It's raining hard and the temperature has plummeted but I've worked up a sweat and I'm travelling swiftly along the back roads to my home in Manly. Work is already a distant memory and the pressures and stresses associated with teaching have melted from the memory. The ride home is cathartic and I'm enjoying the workout even though conditions are far from ideal. I turn left and accelerate up a slight incline in the road. Approaching on a side road to my left is a small,silver car. The female driver is distracted by a young child and they are arguing vehemently. The rain is falling faster and harder. I hear the car, which is now behind me, accelerating. Suddenly, I am launched high into the air while my bike is propelled sideways towards the kerb. As I return to terra firma, I twist awkwardly and there is a loud popping sound. I scrape myself off the road, the heart pumping and my mind in a daze. Details are exchanged and I remount my bike somehow dragging my shocked and injured body back to my final destination. My left knee is severely swollen and the pain is much worse. Little did I know then that this was to emerge as the road accident which was to change the course of my life.  

The date was Monday 13th March, 2000. Two months later I am operated on. My Anterior Cruciate Ligament (ACL) is repaired but most of my medial meniscus and part of my lateral meniscus is removed. A week later, I begin my rehabilitation on a stationary bike, lifting weights in the gym and swimming. Less than a year later, I ski for the first ever time, spending time in Grindelwald, Switzerland and Courcheval, France.

My days playing rugby league are over as is my beach sprinting, distance running and soon I reluctantly give up Brazilian Jui-Jitsu. I begin boxing training with Jason DeLisle - aka 'The Nailer' (Jason took Danny Green to 9 rounds in one of their two fights and was IBF Pan Pacific Light Heavyweight Champion), and continue boxing for a year. 

In 2004, I start climbing and this leads to outdoor excursions to the Blue Mountains and other local crags and eventually to state bouldering competitions. In December 2006, I rupture the ACL for a second time and on the 20th December I undergo a second ACL reconstruction. I endure a thorough rehabilitation programme again. Throughout this period, my cycling time increases and I return to commuting with some confidence restored. The date is January 27th, 2009. In November of that year, I enter my first mountain bike race. As they say, the rest is history.

Commuting in Sydney is fraught with danger and is definitely not for the faint-hearted. Sydney drivers are generally more aggressive than drivers from other cities I have lived in. For a people known for their easy-going nature, why is it that when they get behind a wheel they morph into an impatient beast of magnified road rage? However, it would be amiss to stereotype all Sydney drivers in this way. I have a 5% dickhead rule and this allows me to keep my sanity and my cool on the road when confronted with acts of stupidity from certain car drivers.

I used to retaliate and chase the imbecile, ready to jump off my bike and hand out my own form of retribution. Usually the recipient of my hate would disappear into the distance and I would be left stressed and frustrated. I have learnt to suppress this basic instinct and stay calm accepting that my actions will not alter the situation and will definitely not change the attitude of the driver of the Mercedes. It's the 5% rule that keeps me sane on my commutes.

Our distactors call for a road tax without realising that anybody who owns a bike (even if it just sits in the garden shed rusting) would be required to pay and that most bike riders own a car and pay road tax anyway. If this would stop the aggression to cyclists I would pay immediately but alas it is merely a war cry of the angry motorist.

Returning to the 5% rule, I think that the most likely group of drivers to occupy this unheralded position are:
a) Mercedes drivers - they are arrogant and have probably crushed people in their rise to the top and so a stupid little bike rider is not going to get in their way.
b) Ute drivers - God forbid they might lose precious work time in the morning.
c) Bus drivers - 95% of bus drivers are great but that minority stand out due to sheer numbers and the fact that a long stretchy bus squeezing you up against the side of the road is an extremely uncomfortable experience.

It is hoped that the increase in the number of cyclists will somehow advance the awareness of the majority of Sydney drivers. 'Safety in numbers' certainly seems like a motto that holds true on our roads.

As Sydney Lord Mayor Clover Moore stated in June 2010, “The 1 per cent of inner-Sydney trips already taken by bicycle result in 25,000 fewer car trips every day.  If people commute by bike for shorter distances they provide more capacity on the already overcrowded public transport services and speed up journeys for people who have to drive”.

The more people realise that bikes on the road means  less cars and less traffic congestion the happier we will all be. In London, Boris Johnson has introduced bike friendly policies which have been welcomed by both cyclists and motorists. Cycling continues to gain popularity in Sydney and, like it or not, more bikers are hitting the roads, and benefiting from quicker commutes, increased fitness and cheaper travel costs. My weekly commute adds around 200 km to my training and provides a foundation to my fitness regime. Not only that, but commuting is fun, a challenge and is a natural kick-start in the morning and a mind-cleanser in the late afternoon. Halving journey times and passing stationary cars on major highways begs the question that once you start commuting on a bike is it really possible to stop?

It's not uncommon for a person to avoid activities they are weak at and focus purely on their strengths. As a bike rider, I believe I have fairly decent endurance but I'm not a particularly good hill climber. So when Pete Selkrig invited me to train at Barrington Tops over the June Long Weekend, it was an offer I couldn't refuse.

As we were driving up to Barrington Tops, the heaven's opened and rain pelted the car. It was looking like it would be a wet, cold and tiring three days.

The plan was to set up at the camp site and meet up with Jason English and Jamie Vogele for the initial climb up the mountain. 

Now Pete is a strong rider and, with a few weeks of hill training under his belt, he would be hard to stay with. But then there was Jason English, five time World 24 hour Champion...and some guy who just happened to train with the aforementioned enduro champion. The initial part of the climb was fairly painless but the problem was it never levelled out but just kept going up. I dropped off the back and soon the others were out of sight leaving me to fight the discomfort alone. The total vertical climb was 969 metres which was by far the biggest hill I had ever attempted.

We traversed the top of the mountain and suffered crossing a barely rideable trail known as the 'Link Track'. It was supposed to be used by four-wheel drives but driving this trail was a myth lost in the midst of time. The rain continued to fall and the temperature fell to 5 degrees. We clambered over and under fallen trees and down slippery descents until we eventually found a series of trails that headed across the escarpment in a multitude of directions. Jason and Jamie left and descended the mountain to continue their marathon training ride elsewhere leaving Pete and I alone in the rain. As we rode away a large stick jammed into Pete's rear derailleur and bent his hangar. Poor chain guidance would plague his next two days.

As we explored the top of the mountain we came across Careys Hut, which we believed 'The Big Hurt' boys would use to stay that night as they passed through the area. It was no more than a bus shelter and provided little protection from the elements particularly as the sign outside said it had been built facing the fierce wind coming off the cliff opposite.

The Link Track was our route out and we suffered it's indignity on our return back to the caravan site.


The second day was mainly hill training and we climbed the mountain several times; interestingly, my times improved as I settled into the task of climbing and started to build a comfortable rhythm. We did explore a few tracks off the side of the mountain and our curiosity was rewarded with insanely steep climbs to return to the main fire road.

We started to descend but mud flew up off the fire trail, making it almost impossible to see ahead. This continued for what seemed like an age but eventually we reached lower ground. It was warmer now and quite dry and it was almost like we had been transported to a different climate altogether. Jason turned off to continue to Gloucester and Pete and I cycled across the rolling hills past hungry cows and temperamental bulls and several water crossings until we reached the solace of the caravan park barely before the sun had set.

We were tired and dirty but happy. It had been a great weekend and one we would love to repeat in the near future.

Rise of a Formidable Rival


In life, when all seems perfect and it appears that events could not have been scripted any better a beast of fate almost inevitably rears its ugly head and shatters the illusion of perfection. Being of a superstitious nature I refrain from claiming how great life is for fear of tempting fate and losing the bliss I might currently possess.

And so it was, on this sunny winters day in June that my dream of becoming a World Champion in 24 hour mountain biking appeared a mere chimera.

With all my focus on the World Championship in October my training was progressing well and I was happy with my recent results which were showing steady improvement. I had a pretty good idea that my main rivals for my age category would be Jason McAvoy, Dave Langley, Damian Gillard and Andrew Wells. 

Andrew Wells was amongst my challengers at Ourimbah and along with Alex Koojiman, these were the riders I needed to beat to win today's race. I found myself on the front row at the start and this helped propel me to the front of the pack during the all too familiar chaos of the uphill fireroad start. As we veered left into the singletrack Stu Adams lost his line and sent several riders into orbit. I unclipped but managed to keep some momentum to avoid any further damage. The rapid start had lifted my heart rate into the red and I backed off the pace and settled into a more manageable tempo. I was sure I was ahead of Andrew and Alex and those ahead were primarily team riders on a 'gun' first lap and Mark Tupalski and Ed Mcdonald who would be contesting line honours in the elite solos. 

Ourimbah happens to be one of my favourite mountain bike tracks with plenty of flow, sufficient amounts of climbing, fun-filled downhills such as the Rollercoaster and a large rollover with a 'B' and even a 'C' line for the less adventurous. In my first ever race in November 2009 I had flirted with disaster on the first lap when a rider panicked and braked on the rollover. The rider immediately behind went over the top of the strewn bike and over his own handlebars and I somehow steered off to the right and escaped the insuing carnage. I looked behind and no one was following. 

This year I was keen to avoid this situation by getting a fast start and pre-warned Andrew Wells before the commencement of the race. To my surprise, I lapped Andrew who seemed to be struggling. He had, indeed, been involved in a crash at the rollover during the first lap and had injured his back. He gamely continued for the 7 hours to record a creditable 6th place.

On passing Andrew, I knew one of my major threats was eliminated and I probably relaxed a little too much. I had to keep pushing because Alex was still out there and it would be folly to let him back into contention. Without a support crew I was unaware of my position but with an hour left to race I was told by Wendy Stevenson that I was 2nd. Second! Alex must be ahead. I put the hammer down as much as I could considering I had nearly 6 hours of racing in my legs. He must be tiring I kept telling myself. I will catch him.

Two laps went past rapidly and I crossed the line with an unknown rider who had followed my wheel the whole final lap. Was that Alex? I stayed ahead of him just in case. I was informed that I had finished 2nd...but not to Alex. Benjy Morris had moved up into Masters as he is due to turn 40 this year. With a string of excellent results in enduro racing Benjy is a formidable opponent. What is more, he is going to be a major rival in the World's in October. My only consolation is that I know now what or who I am up against. My nirvana may have been shattered but I have nearly 4 months to re-build it and ultimately slay the beast of self-doubt.