other people around me training and racing has been hard. Forced to stay at home while my riding buddies thrash their bikes around the woods and listening to their excited banter when they come back makes me feel like an an outsider. How was I going to pull myself out of this dark, lonely place called injury?




UCI world cup 

Two months ago I was lucky enough to work as track side physio at the Olympic test event at the London velodrome. The event was incredible!
To see a rider in pain one day, then racing around the track and even getting a podium the next gave me a massive buzz.It was after this event that I started to look at my race shoes without the same pang of sadness. I wasn't racing but for some reason I was still getting a buzz from other people's race...

Since joining AQR's race team, the Exposure 24 Solo Championships have been a key event for me. Being the only event dedicated to my particular discipline it has been the highlight of my calendar. Sadly, this year, I wasn't able to race.
My AQR endurance team colleagues and close friends Ant and Rach were both entering, and I had also persuaded Simon (who normally supports me) to enter the 12 hour with me repaying his support. But I wasn't really looking forward to it.

This was partly because it is my favourite race and I wouldn't be on the course, but it was also because I am rubbish in the pit - or at least I was the last time I supported Simon. In fact I was so bad he ended up grabbing his own bottles and gels!
So here I was, supporting three of my closest friends in the pit feeling immense pressure to do a good job.

Team AQR at the start

One thing I haven't mentioned is that, as part of the AQR coaching setup I provide tailored physio support and that two of these riders were still under my wing...
Rachel had fractured her pelvis last year requiring physio alongside her training to enable her to push hard while keeping her body repairing properly. Her goal was to race at the 2012 24hr champs and give it her best shot. Simon fell off his bike (road riding is so dangerous!) 4 weeks prior to the race hurting his back and knee making walking painful let alone cycling for 12 hours. He ended up spending more time in physio than riding his bike on the lead up to the race and his goal had become purely to get a top 10 finish with a smile on his face. Both their goals were a long shot but I was determined to help as much as I could. 

The race day arrived and I was a bag of nerves just as if I were going to race! Getting to the start of the race in a minibus shuttle rather than on my bike and standing at the start holding a camera rather than a bike was a stark reminder that I wasn’t racing - so why was I still nervous and still needing that 'pre-race panic' toilet stop!?

<><> <><>

Exposure 24 2012

Back at the pits I kept checking and rechecking the riders race instructions. From a riders perspective I knew how crucial it was that I didn't get anything wrong. One, two, three successful pit changes. I started to relax and enjoy myself.

<><>

Jolly Pits

I may be a pit monkey newbee but from the racing side I always appreciated passing pits that were loud, supportive and bright. I'm not sure how many people truly appreciated my fairly lights, flags and cheesy 80s play lists, but I did smile (a lot) when I heard several people the next day singing Chesney Hawkes - 'The One and Only' as they dismantled their camps...

<><> <><>

Bright pits

Several Non AQR riders passed our pit through the night struggling. Understanding their goal, we would always ask if we could help with their bike or a cup of tea. Some riders at Newcastleton had a surreal moment while I, a total stranger, worked on their legs/back/shoulders to ease their pain or Ian fixed a problem on their bike. Seeing them return smiling lap after lap saying thank you made the fact that I was in the pits, not on the course totally worthwhile. (despite having Chesney messing with my brain - how come he was on every random play list!?)

Simon arrived at the pit after 6 hours looking really sore. A dose of 'physio magic' and he was back on course, flying with a grin on his face. He managed his top 10 position with a smile - something which had seemed impossible 4 weeks ago. I also nailed every single rolling pit, having actually read and understood his race plan :-)

<><> <><>

Rach, Ant and Simon 

Rachel rode her socks off. We had talked at length during her rehab sessions how she was going to ride this race with her recovering back and pelvis and it all went to plan. Some fairly interesting pit stops through the night involving a lot creative tape application to support the areas we are still working on helped Rachel to finish well ahead of all the competition. As she crossed the finish line as National and European Champion I couldn’t have been more elated.

As I stood there and watched our riders stand on the podium I felt an immense sense of inclusion and pride (Ant had come 3rd in the U.K). Solo racing done well is very much a team race. What I learnt that weekend was that just because I wasn't racing didn't mean I couldn't be a valuable part of the team.
If I had raced - only one person might have had a successful race. Being race physio and Simon's pit monkey meant that I was part of a team that helped several racers over the finish line.

It felt amazing to be part of the winning AQR experience and I finally dont mind about my injury anymore. (well,not as much!)

The AQR Exposure 24 hr team 

Aqr riders- for incredible racing - (Rachel Sokal 1st European 24, Ant Jordan 3rd  UK24 . Simon Usher 9th European 12),
Coaches Kate and Ian Potter for all their hard work before the race with coaching, skills tuition and performance bike fit.
Pit Crew Carole, me and Ian B for bike washing, chain lubing, tea making, and cheering and and.......
Mechanic and bike fit Ian Potter for making racers fast and all the bikes run sweetly
Bikes Cy at Cotic for making bike that you really love riding for 24 hours
Physio Anne Dickins for keeping those bodies performing to their potential
Cheerleaders and Bell ringers Kirsty, Matt and Katie- other AQR riders who came a long way to support us.
Music-Chesney Hawkes for being that gift that carries on giving...I am the one and only la la la la....

Snakes and Ladders - my view of training

At the end of July I fell asleep on my multi-tool half way through competing in a 24 hour mixed pairs race, (as you do!) and ended up with a stiff back.  Four weeks later I found myself in tears in a doctor's surgery in France,  After 2 painful, sleepless nights my French completely deserted me as I attempted to say to the doctor that I had a "broken back". I realised I must have confused the french for "back" and "heart" as I looked at the prescription the doctor had given me -  anti depressants?!

Training for a specific goal is like playing a game of snakes and ladders. All the time you are training you are rolling the dice and progressing along the board. The more you train the more you roll the dice and the quicker you get to the goal.  Every now and then you come across a square that is at the bottom of a ladder and you make a shortcut jump closer to the goal. We all know those things that have made a difference - finding a good coach, a better piece of kit or maybe a new nutritional strategy.

I am now lying flat on my back staring at the ceiling. No bending, lifting or twisting and absolutely no strain on my back (or training) for 6 weeks. I have hit one of the biggest snakes on the board. I've landed on that snake that dumps you right back at the start. Not only that, whilst everybody else is training, I am not even allowed to roll the dice.

I should stick to riding my bike!

The pain and numbness that took me to the doctor's surgery in France had started off innocently as a stiff back. I am not sure exactly how it deteriorated from stiffness into pain into numbness, it was most probably a combination of events. The stiffness after the 24 hour race worsened on our family holiday. I'm not used to being still but tempted by the perfect sun lounger( sea view and ordering distance from the bar) I barely moved for 3 days. Although self indulgent, this didn't help my flexibility. I was then coerced into doing a beginner windsurfing lesson. The unplanned 'back flip dismount' although quite funny to see, didn't bend me in the way nature intended!  



 I knew there was a problem, but because I'm stubborn I carried on training and riding despite all my physio knowledge telling me that the pain in my leg was not good news. Medical people really do make the worst patients! The final straw that bought on the numbness and the weak leg was nothing more onerous than putting on my shoe.

As soon as we got back from France, I managed to get an urgent appointment to have a scan on my back. The scan said it was bad. It showed a huge disc compressing my spinal chord. It was in the same place as my old fracture and I couldn't help wondering if there was a connection. I decided to hold off from the suggested surgery for a week to see if it would settle on its own.  I knew that surgery would put me out for a long time and being self employed...

The scan showed a large sequestered disc.

Two days later we were getting ready to go to another race - I was not riding, just supporting the AQR team.  I realised as I was packing for the race that my legs felt really odd and the numbness was spreading to places you really don't want numbness. To my horror I realised I was getting cauda equina syndrome (a rare complication of spinal chord compression which is a medical emergency). Simon came back from a quick trip to the supermarket and realised I was looking shell shocked. 

"I think I have to go to A&E", I said. 

I had been trying to get through to my consultant, but it was a Bank Holiday weekend and he wasn't working.  I knew my condition was really serious, but I also knew that there were very few people who I really trusted to do the operation. My consultant, Mr Fahy, is hugely experienced, specializing in 'sporty spines' so I was beyond relieved when he returned my call.  He confirmed my suspicion with the words, "you are coming in for surgery right away, get to London and I will call you when I have found out which theatre I can open."

An hour later I hobbled into a private hospital in London.  My insurance company had told me I wasn't covered, but my consultant had given me absolute instructions that with any delay I risked irreversible nerve damage to my lower half - possible double incontinence and poor mobility for the rest of my life. It was a no brainer.

I was met at the hospital by a suited doorman who offered to carry my bag. He then looked very uncomfortable, not quite knowing how to carry my muddy Camel back.  Within an hour I was being wheeled down to surgery.  The anesthetist had noticed Simon had arrived still wearing his team AQR race lycra and delayed putting me under to compare notes on trails and achievements.  We even compared notes on the merits of steel hardtails and Cotic bikes - mountain bikers get everywhere!


The surgery appears to have been a success - Yaaay! No cauda equina symptoms!! Having said that, the nerves to my legs took a bit of a bashing and leg recovery is going to take time.

Can you spot the difference?

 Two months ago I was rolling the dice, and working towards my legs competing at the World solo 24 hour Championships 2012.  Then a month ago I was struggling even to walk.  With practice and determination, my legs get a little stronger every day. I am now able to (slowly) walk 4 miles! At the moment the thought of riding my bike for 24 minutes, let alone 24 hours seems an impossible dream. As my legs improve and I look back, I realise that goals originally thought of as impossible were just temporarily unavailable. So that's how I see the future too.

I know that it will take me a long time to work my way up the board of snakes and ladders, but if I don't throw the dice I simply wont get anywhere, so I'm going to carry on. I am perfectly happy to be throwing twos and threes rather than fives and sixes because I had a taste of what it would be like to have no dice at all. I realise that I will be nowhere near the peak I was working towards for at next year's World Solo 24hour Championships, there is no doubt - with the help of my coach - I will be there.

One final word - A massive Thank you to Mr Fahy for generously giving up his Bank Holiday - if it wasn't for him I might not even be thinking about picking up that dice again. Thank you.









From Mojo to Mojito - A lesson in happy racing...

We weren't supposed to win...

I saw Simon shooting back through the start for his second lap at a ferocious pace with a massive grin on his face. "Slow down!" I shouted - this was a 24-hour pairs race, not a 2 hour blast around our local trails. Although I had competed in this event several times, this was Simon’s first 24 hour pair and I knew (from unpleasant experience) how easy it is to push too hard in the early part of the race and just blow up.

Most people seem to think that a 24 solo is the hardest race category. I would have to disagree. A 24 hour pair is often much harder. Rather than it being a race ‘just about you’ a pair is a ‘very long relay of sprints’ between you and a partner. In my mind this is worse because you think it's going to be easier than a solo as you are sharing the work, meaning you push too hard and risk blowing up. The stronger rider also goes faster, so the other rider gets less recovery and gets more and more tired (usually me;-)), requiring a high level of awareness of your partner and communication in the short change over, which gets harder as the night draws on. Then you have to think about the potential your team mate will actually blow up, or get injured, meaning you might have to take over more laps, so how hard do you race?  You want to race fast, but to race smart you have to hold so much back.

So 24 hour pairs is hard enough, but mixed pairs adds another challenge – that of racing with a woman!  Understanding the complexities of the female brain in normal circumstances (so I’ve been told) is a mystery in itself ;-)  Communicating effectively with that same brain at 4am after 16 hours of riding can be a massive challenge!

Simon and I had never raced together before. My usual race partner (Ant, who I have raced with lots, and has a wonderful gift of understanding me even when I am exhausted and incoherent) had broken his collarbone. Simon, my domestic partner, had gallantly (naively?) stood in at the last minute.

To race a 24-hour pair well you have to know both you and your partner’s strengths and weakness. Simon and I are fully aware of our domestic strengths and weaknesses, but the fact that I know he is a great cook and he knows I am rubbish at ironing is actually not that useful in a 24 hour race! And as for that 4 am change over, Simon and my communication at 4 am has usually been limited to “stop snoring!” or “give me back the duvet!”. Again, not particularly useful. So you can imagine that I was a little anxious - This race could be Pandora’s box!

We had talked on and off over the past couple of weeks about how we would race. We both agreed that neither of us was peak race fit – I was still recovering from Exposure24 and Simon was only expecting to do a 12 hour team race with some mates – not compete as a defending champion in a 24 hour pair... We were also going on our annual family activity holiday with our 4 kids the next day, so we really didn't want to be completely knackered for that (!?). So we agreed some very basic race rules – our goal was simply to “ride for fun”. If either of us stopped smiling, we would stop riding. I knew he was serious about this strategy when I saw him enjoying the beer tasting the night before and cooking a fry up of eggs, bacon and mushrooms for his ‘race’ breakfast!! In his words, “24 hour racing is 90% a mental challenge”, so he was doing everything he could to be in the right mental state of mind.

Sprint stop, sprint stop is very wearing and we decided that right from the start we would split the race into chunks of about 2-3 laps (at our pace a lap is about an hour) between changes, to be agreed at the change over and to be stuck to unless either of us stopped enjoying ourselves. Looking at Simon’s face on those first 2 laps, he was most definitely enjoying himself (!!) but was he going to blow?

First changeover happened after two laps and I got my first taste of the course - ok I get it now, this course is fantastic – no wonder he was smiling so much! Technical, yes, and hilly, but with so much reward!! Everything from roots and rocks, to rivers, open moorland and free flowing singletrack, with the most ridiculously steep climbs thrown in to keep you on your toes. This was such a fun course, despite there being no let up. This was going to be a true test of endurance, but it was grin factor ten, tempting you to ride it faster than you really should.

Consciously I held back. If Simon was going to blow his legs up in happy ignorance I had to be prepared to take over – as Ant had done for me in previous years.

At 5 hours in the pit crew were ecstatic - all the Cotic / AQR Holidays’ teams were in top 4 positions. We were in the lead of the 24 hr mixed pairs - but only by 4 minutes. Oh no! This was not part of the plan… We were supposed to be riding for fun, not racing!!!. This pressure could make it difficult to stick to our 'happy laps' game plan. At the next change over we established that despite riding reasonably 'fast' we were both smiling and that we would ignore our position and just keep enjoying the course. The sun was shining and as the course dried out it was getting better and better.

Nightfall arrived and lights went on. We were now in the lead by 11 minutes but I didn’t want to know. I met Simon in the change over area. Both still smiling? Yes :-) Right - off I go for my next two laps.

Cotic  / AQR Holiday's pit

At midnight Simon and I decided to give each other an opportunity to sleep by doing 3 laps each. I was really looking forward to this longer stint on course - I could relax into my 24 solo pace and concentrate on smooth efficient riding.

After my first lap of three I knew the 12-hour race would have ended and I was desperate to know how my teammates had got on. As I came past our pit I could tell by the whooping and hugging that there was good news. This was the only time during the race that my smile wavered. I was torn between needing to ride and wanting to join in the celebration!  We had got 3 podiums, including two wins and Rachel coming 2nd doing her first 12-hour solo. Sod it - I just had to go and give her a hug! As AQR Holidays’ physio and dynamic core guru I knew all about her tough journey to this point, having fractured her pelvis earlier in the year. I was so happy for her!  Hug done and back out on course. With the 12-hour riders gone, and many other riders seemingly given up for the night, the course was deserted.

Lap three of my night stint and I was suddenly aware that it had cooled down. Dew settling meant the course had become slippery and I fell, misjudging some off camber roots.  After my hypothermia problems at Exposure 24 (just 2 months before), I went into a sudden panic. I was out on the open moor with no one else about and I was petrified of getting cold. “Focus! Keep riding safely! Up the pace to keep warm and don't stop!!" I told myself.

The last run into the campsite is an awesome, fast flowing down hill section. My full suspension Cotic KP 24 shot down it like an arrow. It was such a great end to a lap that I half hoped Simon wouldn't be at changeover, giving me the chance to keep riding. But there he was - looking as fresh as at the start of the race.

My turn to sleep. I have the ability to fall asleep instantly and anywhere. I lay down in the tent and nodded off in seconds.  I woke an hour later with a sore back - something to do with my multi tool and pump still being in my back pocket! Doh!

For me this is the hardest part of pairs riding. It's now just gone 5 in the morning. We have been racing for 17 hours. Not only have I been pedaling for nearly nine hours, when off the bike I have been making decisions about food, hydration, bike choice and race strategy.  Our pit crew (Ant – my normal race partner – and Carole) was fantastic, doing all the bike maintenance and my catering. All this is great, but getting up after an hour’s sleep and having to decide between tea and coffee is just too hard!

So it’s dawn and Simon is out on the course somewhere.  The crew told me we were now at least 2 laps up. What had happened to the people in second and third? Had they stopped for a sleep and, with fresh legs, were they already out there blasting out some quick morning laps? I met Simon in the changeover and he was early - he was still putting in some good lap times. If this is Simon riding for fun I couldn't help wondering how he would fare racing with some serious endurance training!! I said we were up by two laps, and we quickly established that we were both smiling and that we wanted to keep riding - who wouldn't? I was having a great time - the course was great and my bike was awesome to ride. I had bent my brake disk rotor at Exposure24, but the guys at Magura had come up trumps, not only with a new rotor, but also with some new forks that meant both my bikes gave me confidence on this technically challenging course.

Team mates

We agreed I would do two laps and off I went. As I came past the AQR pit, just before leaving the campsite, a massive cheer went up! It makes such a difference when racing having a happy pit! As I rode around that lap I thought about how the whole Cotic / AQR Holidays team had been helping and supporting each other throughout the race; Swapping bike bits, massaging legs, lending spare kit, making the pit look lovely with fairy lights for the night laps. I also reflected on what a difference a year had made.  Meeting up with Kate and Ian at their base in Luchon the previous Summer transformed me from being the support rider in this event the last year – let’s face it, Ant had always put in the lion’s share of laps in our pairs – to being very much an equal partner this year.  Not only that, but a year before this course would have freaked me out, particularly at night.  I have learnt so much from both of them. It was impossible not to keep smiling with this the fun course, legs that were coping well, being part of a brilliant team and with Simon nailing his first 24 pair.

In fact I found my legs wanting to go faster and faster - yee haa! I cant remember ever feeling like this after 21 hours of racing. After my second morning lap I flew down the last descent and into the changeover area. Simon at 6ft 4 is hard to miss, but a second quick scan and he clearly wasn't there. I rushed over to the pits where I found him mid conversation.  “Wow you were quick”, he said. Half of me was pleased that he noticed and the other half annoyed that he wasn't ready for me. “We have won”, he said. The second place team had stopped through the night and we were five laps up.  The third place were back on the course, but with two hours left it was impossible to make up five laps. He said he would go out if I wanted him to, or I could go out again, but he would prefer to save his energy for our holiday…

Then it dawned on me. Really? We had won?!!!! But that wasn't the plan!!! Women can be so unreasonable sometimes ;-)

I am now lying on a beach in an activity centre in Turkey writing up this blog and reflecting on what is easily the best race I have ever ridden in. It has nothing whatsoever ever to do with first place. It's simply because we had so much fun. If you can smile for 24 hours, keeping riding is just easy.

Recovery ride in Turkey

Massive thanks go here to an awesome pit crew, who worked tirelessly to keep us supplied with clean bikes and butties, and to my teammates who made it such a fun weekend. Also thanks to AQR Coaching – to Kate and Ian – for their continued advice and support.  My stamina has improved immeasurably over the last year with Kate’s programme and this course would have been a nightmare without Ian’s technical riding training. But the biggest thank you has to go to Simon. Simons 'racing happy' rule was exactly the right plan – we both loved the course and had such great conversations with fellow competitors along the way! But most importantly, we discovered out that we can communicate effectively (even in a sleep deprived state) on topics beyond the status of the duvet at 4 am ;-)

I still think that 24 pairs is tougher than a solo, but a good race partner and full pit support eases the burden! Full credit to the other pairs, teams and solo riders for completing the race and a final massive thanks to everyone at the Bontrager Twentyfour12 organising team for putting on a great event.  Roll on #7 in 2012!

Mojito - the next Torq recovery drink?