To 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.

The pleasure derived from the sport of Mountain biking never ceases to amaze me. Regardless of motivation, be it racing or social riding, winning or participating, smashing out fast laps or grinding out lap upon lap, the result is always the same. An incredible sense of achievement, hours spent in beautiful outdoor locations and wonderful company from a nicer group of people no other sport, I've ever been involved in, comes close to matching.

The last few weeks have been some of the most testing of my life and I was, more so than I can ever remember, in need of some mountain bike elixir. After receiving a written warning from my school employers for fighting for higher moral and ethical standards from other staff members, I returned home on Friday afternoon in a distressed and confused state, packed for the long journey to the Upper Hunter Valley, and reversed my car straight into an oncoming vehicle. After the sound of metal smashing into metal and my initial shock subsided, I was able to step out of the car and inspect the damage. Whatever the cost happens to be, I am thankful I did not hit a Mercedes, BMW or, worse still, a pedestrian. 

I looked left to see multiple World Champion, Jason English, ex world Champion Craig Gordon and the fastest rider in the race,Trenton Day. Looking right, was Andrew Lloyd, Paris Basson, Peter Selkrig and Brett Bellchambers. I was smack bang in the middle of all of them. What the hell was I doing? Worse still, up and coming youngster, Max Richardson was directly behind me. My main rival in the Master's Category, Jamie Vogele, had taken up a sensible position in the third row, so had Benjy Morris. Crafty, the event compere, spoke to Jason English, mentioning he had taken his rightful place on the front line. So what was I doing there? I was an interloper, a gatecrasher, a trespasser who would be the subject of ridicule and torment if I was to hold up the hundreds of riders behind me. I braced myself - 15 seconds to the start - my heart rate was already over 100. 

I hungrily devoured a couple of chocolate chip cookies that James Lamb had left on my transition table, as well as two energy bars, but I was still neglecting to refuel fully. Although I didn't know it at the time, Jamie had suddenly put the hammer down. Perhaps he knew I was weakening. With possibly three laps to race, I was barely hanging on, while Jamie was charging. A 17 minute lead was reduced to 12 minutes in just two laps. I started my last lap, feeling incredibly hungry and dizzy. I began the initial climb out of transition and managed to steal some savoury biscuits and gummy bears from Pete Selkrig's transition zone. The sugar had no immediate effect. I was now descending the singletrack but struggling to focus on the course and even running off the side of the track and into trees. Riders were passing me and I was powerless to follow. Like a boxer, I was out on my feet, surviving merely by instinct. I was not going to come this far and lose it all on the last lap. Brett Bellchambers came past and noted my disposition which he told me later was bordering on 'confused' and 'disorientated'. Jamie was closing in and I still had half the lap to complete. 

I drained my water and a light flickered on deep in my cerebrum. Impulses surged from grey to white matter and down my spinal cord, firing the motor neurons in my legs. Perhaps inspired by a combination of the image of Brett Bellchambers and Event Organiser, Martin Wisata's insistence on playing the Eurovision Song Contest's transgender winner, Conchita Wurst's song, Rise Like a Phoenix several times that night. Out of the ashes I was reborn and I was moving more freely as I approached the final descent into the event centre. I kicked for home, making it across the line a mere four minutes ahead of a charging Jamie Vogele. I had secured my first win of the year, a hattrick of Jetblack 12 hour wins, but only just. Clayton Locke was third, one lap behind, with Kevin Wynne-Smythe a creditable fifth in his first twelve hour solo race. James Lamb and Paris Basson finished with line honours, while Jason English beat Andrew Lloyd in the elite solo and Wendy Stevenson won the Solo Female Elite.

Over the last few months I've been experiencing the full range of emotions. Only the day before, I had entered the Mongolia Mountain Bike Stage Race, due to start September 1st, after my trip to Europe where I will race in Poland and the Czech Republic in The Sudety Mountain Bike Challenge. Throw in my much anticipated reunion with my gorgeous wife in Prague (she has been in the UK since the 10th January) and our short trip together to London, and one has gathered all the necessary ingredients for a veritable feast of pleasure. The opportunity of racing in such prestigious events is thrilling, as is the fact I'll be racing alongside Peter Selkrig and quality riders like Cory Wallace, Mike Blewitt, Imogen Smith and Garry James. On the other hand, I've been involved in a messy Grievance Process at school where I have witnessed several counts of gross misconduct from teaching colleagues and serious mis-management, which has been incredibly stressful, not to mention demoralising. Riding has therefore, been my solace and my sanctuary.

The Rocky Trail Series had returned to Organisers Martin and Juliane's home track at Ourimbah. This is a track I've always loved, and was the setting for my first ever mountain bike race in November 2009. Despite my riding partner, Peter Davis, withdrawing the night before (his daughter was taken sick in hospital), I rode the eight and a quarter hour Fat Tyre race solo, in 45 degrees heat. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I placed a peanut butter sandwich on a tree trunk by the side of the track and every couple of laps, I would pull off the course, jump the bunting, run to my car and retrieve water and muesli bars from the boot! When I stopped for my sandwich, ants were swarming all over it and I begrudgingly decided I didn't need any more sweaty nuts! Fortunately, the race was shortened to six hours and I finished 15th overall and somehow squeezed onto the bottom step of the podium. It was here that my passion for racing began. On arriving at the venue, early Saturday morning, my erstwhile partner, Peter Davis was standing at registration with Sean Flannery and Rod Kotkis. I reminded Peter of that day four and a half years ago and thanked him for the part he had played in fueling my racing passion. It was great to see these guys racing again and they were to put in some solid laps during the day.

Knowing how important it was to start fast and avoid the usual bottleneck into the singletrack, I endeavoured to position myself near the front of the race. It quickly dawned on me that it was going to be a long day. I struggled to establish any rhythm or flow and was riding like I had probably done in 2009. The light was playing tricks, shadows were dancing in front of me and, in the heavily wooded areas, wet, slippery tree roots were springing out from the side of the track. The dark lenses of my glasses were making progress difficult, yet the light was blinding when riding in more exposed areas. At one point, I lost traction and careered into the vegetation beside the track. A rider passed, checked I was okay and after remounting the bike I immediately lurched into a tree on the opposite side. Meanwhile, the jukebox in my head was playing ' You had a bad day' by Daniel Powter (I had heard this earlier in the week after Spain had exited the World Cup). I tried to change the channel but the song was on repeat and I couldn't escape its taunting. As I turned into transition, I was passed by a four-hour rider and as I watched him ride into the distance, I rode straight into a large tree root, launching me over the bars. Benji Morris, this year playing a supporting role, was suitably entertained and as I picked myself up he reassuringly told me I was not the first to embarrass myself at that particular part of the track. I switched off Powter's irritating lyric and re-focused on the riding ahead.

During the first few hours, I had been playing tag with David Speering, who was alone in his 'wisdom' to ride a singlespeed on this course for 7 hours. I knew that I could catch him by making time up on the longer climbs. The thought of him valiantly grinding away with one gear kept me pushing hard and so I waited patiently for his blue and white jersey to reappear. As I approached a rock step up just before the jelly legs climb, I witnessed Briony from the Chocolate Foot Development Team fall comically in front of me. I bypassed the stricken bike and rider and knew that only her pride was broken when she pleaded for me not to tell anyone about her embarrassing mishap. Shortly after, I sighted my prey, but was surprised how easily I passed my single-speed rival. He had crashed after missing his bottle in transition, turning around and then riding straight into a tree. His left handed was badly blistered, but to his credit he continued to finish strongly in twelfth overall.

The last three hours were certainly better in terms of picking better lines through the course. As the sun sank lower in the Winter's sky, I removed the sunglasses and I was able to track better through the trees. I finished off the race fourth in Masters, with Darren Dillon leading from the front, Jamie Vogele second and Ian Bridgland third. 

Jason English beat Andrew Lloyd in the elite's, with Peter Selkrig an impressive sixth overall. Kevin Wynne-Smythe was an excellent sixth place in Masters (despite three crashes) and continues to make great progress in the solo discipline. As for Peter Davis, Sean Flannery and Rod Kotkis, they were to complete 11 laps with solid lap times of between 35 to 37 minutes. It was certainly the hardest race in the Rocky Trail Series so far this year but most of the combatants were still smiling long into the cool night.

The second edition of Rocky Trail's wonderful 7 hour series was to prove to be a personal lesson in humility. After racing under the influence of painkillers and the debilitating symptoms of flu in Round One at Awaba and surviving to finish third, I went into the latest edition of mountain bike punishment, confident of a far more satisfying result. After looking through the starting list for the Masters, I had pencilled in Jamie Vogele and Trent Moore as my main competitors and the riders to watch. Both have beaten me on several previous occasions but I felt my training would allow me to stay competitive in the later stages, knowing that both Jamie and Trent would be quick at the beginning of the race. I warmed up before the start with a gentle cruise around the course, which had been altered from last year's inaugural edition. An impressive amount of work had been done, extending the original singletrack to around five kilometres. The fast, flowing firetrail still remained, allowing riders to sweep through the vineyards, past a tunnel of gigantic wine vats and back to the transition area. The rain had made the track satisfyingly tacky, with a number of bridge crossings across wooden pallets, certain to keep the socks wet and the feet cool.

The start was conducted at the bottom of the initial fireroad climb, but chaos predictably ensued as soon as the front runners hit the singletrack bottleneck. A rider had unclipped on a rocky pinch climb; expletives were issued and the race ground to a temporary halt. As we looped back round parallel to the same area, an anaconda of a queue had formed, which reminded me of a McDonald's Drive-through. Even on my second lap, the same area caused two riders to lose traction and I was held up for a second time. Fortunately, the track began to clear and I was able to concentrate on pursuing my two main rivals who had started as quickly as I had imagined. 

After three hours, I had managed to close on Jamie Vogele. He seemed to be struggling, while passing a couple of slower riders, and I asked if he was okay. He answered in the affirmative by powering through the singletrack. I held his wheel and, as we emerged onto the open fireroad, I made my move. I expected an instant response, but there was none. Instead, I worked to establish a gap and Jamie disappeared from sight. Now for Trent Moore, who had obviously established a decent lead over the chasing pack. It was another hour before the unmistakable form of Trent emerged ahead of me. He responded almost instantly, and left me in his wake so I decided to bide my time. After completing my seventh lap, I noticed Trent had dismounted his bike and was looking decidedly uncomfortable. Trent had taped his knee before the race, and I later found out that this problem had eventually led to his retirement.

The track was a great deal clearer, with the four hour competitors now enjoying their post-race celebrations. Without any word of my race position, I calculated that I was probably leading the Master's Category. All I needed to do to accomplish my first race victory of the year was hold off any potential challenge from Jamie Vogele, a rider with excellent endurance and who placed fourth at the WEMBO World 24 hour last year. At one point late in the race, I thought I saw his shirt in the switchbacks and I pushed out the last remnants of power from my tiring body. I crossed the line without fanfare. I immediately checked the results, to find I had placed second. But to whom? Darren Dillon. Who? I was reminded of the same scenario last year in a Rocky Trail 7 hour race, when I conquered all my recognised rivals, only to be beaten into second by a certain Benjy Morris, who was to win silver at WEMBO and push eventual winner of the 40-44 age category, Jason McAvoy, to the bitter end.

I later found out that Darren is a Central Coast rider, a roady but also a mountain biker returning from injury. In the opening race of the Rocky Trail Series, Darren had finished 5th, but during this race he had emerged as a major competitor and is now one to watch for the rest of the series.

Riding enduro solo, particularly seven hours, takes a special kind of animal. You need to be prepared to suffer both physically and mentally. Any sign of weakness and your opposition pounce, tearing all the hard work to shreds and leaving your race in tatters. Mutual respect abounds between fellow racers, not only for the battering the body undergoes during the race, but for the countless sacrifices made, which go essentially unnoticed during the year. It is interesting to delve into the backgrounds of these riders, which will invariably uncover an impressive resume of previous sporting achievements. Only by entering the world of these strange beasts, can a full appreciation be gleaned of what it really takes to succeed in this punishing form of racing. 

Kevin Wynne-Sythe, Jetblack team mate, was making this very switch, from team to solo seven hours, and was approaching his first race, in this format, with a healthy dose of trepidation. His goal was suitably realistic: survival. I wished him luck, as the race start rushed ever closer.

One minute before the explosion of power, that would signal the start of the race, and I cast my mind back on what must represent one of the most ill-prepared build-ups to any event. A week-long flu, four days off work, almost no riding all week and a mental state that mirrored that of my rookie seven hour solo team-mate: survival. I have to admit, I had prayed (and danced) for rain to postpone the event to allow me the time to recover sufficiently. This would have been particularly cruel on Rocky Trail event organisers Martin and Julianne, but with heavy rain falling all week in the Awaba area, it looked a distinct possibility. Instead, the track had been doused in gallons of water and heavy going and leg-sapping mud seemed to be the order of the day.

To my initial surprise, I managed a fairly decent start and was even weaving past the early strugglers. Soon the fire road merged into singletrack and the race had begun in earnest. Fierce rivals, Jamie Vogele and Ian Bridgland, came past and I knew it was going to be a long and torturous day in the saddle. I looked down at the Garmin and the heart rate was 97%. The body was still fighting illness and now I was shocking my body with intense racing after not riding at all for 5 days. Despite this, I felt much better than I had predicted and so I vowed to toughen up and try and stay in touch with my competition.

The Awaba track was being raced in reverse and this seemed to cause a number of riders some difficulty. I treated it as racing on an unknown track and set about learning the best method of attacking it. The first two hours passed without too much drama but my physical condition was to make the next five hours a solid test of my mental resolve. My fatigue levels were low (due to the enforced rest) and this provided enough fuel to bolster my mindset. I attempted to ride efficiently, and concentrated on my descending skills which I have been endeavouring to improve in recent weeks. I hydrated as much as was possible and gave my body every chance of surviving till the end. After four and a half hours the track cleared and I was able to concentrate on trying to keep the lap times as consistent as possible. 

Ahead on the track I spotted another Jetblack jersey, of which there were seemingly hundreds, but this time it was Kevin. He was suffering from cramping and was visibly doing it tough. 'Welcome to our world' I thought. He told me he had already snapped his chain in the rainforest and lost valuable time and he was later to let a tree get the better of him but he was filled with enough tenacity and vigour to ensure he would complete the seven hours. 

I ploughed on and was driven on by yet another Jetblack rider, young Sara Mills, racing in a pair and posting the fastest female lap for the day. She was doing a double lap and, as she began her second lap, Pete Selkrig came steaming past. I had to let both of them go, the heart rate far too high to maintain for another lap. I was soon sharing turns with another young rider, whose efforts were temporarily ended when he crashed on a tight hairpin corner, leaving me to complete my final two laps alone.

I was tired and starting to make mistakes. My foot slipped off the pedal and scrapped a large chunk of skin from my shin. The mud and sweat sealed the wound quickly, but the effect was to channel my focus until the end of the race. 

To my amazement , I was now informed I had squeezed onto the podium, in third. Ian Bridgland, had ridden a solid race to take second and the incredibly strong Hugh Stodart had taken the win in Masters and an impressive 4th overall in the solo category. I was delighted with the final result, considering the poor build-up I had to the race and, to be honest, I had more than bettered my expectations. Strangely enough, my wife had confidently predicted I would somehow find a way on to the podium, despite my condition. Not for the first time she was right, and I can only presume that, if this was the middle-ages, she would have been burnt alive at the stake for her uncanny vision.

It was great to see Kevin Wynne-Smith complete his first seven hour solo. Armed with the first of many stories of heroics, he vows to back for more in four weeks' time with the Series moving to James Estate Winery for the second round.

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. 

This weekend saw the launch of JetBlack Racing, Australia's largest, and without doubt brightest, Mountain Bike Racing Team. With a roster of 45 riders, aged 20 to 60, one of the most admirable goals of the team is to promote family and female participation in the sport. While achieving podium positions at the 'pointy end', it is hoped that the culture of success will filter through the whole team, thereby contributing to improved performances, skills and knowledge acquisition for all the riders, regardless of ability. Signing the youth and exceptional talent, that is Andrew Lloyd, the experience and versatility of Peter Selkrig and the ability of top female master Catherine Wood, will please the numerous sponsors and augers well for the 2014 season.

Personally, I am extremely excited to be racing for a new team and I was hoping to show my appreciation, by delivering victory in their inaugural race. The 6+6 format was first introduced as an entry level race for 24 hours. Riders start at 12 pm with the 24 hour racers, but finish at 6 pm, rest for 12 hours, before restarting at 6 am and completing the race at the same time as the 24 hour competitors. In 2010, I raced my first 6+6 at Del Rio, Wiseman's Ferry and took my first ever race victory. At the time, I felt it was a 'soft' option but I now believe it is actually an excellent style of racing. It is possible to race hard for six hours, and with 12 hours recovery, return to the track and smash out another series of rapid laps. The result is a highly rewarding experience, rather than the slugfest that is 24 hour racing.

The concerns over the track conditions, with Sydney delivering large falls of rain in the preceding days, were to prove misguided. I've raced at Mt. Annan several times, but the track was in the best condition I've ever known. My warm-up lap whet my appetite, as I realised how much smoother the course was, while the rain had settled the dust, leaving the track pleasingly tacky. I started well, but, believing I was competing against last year's overall winner, Chris Hansen, from Darwin, I was mentally prepared for a difficult race ahead. I needn't have worried, as the Chris Hansen in this race completed a mere 6 laps overall. Unaware of my overall position, I targeted catching my solo sparring partner, Peter Selkrig. At the end of lap five, I had caught him and he was unusually content to follow my wheel. Shortly after starting the seventh lap, Pete suffered the first of two punctures and my new-found companion was gone. 

As a solo endurance mountain biker, it is important to ride within yourself and, ultimately, attempt to achieve consistent lap times. Many novices make the mistake of riding too fast, too hard, too early. It is much wiser to hold some energy in reserve and concentrate on smooth, efficient riding. My focus turned to achieving this goal. After the first six hours, my lap times ranged between 28.28 to 30.34 minutes. I crossed the line five minutes before six and knew I would be able to put in an extra lap over my nearest rivals. On finishing, I was informed I was leading by 18 minutes in the Master's category and I was 4th overall in the entire solo field. 

I was extremely satisfied with my performance and my position. Better still, I could now relax and chat, eat 'real' food, spend some 'down time' with my gorgeous wife, Greer, and hopefully get some sleep. I was stationed next to singlespeed mountain bike legend, Brett 'Jeebus' Bellchambers, who was tearing the 24 hour solo field to shreds. For once, he was welcome to the next 12 hours and the long night, for I was not competing against him.

The Jetblack Racing Team had supplied a mountain of chicken, salads and bread rolls, and I greedily devoured the delicious offerings. Meanwhile, I watched the 24 hour riders, as they prepared their bikes for the darkness ahead. The light began to fade and the cool fingers of the night began to close tightly around us. I chatted to Kevin 'Kevlar' Wynne-Smythe, of the JetBlack Racing Masters Fours, whose team were involved in an almighty tussle for the top three category places. Once again, I was reminded of how pleasant it was to be wrapped up in warm clothes and relaxing, instead of searching for every last sinew of strength out on track. After a pleasant stroll through the Botanical Gardens my wife and I retired to our tent, where I was able to muster some fragmented sleep.

I was at the start line at just after six o'clock, looking forward to re-commencing the battle. Peter Selkrig had just departed and so I chatted briefly to Clayton Locke, currently sitting in second in the Master's category, eighteen minutes behind. As he set off for his first lap of the day, I noticed he seemed strangely relaxed. Had he given up the chase? I felt the psychological advantage was undoubtedly with me. Not only was I at least half a lap up, but I knew he was only twelve minutes up the road. I could focus on chasing him down, and figured that, given the best case scenario, I could achieve this in just over six laps. Furthermore, pairs riders, Mike Israel and Ian Bridgland, were starting just behind me, and so I endeavoured to stay ahead for as long as possible, thereby providing me with even more impetus to ride well.

My mind began to wander as I passed rider after rider. 'Track when ready...thank you...track when you can...awesome...two riders...have a great ride...enjoy your lap'. In my mind, I had already designed and constructed the electronic bike accessory which would utter the above phrases when activated by a handlebar-mounted button. Like a toy, with a cord draped from its back, the exact phrases would vary in order to provide variety and interest!

On the second last lap, I had caught and passed Clayton, who seemed to be labouring. With victory assured, I knew a final lap was not really necessary, but I still harboured hopes of breaking into the top three overall. Cory Wallace, Canadian 24 hour National Champion, Crocodile Trophy second place-getter, and all-round 'top guy' was to only finish one lap in front, while Daniel Beresford and Duncan Middleton were to finish seventeen and fourteen minutes ahead respectively. Overall, a great result and my third Masters win for the year. Jet Black Racing was to finish with eight podiums, including five first places, with fellow soloist, Peter Selkrig, comfortably winning the Super Masters Category.

Personally, with ten podiums out of twenty races across all formats, the year has been extremely rewarding. My goal of becoming World 24 hour Solo Champion in my age category will have to wait another year, but a successful foray into stage racing with the Crocodile Trophy, Series victory in the Rocky Trail 7 hour events and third place overall in the STM 7 hour Series, has meant my season has been a great success. The prospects for next year, with the new Jetblack Racing Team, look highly promising, and I believe I still have much to learn and several areas I can improve, so hopefully my racing will continue to go from strength to strength.

With the World 24 hour Solo Championship just five weeks away, Rocky Trail's 7 hour at the same venue of Mt. Stromlo was always going to be heavily loaded with the main protagonists of enduro racing. Ed McDonald, Andrew Hall, Andrew Lloyd, Garry James and Brett Bellchambers were amongst the biggest names while I knew that the Masters category was destined to be gruelling affair, with Benji Morris, Jason McAvoy, Dave Langley and Trent Moore all carrying excellent form into the event.

This was the first time I would race my brand new Turner Czar and I was interested to see how it would roll in such esteemed company. After cracking two Turner Flux frames, I had waited since October 2012 for Turner to design and manufacture their latest 29er cross country race bike. With a number of problems associated with building up the bike, I was quite relieved to be sitting at the start line on my latest steed. 

I was also keen to deliver a good performance for the MIA Blackmans squad and Team Manager, Michael Brown. An added bonus was riding for a squad with so many riders competing in the team categories, because I would be a lot harder for my solo competitors to spot and I hoped that this wouldn't help motivate a rider chasing me late in the race. This had happened in the last round of the Chocolate Foot when sparring partner Dave Langley amazingly closed a five minute gap in the last hour of the race at Nowra.

The race exploded from the start and I was able to propel myself into a decent position near the front avoiding the usual chaos as the riders funnelled into the singletrack. After establishing a decent position it is important not to blow up trying to maintain the same pace as the team riders and those riding for just four hours. I eased back a little, only to see Garry James cruise past. This was of less concern than normal because he was racing in a different category and, without his nemesis Peter Selkrig to contend with, it would probably mean he would be less inclined to race on the rivet.

The track at Mt. Stromlo is in incredible condition and the trail fairies have done some outstanding work, particularly building up the berms on 'The Luge' section. The beauty of Stromlo, is the switchbacks during the climbs take your mind off the energy being exerted and, with the exception of a couple of slightly more technical step ups it doesn't feel like too long before you are rewarded with Skyline and the aforementioned Luge. And what a reward they represent. These two sections are amongst the best I've ever ridden; fast, flowing, fun and just plain exhilarating. Race Organiser, Martin Wisata has to be commended on designing a sensational course for the race and, while building in enough challenge for the elite riders, he was smart enough to have 'B' lines for those who required a slightly easier alternative to the main race line.

Nutrition and hydration needed to be prioritised, as the warm spring temperatures started to take a toll on a number of riders. Stromlo has a habit of throwing up fun and pain in equal measure and, as the race progressed, the climbing and white knuckle descents started to eat into the energy reserves and both lower and upper body muscles started to rebel. After my great start, I had been overtaken by Trent initially, and then Dave Langley, who commented that the fluro yellow knicks had given me away and, I assume, had aided his chase. He passed me looking strong and, even if this was just pretense, his confident persona had me convinced. Late in the race, elite female solo winner Eliza Kwan had jumped on my back wheel and I vowed that I would finish ahead of her at the end. Although she is fairly new to the sport of mountain biking, Eliza has a strong triathlon background and should give Jess Douglas some stiff competition in the World 24 hour this year.

I calculated that I would reach transition with about a minute left and mentally settled myself for another lap. I am not sure how, but I always seem to arrive at transition with a few minutes of a race remaining, compelling me to complete another lap. I knew Trent and Dave wouldn't be to far ahead, and with Stromlo's sharp, unforgiving rocks there is always a chance of a mechanical. Having dropped Eliza, I pushed on hoping to catch a glimpse of one of my rivals. This didn't transpire and I finished the race believing I had placed 5th. Little did I know, Trent and Ian Bridgland had both been barely a minute ahead of me but neither decided to go out for a final lap, therefore propelling me to 4th in the Masters category behind winner Benjy Morris, who scored a psychological victory over Jason McAvoy, just six minutes behind, and Dave Langley in third.

How much can be read into this result is debatable. Certainly, both Benjy and Jason are looking incredibly strong, and Dave just gets better every race. Perhaps, as Dave reminded me afterwards, racing on the back of a 755 km week and a single 313 km road ride is not necessarily perfect preparation for this particular event. I hope that I can mix it up with the others in five weeks time and I know that a 24 hour event is very different to one of 7 hours. As a side note, the shock winner of the elite solo was Troy Herfoss - apparently a motocross rider- who has also entered into the World 24 hour in October. Jason English take heed!

A consolation for me was winning the overall series, pipping Andrew Wells, with Benjy Morris in third. Rocky Trail's series has been superb and an overwhelming success. The races have been held at some of the state's finest mountain bike venues, and without doubt, a multitude of riders and I are looking forward to doing it all again next year. 

Fortunately, most of the pressure was lifted from me because I was clearly not the favourite. That honour was bestowed on good friend and training partner Pete Selkrig, who even featured in the event advertising. Returning from a successful foray in Austria at the Trans Alp stage race, Pete was looking exceptionally quick and formidably strong on the bike. I knew that he would set a lightning pace at the start and I would just have to sit in and attempt to hunt him down. I expected to be chasing for most, if not all, of the allotted twelve hours of competition. 

As we lined up to start, I eyed Pete close to the front and I pushed my way through the self-seeded riders to be perched right beside him. At least I was in touching distance, even if racing hadn't even begun. World Champion, Jason English spoke at the start, as is custom for such an esteemed rider, and one minute was called before the gun was to be fired. 'Eye of the Tiger' belted through the speakers, which was fitting, because just like Rocky, I felt like a massive underdog in this fight for glory. A surge of adrenaline was triggered and we exploded into the first corner and the short climb out of the event centre.

Just before we entered the first section of singletrack Pete rolled to a halt - a mechanical of sorts, I assumed, but the race was flashing by and there was no time to assess the situation. In front of me was the fast-starting Michael Crummy which suggested I was in a good place at the head of the field. Someone came to grief on a technical ascent and the race behind came to a temporary standstill. As a result, to close the gap on those ahead, more energy was expended. But I knew Pete would be back chasing as hard as ever to recover his initial placing. Sure enough, it was half way through the ten kilometre lap when he came streaking by and soon disappeared further up the track. As I had originally envisaged, I was chasing.

Going through the timing tent, I was told to straighten out my number plate which the girls were unable to read to record my completed lap time. This posed a problem because every second counts in these races and with so much at stake I didn't want to lose several minutes re-fitting the number. I tried to do it on the fly but this resulted in tearing the attachment hole. The plate flapped limply against my cables and was now impossible to read. I decided to call my number every time I went through transition and offered a smile and a few jocular words. I hoped this would be enough for them to remember me and I could return to the business of tracking my prey who was probably many minutes ahead. The strategy worked.

Four hours had elapsed, and as I lapped Female Master solo rider, Wendy Stevenson, she updated me on the situation ahead. It was incredible news. Pete was only a few minutes in front and he was not happy. I was filled with renewed vigour and I pedalled with increased enthusiasm. At transition, another friend and track spy Dave Langley (riding in a pair and not in direct competition with me, for once) thrust up three fingers and shouted excitedly that the gap was only three minutes and closing. More inspiration. I knew this could take time and so I increased the pace but not so much as to put me in difficulty later. I have learnt that patience is a virtue in these situations. As I hit an open paddock area I was greeted with the sight of a labouring Pete Selkrig. So soon but so welcome. This time I surged towards him and was soon on his wheel. A drink of liquid and then I waited for a passing opportunity and a chance to pounce. The track opened up and as I swept past him I attempted to keep the power down. Surely he would follow but he didn't. I didn't look back. On entering transition, I passed Garry James who was off the bike and looking worse for wear. Another major threat looked like his day was done.

Nothing is guaranteed in racing mountain bikes and I knew I was leading but, as I had learnt last week, complacency can really hurt you. A health issue like the one that had befallen Garry, cramping and mechanical issues which later transpired were Pete's problem, or a crash can change the whole landscape. There was over seven hours to go and I needed to stay focussed. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but think of my beloved wife in England, who I knew was thinking of me, and the hours of sacrifice I was making this year in the name of enduro racing. I became emotional and then I noticed my laboured breathing and snapped out of the trance. I re-gathered myself and continued to ride as strongly as I could.

As night began to fall, I was getting word from the transition area that I was leading the Crocodile Trophy competition. 'Crocodile Man, Crocodile Man' echoed in my ears. The hours previously, several songs had pulsed through my head, not least and on several occasions, one of my current favourites 'Radioactive Man' by the 'Imagine Dragons'. Perhaps like Spiderman, I had someone been affected by radiation from the disappearing sun and morphed into the aforementioned Crocodile Man. I amused myself with the notion and then prepared for the three and a half hours of night-riding. 

I recently acquired the new Exposure Reflex and Diablo and was amazed at the amount of light they produced. As Exposure claim 'I owned the night'. She was mine and so was the ticket. Racing through the pristine farm and bushland at night was made all the more pleasurable as each 10km loop ends riding through a pumping event centre complete with a resident DJ and large bonfire. This was enough to fuel the flickering fire that represented my remaining, somewhat depleted energy levels. I completed 220 kilometres and rolled to a halt where a posse of supporters surrounded me and offered congratulations. Pete was one of the first and he was extremely gracious in defeat, despite the obvious disappointment. Now the gruelling 9 day stage awaits me a mere week after the 24 hour World Solo's. This is definitely a race that I can now tick off the 'bucket list' and like it was with Rocky, it is a dream achieved against all the odds.