That is a picture of the 15:35 unscheduled departure of the “Team Hardcore Loafing” Gazebo. It was last seen heading towards Bridgwater, traveling at thirty knots and still accelerating. More on this, and many other references to “cold”, “windy”, “Muddy” and “generally unpleasant” when I can properly use my fingers again. Chill Blains in mid … Continue reading CLIC24: 2009 – 24 hours of wet.
I’d be eternally* grateful if any of my long standing suffering readers could either: a) Develop a Sun-O-Matic device by Saturday to be tested on the area of Shepton Mallet, or more specifically over a middle-aged, balding man being drowned in a hail of trout. If that’s too big an ask, send umbrellas, or an … Continue reading CLIC24 – Help
After my fantastic performance last year, how could I pass up another opportunity to suffer in exactly the kind of event, I’ve come to loathe. I used to dislike 24hr racing on principle, but now experience has allowed me to really properly hate it. Obviously I’ll be sharing my innovative training regime*, pre-event excuses and … Continue reading CLIC24: 2009
Chronological retelling of something not very exciting rarely makes interesting reading. But – in line with my aims of ever lowering the bar – that’s the way the Clic24 is being Hedgehog’d. If you can’t be arsed to scroll down, here is the adjectival summary: late, rain, beer, tent, snore, hot, arse, stop, start, crash, … Continue reading Clic24: 24 Hours of Rambling.
There is little more wretched than a famous sportsperson reversing their retirement. Except maybe their rationale for doing so: ‘I miss the arena’ / ‘It feels like unfinished business’ / ‘I’ve kept myself in great shape’ all of which are likely proxies for ‘Bored’ / ‘Unfulfilled’ / ‘Really need the cash‘ The results are rarely pretty. Age is … Continue reading 24 Hour Racing? Again? Hang on, I’m retired…
Good film. Cut the title in half, and and the production values by about a million and that pretty much summarises our approach to winter. Religiously every two weeks, we’ve made a pilgrimage to shrines of mountain biking sacrosanct in the holy book of saintly images. I’ll leave the God metaphors right there other than to … Continue reading 28 days later
All of us believe there’s certain light conditions*, camera angles, heroic stances, etc which firmly represent our ‘best side’. That’s my knee in July 2006 after an impromptu slice and dice involving Chiltern Flint, over-confidence and stupidity. It’s not the my best side, it’s not even my best knee. Some seven years later a neat … Continue reading Kneed to know.
Back in a time before marketing ruled the world, us plucky brits took one look at the brash offerings from our US cousins before stoutly refusing to adopt the term ‘mountain bike’ for the bastard offspring of a cruiser and a spindly road bike. Over-Priced, Over-Hyped and Over-Here we decreed, while the rump of … Continue reading Mountain Musings
Although it could persuasively argued that gently placing ones wedding vegetables into a desk drawer before slamming it violently for twenty four hours would still push that event firmly into last place. Between these two events were nine months, four bikes and ten weeks of healthy living. The cold and rain were two constants except … Continue reading That was more fun that Mayhem
In the west of the Forest of Dean, there are a number of abandoned pill-boxes built during the second world war. A few of them are close to where the DIRT Magazine journo’s ride and build. So it’s not entirely surprising to find some enterprising rider, with balls the size of melons, has fused the … Continue reading Bunker Mentality