Can Picafort - Cap de Formentor - Arta -Ermita de Betlam - Can Picafort
See you at Christmas Majorca. I'll be back.
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Can Picafort - Cap de Formentor - Arta -Ermita de Betlam - Can Picafort "So you are finally going on holiday. About time. Where too?" "Oh, my wife's booked six days in Majorca." A short pause ensued...then mouths snapped open, a crackle of noise and a crash rather than a pop as words were coupled with torrents of enthusiastic tales of past endeavours. I was drowning in an ocean of advice and nostalgia quite breathless from this sudden wave of memories. Unbeknown to me, Majorca was a cycling paradise. But was this for real and how could I possibly convince my lovely wife, Greer, that a day on the bike was a necessary requisite of our first real vacation together since returning from a distant continent half way around the world. A few days before our departure, I began the first few days of a softening up process that would allow me some time to explore the island on two wheels. "Majorcas quite mountainous in the north. I'm sure there are some roads to the higher peaks. Perhaps we could drive up there. It's quite steep and precipitous though. I hear that it's good for cycling. Shall we hire a tandem. Those descents into dark tunnels might be a bit hairy." Greer considered this and announced that I should explore the island on a bike, alone, for a day. I had my bike pass. Now to see if Majorca was all it was cracked up to be. I hired a Merckx road bike and left my base in Can Picafort after a rider's breakfast. I headed north to the mountains that led to the Formentor lighthouse. The initial roads were flat and fast. The locals were terribly polite and even when I was safely ensconced in the cycle lane they would move out giving me far more than a metre of passing room. Spaniards respect cyclists. Perhaps this is due to the tourism that is the life blood of this particular island. Perhaps they are just more easy going and respectful than car drivers from the more populated cities I hail from. I started the climb into the mountains and even though the road snaked up through a number of switchbacks the gradient was fairly gentle never really going above ten percent. I passed people representing the full gamut of generations and several representatives of Spain, Germany and the UK. I was passed at the first high point, seven kilometres from the lighthouse, by a lone rider and watched as he quickly disappeared on a fast descent round several hairpin bends as we were both swallowed whole by the surrounding cliffs, only to re-emerge briefly before being sucked into an long, unlit tunnel and spewed out safely at the other end. The roads here were exhilarating - more suited to a bike than a car which tended to lumber around the cliffs bends. Shortly after, I was to arrive at the majestic Cap de Formentor, with its working lighthouse located on the high cliffs 210 metres above sea level. The return trip was just as spectacular and a bonus was a visit to the tower at the Mirador del Colomer viewing point, reputedly one of the most photographed places in Majorca, which provided stunning views over cliffs and nearby port of Pollenca. After returning to my starting point at Can Picafort 80 km later and taking on more water, I set out on phase two of my journey. The roads to Arta, to the south, were as bike friendly as before, their surfaces are smooth and have seemingly been designed with bike riders in mind. Even at the end of October, the climate was warm and provided perfect conditions. I rolled to the top of a long but gentle climb and, as I rounded the corner, the kingdom of Arta swept into view like it had been ushered off the end of a mighty paintbrush. It was quite stunning. The meandering road to the hilltop monastery of Ermita de Betlam was also a rare treat. Bells sang as goats wandered carefree in the surrounding fields and birds issued forth their indefatigable poetry. I was a million miles from the reality of a world I had left behind if only for one day. I climbed, descended and, after a short sojourn at the church, I made my return to the real world, a journey totalling over 150 km and nearly 2000 m of climbing. Majorca is an incredible place to cycle. I tasted just a sample of its vast offerings but I will back for more in just six weeks. Amongst the rides to experience is a 137 km ride that encompasses the whole mountain range from Andratx, in the west, to Can Picafort, to the east. If you need to hire a bike then I would strongly recommend Wheels whose staff were incredibly accommodating and helpful. Based in both Can Picafort and Alcudia, Manager Sebastian promises to deliver a bike anywhere in Majorca 365 days a year at an extremely reasonable price.
See you at Christmas Majorca. I'll be back.
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Rude and disrespectful students, riotous classrooms, poor standards and low expectations, students without direction or motivation, courses without resources, little discipline and teachers drowning in an avalanche of paperwork - the actual face of teaching in the UK in 2016. On January 4th 2016, I started a new job as a Sports Tutor at an outer London College catering essentially for students aged 16-18. I was extremely excited at the prospect of applying my teaching skills of over 20 years to the area of Sport and Exercise. With a Sports Science degree from Loughborough University, and as a PE Teacher, a Personal Trainer and a Level 3 Cycle Coach and Cycle Instructor, this seemed a perfect career move. Within three weeks', I had handed my notice in, shocked by the state of mainstream teaching. No Schemes of Work & Minimal ResourcesI was given 6 different classes, a mixture of Sport and Public Services of varying levels, ranging from BTEC to YMCA awards. Without any explanation of what each course required, what had been taught and what needed to be covered, I was plunged head first into trying to teach each group. After searching the college moodle and various hard drives held by individual teachers, I was to discover that many courses had no syllabus of work and sparse or zero resources. When I questioned the current teachers, I was told that I would have to build resources 'on the fly', to google the area and use material from the internet. Not satisfied with this answer, I spoke to my senior management and was told that I couldn't expect to be given my lessons and that all teachers had to build their own resources from whatever they could find. Level of Students & the Lack of Discipline One of the most upsetting aspects of my experience is seeing how the more motivated students are being held back by the rude and disrespectful students. The range of abilities in the class can be unmanageable, even for the most experienced teacher, and capable students are required to wait for the others to pass their assignments and workbook tasks. Some are even paying the course fees of around 6-7 thousand and are certainly not getting value for money. As for the students who constantly break the 'school rules' of no phone use, wearing hats and hoodies, no swearing, no eating or drinking in class, with no apparent interest in learning, then they are just wasting taxpayers' money. The disciplinary procedure is not nearly strong enough and students run rough shod over the whole system. In fact, once a student reaches a Level 3 disciplinary, which involves a meeting with the student's parents, the school is powerless to remove the offender, no matter how outrageous the behaviour is that follows. Devalued Qualifications The expectation is to pass all the students, in order for the college to secure further government funding and, as a consequence, the qualifications achieved become devalued and meaningless. Students who fail, hold the rest of the class back, create more paperwork and more work for the teacher. It becomes easier to merely pass the student. I was told by management to basically spoon feed the answers, so the class could move on to the next module. For example, in order to save time, a colleague told the students the required answers in class, asked them to record these answers on their smartphone and then submit this as evidence. One student told me he passed Anatomy and Physiology in this way but admitted he had absolutely no understanding of the subject. In my short time at the college, I have regularly seen students print off their friends' successful assignments and copy the answers. This is meant to be okay if they use their own words, but even if they did, they obviously don't know the answers or they wouldn't be copying in the first place. During my induction, I was told the college used the Harvard Referencing system, which I know very well, but the Sports Department clearly didn't know what this actually was, describing mere paraphrasing as satisfactory. Interestingly, the college moodle had APA6, not Harvard, as its example referencing system. No Real Teaching and Low Level of English accepted The courses are assignment or workbook focussed and very little teaching takes place. When I have tried to teach the students, mixing interactive tasks in groups and pairs, students lose focus fairly quickly and indiscipline invariably follows. When students are given their assignments to work on, they are far more focussed. Undoubtedly, this is why so few teaching resources existed. Tutors are supposed to highlight grammar and spelling errors in assignments, to satisfy OFSTED, but students are not required to correct these errors and are only passed or failed on content alone. Paperwork Mountain & Unrealistic Expectations It is virtually impossible to create effective lessons when, as a teacher, you are required to do mountains of marking, attend several weekly meetings, regular training and track and phone students and their parents. Of course, some of this is vitally important, but there is very little opportunity to do all of this and prepare lessons on such a busy timetable. What is more, we were expected to internally verify (IV) our fellow team members even though we were not familiar with their course content and, more importantly, not qualified to do so. We were then told to backdate the process to several months before, so that OFSTED would be satisfied. It was admitted that this was an illegal process but was necessary as the department had neglected to IV for the whole of that academic year. From Day one, I was told by Senior Management that this job was not a 9-5 position and I would have to work weekends and evenings. Again, this is fine to a point and as a teacher, I have always worked longer hours than I am paid. But it is the expectation that is not right and it places incredible pressure on teachers. Colleges have reduced staffing to a bare minimum and teachers are then asked to the jobs of others. It's all about cost cutting and saving money at the expense of teachers and, ultimately, students will suffer by not being provided with the education they deserve. Level of Teachers To my surprise, many members of the Sports Department, including Senior Managers, did not have a teaching degree. Many were teaching with a qualification called PTLLS (Preparing to Teach in the Lifelong Learning Sectors), the lowest of all the teaching qualifications. Furthermore, the grammar of the teachers was extremely poor. One Sports Tutor had written on a worksheet 'What was you pleased about?' while, in a meeting, another staff member said 'he took the ipad but he never give it back'. It became commonplace to hear poor grammar within the staffroom. And what about OFSTED? OFSTED are meant to uphold standards and will make regular inspections to see that these standards are being upheld. However, in my last week, OFSTED visited the college, but because it was known that they were coming, and which teachers and classes would be observed, a special concerted effort was made to show OFSTED we were meeting their expectations. Perhaps a spot check would have revealed the stark reality - poorly resourced lessons, virtually no discipline, rude and disrespectful students, meaningless qualifications, little proper teaching, and teachers drowning in a sea of paperwork and marking. But is this the picture the government wants to send to the public? Some areas of the school system are a disgrace and perhaps the government would prefer this to be kept under wraps. Until something changes, teachers will continue to leave the profession in droves - I, for one, will not be going back.
Tales of a Wounded, Sick and Tortured AnimalStage 1 was a challenging 50 km Time Trial The 6th edition of the Andalucia Bike Race obliterated all records: 800 riders, 33 countries represented, 30% foreigners, with World, Continental and National Champions present, several using the first UCI race of the season as a warm up to this year's Olympics in Rio.
Since then, I have returned to England and managed to cobble together some work commutes and indoor rides. But would it be enough to keep up with Stage race rival and now Bikeboard Polish teammate, Zbigniew Mossoczy? Ziggy and I have raced against each other in both the infamous Crocodile Trophy in Queensland Australia (2013), where he finished 4th and I was 5th, and in the technically difficult Sudety MTB Challenge in Poland (2014), finishing 15th and Ziggy some places ahead of me. This mountain of a man was to prove my tormentor in the southern Spanish mountains. Dawn broke, and the Bikeboard team, which also contained elite Polish pair Jakub Swiderski and Przemyslaw Maciejowski, simultaneously rose from the night's slumber. But four rushed visits to the toilet in the hotel and a final forced visit pre-race did not auger well for me. The first stage saw the riders depart Martos at 30 second intervals and the first kilometres were flat and furious. However, I was already struggling. The sight of the steep first climb blew to smithereens any lingering hope of remaining strong. The singletrack snaked steeply up the side of the mountain and despite incredible support from the enthusiastic locals, my legs and lungs spontaneously imploded. I felt pain in the glutes and the Achilles and although I was aware of the stunning views from the top of the mountain, I was in no mood to enjoy them. Zbig resorted to pushing me at every opportunity, which helped but also further destroyed my disintegrating ego. The crowd support continued to be amazing, the locals really embracing the race and the support was fervent. 'Arriba' , 'venga venga' and 'animal' they screamed as my partner continued to monster the climbs. I barely rode across the line and felt dizzy and weak. Never before, could I remember such a devastatingly hard stage. Shortly after, I was in bed and soon asleep not to wake up until several hours later. Stage 2 was destined not to happen. The Queen stage of the race was apparently the most beautiful but, like Medusa, the most brutal. A sequence of steep, serpent-like trails, climbed the surrounding Jaen mountains, ultimately rewarding riders with rapid, technical descents. But for me they would merely be a vision from my stupor and not a reality. I could not drink, never mind eat, my stomach repelling the food as if it was its mortal enemy. During the night, I felt like a spit roast, constantly turning but finding no relapse from the stabbing pain. Uncontrollable vomiting followed. As far as I was concerned, my race was over. I just wanted to be removed from the spit that cut through my core. After waking from my tortured sleep, my three Bikeboard teammates reported similar symptoms and the culprit, we believe, was chicken brought in jars from Poland. The day was spent at the local hospital, medication and injections taken and a little food consumed. The symptoms began to subside, and we looked positively to trying to ride the next day. We all dragged ourselves to the start line in Andajur, a transition stage between Jaen and Cordoba. We were now placed in gate six, at the very back of the 800 riders. Zbig and I cut through the pack, the first 20 km undulating, allowing fast speeds and the opportunity to ride with some of the stronger riders. We were treated to two difficult climbs but plenty of singletrack and some stunning vistas. We were to place 24th in Masters 40, our best position during the race. Stage 4 departed the historical centre of Cordoba from the mosque and swiftly crossed the river. Mountains, forest, animals and singletrack followed in abundance. We hit the rocky abandoned railway track and my buddy punctured, as his spoke broke free of the rim. We lost a little ground, but as we climbed La Canchuela, we were surrounded by some of the top mixed and female teams and I couldn't help but be so impressed with the bike handling skills on display. Not that skilful female bike handlers are unique, but the strength in depth here is amazing. We descended the final roman road, which was typically fast and technical and finished a respectable 28th in category. By Stage 5, my brief revival during the race dissipated. Like a dying animal, I had responded valiantly on the previous two days, but I was essentially masking weakness. The first long climb up a steep jeep trail ended in a conga line and delay going into the singletrack, which we knew would require intense concentration to avoid paying the ultimate price. Eventually, we realised that a rider had gone down hard and broken his collarbone and was being returned to the safety of the main trail. Now fatigue had hit me hard and I couldn't maintain the pace of the peloton. I dropped from one group to the next, hindered further by a malfunctioning freehub, and limped weakly to the end of the stage. Stage 6 started with a technical climb up El Reventon, just 4 km from the start. My pace was uneven and the flowy singletrack that followed, just seemed to present challenging hill after hill. The rain fell for the first time and the temperatures dropped. The final descent was made more difficult by the slippery rocks. Again I limped over the line, struggling to breathe, a pain in my sternum that would remain for a couple of days more. My race was over and I was truly cooked (unlike the chicken on the first night)! Even the professionals were struggling on the steep climbs (Lakata & Hynek) For the record, current XCM Champion, Alban Lakata (Austria) and former XCM European Champion Kritian Hynek (Czech Rep.) were the competition favourites but, on the very last day, they lost their slender 41 second lead to Periklis Ilias (Greece) and Tiago Ferreira (Portugal). This was to prove to be the closest fought edition in the event's history the winners finishing with an overall time of 18:38:24. Female World Champions Sally Bigham (Great Britain) and Katrin Leumann (Switzerland) dominated in the elite women's category finishing with a time of 23:28:38. If anyone is thinking of doing a stage race in Europe, this is definitely one of the best organised as you would expect from a UCI S1 event, with maximum ranking points for the top riders. The climbs are steep and the descents are fast and thrilling, while there is an abundance of spectacular scenery and plenty of flowing singletrack. It is not easy and a certain degree of ability is a must. My one small gripe would be that accommodation is in hotels and so the race loses the camaraderie of races such as the Crocodile Trophy, Mongolia Bike Challenge and the Sudety MTB Challenge. Consequently, organise a trip with a few mates and share the experience together - My Polish friends and I had an incredible time, one that is etched deeply in the memory, despite all our adversity. Official 2016 Andalucia Bike Race Preview
Quality Training on 'real bikes' producing 'unreal results'Nowadays, there are so many options available to the amateur cyclist that help enhance the training experience. The Athlete Lab in Sydney is one such option I would recommend without hesitation after I was fortunate enough to experience four different training sessions in September and October before relocating to Europe. The Athlete Lab opened its doors in Sydney and Singapore in 2012 by a group of triathletes who wanted a time-efficient training facility which was more technical and relevant than the spin studios that already existed. It was important for the studio to be conveniently located, and Circular Quay provides the perfect location as a transport hub for trains, buses and ferries. The bikes used are Adjustabikes, which feel like real bikes, accurately reflecting the feel of the road, a feeling that just is not possible from normal spin bikes. These bikes were originally developed for Olympic athletes and incorporate real gears and groupsets. The riding position is identical to a road bike and the same muscles (hip flexors and quadriceps) are used, unlike a spin bike, where the flywheel makes your hamstrings work harder to slow the pedals as they come around.
During a session, riders can watch accurate real-time data; power metrics, heart rate, cadence, Training Stress Score (TSS) and other key metrics on the screens in front of them and at the end of the ride all this data can be automatically updated to Strava or Trainingpeaks.
My first session was the Super Strength Endurance class, a class designed for riders training for events of over 2 hours duration. This was a perfect introduction for me as a long distance mountain biker and I felt comfortable working in Zone 4 (91-100% FTP). I came away with a very positive impression of the bikes, particularly of how realistic they are. I enjoyed the fact that there was so much useful data and the fact this data is on the screen for all to see which provided plenty of motivation for me to keep working hard throughout the session. The lab also has a stretch room, good shower and locker facilities, bike shoe hire and free towel hire. The next time I visited the lab, James Lamb talked me into a Powerhouse session, sub-titled 'Attack the Breakaway', designed to improve overall speed over short distances. This proved a lot tougher than the previous session and I was reduced to a quivering mess at the end of the class. Undeterred, I returned a fortnight later to re-engage in the evenings Powerhouse class. This time I endeavoured to keep my cadence as high as the protocol allows; when you drop your cadence on these bikes, force increases in order to allow power to remain the same. If you let your RPM drop too much it becomes impossible to turn the pedals. With gritty determination, I succeeded - well almost...
I would strongly recommend trying out the Athlete Lab in Sydney. It is an excellent facility, with great equipment, scientifically proven training programmes, friendly staff and a varied timetable of activities. As for me, I am now keen to try out the Athlete Lab London, which made its debut at 110 Cannon Street in Spring 2014.
Getting Back on the GameTo be brutally honest, it's been weeks, nah months, since I've had the pleasure to indulge in my dark, twisted and invariably misunderstood perversion. I've missed my trips to faraway wooded locations where I could roll carefree in mud and slop, writhing in an orgy of flesh, frolicking with toys crafted from carbon and aluminium, content in the knowledge that I'm not alone in this revelry of profuse sweating and heavy breathing, creating, in unison, a cacophony of grunting, yelling and squealing which would intermittently rape the innocence of the natural surroundings. The bootie call came from Jetblack HQ a couple of nights before. Two participants were not enough for the seedy task that lay ahead. To persist at the required intensity, a third was needed. After contemplating a long solo 7 hour effort to announce my comeback, the opportunity for some wholesome threesome fun seemed far too good to refuse. I quickly agreed, wondering whether the three months of inactivity caused by an operation that had caused untold damage to my groin would ultimately affect my performance. I left for my rendezvous destination filled with trepidation, hoping I would not disappoint and I would indeed be able to rise to the occasion. Nathan was first to jump into action and his opening lap was a solid 33 minutes. Grant, not to be outdone, put down an identical time and I suddenly realised that my two buddies were completely in synch. It was now my turn to show them what I had and, as I threw my leg over my machine, it was hard to hold back my nervous anticipation. I managed to contain my initial exuberance and pumped out a potent rhythm, channelling my excitement through my core to clock up a 32 minute lap. This was a great indicator that I had made a decent return and I was still capable of holding my own in such esteemed company.
Temperatures were rising, and the action started to heat up. For some, it was all too much and they decided to pull out before they would push boundaries too far that they would later deeply regret. For the rest of us, we continued to sweat and expend the last remnants of energy. As I finished my threesome's 12th lap, my partners seemed content to let me finish off the day with a double. I rose to the task in hand and thrust my body into a final 36 minutes of exertion enabling us to come second in the General Classification, first in age and fifth outright. I left Mt Annan a spent force, having given every sinew to the cause.
Reassessing Key Values in LifeAs dedicated cyclists, we often get fully absorbed in racing and training and blinded to the importance of other values and it often takes an adverse situation to impel us to reflect on what is important in life. I am not trying to suggest that our dedication and commitment to our riding is without merit. On the contrary, it is a vehicle for our passion, a stage for personal success and failure, and an avenue to self-fulfilment. It fills our lives with purpose and excitement and injects us with joy, while surrounding us with friends sharing a common unifying bond. Recently, I underwent a minor inguinal hernia repair, but I have fallen victim to a rare and unexpected complication that has snatched away my cycling obsession, at least in the short term, leaving me afraid and empty and grasping for meaning and an explanation as I have found myself tumbling into a personal abyss of despair. After coming across a small hernia on the 11 April, I quickly made extensive enquiries with several surgeons and soon got a date for surgery, all on the public system, and I felt like the stars had aligned in my favour. Following the operation on the 4 May, and my release a day after surgery, I was surprised to find the surgeon had also removed a lymph node and, shortly after, I started to notice abnormal swelling in my groin and had further pain. Two weeks later, I had three aspirations to remove over 1300 ml of seroma fluid before my surgeon decided emergency surgery was needed, which was performed on 25 May. The hernia mesh was removed, fearing it may have been infected and causing the reaction, but the fluid continued to leak into a Bellovac drain, which had been inserted into the side of my abdomen. A blue dye, injected during this same operation failed to locate the source of the leak. Currently, two surgeons have concluded that I must remain in hospital until the body can repair itself, believing the lymphatic system has been disturbed by the removal of the lymph node during the original operation and, unfortunately for me, a major lymph duct has been severed. I have been told I have suffered a virtually unknown complication for this type of operation, far more common in cancer and other major surgeries. During my current ordeal, I have been hurled along a rollercoaster of emotions with more downs than ups. Two days before my second operation, I found myself in a very dark place. In my mind, my life was over and I was mentally writing my will and distributing my assets to family, friends and those most deserving. This actually provided me with a degree of solace. I think I can be far too self-absorbed and I was now thinking about some of the great people around me, a fact I often take for granted. I now realise I must help these people much more in future. Perhaps, no more than anywhere else, this compassion and generosity of spirit can be observed in hospital. Everyone there has problems and everyone is struggling to come to terms with their own particular situation. A bond is invariably formed in a shared suffering but the most noticeable aspect is the generosity and compassion that exists between patients. As a more long-term patient, I have seen a number of patients come and go. Friendships are quickly formed and stories of misfortune exchanged. For some reason, so many of the patients here have suffered complications or, like me, are returning for additional surgery. Without fail, each person I have met has shown concern and we help each other to the best of our ability, sometimes just with sympathy and advice or, at times, with more proactive assistance. My faith in human nature has been somewhat restored during my current sojourn. Without doubt, the world can be a cruel beast but, no matter how bad life may feel, there is always others who have suffered, or are suffering more. The timeframe for my recovery is still unknown and, of course a full recovery cannot be guaranteed. But I still have hope, and hope is a powerful ally. Indeed, Lance Armstrong, amazed the top medical experts to recover from life-threatening testicular cancer that would have killed most people. He harnessed his, infamous pig-headedness, refusing to yield to death’s black touch and return to cycling’s top echelons. Furthermore, I now realise I have to step out of my egocentric world and remind myself that others are suffering far worse fates. All around us, people die in senseless acts of violence, in wars and in terrible accidents. Others are left handicapped or their livelihoods snatched from them. I will do well to remember this. Life is a beautiful gift and we must all make the most of it in the short time we have in this world. On a planet soaked in the evils of hatred and corruption, it is so important that we try to make the best of the world by enriching the lives of those around us, be it our family, our friends, our work colleagues or a stranger in the street. Of course, it is naïve to believe this will change the world but it will make it a better place for those whose lives we can influence in our immediate spectrum of influence. I, for one, will be making these changes in my life and this will, at least, be a positive outcome to my current misfortune. Developing Mental ToughnessI've been involved in competitive sports for long enough to know that physical ability is not the only element necessary for success. When athletes share similar physical attributes and skills, the deciding factor will be psychological. The well known adage 'when the going gets tough, the tough get going' is particularly relevant on the endurance mountain bike scene, with competitors regularly riding through pain and adversity. Prior to the race at Awaba, I had read a Training Peaks article on developing mental toughness and it seemed appropriate to apply this knowledge to my most recent experience at Rocky Trail's 7 hour event at Awaba Mountain Bike Park. 1. CommitmentA week ago, I noticed a strange lump in my groin area, which was soon to be diagnosed as an inguinal hernia, where a small loop of intestine pushes through the abdominal wall. Initially, I was shocked and lost the desire to train and was definitely not going to race, but once I was assured by a specialist that I could cycle, as long as there was no pain, then I made the last-second decision to race at Awaba. Instead of quitting I decided to welcome the challenge of racing, using this adversity to build strength. I was determined to finish on the podium. This was the goal I had set beforehand and I was committed to succeeding. The hernia was just another road bump in a year that had started with a broken wrist. I had almost fully recovered from this mishap, and I would persevere in the face of my latest challenge. Setbacks are temporary but success is permanent. Of course, I knew that if I experienced pain I would immediately withdraw, as a strangulated hernia can be life-threatening. 2. FocusAfter the obligatory explosion of speed on the uphill fireroad start in the eternal quest to enter the singletrack in a decent initial position, I settled into a more sensible pace and soon started to slip down the field, in the knowledge that many of these riders were in teams or riding for just four hours. I was aware that the stage winner from Round One, Troy Thomas, was in a different league and would be virtually uncatchable, but Clayton Locke, David Stevens and Ash Turner would be my main competition for the other podium places. On the second lap, the blue shirt of Clayton Locke came past me and steadily increased his lead. This was not in the original plan - Clayton was riding much stronger than I had expected but I ensured I remained focussed on my own pacing and nutrition, which allowed me to stay calm and confident despite this temporary setback. 3. ResilienceThis year has thrown up a couple of major setbacks so far, with a broken wrist keeping me off a mountain bike for over nine weeks and the hernia. After the broken wrist, I vowed to make it a positive by developing my power output and speed on an indoor bike and by attempting to strengthen my core strength through pilates and returning to indoor bouldering. Obviously, this development needs to continue so a repeat hernia is not forthcoming - I've been informed that because our bodies are symmetrical, a hernia on my right side is more than possible and I am determined to do all I can to ensure this does not happen. Anyone who has ridden the Awaba course will know that the Camelback climb, a 40 metre climb with an average gradient of 14%, is the section the majority arrive at with trepidation. For most it is an obstacle, but I like to think of it as an opportunity. If I could keep riding this hill stronger than Clayton, I would continue to close the gap that, with two hours to go, had opened to over four minutes. 4. AttitudeI calculated I had three laps left to catch my rival ahead. I have to admit, I suddenly felt strong and I was really enjoying my time in the saddle. I felt so lucky I had been able to continue riding, the hernia was behaving and my guts were staying internal. I also realised the caffeine I had ingested at transition was kicking in and my body responded. My eighth and ninth lap were progressively faster. I kept checking ahead for Clayton's blue shirt and I visualised the gap closing. I knew I was able to stay consistent and I could grind my rival down. Would he be feeding properly and could he maintain his faster pace throughout? As I entered transition to start my last lap, I saw Clayton and I powered past him to enter the singletrack for the last time. He immediately jumped on my wheel along with a team rider from Jetblack. So this wasn't going to be easy. I kept up a faster pace but Clayton clung to my wheel like a leech, hoping to suck the oxygen from my blood. I cast my mind back to a round of pairs racing, where I had the same situation with the second place rider clinging to my wheel. That time I had prevailed, ironically passing Clayton to establish an unassailable lead. I also knew that, having passed Clayton, I was the stronger rider and the psychological advantage was firmly in my corner. The Jetblack rider came past and I used the situation to make my move. I jumped on his wheel and he started to tow me away from my rival. Unfortunately, I suddenly lost traction on a tight corner, the bike hit the ground but I managed to stay upright. I looked around to see Clayton closing fast. I remounted, brakes and gear levers all askew but determined to re-open the gap. Powering up Camelback, I looked back but the blue was not in sight. I powered on determined to not let him glimpse me in the switchbacks and give him any much needed motivation. I crossed the line with my second fastest lap of the day. Clayton was to finish five and a half minutes back.
This was a psychological victory - I had overcome adversity pre-race, focussed on achieving my goal, and sheer determination had brought me the result I was striving for. The fact I was able to produce my second fastest lap of the day on the last lap shows the power of the mind when mental toughness is served as the main course. Congratulations also to Jetblack's Andrew Finlayson for his overall victory in the seven hour solo, taking the scalp of Ed McDonald in the process. 'Finno' also read the article on mental toughness and claimed he used it as inspiration during his final two laps. Experimenting with a ThreesomeMA 15+ Includes implied sexual activity, drug use and violenceSince my sick addiction took hold, I've always been happy to do it solo. I frequently find myself alone and master of my own destiny. It's dirty, sweaty and hard but the intense and concentrated effort is frequently rewarded with a satisfactory ending making the physical flogging all feel worthwhile. But I'm also open to experimentation and when the Jetblack Team put out an invitation to join a threesome, I felt obliged to accept. I'm not totally innocent, as I have dabbled in the 'menage a trois' before but only in the dark hours between dawn and dusk when others would be none the wiser. This time I would be seen, and many onlookers were to express their utter shock and disbelief during the course of the day. Historically, I was in good company. Admiral Lord Nelson had indulged in a threesome, as had writer, Aldous Huxley. Even Queen Elizabeth was rumoured to have spent time together with Catherine Parr, widow of Henry VIII, and her fourth husband Thomas Seymour. Armed with the knowledge that even the rich, the famous and the powerful were partial to such shenanigans, I set off to the appropriately named 'Wylde' to explore new boundaries. Not quite knowing what they might ask me to do, I greeted Michael Brown and Dave Pickles under their shady marquee. Neither seemed too keen to go first. Browny was complaining of a cold and Pickles was feeling somewhat tentative. I needed to disappear into the trees to see if I was truly up to the task of facing up first, but once I had got the juices going, the blood pumping to the vital organs and the sweat rolling from my forehead I returned to their den ready to get the business done. As is customary at the start of such couplings, the pace was fast and frenetic. There was plenty of bumping and grinding and I needed to wrestle with those around me to keep upright. I found myself having to squeeze through the smallest of openings as we moved into the singletrack but soon settled into a more organised pace with the occasional pumping required to continue the momentum as we straddled our steeds through the constant rises and falls and twists and turns. I clawed my way past Briony Mattocks, eventual winner of the 4 hour female open, who had shot out of the starting gate, and then followed the train through the remaining sections of the course. Andrew Wells, came past me near the end of the lap and I was able to close up behind him on the descent into the transition area as he was held back by the tiring participants ahead. I handed over to Browny, who made short work of the 12 km course, posting the team's fastest lap of 31:29 minutes. Pickles was quick to rise to the occasion and shot round in 33:14. By this time, we were comfortably ahead in our Masters category. To keep it interesting, we decided to focus on trying to keep pace with WSMTB's open Male threes who were currently sitting in second. This was to prove somewhat premature as we had expended too much energy too early and there was not enough left in reserve to keep the same intensity for the full seven hours. I was enjoying the downtime between my 34-35 minute exertions, giving me approximately an hour to refuel, rehydrate and refocus. I was able to really get to know my two sparring partners, while watching the orgy of pain unfold on the track in front of me. Jason English, once again, reigned victorious, with Ed McDonald, Callum McNamara, Ondrej Slezak and Michael Kafka filling the podium and taking home the events major prize money. Other soloists grinding out the long hours alone included Master's Jamie Vogele, who was to cramp late in the day and lose the top step to Jason Morgan on the penultimate lap, fifth placed Dave Langley, who looked completely spent, and young Sara Mills, whose late crash opened up her septic knee and required emergency Ibuprofen to continue. My teammates were done for the day as I climbed the grassy hill to begin my final lap. The course was now very quiet and the chaos of the first four hours was a distant memory. My right wrist, which I had broken weeks earlier and which had hampered my solo efforts of late, was now helping to flick me smoothly through corners and around the tacky berms which had greatly benefitted from the short downpour of rain. I crossed the line to finish in the midsts of Browny and Pickles, two laps ahead of our nearest opposition. We vowed to do it all again in Wingello on the 28th June. Without doubt, I would recommend the threesome format to everyone. It's great to be able to break up the sessions of intense effort with longer periods of downtime but, most importantly, it's a hell of a lot of fun.
It's Good to be Back
After a restful sleep, I awoke to face the task in hand. I was still nursing a weak wrist and today would test the integrity of the healing process. I planned to forgo the wrist brace, which would allow more freedom of movement and hopefully more control than I had in my first race back the previous week in Canberra. My early morning warm up lap revealed a few changes to the course, with added singletrack, more rocks and loose, sandy sections, which would require extra vigilance throughout the duration of the race.
Time for a Comeback
Even in the car driving down, I started to feel the sense of race anticipation I had craved for over three months. My first commute had left me on a natural high on arrival at work, my first ride off-road had left me buzzing with endorphins, and now I was feeling that nervous excitement that hits you pre-race. On the start line, surrounded by many of Australia's finest mountain bikers, I felt instantly at home. It was great to be back among friends and fellow racers, Mike Israel, Trent Moore, Grantley Butterfield, Clayton Locke and Justin Dewhurst. My heart rate was already over ninety - I was ready. The race exploded in raw power and it wasn't long before the serpent of speed had thrown me out the back. It was exactly what I had expected and I was now free to settle into my own rhythm, and reacquaint myself with mountain biking. It was some time before the fastest riders from the second group caught me and I quickly obliged in letting them through. I waited a short time before I was able to jump on one of these rider's wheel and allow myself to be sucked along through the singletrack. The wrist guard was holding firm and all the time, my confidence was building. At last, at around 35 km, I overtook my first rider, a guy in a green shirt, who I would work with until the untimed section at 61 km. The untimed zone is a 10 km street section where riders need to roll through in a generous 55 minutes. It is a chance to feed, rehydrate, lube the chain and even chat casually to other riders. Andrew Fell (who had suffered a time-consuming puncture) and Chris Ryder of Jetblack, Grantley, Clayton and Justin were all here. I soaked up the majority of my 'gift' 55 minutes before re-starting with Grantley and Clayton. They both powered up Black Mountain and I thought that I would be struggling to stay with them. But after a few more climbs they both dropped back. Grantley caught up again but exclaimed he couldn't find his rhythm and fell back again. I was feeling good and this was enhanced as I caught and overtook an increasing number of other riders. I hit Mt. Stromlo and knew there was only around 12 km to go. Unlike Grantley, I was able to find the rhythm I had lacked in the early stages of the race. Skyline and the Luge were their usual highlight, although I rode with some caution knowing that I couldn't afford a crash at this late stage. I finished in a respectable 4.21.26 in 104th overall and 28th in Masters. It may have been my slowest ever time in this event but I was just so happy to finish safely and without too much pain. It was a successful comeback and better results are sure to follow.
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