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Tales from the Mudbath

Pyro / 14.08.2008

I’d never done a 24 hour mountain bike event before. They always seemed to be part festival, part masochist convention, and populated by a selected bunch of fools who thought doing laps of a field for an entire day was a good idea. That said, I’d still planned to take part in one next year, when I’d had a bit more time to train and try and find some fitness from somewhere. So, when I received a text message asking if I’d like to take someone’s place on a five-man mixed team, I was apprehensive … but also four pints to the better … so I accepted.

The team was to be captain Suzie, Jim, Jon, Chris and myself, all friends through university canoe clubs who ride together on a semi-regular basis. The line-up looked good, though only Suzie had actually ridden a 24 before, last year’s Sleepless. Since it was only a single discipline I didn’t have the usual masses of gear sorting, just dumped the majority of my biking gear into a box, sorted out a huge six-man tent for us to use as home for the weekend, bought enough cereal bars to feed a small army, and I was ready to go. We had a minor blip in our preparation when Chris had to drop out, citing a crisis at work, but Jon found yet another kayaker to join us, and Stuart stepped into the gap.

When we arrived at Catton Park, the reality of the situation hit home. It was wet. We pitched the tent, registered, and I was pessimistic enough about the course that I went to the traders and bought a set of mud tyres for the first time ever. Still, it wasn’t overly cold, and by the time 2pm came and the start gun went, the sun was shining weakly over the Midlands and the world was a happy place. I had Eponine (my trusty Top Fuel), a comedy Mohican, and a good stock of teabags. Let 'em rip...

Jon rode first, doing the 7-ish mile lap in a nippy 1:08. Suzie was up next, and I went to get my gear on and get the bike tweaked. By this time the previously a bit muddy course was drying a little and getting more rideable. The first climb in the woods was a walk for most mere mortals, and a slippy one at that, and some of the singletrack was stretching the limits of rideability, but not too badly. The short off-camber descent into the campsite was an exercise in caution, but you could move well on the flatter bits and the ‘round the edge of a field’ parts. With no crashes, no heroics and no drama, I came in with a happily respectable 1:15.

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