The psych for riding my bike is still high, following on from my trip to Scotland last month and my mental capacity for life and training has vastly improved, thankfully! That said, I haven’t had the most successful month of either training or racing.
Balancing the two alongside a full-time job is a rollercoaster ride that never stops dishing out challenges – often wonderful, sometimes tough.
Race/life balance
As spring blooms and summer beckons, both life and work are a whirlwind of activity. Attending to my job, training, and personal life has become quite the balancing act. I love my job – riding and discussing bikes, who wouldn’t?! – but it does throw a wrench into maintaining a consistent training schedule. When I’m out riding for a feature, jetting off to Europe for a bike launch (I recently had a blast trying out new the Pinarello Dogma cross-country rig!), or immersed in a photoshoot, those days tend to be write-offs when it comes to training.
With races picking up pace, the challenge of finding time to train only intensifies. There never seems to be enough hours in a day, and I often find myself sacrificing one of the three pillars – work, life, or training. Lately, it's been training that has taken the back seat.
As important race days loom ever closer, I’m optimistic that staying focused will become easier, but I’m also aware that this may be a naïve way of thinking.
Counting the cost
I haven't kicked off my campaign in the national series yet. Unfortunately, the first round at Cannock Chase, Staffordshire got cancelled, so Kirroughtree in Dumfries and Galloway was supposed to be my season opener. It’s a solid six and a half hours from Bristol, where I'm based, which is quite the trek for just a couple of hours of riding – especially with current fuel prices.
Now, in the realm of mountain biking disciplines, cross-country tends to be one of the more budget-friendly options. Typically, race entry costs around £35, and at some spots, you might need to shell out another fiver for parking. That’s still only about half of what an enduro race can set you back nowadays. But when you start factoring in travel expenses and potentially camping at venues, those numbers add up fast. For me, making the trip up to Scotland just wasn’t feasible, both financially and in terms of time.
After the race weekend, I had to head over to the Lake District for work – a great opportunity, but I simply didn't have the stamina for both. Between some personal struggles over the past few months affecting both my mental and physical wellbeing, I had to prioritise self-care. So, I opted for a relaxed time hitting local trails and catching up with friends instead.
However, with the itch to compete still strong, I decided to enter the Southern XC round at Basingstoke, Hampshire – a choice I would later come to regret.
A day to forget
My preparation was on point. I opted for a straightforward dinner, including pasta and beans, complemented by a touch of greens – a pretty typical meal for me. Hydration was a key focus, so I made sure to drink plenty of water in anticipation of the race the following day. Despite attempting an early bedtime, it proved challenging to fall asleep, which wasn’t ideal. Luckily, I didn’t have to get up super-early for the race.
I usually don’t feel nervous until I'm near the venue, and this race was no different. As I drove through the gate, I started feeling a bit queasy, but my attention quickly shifted to the car park, which was basically a clay pit due to the wet weather, making it quite challenging to find solid ground to park on. This awkwardness foreshadowed the day ahead. However, the parking marshal assured me that the course was in good condition, which eased my nerves as I waited for my turn to park.
Moving from my van to the race field involved carrying my Orbea Oiz over the clay pit, and I decided not to wear my Five Ten Kestrel BOA shoes until I was on firmer ground, instead carrying my riding kit in a backpack.
Being there alone added a layer of logistical challenge, but I managed to pack my fresh race kit, nutrition, and clothing layers into a backpack that I left at the start line, hoping it would still be there at the end of the day.
During the practice lap, I didn’t push too hard; instead, cruising to get a feel for the course at a moderate pace. The track wasn’t particularly inspiring, lacking different line options, and much of it was on muddy grass. Despite the challenging conditions, navigating through the trees was a bit more fun, with better traction on firmer ground and the enjoyable challenge of manoeuvring slimy roots.
After practice I had a quick change into my race kit as the rain pelted down and attempted to scoop mud from my drivetrain with little success. Before long I was heading to the start line.
And we were off! As the race progressed, it became clear that the parking marshal might have been either overly optimistic or misinformed: the course wasn't riding as well as promised. The mud had become thick and claggy, making parts of the course unrideable. Constant stops to clear mud from frames and gears disrupted the flow of racing, and I felt like I was ruining my bike with every pedal stroke. Yes, bikes are meant to be ridden, but I don't enjoy damaging them unnecessarily, and grinding my new chain and scooping out debris so my fork could compress didn’t sit well with me.
About two thirds of the way into the first lap, I decided to call it quits. My bike was clogged with mud, the gears were jammed, and the weight of the slop made my Orbea feel more like an enduro bike than an XC whippet. Most of all, I wasn't having fun, which is ultimately why I race, so there really was no point on continuing.
My competitive side took a backseat this time, knowing that my real goals lay ahead in the British National Cross Country Series. Hopefully, those races will offer more favourable conditions for me. I guess I’m more of a dry-conditions racer, just like my trusty Spanish bike!
Lessons learned
As I returned to Bristol, looking forward to a relaxing afternoon with my girlfriend after a wasted trip down the M4, I received a text from my coach Ash, inquiring about how everything went.
His first question was, “any lessons learned or positives to take away from the event?” My immediate thought was, “I’ve learned not to race at Basingstoke!”
Initially, I felt like the race was a total waste of time, sparking negative thoughts about my abilities and commitment. As I struggled through the muddy course, watching other racers pass by (regardless of their category), I couldn't help but question whether this was the right path for me. Doubts about my training, skills, and dedication crept in. However, by the time I completed that first lap, I managed to shift my mindset from negative to positive – a significant victory for my ongoing journey towards better mental health.
Recognising this shift proved to be a major positive takeaway from the entire experience. Ash’s reflective questions encouraged me to delve deeper into the experience, extracting valuable lessons. Despite the struggles and ultimately poor result, I did have a positive moment – a strong start where I swiftly fought my way to the front of the pack.
The race also highlighted some clear lessons. I realised that the Southern XC series might not suit my style, feeling more like cyclocross terrain than modern XC racing. Additionally, it reinforced the importance of me having a thorough warm-up – the limited space at the venue made it challenging to prepare adequately. It was the sort of venue where rollers would’ve been useful, although riding rollers is not a skill I currently possess.
I don't regret for one bit from withdrawing from the race. In fact, I'm pleased that I could find positives in the experience and that I am not beating myself up about quitting. This ability to find silver linings is an achievement in itself, extending beyond racing into life’s broader challenges.
TLC for the Oiz
A few months back, I mentioned my fork lockout was acting up, but I've finally sorted it. It turns out there was a seized roller bearing in the top cap causing the lockout mechanism to jam. After a service, the lockout is back in action, making it a breeze to adjust suspension firmness with just a flick of the lever.
Having replaced the brake pads and chain, next up is some bearing changes. I am waiting for headset bearings to arrive and planning a refresh for the DT Swiss 350 hubs because they are starting to show signs of wear. It’s been a tough winter for the Oiz.
This month, I’ve been putting the e*thirteen Optimus cross-country tyres through their paces. They were a hassle to seat properly, but once on, they’ve proven their worth in most conditions, except for the muddy mess we're dealing with now. Next month, I’ll be testing out Kenda’s XC tyre offerings, the Booster and the Karma 2, to see how they compare.
Additionally, I’ve got a new bar and stem from Orbea. The bar boasts a 35mm rise, and the stem is a tad shorter than my current one, at 35mm (rather than 40mm). Hopefully this will improve comfort and adjust my position for better ergonomics on longer rides. I haven’t fitted them to the bike yet, but I’ll share my experience once I do.
Still waiting
After kicking off the year strongly with Lanzarote, I still feel like I’m waiting for my season to truly kick into gear. But hey, isn’t that just the nature of racing? You can never quite predict what’s going to unfold, so I’m just rolling with the punches for now.
I’m eagerly awaiting some better weather so I can really sink my teeth into a race and put all the hard work, both on and off the bike, into practice. Despite the wait, this past month has been an absolute blast away from racing and training. Exploring the mountains of the Lake District and diving into some spicy XC loops with friends in the Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire have kept my bike psych high.
Next month, I’m gearing up for a slightly different style of racing, which promises to be intriguing and give me a new challenge. Hopefully, I’ll finally get the chance to hit the track in a national series. But, as always, who knows what twists and turns await on this unpredictable journey?
