A twilight race at Yellomundee is always an event to look forward to and this was to prove no exception. Race 1, in November, had been cancelled due to heavy rain, while Race 2 had resulted with a puncture, on what proved to be, my last lap, dropping me from fourth to tenth place. I hoped for more success in the twilight edition, and concluding race, of the four hour series.

I arrived at the event centre with only half an hour before race start and so a warm-up was essentially, out of the question. Fortunately, the sun was still hot, Sydney's summer still maintaining it's clammy grip on the season. The start was once again conducted at the foot of a reasonably steep fireroad climb, allowing the bulging pack of riders to be quickly divided. The bright, fluorescent shirts of two Jetblack teammates lay ahead and I set about the task of chasing them.

The ever-improving Josh Flavell was the first to wilt, and I was able to pass the young 17 year old, who battled on to finish a creditable 13th. The other green and black jersey, belonged to Michael Crummy, and catching and passing my rival from last week, was to prove a far more difficult proposition. For the next eight laps, we were to exchange the leading position frequently. Crummy is a far superior descender and this would, therefore, require me to expend surplus energy on the flatter sections and the climbs. The friendly battle meant the first three hours were to pass almost unnoticed. On the ninth lap, a slight gap opened and I was relieved to find that he was not to recover. Perhaps I take these duels far more seriously than my vanquished foe but, for me, this is all part of the fun.

Half of this race would take place in the darkness and although my Exposure Reflex and Diablo are incredible, I had not quite set up the angle of the lights properly, making descending, in particular, considerably more difficult than it should have been. Being just a short four hour race, I quickly decided I would persevere with the current set-up. The track at Yellomundee was proving to be the usual fun and the cooling night simply added to the pleasure of the whole experience.

My sparring partner from the shorter club races, Sal Ragusa was to finish 11th. This was a significant improvement on his previous four-hour outing, in which he had retired with stomach pains and vomiting. Coincidentally, a similar fate befell Jorge Baron, who, thinking the start, like the previous year, was at six not five, had arrived late on the back of a veritable feast and would spend 45 minutes of the race decorating the track with the contents of his digestive system!

Having raced mountain bikes for just over four years, it often comes as a surprise that so much can be learnt from a single race. Weeks earlier, Pete Selkrig had convinced me to ride with him and his long-time friend, Ray Griffin, in the Baiocchi Griffin JT Fossey team of three. Now, the adage is that 'you are never too old to learn' and with my two team mates both on the wrong side of fifty, these words of wisdom would surely come under a prodigious amount of scrutiny. On the other hand, both Pete and Ray come armed with an impressive resume that would put many elite riders to shame. Pete has won State and National titles across several disciplines encompassing track, mountain biking, road and cyclocross, while Ray won the state criterium and time trail and was second in the Australian Nationals criterium in 2013. Nevertheless, the transition from road to mountain bike is not an easy one, with different energy systems utilised, tactics and strategies vary significantly, and markedly different bike handling skills are required. 

Ray had only recently purchased a mountain bike and was about to embark on only his second MTB race. His first had been on a track ideal for a road rider. Tamworth was an altogether different proposition. Tight and twisty pinch climbs with a plethora of rocks and hairpin turns, making the track a technical challenge for even some of the more experienced riders. The adrenaline charged downhills with a scattering of jumps and steep-sided berms would surely test tired riders later in the night.  

Drought-breaking rain had been forecast for the Tamworth area, and the expectation was for a mud-fest and a bike-breaking ordeal. It was therefore a delight to ride a practice lap on a tacky course with the sprinkling of rain almost completely eliminating the choking, bright red dust. It quickly became apparent that excursions off the main track should be avoided with cactus, thorns and prickly pears abundant. 

The event organizers had attracted some of the biggest names of endurance mountain-biking to their inaugural event. Multiple World Champion, Jason English, would be pushed all the way by an ever-improving Andrew Lloyd, while dual 24 hour under 30, WEMBO champion, Sean Bekkers, and Michael Crummy would be sure to set a lightning, quick pace from the outset. Meanwhile, child prodigy, Guy Frail, aged just 16, from the TBSM team, had assembled a formidable team consisting of Brett Holl and Stefan Merriman (former four time World Enduro Champion) both of whom would be much more accustomed to winning races on a Yamaha.

Guy Frail was to set the early pace, posting the fastest lap from the gun and our attempts to stay with them were clearly in vain. By the time I had finished the second lap, the night had closed in on the event centre and our hopes of beating TBSM had vanished with the setting sun. Ray returned from his first lap and admitted he had found the course troublesome. He had hit his arm on a tree, had struggled to negotiate a series of switchbacks and was voicing the fact that this would be a very long night. His next lap was a minute and half slower and I concurred with his earlier insight. The top three teams, and solo riders, Jason English and Andrew Lloyd, had now started to cut through the rest of the field. We were placed fifth for the first six hours, but we had our sights set on Crummy and Bekkers team of two. If Ray could maintain his lap times, we would eventually grind them down.

Pete and I were posting consistent times, around the 35 to 37 minute mark, but Ray was to go one better. He was actually getting faster with each passing lap. It is testament to his skill and determination to learn a new bike art. He was now successfully riding a section of track he had previously struggled with, and was clearly learning how to ride effeciently under the impressively bright lights we had been supplied by sponsors Xeccon Lights. At 11 pm, we were fourteen minutes behind Bekkers and Crummy. By 12 pm it was just over three minutes. Bekkers was now doing double laps and, by 3 am, we were 30 seconds ahead. 
I was now being chased by Sean, and I was able to hold him off for the majority of a lap before finally succumbing to his superior pace. He now started his second lap with Ray following. Only days earlier, he had given Ray some lessons on mountain bike skills. As Sean came through, to hand over to Crummy, he retorted on the fact Ray was only just behind. Ray had tracked him all the way and it was now all too clear that we would win this particular battle. As Crummy left for his double lap I joked that he was the hare and the old greyhound, Selkrig, was about to chase him down. On being caught on the first climb, Crummy jumped on Pete's wheel. The old pro came to the fore and some suspect lines through the rock gardens left our poor rival in a heap and the game was up for Team Ay Up.

Meanwhile, Jason English had managed to crack Andrew Lloyd to win Solo honours. Utilising Lloydy's light, Jase had patiently sat behind his closest competitior, and when he came in for more batteries, Jase continued on, still with enough battery power for another lap. 

Relaxing from the regime of drinking and eating after each lap, I went out at 5 am without enough sustenance. I began to feel faint and lost three minutes of time. I felt unable to continue and even asked Pete to do a double lap to finish the race. A quick nap, a plate of pasta, a caffeine and sugar hit, and I found myself on the start line, six minutes before the 7 am finish itching to make the most of the morning light, the heart rocking to a melody of legal stimulants.

The first real test of the new mountain bike season came in the form of the Australian Mountain Bike 100. With four distances on offer, from 33, 66, 100 and 165 km, I naturally opted for the latter, keen to test myself and obtain a gauge of my current form, after some solid pre-season training. With a weekly dose of indoor Watts training with fellow endurance rider, Mike Israel and sadistic instructor and elite mountain-biker, James Lamb 'Chops', served with a slice of faster road training with Manly Warringah Cycling Club, I was interested to see where this had left my stamina.

A number of obstacles were to present themselves long before the five am start on Sunday morning.The Rocky Trail Organisers, Martin and Julianne, were in close communication with the Chief of the ACT Fire Service, and emergency evacuation procedures were put in place. Temperatures were set to soar into the high thirties and fire conditions were close to catastrophic. For this reason, I delayed my departure to Canberra, fearing a wasted journey of around seven hours. I replaced the tyres on both bikes with Racing Ralph Snakeskin, predicting the worst from the myriad of sharp, loose rocks on Stromlo mountain, and replaced the chain on the Turner Czar, thus making the ultimate 'amateur error' of changing components the day before a race, without even leaving time for a test ride.

Five o'clock Sunday morning, lights fired up on helmets and bars, and Martin Wisata unleashed the 35 hardy 100 milers into the darkness still shrouding the mountains encompassing the event centre. A mild 12 degrees welcomed the leading riders into the funnel of singletrack and the start of the switchbacks which meandered up the initial climb. I waited for the new chain to start slipping on the cassette but it never happened. Now to lay the ghost of WEMBO, where I had self-imploded on this very track, to see my dreams of podium success melt away in the early morning sun, nineteen hours into that race. Unlike the debacle of the 24 hour World's, I was to feel reasonably strong throughout the entirety of this race.

That's not to say that this event was without moments of anxiety. Normally, I would complete a practice lap of an unknown course before the race. Having arrived late, this had not been possible, and so I was not sure how the track would be linked and, to make matters worse, the initial lap was to be completed in the dark. After descending the hair-raising descent that is Terminal Velocity, I turned left instead of continuing up the hill and knew almost immediately I was going the wrong way. Two riders passed, and I jumped on their wheel and followed them through the back sections of Stromlo, Pork Barrel, Brindabella, Slick Rock and Deep Creek. The pace was slower, but at least I was able to complete the lap without further mishap. I then realised, I had not taken my tyres levers, which would have made a puncture problematic. 

The sun had risen by the time I started the second lap, and I realised I had a couple of familiar rivals for company. A rider behind me greeted me by name. I assumed he was keen to pass and I obliged, by moving over. I was surprised to see Elvio Fernandes, and even more impressed when he later moved away in an impressive show of strength. It took me until the start of lap three to eventually reel him back and, only when he was held up on a technical climb, did he vanish from view. He told me later that, when he had said hello he was hoping to stay on my wheel. When I let him through, he had reluctantly passed, now having to do all the work, while I sat comfortably in his shadow. Nevertheless, Elvio is getting stronger each race and he is really benefiting from a solid coaching programme.

At the same time as Elvio, fellow Masters rider, Clayton Locke had passed and left me behind. Clayton is another rider who is improving significantly with every race. As he disappeared, I wondered if he could sustain the speed he was setting. As we started the third lap, I overtook him and gradually picked up the pace and it appeared to be enough. As I descended the wonderfully constructed Pork Barrel, the first of the 100 kilometre riders came steaming past, closely followed by a plethora of Giant-sponsored riders and I was able to get a free ride for a few hundred metres, before waiting for the next group of faster-moving (and fresher) riders. At Skyline, Garry James powered past and I asked if he was winning, the brain not quite computing that his race had only just started whereas mine was already well over three hours old.

The first four laps were immensely satisfying and I was still thoroughly enjoying the course. The race had played out in my mind to Adele's 'Skyfall' and the connection with the special agent amused me. If I could be anyone, I think James Bond would certainly take some beating. What hot-blooded male wouldn't want all that adventure, excitement, talent and the choice of the world's most beautiful women. At 'Breakout' Adele would step aside for Swing Out Sister, a personal favourite from the eighties. By lap five the party in my head had subsided and was replaced with a steaming headache of heat and dehydration. Up to that point, the two large water bidons had served me well, but now, with the temperature in the high thirties, my feet had swollen and so I was extremely happy that the race had been shortened and this was to be the final lap. I was to finish a gratifying second to the incredible Tony Rice (fourth overall), the National Rowing Coach from the Australian Institute for Sport, and Clayton Locke was to finish 40 minutes back in third. The heat was to claim a number of high profile riders, although Ed McDonald was undaunted and, despite an early crash into a hapless kangaroo, he was still able to win the Elite category from Callum McNamara and singlespeed legend, Brett Bellchambers.