Lost little boy...

...not something I get described as too much these days. Especially not at an event where you have to be over 29 to gain entry. This is however, how one spectator described her other half and I as we lined up alongside what she also described as Amazonian-giants.

Gridding is arbitrary at the Cyclocross Masters World Champs and often, your gridding roughly determines your finishing position. In this instnce, Andy and I were front and second row respectively. I was still fiddling with my Garmin when the gun went. No sooner had I clipped in, than the guy in front went into the metal barriers and went down hard. Confusion ensued and I picked my way round the melee. At the end of the Tarmac straight is a left hand turn and then onto the first sand section. I went for a dismount half way down and as I hopped off, my front wheel plunged axle deep into the sand and down I went. The rider behind ploughed into my bike and fell squarely on me! We detangled ourselves and when I picked up my steed, his wheel had undone my rear skewer so my back wheel promptly came out.


From last place, I then rode as hard as I could despite the sensation of breathing razor blades and the blue tinge that my knees were developing -it had got progressively colder during the day.

The leader caught me at 35 minutes and passed me like I was nailed to the mud!

To the amusement of many Belgians in their motor-homes, I packed everything into my little car and headed for Calais to go and fight another day, in the UK.



Nice to check out the Euro's cross bikes.