Team Iron Horse Extreme

The dust has now settled (literally). The World Solo Championships is over an I’m left with some fantastic memories of the hottest, hardest and most physically demanding race I’ve ever ridden…

We woke up on the day of the race at the unholy hour of 7.30am. As is customary before a big event, I slept like a restless insomniac after months of quality eight hour snore fests…And of course when I finally gathered my thoughts, I had little appetite. Ah, the trickery of nerves.

The sky was clear blue and even at 9 o’clock when we reached the race site, it was red hot. The heat had been building all week and it was forcast to break 30 degrees with very high humidity. Even many of the Australians, (having arrived from the southern hemisphere winter) were concerned about the heat. Fortunately, the close conditions were similar to the weather we have had in the North of England in preceding weeks, just a heck of a lot hotter! It was good that we had arrived with a week to acclimatise but I was still very aware of the dangers of dehydration.

I make no secret of this; I hate the final hours leading up to the start of a race! (You can imagine how rattly the nerves were for this outing). A solo 24 is different to other mountain bike formats - it’s not just the apprehension of the race that gets you; it’s the realisation of what you are going to put yourself through, irrespective of the competition. You know it’s going to hurt - a lot. And you know there are going to be long drawn out moments of mental turmoil. But this is the challenge. The more 24s I do, the more interested I have become in this aspect. I truly believe that the mental aspects are as important, perhaps more important, than the physical.

But I was ready on both counts and as I stood on the start line, I was struck by a calm confidence, grounded in months of preparation. The race was to begin with the customary Le Mans style run to the bike. I had been concerned about this element as I had injured myself running earlier in the year and had to leave it out of my training regime, but I had been placed in the second row of the field (why?!) and when the gun went I found a nice pace and headed for the inside of the first bend. The run wrapped round the transition area and up a steep fireroad before entering the pit zone where we jumped on our bikes. I think I was about 5th onto the bike and was really pleased to not be redlining it after a red hot run.

Bring the breathing under control…go hard but not too hard…don’t get caught in the pack. So far so good. My game plan was to go faster than I would normally go for a good few hours whilst staying conscious of the heat. Dehydration would prove to be a key factor at the sharp end of the race…

A few leaders pulled away and I was happy to ride my own pace. It was so hot that cramp was a real possibility and in the mid afternoon heat I focused on holding a solid tempo pace whilst drinking as much as possible. For the first five hours or so I was drinking up to one and a half litres an hour… and I could have drank more. Eating was hard, even at this early stage but I found that apples and oranges went down really well, being refreshing as well as energy giving.

The focus was also to stay smooth and efficient because the course was brutal, “Like riding a jackhammer” a fellow racer commented. A week of sun had baked the ground hard… and this was no smooth XC racetrack. The longest descent on the course was steep and rutted. Immoveable angular rocks poked out of the concrete hard ground. Huge patchworks of polished roots criss-crossed the trails creating maze like puzzles that spat you sideways if you put a foot wrong. This was a seriously technical course. And it was dusty. Only a few hours in and it felt like I had lungs full of asbestos. Even continual drinking did not prevent my throat drying up.

The afternoon unfolded and I was pleased with my first few hours of high steady pace. In fact, by the time it was lights on I was sitting in 4th or 5th overall and felt pretty comfortable. Then out of the blue I had a bad lap at about 10 o’clock. Maybe it was the release of tension from the start, maybe it was the heat, or maybe I hadn’t eaten enough. I rectified this on my next pit stop by jamming loads of food down, but soon after I was hit by a charge from the field. A New Zealander and an American hammered past me at what seemed like XC pace and I couldn’t respond. Now I knew the standard would be high but I found it hard to believe they could sustain that pace…Within what seemed like quite a short time, the Kiwi had lapped me! I couldn’t believe it! About 1am the leader and eventual winner (Jason English from Australia) lapped me and we rode together for a time - he seemed a really nice guy and I was really pleased for him when he finally won. At that point he also felt the pace of the Kiwi was unsustainableand he decided to take it down a gear for a while rather than chase.  About 2pm the Kiwi was pulled off the course, dangerously dehydrated… He was the first of many casualties. There were a number of heavy crashes. Some sections were clearly beyond the ability of the many of the team competitors, especially when sleep deprived. I counted at least four people carried off on stretchers…There weren’t quite as many happy faces by this stage. Now the race was on!

Descending the steep section got really interesting in the early hours. Even if a rider had been through the trail several minutes earlier the dust still hung in the air like a fine mist. The effect was akin to driving in thick fog with full beam light on…

Around 4pm it was Wildlife Hour! In practice I had ridden down a trail behind a Grizzly and the organisers had warned us that at least two bears had camped down inside the open figure of eight style course! Imagine my alarm when peering into woods I saw two juge yellow eyes staring back at me…and the eyes were about eoight inches apart! Just keep moving Rothwell, it was probably an hallucination…Glad I was carrying my mandatory bear bell. Next came the bizzare monkey/racoon/possum type hybrid that followed me down the singletrack, swinging through the trees and poking its head out from behind tree stumps to see where I was going. The beasties were waking up now and all kinds of furry things were flying across the ground. At about this point a fellow racer asked me what rear hub I was running (it was a particuarly well serviced and noisy Hope Pro 3 - they don’t get many Hope bits in Canada apparently). I told him it was a specially engineered Bear Hub. “Really!” he replied, “I gotta get me one of those”! Ah, Bless!

The sun started to rise and I got my second ‘bad bit’. For some reason, and unlike many other soloists, I usually have a low following sunrise. My pace dropped right down and I was struggling. But the word from the pit was that I was in about 7th or 8th overall, (the timing was impossible to follow) but I knew I had an hour plus on my nearest age category contender. So I didn’t worry too much. It was procession time.

Error!

Whilst my excellent pit crew had been watching number 12 throughout the early hours, the timing system proved impossible to decipher… Number 71 had clearly put in a massive effort following sun rise and this hadn’t registered on the lagging updates. I received the shock news that he was 23 minutes behind me and going like a steam train! I had accepted that I had won my age category and was simply trying to hold or better a top ten overall place…

I had to put in another two laps… and they had to be very fast. I realised in retrospect that I had got a bit complacent in the early morning and reality struck. This race was not over and I was going to gave to dig deeper than I have ever done in the final stages of a 24. I had put so much time and effort into my training. there was no way I was going to throw it away now.

So I floored it. I stamped up every climb for two laps. It felt like threshold intervals for two and a half hours. I was riding so hard I was nearly blacking out. My legs burned and twinges of cramp shot through my calves, my back and my arms. On the penultimate fireroad climb, still bewildered by the undecipherable timing timing system and fatigue, I asked a fellow rider if theyhad seen number 12 (which was actually irrelevent by this stage). They told me he was 30 metres behind! So in a pool of lactic panic I pushed harder, not daring to look back…

I crossed the lineabsolutely spent and choking on the now hot mid day air. I couldn’t be caught by anyone behind me and there was no way I could have banged out a lap at under one hour and nine minutes (pity as this would have possibly pushed me up a few places).

So I won my age category and finished 8th overall. This is what I had come to do. It had not been the perfect race.  I had experienced some mechanical issues, leading me to think what if…. But the race had taken plenty of prisoners. Many top riders struggled, crashed and folded. The heat and excitement of the event played havoc with many people’s pacing and I’m pleased to say that I stuck to my game plan. It was a race I will never forget and the efforts on my finishing laps have filled me with confidence, making me realise how hard I can push myself when under pressure. Will Newton, my coach, certainly prepared me well for the tough times.

I’m already planning next year’s holiday…  The Worlds are in Australia next year. Don’t tell my wife Charlotte though. It will be a nice surprise for her….

I can’t thank my wife Charlotte enough for her support, particularly through the long period of training leading up to this event. It’s a cliche, but solo racing is not just about the efforts of the rider. It’s about understanding and compromises made by friends and family. It was also great to have my dad in the pits who endured the whole event on no sleep!

Many  thanks to my ultra supportive team Ironhorse Extreme; Rob, Clive, Dave and Josh. Due to the costs and time implications of coming to Canada I haven’t been able to join them at as many events as I would have liked to this year. But like friends do, I know they understand.

Kielder 100 next! Bring it on!

The latest issue of What Mountain Bike magazine just dropped on the mat. Team manager Rob is this months cover boy and both Rob and Dave the riders in this months big bike test. Check it out in newsagents all over the country!

Also out today amongst members of the trade is the latest edition of Bike Biz magazine and team rider Clive is one of the two riders on that cover!

We are very, very pleased to announce that Rich Rothwell has just won his age group (35-39) and finished 7th overall at the 24 hours of Adrenalin Solo World Championships. In the process he has scored the highest ever overall finish by a male UK racer and taken a second age group World title (to go with Rob’s in ‘05) for our team.

A well earned rest is on the cards now; his race report will be up here to read shortly…

Rich, or Julio as we like to call him, is on the verge of starting the 24 Hour World Solo Championships in Canada. Race organisers have just sent me a link to their live feed coverage; check it out here

IronHorse Extreme team rider Rich Rothwell is currently in Canada to compete in the 24 Hours of Adrenalin World Solo Championships and his writing for British Cycling about the experience.

To follow his progress check out the British Cycling website:

24 Hour Solo World Championships

Once again I find myself drifting through the Alps in search of the perfect trail, I fill my days with glorious trails and fabulous friends. I feel honored and humbled by my life experience.

My journey has taken to me to many places but the location I sit typing from has become a  firm favorite, each season I find myself here sipping tea in the garden of Bike Village at Landry near Les Arcs. Friends Sam and Lyndsey have been guiding rides and catering in style since 2000, awesome food is complimented by amazing singletrack and the open house friendly atmosphere is second to none. Sam used to race xc in the UK way way back in the day (I always forget how old were getting) before taking trips to the US guiding in some of mountain bikings legendary locations, this is reflected in his trail riding ability which differs somewhat from my sideways racer style. Mild mannered he may be but I assure you he can pitch trails (and ride um) to suite and challenge all abilities. This half way house has been my resting point post Mega Avalanche allowing me to re charge before I take on the super tough Maxi Avalanche at Cervinia.

So how did the racing go?

The format had changed this year for the Mega week which would prove to be a logistical nightmare for those of us racing both Sprint and Mega. Sprint practice would be held on Tuesday and the racing on Wednesday, this ate into valuable Mega practice time or so I thought. As it turned out any practice done before Thursday would be wasted time as the resort staff were still making alterations to the qualifications course on Thursday afternoon. I came round a corner late Thursday and to my surprise found a guy in a machine building new berms and jumps, I was not alone in this scenario and many people agreed the sanitization of the course from multiple line choice “Alpine’ trail into BMX track berm factory goes against the grain and spirit of this magnificent event. Friday for qualification then the main event would be on Sunday, the B and C finals along with the women’s race would be held on Saturday. The format confused many and the last minute course alterations left a bitter taste in the mouth for some riders. As the resort changed things I thought I would do the same and decided to make Sprint my main aim and devote my time to looking after the riders on MTBSkills.eu/Mavic.

Sprint Avalanche at Oz station is a classic, the French National track always provides a challenge and this year was no exception. Steep dusty loose gnarl factor descending over 600m in minimal minutes. Top World Cup riders are usually in attendance and this year we were graced with the company of some serious quick racers. Chris Kovarik Nathan Rankin Fabien Barel and a certain young Mr Cunningham would all take on the demanding course. Masters 30 category would see Nigel Page Jergen Beneke and many other fast euro riders to contend with, this was going to be no walk in the park. Tuesday practice went well and I was starting to find my feet on the Sunday’s first outing this year. Race day and sunshine blessed the mountainside, the first run down is always a shock to the system and my time showed it. Cold limbs do not like being thrown down mountainsides hanging onto fat tyred bikes. I took a trip up and over to Alp d’ Huez for lunch and the ride down black 8 did the trick of loosening things up for race run 2. I shaved off some valuable seconds and moved up from 10th slot into a cosy 8th place, content with my efforts I packed my van to drive round to Alp d’ Huez for the Mega.

Mega qualification day and once again blue skies and sunshine donned the mountains, its a magnificent office on days like these. I watched the first 2 heats depart before cruising down off the hill and to the new finish area at Oz station, this is a much better location to finish taking out the arduous cue for bus’s, it even gave me chance to meet and greet team riders Charlie Williams and Mike Thickens before heading up to catch the start of the women’s event. Like all marathon dh events there are tales of broken bikes and bodies in the air throughout the weekend and this year was no exception, I lost count of the amount of people who said they hated it while riding and loved it once they were tucking into there free picnics post race. The usual suspects would all line up on row A and B for Sundays main race with Ruaridh from CRC Intense posting the fasted time for a UK rider joining them.

5am alarm call for all top racers and a welcome lye in for me. My main task for the day would be to cruise down and around the mountain to meet the riders in Allemont and another new finish area (the old one was taken over by a car boot sale!!). Remy Absalon was first to cross the line ahead of the firm favorite Rene Wildhaber ahead of Nicolas Vouilloz with Fabien Barel in 4th. Rob Francis was the first Brit over the line in 25th slot and Ruaridh followed closely behind in 30th place. Will we ever see a Brit on the podium at Alpe d’ Huez?

I’m off to eat some cake, Maxi Cervinia in Italy next stop….

Clive

News just in that team rider Clive Forth finished 8th in the Sprint Avalanche today. Clive is out there preparing for the Mega Avalanche this weekend. Race report to follow soon…

Another great weekend, followed by creaky knees and sore glutes on a Monday morning…

It’s only the third time I have ridden my road bike this year. Could have been a mistake!

Saturday night and I got invited out for a meal with the team from Jim Walker, the Title Sponsors of IronHorse-Extreme. We had a lovely bit of Italian grub, cooked for us by an avid cyclist who was also due to ride the next day’s Dragon Sportive.

It was a well chilled out night with like minded and friendly individuals. I didn’t want to go home.

A bit more strangley though, was the fact that I was sat opposite a guy that I did my apprenticeship with (20years ago!) Hiya, Neil Craig, the bike shop owner from Llantwit Major.

I used to rip the mick out of him for shaving his legs, but how things have turned around…

Ian, John, Jaco, et al had the nicest bikes I ever saw, and my jealousy shone through as pure lust. I had time to look at them closely because they managed to get me right to the front of the start with them and other VIP’s.

It felt good, but scary with 3000 riders behind us.

The hooter blew and off we set. At the first roundabout one of the marshall motorcyclists pulled off and turned left off of the roundabout. He did this at just the wrong time, and everyone followed him…

…in diametrically the opposite direction to that of the route.

One guy fell off, because he got a bit excited and pulled over onto gravel. Ouch.

So we turned around and got back on the course, laughing at the jolly jape that the marshall had caused. Of course we were all sheep and kept following him, and some other riders, off of the course. Idiots.

I had had a fantastic idea on the previous day. We knew that it was going to be warm, so I froze my camelbak.

It was still 1/2 full and frozen when I got home that night, and had sat high on my back like a rigid sail for the first 15miles.

Camelbaks don’t defrost that quickly– Note to self.

We got to the first climb and I caught up with one of the Jim Walker boys, but was quickly breathing out of my ears as he sort of cruised off. I would catch him up on the flats and the downs, but lose out on the climbs. This happened for 4hrs and I was starting to get a bit disheartened by it…

…Maybe my legs are still shot from the 12hr solo at Bristol last week? I feel rubbish, my legs feel empty. Why are these guys just riding off and leaving me on the hills?

I tried to stay in a group of 10 or so riders, but struggled to keep up as it was surging and stalling and not holding a steady speed at all. I lost them, and entered the above thought process again…

…What’s going on?

I waited for the next group to catch me up. Same again. They dropped me and my legs started to feel like they were turning inside out. Then something funny happened. A guy called Rob Lynne (I remembered his number and checked up on him) passed me after Fan Gyhyrych. He has these big scary, veiny, muscley legs and a little body. A switch flicked and I managed to follow him all the way to the climb that takes you to Glynneath which was probably a distance of 10-12 miles. The average speed went up to about 22mph, and my body seemed to wake up and decide it wanted to cycle–4hrs in.

Thanks, body. Next time, set the clock properly.

I said to him, “I’d love to take a stint in front, but I can’t, you’re killing me!” He laughed and said not to worry. Thank goodness for that!

When we got to the climb, he left me at a heck of a rate of knots.

I caught up my 2 peletons, and worked my way through them. I took my stint on the front for about 2 minutes and looked back to say I was peeling off…

…They were gone. I’d dropped them.

I’m feeling better now. Everything changed from that point and I could manage to stand up and run on my pedals, passing people that had passed me earlier, and their groups. I was on my own though, with no groups to follow or get assistance from.

Billy no-mates, me.

I think Jaco, from Jim Walker was 4th place finisher. Crikey! He wants to come out mountainbiking in my local area, so I need to think of some excuses to get out of it.  He’ll kill me!

I can’t wait to see the photos that Ian’s photographer got!

Obviously I have none. I was a bit busy.

Cheers All!

I really wasn’t sure about racing at Bristol, I’ve got to admit, as there seemed so little to gain and yet so many things I could potentially damage. Running the 7ds and managing the team and sponsorship takes a lot out of me. Staying even close to anything resembling “race shape” for any period of time is pretty much an impossibility. Instead I’ve focusedthe year on keeping a reasonable base of fitness and making myself stronger and more resistant. I don’t need to win a 7dsride; I just need to get it done and try not to break myself in the process. It’s a different approach which requires I suffer sometimes but as I’m prepared for it I know I can see it through. I’m carrying extra weight - partly muscle to take the hits, and partly fat simply down to the fact that I simply don’t have the time to get the damn stuff off me!

Racing when you know you are not in race shape is something I find tough to call on. I know what shape I could be in, I know how fast I could go, and I know that some people are watching me and hoping to see me fail. To put the whole thing into perspective my team mate nearly lapped me and was quite pleased about it. But while he is out training to race, I’m out chasing bikes and products for him to use or up before work to build him some wheels! We all have a certain amount of pride in our achievements and reputation and putting that on the line when you know you are not as you could be is really quite scary.

But at the end of the day I’m not quite ready to roll backwards, throw in the towel or rest on my laurels. I sent my entry in and started looking for something resembling form of seasons past. I didn’t have a lot of time to dedicate to it and a lot more distractions but in the end I did enough to give myself a fighting chance if I was prepared to suffer and grit-it-out.

The race started with a le-mans style run, this never phases me as I know I can get to my bike before the majority of the handy riders and then ride through the handy runners with ease. 4th wheel into the first singletrack on a singlespeed with that much flat open track before hand simply shouldn’t happen in my mind. But it did and I was away clean with all the soloists behind me and the perfect opportunity to watch the race unfold.

The lead geared soloists caught me in the first singletrack and then went pass on the next open track before the first climb. Team riders came past, some rapid, some just marginally faster than me on my single gear, but that was it. The only singlespeeders I saw had team numbers and I started to wonder what the hell was going on. Was I going OK?

Shaggy and Mel and a few of the VC Moulin guys (do they have the classiest kit at the moment or what? me wants one of them jerseys) gave me a holler as I came through on lap one and all seemed great for a whole six seconds before turning into the first singletrack second time around and seeing the state of the track. Bugger!

The best description I can think of is to describe the course as “chewed”! and from that point on it got a bit tough for me for quite a while as I tried to learn how to ride a singlespeed for a solo. Let me tell you that is one of the steepest learning curves I’ve put myself through in a long time. I was riding like I do for a solo normally and it just doesn’t work. It was killing me that bike, the course, the mud, my whole body was hating it and I was only a couple of hours in.

I guess my experience is what saved me. I knew I wouldn’t finish if I continued to ride like I do on a geared bike in that scenario and piece by piece I got it together and worked out a survival tactic that got me through to the end. It was painful but very, very interesting and ultimately very, very addictive. 3 days on now and my mind is filled with all the permutations for training for the demands that sort of riding required. I’m so hooked!

So as the race went on things actually got easier. I’d reach each section of the course and implement my findings of the previous laps and gradually the picture revealed itself. Steve Webb overtook me fairly early on (he had a team coloured number for some reason?) and simply rode away. Having since read the Singular Cycles blog it’s pretty clear that he knows what he is doing on a singlespeed. He was way stronger than me and I’m stoked to have finished on the same lap as the guy.

The aftermath was that my legs and lungs felt much the same as they do after a 12. Perhaps they even felt a bit better; I’m getting stronger for sure, not faster or fitter but just stronger and able to take on the load. My upper body though was trashed, utterly beat up. I felt like I’d been thrashing the weight pile down the gym for the entire day!

Second step of the box on a first attempt is OK in my book and so that dear reader was Bristol 12 hour on a singlespeed: Daunting, scary, exciting, interesting, insightful and ultimately addictive. Spot on…

My favourite photo of the year. Thanks Jo!

Three of us did the 12hr solo at Bristol Bike Fest.

It’s always nice to have a foreboding weather forecast and everyone was expecting a mud bath. They got it!

Rob, Josh and I lined up for the fisty cuffs “Le Mans” start in the wet grassy field. There were hundreds of us aiming to get away and pick up our bikes on a doubletrack 300metres away.

The hooter went, and the friends that I had been standing next to dissapeared as I got engulfed in blood lusting, baying animals.

I didn’t see them again and I got to our bike monitor (Josh’ Dad) to see that mine was the only one left, so I took it and got going.

This was going to be a proper muddy race. Some bits did dry out and some dry lines developed, but other parts stayed just as, if not more, slippy. It was chaos on the first few singletrack sections as normally happens at these events, but the mud compounded things.

People were falling off, usually due to the mud, all the way through the race. It was full of comedy value, but you knew fine and well that some of these guys were hurting themselves. Someone would slip on an off-camber sections as you rode around them on the outside (on a few really wide sections) and you could hear the air rushing out of their lungs as they got the smackdown treatment.

“You ok?” Well, you have to ask.

gasp, wheeze, splutter…

“Yes, keep going.”

So I did, about 150 times.

I’m so glad that I can handle a bit of mud and slime, because the bike hardly went straight for the whole of the race. Well, to be clear, it hardly went straight for the bottom 3rd of the course because it stayed wet and “exciting.”

Marvellous!

I was drinking too much for the temperature of the day and was stopping to pee every lap, so I revised my plan and drank a bit less. Perfect.

Hour 5 and my right foot felt all floppy. I stopped to have a look and was surprised to find that my cleat was loose. Really loose. I was close to losing it. 5 or so minutes later and I had fixed it back in place, rounded one of the allen bolts off and muttered a small and silent prayer that it would stay in place.

I’ve finally found my pace. Having talked to my Coach last week he had suggested a pace that I should aim for. But it made me ride ragged, and my legs hurt. So I dropped my pace by a bit and settled in. It was my 24hr pace, it felt good, and I got stronger throughout the race. At 8hrs my long distance gaze started- I was in the mode!

At 11hrs 30min (the race was started late due to traffic issues) I was just about ready to keep going for another 12hrs. Well I would have been if my upper body hadn’t been battered to pieces by the course.

Josh was 2nd solo, Rob was 2nd singlespeed solo, and I was 4th in the solo.

I think that I did 17 or 18 laps last year in the dry and superfast conditions that prevailed then. I did 17 this year, and that “could” have been 18 if I could have fished about 10mins back during the day, but hey!

Well chuffed.

Dragon road race next week. I’m not too great on a road bike, but it’s good training.

After that, a few weeks solitary training and then 24/12!

I think I’ll be ready, just don’t tell anyone else.