Arguing with yourself.

Gorrick 12:12 Torq in your sleep

6 Laps in and i am getting fresh bottles and some food into my belly. I figure its going to be about 6pm and i will need my lights in an hour, I happen to ask the guy in the pit next door what time it is.

He responds with "quarter past four"

Minge! at this rate i will be clocking up something like 18 laps of this course. This is not good for my head. The course is good but there is only so much loamy dusty singletrack repetition my little mind can cope with. I swear a few more times get back on my beloved Spot and go out for another couple of laps whilst trying to think happy positive thoughts.

Through the first half of lap 7 i feel like i am going to puke, I console myself with the idea that if i puke i am allowed to stop. i start to wretch and instantly feel much better which is great.

Lap 8 passes ok the legs feel great, my bike is going like a dream but i am so bored! I carry on trying to coax myself up to 13 laps and a century under my belt.

Lap 9 comes and goes the course is getting pretty chopped up in places where you don't need to brake WTF? and the Loamy bits are getting deeper and deeper.

Lap 10 and Giz from Chelmer passes on some fireroad we have a chat he is racing on a team of four and i follow him into one of my favourite bits of the course a lovely contouring, fast, hardpack bit of singletrack goodness. He is going at team pace and i jump onto his wheel and we tank it through the trails nice and fast, Too fast for Solo! and it feels amazing lungs and legs burning from the effort and the satisfaction of knowing you just pinned some sweet trails!

Bang! the final nail gets driven into the coffin, 10 laps down and i have had enough. i could keep on going but with Kielder coming up a cold beer sitting in the tent and with no desire to keep pounding away at a course that is only going to become more hateful in my mind i come into the hand over area chat to a few friends.

I Find my tent, peal myself out of the Lycra with 7 hours stench and dust ingrained into it. and slip into something more comfortable. It has just started to spit with rain and as i take that first taste of beer, cool, refreshing and relaxing whilst warm in the goodness of a down jacket i go off to help Lorraine, pit bitching for Steve from Singular as he destroyed the solo category. And as an added bonus made alot of teams look a little slow!

Racing is great....

Sometimes a down jacket and a cold beer are better.

Roll on the K100

Photo credit: Joolze Dymond

The Three Moulineers

Deano, immortalised by Joolze

Three is the Magic number. Yes it is, it's the magic number¹.
And three was the number of Moulineers who ventured out to fly the faux Belgian Flag at last weekend's Gorrick race at Crowthorne.

It was a splendid Southern Spring Sunday and the near perfect conditions had certainly encouraged a few extra folk out of their winter hibernation. In fact, entries to this series are up 50% over last year's entries. The slick organisation coupled with the courses' fun factor makes for a very popular compact series.

After having dislodged Singular Sam's van from a hole, The Three Moulineers, Deano, Phil and Anja, met in the vicinity of the chip van. Phil and Anja were racing at the more gentlemanly hour of 2pm, whereas Deano had fronted up to the far earlier Master's race. Cups of tea were

ordered to take the edge off the cool air, and Deano hoovered down a post race bacon buttie and a portion of well salted chips², his brazen racing efforts earning him a solid top twentyfive placing and a good appetite. Post-race reports and quick practice lap confirmed the two other Moulineer's suspicions... it was going to be dry, fun and fast.

Phil, photo courtesy of Joolze

Leaving Deano to digest, Phil and Anja went and found their spots on the start grid and waited for the start gun. Phil swigged from a hip flask charged with fine Single Malt and willed his legs to be strong while Anja, a few rows back, fretted that the combination of a too-tall gear and an uphill start line would have her running to the crest of the hill (a very undignified way to start a race).

The gun went and the race proceeded like clockwork. Phil's legs were strong enough to earn him 5th spot and Anja didn't suffer the indignity of running the first hundred meters. The course was the perfect mix of tight twisty³ bits, straight pedally bits, the odd spot to replenish fluids and a sharp, short eye-ball shaking downhill. Some enthusiastic heckling supplied by Deano spurred on the intrepid riders and at the finish line, there were more swigs of whisky all round and a lavishly decorated celebratory cupcake to be consumed⁴.

Post-race cupcake endorsed by Anja, photo by Deano

All in all, the VC Moulin was proudly represented and a thoroughly enjoyable
day was had by all.

Footnotes.
1. Pasta Nous of hip hop legends De La Soul
2. Clinically proven to replace electrolytes faster than shite tasting recovery drink
3. A affectionately known as the 'Corkscrew'
4. Also known to replace electrolytes