Red Bull Hill Chasers

Bizarre day. Light rain which was not what I wanted for Hill Chasers. Fairly gentle start to the day, big mountain of porridge for energy, banana too. And coffee, obv.
Wanted to leave 1000, so I could see exactly what I had to do, and also not be in any rush. But was out by nine, tweaked the derailer a bit, washed, tightened the breaks, lubed the pedal crank. Just so it all fell into line. And instantly I rode it, sure enough it felt smoother, gear changes clicked nicely.

And off.... Nervous but excited. Stopped in to see Neill and the guys; then slowly up Dundas Street and into battle. Town was quiet, but a few bikes about, and getting closer was a bit of a buzz, adrenalin starts to rise just a little.

Into the riders gate! I sign in and there’s no real running order. You can turn up whenever and stand in line, and off you go. I chain the bike and wander up to recce. It’s not as bad as I thought, starting between the two galleries, it’s a flat enough run in, ramps up around the left hander (I know this from cycling to hers 3 times a week, but then at the lights the course swings hard right, across some really sketchy drain covers and onto cobbles for the last 100 yards up – Ramsey Lane? I watch about a dozen guys and all of them are belting up and completely screw up the final turn. They all lose so much momentum as they have to brake and avoid the barriers then they can’t get going again. So I work out my plan is to come really wide up the outside; then get a solid turn on the tarmac and just peg it full pelt before the pain of the cobbles.

I video a bit and watch some more, chat to a few people. S says she’ll come and watch before her lunch and she agrees to video my run. I get the bike, and practice on the top section of the Mound, I work out what gear I want to start in, the gear changes, not to go higher than 4 changes, drop down one for the final turn, then back up one may be two if I have power at the finish line.

We met, I babble excitedly, she looks stunning. We walk down George IV bridge, me in lycra, shorts, cycle helmet, glasses and road bike, she in pink dress with daises, legs tanned, dark hair blowing in the wind, make up on. A more odd couple you could not see.

I give her instructions, go down the hill, queue up. Deep breath. Poised, in the zone. And off. I stick to my plan, it works well, the gears click over, I charge up the hill, choose my line batter round the steepest part, nothing else exists apart from me and the bike and the road. Aim for the big screen, sharp sharp right, and power on, I hit the cobbles, and just gun it. Out the saddle, gritted teeth, head down. That last 50 yards is tough, the wind blasting you in the face, the final insult on an already tough run. There’s a clock, and I know I’ve not done enough to qualify. But not a disgraceful time....

I stop. And can’t stand up. Thighs have lost all power. I don’t collapse, but it’s close. I’ve never known anything quite so demanding! How can I not stand???! This is ridiculous. Slowly I stagger back to meet her; she smiles, says wow!. I say *gasp*

I cannot believe 30 seconds of concentrated effort could hurt that much; we slowly wander back up the Mound to hers and I sit down and drink tea, trying to unravel it all. It took 20 minutes to get my breath back. 20 minutes! But so happy I did it.
She goes off to lunch, I cycle back through the university in search of Cigs blip for the day, and quietly go home. I run a bath and have some gnocchi with matchsticks of bacon, loads of cherry tomatoes and a cheese sauce.
Then to bed for a nap.

I wake at three, laptop on beside me. I’d been editing the video footage – I promised Tom I’d send him a video to watch in Devon. I see I have an e mail. From Red Bull – I wonder what my time was, I idly click on it. ‘You didn’t qualify, but you were fast enough to make it to the reserves list. 4th in line should anyone drop out.’ I think – there’s no way....

So now my afternoon at the allotment is gone, I was gonna rock up, hipflask of sloe gin and watch then go to hers for late supper. But no, I need to be back out, possibly riding tonight? With 20 pros and the best 20 from 250 locals who rocked up..... No way!

So my evening plans in turmoil; I quickly do dinner, pack a rucksack, I figure if I rce, I'll then just go to hers traight after, if I don't race I''l come home, get dressed and go watch the racing.

So I go; and there's a proper competitor area, with professionals and lycra and turbo trainers and proper bikes and team support. And me. I know nobody there, so I take it all in. At one point a guy taps me on the shoulder
"Dae you speak English, pal?"
"Er..mostly, yes, but if you want to converse in Spanish or French, I'll try..."
"Eh, is Danny here, pal? Danny McAskill, likes?"
I shrug. Do I look like the Latvian national enduro champion or something? Sheesh... I almost expected to ask for an autograph; but so so surreal.
I stood for an hour in the cold, now really knowing what's going on. They ask everyone to sign on. I go, back of the queue. 'I'm one of your reserves, I don't know if you need me'

Blank looks, eventually they call the first 2, so I miss out on racing by 2.... aaargh!

I bale out, grab my goody bag and go (new saddle, tube, pump, bottle, sweat bands, other bits...)
Straight for home; I'm frozen; 2 long sleeve tops and 3 fleeces, and sloe gin to keep warm. Straight out and straight onto a 47 and back into town. Caught three races, these guys can really really motor.

And then to hers. But not. The ex is there. And not budging.

I say I'llwalk around, Cigs photos etc.

2 and a half hours later she manages to get him out..! In at about 1130; I'd already got on 47 home and got to Dean Bridge when she called to say he'd left, but then he came back and then left again. So much trouble there; but we eventually had very late supper (almost worth the wait, it was amazing); good 2 hours chat and and I finally got the N16 home at either 2.20 or 3.30....

Long strange day.... Elation, disbelief, frustration, joy. And a bunch of unexplained bruises when I woke up Sunday...