Natural Development - Are Trail Centres Killing Technique?

My earliest forays into the world of mountain biking primarily involved dragging and shoving my half tonne, mud caked six gear Emmelle through Exmoor's boggy murk to reach a mile of semi-rideable rockiness that led to the road home.  Over the following few years I hungrily discovered the sheer joys of rooty Devon woodland singletrack, slipping, sliding and crashing my way through my early teens until at seventeen myself and my best friend jumped on a train and blagged our way to Chamonix for an incredible introduction to Alpine riding.  With my eyes subsequently blown wide open I've continued to seek opportunities to experience a whole spectrum of different terrains and biking challenges throughout the world.

In addition to the obvious immediate pleasures and unforgettable memories that these experiences have provided I was recently also pondering their lasting impact on my abilities as a biker. Undeniably I've learned how to crash!  Seventeen broken bones (so far) are testament to that but what about my skills development? As a professional MTB coach I'm afflicted with a constant need to analyse whether I'm still getting better or has age instigated my gradual and inevitable decline?  And the conclusion?  I'm not sure yet, but one thing is certain, I've served a long and fruitful apprenticeship that's gradually and organically shaped my trail techniques.

Times have changed massively since my first rides in the late eighties.  Mountain biking has witnessed exponential growth in terms of both participation and general awareness. Mainstream money has floated in and the results are seen in the plethora of trail centres that have made quick-hit 21st century mountain biking what it is.  Whether this is a positive or not for the sport is a different debate.  My area of interest is whether the introduction of some of these groomed, sanitised and weather resistant strips has been detrimental to the skills development of the new breed of bikers?

More often than not these days beginners that I coach have their first experience of 'natural' trails in their initial session with me.  For many, the thought of riding anywhere other than a trail centre has never even occurred and increasingly I've noticed bikers displaying a noticeable trail centre style of riding that manifests itself in a few clear ways.

The only people who should ever sit down on descents are those without pedals!

The first is a tendency towards remaining seated on downhills.  I see this as being the fault of smooth, graded trail surfaces which, although punctuated by the odd rock gardens and drops, generally allow descending techniques that would've liquidised my internal organs if I'd attempted them on the rutted, washed out rock fests I originally learned on.  The availability of well priced, decent full suspension bikes has also made this approach possible and therefore many people remain blissfully unaware of the fundamental importance of weight shift. On my local trails here in Northern Ireland there have been a seemingly disproportionate number of broken bones for the amount of usage. Many have been caused by riders pitching over the bars because they don't fully understand where their weight should be distributed.

The next issue I've noticed is a lack of cornering ability. Whilst solid surfaced, banked corners can definitely be a lot of fun, among many beginners I think they can promote a lazy, passive approach to getting round bends. On loose, natural, flat and off-camber corners the fight for grip generates rapid improvements in terms of body positioning and pressure application with pretty immediate feedback from the slippery ground. After a couple of washouts and grazed knees riders tend to find the limitations of their tyres and realise how hard they can push into corners if they're active and aggressive on the bike.  Whilst the non-slip nature of most trail centre corners prevents crashes, it also negates the need to search hard for more grip and as a consequence seems to slow development.

Finally, I often witness an inability to react to unexpected terrain changes. Many riders I meet have an intimate knowledge of every last drop, corner, bump and berm of their local trail centres. They can cruise round half asleep, safe in the knowledge that come rain or shine the trail won't throw up any nasty surprises. All those innate, subtle weight shifts that are needed to keep rubber side down on the roots never get developed and so their first taste of riding on wet mud and greasy wood becomes a total disaster.  I've coached people who've ridden mountain bikes for years who have no idea that leaning a bike over on an angled root will almost certainly end badly and so they're transported back to the realm of total beginner whenever they first leave the gravel tracks.

This combination of a static position on the bike, a passive riding style and the non-development of the subconscious adjustments required to survive wet natural trails has, in my opinion stunted many new rider's development. It's not all bad news though; there are obvious upsides to trail centres. Without them I reckon many of today's bikers would've never initially taken up the sport and I'd always rather see lots of people riding not that well than just a couple totally owning the trails. The other big plus is the growth of pump tracks.  Few things give me more pleasure than seeing the local kids on chainless skip bikes with no grips or brakes doubling gaps and carving corners instead of hanging round bus shelters being bored or staring at their phones.  Our local pump track has become a really popular hang out for people who may otherwise never have bothered getting on a bike.  If they get the opportunity and the inclination to keep riding then we're going to witness a really talented next generation!

My message to anyone who may read this and recognise themselves, please don't take it as criticism! There's a whole world of ever evolving natural trails just waiting for you to take them on so get out there and get grinning, just don't forget the kneepads! 

Ragley bikes make epic sponsorship error!

Shortly before Christmas I received an unexpected e-mail.  It basically went along the lines of blah blah free bike blah etc blah.  Well obviously it didn't but essentially that's what I read!  The long and short of it was that Ragley bikes have offered me a deal for 2016. 

The obvious question is why the hell have they done that?!  There are faster, more stylish riders out there filling up the results sheets who are paying for their own equipment.  The simple answer is that they're not doing it on the right kind of bike!  I spent 2015 as a vocal advocate of the hardtail, dancing my much loved Ibis Tranny all round Europe on epic Alpine singletrack whilst also schooling a few bouncy boys in the Enduro races.  Although I'm no purist and I do own a tasty HD3 my preference has always been for the precise riding style needed without the talent boosting travel, picking lines rather than muscling them.

The funny thing is that I was intending to race enduro on my now sold Nomad last year but decided that the nature of Castlewellan's trails in the first round of the Vitus series would be quicker on a 21lb speed machine.  I enjoyed that hardtail category experience so much that I carried on the series to its conclusion and finished with one of my most fun days ever on a bike smashing through the tech of Donard Woods.

So Ragley were looking for an NI based hardtail enthusiast to promote their superb steel machines and luckily I fitted the bill.  You'd have expected me to leap at the offer and tear their arms off but actually I stopped and considered it for a while.  After all, I've already got bikes I absolutely love and less time to ride them than I'd want.  The deciding factors were pretty simple.  Firstly I was dying to try a Ragley as I've always loved steel frames and they look so totally aggro and secondly because my teenage self would've killed my 37 year old self if I turned down the deal!

The new steed in all her big wheeled, slack angled glory

Given a free choice from their range I went for the Bigwig, Ragley's slacked out 29er.  I've only had one experience of the wagon wheels before and it was extremely positive, tracking closely behind my ex-pro guide in Colorado despite him being on a $12k Pivot and me being on a cheap hire bike.  The big wheels just trundled over everything and felt so planted on some of the most technical trails I'd ever encountered.  However, the problem with most 29ers is that they're angled to suit the XC crowd.  Not the Bigwig!!  This frame looks almost comically slack with a low-slung top tube and super raked head angle.  From the moment I jumped on for the inaugural spin it was begging to be mistreated and I was loving my first outing, confidently hitting saturated gaps and drops in Tollymore until Mexican Brian's untimely collarbone break abruptly halted the session.  Since then I've been tweaking.  The forks needed more pressure to cope with the aggressive style this bike demands and I've been doing what I can with the WTB tyres to force some grip out of this long running mud-fest of a Winter.  My great first impressions are being further enhanced on both the ups and downs with the big wheels feeling rapid on the climbs despite the bike carrying a hefty amount of weight compared to my Ibis Tranny.  Once I point it downhill it flies with a style best described as a 160mm travel bike without the travel.  It actually feels almost identical to my HD3 when I sit on it which suits me perfectly.

Ragley only do hardtails, with the heart of their range being crafted from steel.  Although some see it as an outdated material in this age of plastic it only takes one ride to see why it's the first choice of most artisan frame builders.  It has a unique feel, whippy and forgiving, soaking up trail chatter whilst accelerating fast.  Good steel has character and having ridden on the pinnacle of tubing perfection back in the late 90's it feels great to re-kindle that feeling.

Probably the biggest compliment offered to the Ragley so far is the fact that everyone who I've lent the bike to for a quick spin has instantly understood the philosophy.  They look at it with an air of initial intrigue but as soon as they jump on they feel what a slacked out steel 29er may be capable of.  I can see me having to wrestle this bike back off a few folk over the next 12 months!

If you want to have a test ride on the bike don't be shy.  I'll be at the Vitus Enduro series again as well as usually being found somewhere on the trails in Tollymore.  Come on over and ask for a spin, just be prepared to get your credit card out when you get home!

I'll be reviewing the bike throughout the year and I'll keep it bias free.  Ragley aren't putting any pressure on me at all to race, ride or even be complimentary which I think shows a refreshing faith in their equipment.  Hopefully I can repay their investment by getting the brand out there and providing worthwhile feedback on their bike design.  Watch this space.

Check out the range at www.ragleybikes.com

The Costs of Learning...

A few years back I had my personality neatly pigeonholed by an unerringly accurate multiple statement test.  All I had to do was read a series of sentences and decide which ones sounded most like me and it came out with a pretty clear and extremely detailed portrayal of my likes and dislikes.
One of my key discoveries was the fact that I'm really bad at being a beginner.  In fact I actively hate it to such an extent that I've little interest in ever seeking new spheres in which to learn.  A good example of this is that unlike my friends who practically ran to start driving lessons on their 17th birthdays I waited until the government were threatening to bring in the theory test (yep I was driving that long ago!) before I pulled my finger out.  It wasn't only the crazy expense of the lessons or the fact that my mates were stood at the college gates baying for me to stall the motor, it was more a reticence to have to be crap at something new.

Whilst this moderately common personality trait does mean that I have limited interests, therefore making me the worst person to get sat next to at a wedding, it does manifest itself in a huge depth of knowledge and attention to detail in the subjects I am interested in.  Coaching and bikes obviously being the best example of this!  I wonder how many other people watch all the edits from EWS and DH World Cup races and ignore the soundtrack and seeing who won in order to focus in slow motion on each rider's techniques?

So all of this rubbish so far has been a long winded way of saying that some types of people really need ways to progress rapidly if they're trying something new otherwise they'll lose interest and give up.  The first time I ever went snowboarding I was equally non-plussed about the idea of being the biggest kook on the slopes.  I could've skied, something I was already fairly proficient at but this was around the time when boarding was the new, anti-authoritarian alternative to skiing's posh uppityness. Baggys, beanies and beers versus all in one tight dayglo suits and glasses of fine wine.  I was young, punk loving and a capable drinker at the time so I opted to strap one plank to my feet instead of two. Whilst my look in the bar was all 'boarder dude', unfortunately on the slopes it was more 'boarder gimp'.  If I was to save my image and develop a love for the sport then I'd need some lessons.  At the same time, Tom, a mate who was with us (who's name hasn't been changed to protect the innocent) was also in the same boat.  A natural high achiever in business and sport he was an even more extreme version of my personality.  Deciding to eschew the lessons he headed straight to the top of the steepest slopes.  On that first evening he boasted of having boarded the blacks whilst we were being taught to link turns on the baby slopes.  I have slightly guilty fond memories of seeing the roles reversed on the final day as we jumped on the lift and looked down on Tom, his confidence as shattered as the arse cheek he'd continuously landed on that was now protected by a load of pipe lagging stuffed down his trousers!  It was such a pitiful sight that we didn't even take the piss... much.

Given the lack of pistes in the UK and Ireland, getting away to the slopes is generally a once in a while pleasure.  As a result of that I never got the opportunity to practice and become really good on the snowboard.  However, by committing to lessons I was able to get good enough to be enjoying the blacks and attempting to hit some drops and even the halfpipe by the end of the week.  And herein lies the point to this rambling.

Mountain biking is different.  One of its many strengths is that there's no specific time of year, conditions or even terrain that is best to enjoy it.  I've had as much pleasure sliding over greasy roots in the lashing rain in Ireland as I have tearing down the dusty slopes of the Alps (it's just the cleaning that sucks).  As a result of this, we can do it anytime that we aren't weighed down by other commitments. For some lucky people this means every day, for others a cheeky evening or weekend every now and again.  The point I'm making is that even the busiest or least committed bikers will manage more than a week per year!  So why is it that it's the norm to get ski lessons but rare for people to seek bike coaching?

Coaching in action!

Yeh, yeh, yeh.  This is a blatant advert for my services (other coaches are available!) but I'm really just trying to ascertain why more people don't seek lessons despite virtually everyone wishing to be more skilled?  Like snowboarding I believe mountain biking to be a really easy sport to learn.  Once people are comfortable with the concepts of weight shift and braking they can learn to corner, hit drops and ride the steeps with confidence and yet so many riders shy away from the interesting terrain through fear and lack of technique.  I'm fortunate enough to get to coach many people from total beginners to experienced (in terms of years biking) riders and in many instances there is very little to tell between them after just half a day of coaching.  So many people seem to take up mountain biking and treat it like the daily commute with knobbly tyres, permanently sat down, clipping pedals and getting rattled to bits until they're forced to get off by a step or drop.  I'm afraid trail centres have to take a large proportion of the blame.  The gentrified, all weather with no variation facet of your average man made trail has spawned a generation of people who can 'just about get round the red in one piece'.  Back when I were a lad natural trails were all we had so when it rained we crashed lots and improved the hard way via smashes, snapped bones and A+E departments.

I dearly wish that back in 1988 someone had taken me aside and taught me how to ride.  It could've been me pulling a front flip off Edinburgh Castle and getting fifty million YouTube hits!  As it was, the first time I was ever coached was during my Trail Cycle Leader training course and it was a total revelation!  I learned that SPD's had robbed me of the opportunity to do a proper rear wheel lift and as a consequence a decent bunny hop.  I loved being observed and personally fed back to, even if it was accompanied by a mild embarrassment that my skills were so rudimentary for someone with so much supposed experience.  I lose count of the amount of riders who have since said the same to me following the coaching day of their own TCL training.  I love the fact that I've had so many potentially really good riders who I've been able to help with just the slightest tweaks to take their biking to a whole new level.  Just the other day I got an e-mail from a fella who is now manualling a hundred metres instead of two from just a couple of pointers.  Likewise, seeing the face of a sixty year old man who has just popped his first wheelie or a nervous beginner who has nailed a drop that has been taunting them makes my job eternally satisfying.

I think that the other reason that people shy away from formal coaching is because 'it's like riding a bike innit!'.  The belief that mountain biking is no different to general pootling on a bike means that because people can perform the function of pedalling and balancing they don't realise that they're lacking other fundamental skills.  Many of the people I do get to coach are under the impression that hitting techy trails, drops and gaps will always be beyond them and they're blown away when they realise there's no voodoo tricks, just a bit of teaching which breeds the necessary confidence and ability.

Times are changing, I'm getting much busier be it through word of mouth or sheer numbers of bikers now in the sport. Perversely I've actually had a fair bit of work because of the amount of serious injuries to out of depth newbies on the trail centres.  Many people have realised the potential dangers of MTB when they hear of other's misfortunes and so they seek professional assistance to prevent them having the same mishaps.

The message is clear, I need to eat and so do my kids so come and pay me to make you ride a bike better!  If that's the message you take from this then so be it but my real message is this.  You spend a a small fortune on a bike, kit, fuel to get to trails and maybe occasional accommodation.  You may take your bike away on holiday necessitating bike bags, excess baggage and bolstered holiday insurance.  You enviously watch others who are more talented than you and secretly wish you could emulate them.  If any of these statements are anywhere near to you then do think about getting some coaching, you'll never regret it.

Advert over, see you on the trails and you'd better be stood up on the downhills!

Rather you than me mate...

When I was younger and newer to this whole outdoor game it was seemingly the done thing to be into everything.  Paddling horrendously polluted rivers in a playboat, awesome!  Scottish Winter hot aches, love it!  Scared shitless and freezing on a dark Alpine face, bring it on!  As I've matured (?!) I've realised that actually there's a huge variation in what's happening in 'the Outdoors' and in reality some of it I've little interest in doing.  Likewise, there are clearly massive differences in personality type, motivation and levels of devotion required for different activities.   Walking in the Mournes and then going for a coffee is a lot less involved than new routing on a secluded crag but I'm sure it's no less satisfying to the people that love their chosen activities.

For me, I've had extended periods of being obsessed with mountaineering, climbing and fell running with mountain biking being the constant love that still lasts after over 25 years.  Getting out running or on the bike is so second nature now that I often find myself in the forests or mountains before I'm really conscious of what I've chosen to do that day.  The thing is, my favourite pastimes invariably involve physical pain, suffering, getting cold and wet, occasional broken bones and lots of cleaning, maintenance and expenditure.  So the often asked question is why the hell do we do these things?

We've all heard the ultimate answer to this question, 'because it's there' supposedly provided by George Mallory when probed on why he wanted to scale Everest by a New York Times journalist.  It's a great answer, sufficiently reasoned for those of us who understand and suitably vague and infuriating to those who don't.

However much I appreciate that quote it is a bit grandiose when considering why it is that I, and my friends and peers do the things we do day to day.  I feel priveleged to be in contact with many inspirational people who are regularly pushing their limits, experiencing life despite discomfort and danger and yet I'm still not sure many people appreciate the reason why they pursue these goals.

We live in a world seemingly ever more removed from genuine experience where the rush to share (boast) via social networks often seems to be the actual goal of the activity in the first place (and the irony of me blogging about it isn't lost on me).  I'm not sure whether this is a new phenomenon.  The 'outdoors' seems to have always been full of blaggers, wannabes and bullshitters.  They just used to hang out in the pub/outdoor centre/shop telling anyone who'd listen about their latest supposed adventures.  The internet has given these folk the chance to instantly share their 'achievements' with infinitely more people and soak up the plaudits for their 'extremeness' from their Facebook friends.  These aren't the people I'm talking about because the answer to the question 'why' for them is simple.  They want recognition and they want to purvey a certain image and that's their prerogative.

I love looking through old pics to remind myself why!

The ones I really want to ask 'why?' are a little harder to track down largely because they're out there doing the very thing they love.  They to me are the true heroes but why the hell do they do these things?

Having thought about it a bit I've realised that I've already answered my question, it's because they love doing these things.  So I guess the correct question to ask is not why they do it but why do they love it?

Yesterday myself and big Seamy ran up the frozen face of Slieve Donard and over to Slieve Commedagh getting cut in half by a howling and freezing gale, crawling on hands and feet in places.  Seamus managed to leave his leg bruised and bloodied when the top layer of a frozen bog gave way and the ice sliced and smashed his leg, not that he noticed in temperatures that must have been around minus 15 with the wind chill.  I couldn't feel my face at all coming off the Commedagh summit and I wished I couldn't when the feeling returned and the burning began!  And did I enjoy it?  Yes absolutely.  I enjoyed it at the time and I really enjoyed it retrospectively.  Why do I love it?  The exercise, the fitness, the challenge, the camaraderie, the views, the fresh air etc etc.  I guess if I asked my mates why they love what they do I'd get a similar list.  Does that activity appeal to many people?  No it definitely doesn't.  I tend to get a 'fair play but rather you than me mate' response and that's from 'outdoorsy' people not to mention the 'normal' public out there.  Each to their own and many prefer a trip to the gym, an afternoon in the pub or even open boating!

Everyone's Everest is different and I guess I did run up Donard because it's there.  It would've been a lot harder running up there if it wasn't!

Keep chasing your Everests folks! 

The annoyance of mortality!

I'm not sure what age I was when it dawned on me that I wouldn't live forever.  Certainly now that I'm closer to forty than thirty it seems to be much closer to the forefront of my mind than ever before.  I remember years of smashing myself up on bikes, breaking numerous bones and simply being gutted that I'd be off the bike for a while.  Last year, when I damaged thumb ligaments and realised that I'd be out for a few months, for the first time I thought in terms of the likely percentage of my remaining lifespan that I'd be off the bike because of that injury.

Want to run the mountains more!

Now that's admittedly a pretty morbid way of thinking and I'd admit to being a chronic over analyser of life in general but I can't deny that increasingly my lifestyle behaviours are being considered but luckily so far not dictated by my new found awareness.  The good thing is that as I've just mentioned I'm not doing less as a result of a fear of getting damaged, in fact I'm a bit of an anomaly in terms of getting ballsier as I get older.  I'm certainly happier now hitting bigger gaps and drops than I ever was as a kid and the fear of getting hurt is definitely not more prevalent now than when I was younger.

So how is my new found appreciation of death affecting me?  Well, I just want to do so much in life that I'm starting to worry about cramming it all in.  Even worse, so many of the things that inspire me require me to be fit and healthy so I feel an overwhelming obligation to keep myself in good nick.  Even worse again is the fact that every year, more and more events, holiday destinations and ambitions appear, making my (hopefully) long term bucket list grow exponentially.

Take 2015 as an example.  My plan for this year was to race some Gravity Enduros and do a couple of the more prominent Irish fell races.  It's now the 9th Jan and already this is what my plans have expanded to;

- Run the three remaining Ulster XC races (my club have finally pressured me into trying to help them win the title).
- Join my mate Kev for the Irish leg of his round the world run (http://hardwayround.com/) and run from Shannon to Belfast.
- Do several Irish fell races including the longer NIMRA's, Slieve Donard and a couple of selected Hill and Dales.
- Qualify for the NI squad again for the Snowdon International Mountain Race.
- Run for NI at the Masters World Champs or Ireland at the World Champs.
- Do some Gravity Enduros.
- Do some First Tracks NI Enduros .
- 3 weeks with my family and friends at Lake Garda.
- At least two other family holidays.

I want to bike more!

 So before the year has really got going my diary is already getting packed.  Add to this the fact that much of my coaching and qualifications work is weekend based as well as wanting to see my wee family as much as possible and already it looks like something has to give.

I still haven't decided what to drop yet but the decision certainly isn't helped by my awareness that every year I'm a year older and sometime fairly soon I'll start to get a bit slower!

And holiday with the family more!

The great thing about all this though is that if you flip it on its head, this First World problem is actually just a world of endless possibilities.  Isn't it great to be living in a time when all these brilliant events are getting laid on, all these destinations are getting awakened to the possibilities of outdoor sports and we're able to consider that as long as we look after ourselves well then we can realistically hope to continue enjoying them way into our 80's and beyond.  Lifetime can't be unlimited but life itself doesn't need to be limited if we find the right balances.

I think I prefer that way of looking at it!

With that in mind I've just seen this  http://www.pinkbike.com/news/2016-trans-bc-6-day-enduro-2015.html
I wonder if a few weeks in Canada will appear in my 2016 diary?!!

Blood, Sweat and One Gear, The European Singlespeed Champs

Blood, Sweat and Over Here

It seems like a lifetime ago that Rick and Davy from NIMBA (also known under many other pseudonyms!) gave me a call to meet up and see if I'd help out with some guiding at SSEC 2014.  Needless to say I was flattered to be asked and delighted to get involved.  I was still in a state of disbelief about a major Europe-wide MTB event being hosted in Castlewellan, just 4 miles from my house.  Little did I know at the time about what the lads had to go through to secure the event or about how heavily it would influence my future biking.

My shift to being a dedicated singlespeeder (most of the time) has been documented in previous blogs.  I've gradually realised the joy of the simplicity, light weight and pure aesthetics of singlespeed bikes and beyond that I've thoroughly embraced the flowy riding style they promote.  Easy on the brakes, heavy on the pumping and huge on smiles as you accelerate faster than you thought was possible on an MTB.

A bit of research into the history of SSEC led me to the realisation that for some folk it goes much deeper.  Singlespeed is almost a religion to many with a huge range of eclectic bikes and their riders all interlinked by their disposal of the derailleur.  As the event approached I began to piece together what to expect from the weekend, part bike race, part Glastonbury, total anarchy!  I must admit I felt a slight sense of apprehension as well as confusion.  Do I treat it the way I treat my running with hard training, perfect diet and total focus or do I just hit the beers and ride for fun, soaking in and completely embracing the atmosphere?  In the end I did a mix of both and in the process had one of the most fun experiences of my life!

In Castlewellan!

Blood, Sweat and Fear

My first involvement was leading the guided ride on Friday.  A small matter of taking around 150 bikers around the trails and back roads of County Down in Davy's attempt to show them a bit of the 'real Ireland'.  It should've been easy but a combination of factors made it a bit more stressful than anticipated.  Huge disparities in ability, people desperate to sprint an epic journey out of their legs and some poor folk who'd been thrust from their 30 degree homelands to a blustery 15 degree hillside who therefore froze every time we stopped meant that keeping the group in the same postcode area proved quite challenging!  Obviously we'll not mention Rick's map reading at this point!  I had the fear of leaving some very confused foreigners trying to get directions from even more confused local farmers weighing on me but ultimately it all came good and we all got back safely.

Blood, Sweat and Beers

Davy handed me a bottle of the finest Clotworthy Dobbin and I marvelled at the array of tents, decorated caravans and campervans sprawled over the campsite, but more than that I marvelled at the sheer range of booze on display!  It seems that plenty of people were there largely to kick the crap out of their livers and fair play to them.  As the weekend unfurled rumours circulated about all sorts of potions and concoctions being consumed and the Slovenian contingent were usually mentioned in the same breath.  For my part I was very sensible, I'm no drinker and having two young kids and a love of not being hungover served me well.  I love to sample some real ales but more like a connoiseur and less like a meths swilling tramp so the odd bottle here and there was more than enough.  An added bonus of this was that I woke on Saturday morning feeling fresh and ready to do battle!

Blood, Sweat and Gear(s)

The main event itself was a four lap, 20 mile sprint around an incredible mix of man made and semi-natural singletrack punctuated by a soul destroying fire road climb.  The lads had done an amazing job with the course and the Castlewellan ground had responded positively, soaking up the heavy rain from Friday night leaving the course dry and fast.  I genuinely didn't know what to expect.  Half of me thought I'd be the only one not dressed up as a transvestite leprechaun but then given the legs I'd seen on display on the Friday ride out I also knew there were some very serious riders present.  How serious can an event be when it begins with members of the public being invited to hide all the competitors bikes?!  The answer is, actually pretty damn serious, but at the same time totally lighthearted.  I've never seen so many smiles on the start line, lapped so many people who were so gracious and yet at the same time seen people pushing themselves to their limits.  It was a race for non-racers, at the business end it had the pace of an NPS race but still retained the atmosphere of the back end of a local Sportive!  For me it was summed up by the dude who passed me and moved into 3rd place giving me a drink and then insisting I go ahead into the next singletrack as I was faster on the tech.  I repaid him by putting a hand on his back and giving him the biggest push I could to allow him to speed off up the next fire road climb.  I finished 4th in the end apparently but even then I'm not entirely sure as it's a race with no timing chips.  For me it was the perfect event, I rode myself into the ground but loved every minute of it, carried by the atmosphere, the weather and my incredible fellow competitors.  I'd like to give a big shout out to my fellow NI boys who embraced the singlespeed ethic by also only ever being in one gear, just a different gear at different parts of the course!  You know who you are!!

Unlucky for some, but not me!

Blood, Sweat and Next Year

A huge part of the responsibility of hosting the SSEC is that the organisers have sole control over who hosts the following year's event.  Chatting to Rick and Davy beforehand they talked of a succession of fun challenges that would end in smiles all round and an easy conclusion.  If only...
The Sicilians had driven an incredible caravan all the way up from below Italy and the Slovenians had brought enough booze to make you wonder how the hell they cleared customs.  Both squads were dead set on securing the hosting for 2015 and so proceedings became a bit more serious.  I was away for the main games but returned to talk of pump track ringers, pickled egg horsing and a slightly niggly atmosphere.  The NIMBA boys were looking stressed for the first time all weekend and it seemed that the weight of the decision was a heavy one to bear.  If you were there you know that it all ended amicably with the Slovenians very graciously offering the decision to Sicily despite Slovenia winning the final and decisive challenge.  The upper floor of Maginns visibly breathed a unified sigh of relief and Rick and Davy displayed the manic look of men who'd dodged a bullet!  After all you don't mess with the Sicilians!  They were the right winners having been beaten out by the NI bid in 2013 and I'm sure they'll repay the favour by awarding it to Slovenia for 2016.

Victorious Sicilians

Blood, Sweat and Cheers

So we all headed to Maginns for a big Saturday night feed of stew and booze.  The prizegiving was yet another highlight with the most animated crowd ever stirred up into a cauldron of shouting, cheering and stomping by Davy and his intermittent microphone.  I couldn't help but laugh at the thought of any couples who'd popped in downstairs for a quiet romantic meal being drowned out by what was probably the decibel equivalent of standing between a Boeing 747 and an AC/DC concert.  Prizes were thrown, dodgy quizzes hosted and the gifting of the much admired Surly Krampus fat bike to the winner of the bike throwing comp, a man who'd only just said to me that we were stood in the wrong place to win anything!  Again I ducked out before it got too out of control as I'm old and boring but the pics doing the rounds and the walking wounded on the site allowed me to feel real smug on Sunday morning.

The beautiful Tollymore Forest and beautiful Singlespeeders

Blood, Sweat and 'See Ya's'

I only expected about five people to show up for the Sunday ride out with the crushing hangovers and huge journeys faced by many, so was delighted when nearly 100 turned out for the spin.  We had a superb time hitting Tollymore Forest and I got to relax and chat to some incredibly chilled people on incredibly cool bikes.  As we basked in the post-ride sun having some really engaging conversations whilst various people plied us with cheeses, beers and biscuits it dawned on me just how good a time I'd had all weekend.  It had flown by in a kaleidoscope of images and emotions, all of them really positive.  I'm not one for cheesy cliches but as I mentioned how good it all felt and was met by the reply that 'well, life's not a f***ing dummy run' it seemed really apt.  If I can spend just one weekend a year having that much fun then my life will definitely be fuller for it, and now I know exactly how and where to make that happen.  As we said our goodbyes I couldn't help feel that Castlewellan may never quite feel the same again, something pretty special happened here, that's the power of SSEC!

There's a long list of people who made SSEC 2014 such a massive success and I was proud that me and Rock and Ride could play a small part along with the marshals, helpers and of course the competitors from all corners of Europe.  In reality though it was all thanks to the determination and vision of Rick, Davy and the ORNI crew.  They did an incredible job and deserve all the gifts and accolades they receive.  However, if you lads can't decide who gets those beautiful carbon forks then I've got a project build that would suit perfectly!  You know you want to.....

Keep an eye on Google for SSEC Sicily 2015, they've got some big shoes to fill!

Tranny love and the mystery of the missing gears

You know those shit bumper stickers you see on the back of a clapped out Fiesta saying 'my other one's a Ferrari'?  Well I thought this bike would make me want one that says 'my other one's a normal bike'!

But I guess 'normal' is a subjective thing, some people think 29'ers are cool and fair play to them but I'm a fully paid up member of the 160/140mm sub 30lb smash it around the forest at top speed 'enduro' bikes that everyone is loving these days.  My bike riding has never changed that much, always fast up and down hills, sometimes ballsy, other times total wimp, depends which way the wind is blowing on a particular day, and my bikes have always reflected this approach!

So what the hell possessed me to get a stunning 3lb carbon hardtail frame and then build it up with just one gear?  I'm no hipster, I don't have a beard or drink coffee and this thing definitely has a freehub so no fashion fixieness happening here.  Still, something inside me decided that singlespeed was the way to go.

The Tranny in all its glory.  120mm Forks, Reverb Dropper and Super Tacky DH

 front tyre.

I guess the root of it was my mate John at university who built up the first singlespeed I'd ever seen.  The purity of it really caught my eye, no unsightly mechs or cassette and most importantly just brake levers adorning the bars.  Back then handlebar room was at a premium, even super skinny 500mm bars were considered a bit excessive and weight saving was everything, so having no shifters just made the bike seem so sleek.  Seeing the veins bulging out of John's neck on even the slightest inclines didn't look so cool though, his bike was light and attractive but just not very functional.

Fast forward 15 years (where the hell did they go?) and I found myself with a Chris King 16 tooth cog and a load of spacers in my hand ready to put the finishing touches to my own singlespeed project.  First impressions were good, very good!  The thing was so light it felt like cheating, even with 120mm forks and a dropper post (because EVERY bike should have one!).  I hit the trails and second impressions were even better.  In fact it was so easy to accelerate and throw around, like a really capable off-road bmx, that I could barely keep the front wheel on the singletrack.  And then I hit the uphill.....

I'm not stupid, obviously I knew that one gear only would mean a bit of grunt but this was a slap in the face.  I quickly discovered there were two approaches to climbing, either accelerate like mad and try to turn over the gear at top speed (worked great for about 50 metres) or stand up and gurn and turn over the gear at 4 revs per minute whilst nearly ripping the cleats out of my shoes.  I'd done my research and opted for a 32-16 ratio, I'm more Chris Froome than Chris Hoy so smaller gears were definitely the required approach, especially as it's so damn hilly around here.  I'd also applied the bullshit filter to the numerous comments on the forums along the lines of 'dude, I EASILY turn over a 42-11 and I only ride on obscene gradients...' when deciding what would work for me.  Turns out I was a touch wrong.

The new 30-16 set up.  Perfect for the hills?

Maybe I was missing the point?  Perhaps my mindset of never ever getting off and pushing ever ever is wrong for singlespeed.  On the rare occasions when I was actually on the right gradient for the gear it was incredible fun but I kept being reminded of the quote I'd read saying 'riding singlespeed is just like riding in the wrong gear all the time' or words to that effect.  I battered on for a few weeks but then decided it just wasn't enough fun and then relented and went 1x9.

At this point it's all going to get a bit advert and I won't apologise for that.  2Pure, the UK Ibis importers do support Rock and Ride but I can honestly say with complete impartiality that the following is true.  This is the best bike I've ever owned, and I've had some beauties.  It just makes everything so fun and can take on all but the most high speed techy trails (where it was ultimately my ankles that gave out before the bike did).  I had to put a Super Tacky High Roller on the front just to tame it a bit (which must've nearly doubled the overall weight!).  It really is the perfect bike for most situations.

So why return to singlespeed?!  It's all the fault of Rick and Davy at NIMBA, better known as the Trailbadgers, who somehow managed to secure the European Singlespeed Champs for Castlewellan this year!  They love having no gears and take on some pretty silly challenges so I felt obliged to give it another go.  I'm scoping out some routes for all the participants to ride on the days before and after the race so it'd be pretty poor form if I turned up with the 1x9.  This time I've gone for a 30-16, anticipating a hilly course and a heavy hangover and I'm about to go and test it out, wish me luck...


The Singlespeed European Champs are taking place on April 25th-27th in Castlewellan, County Down, Northern Ireland.  It's more of a festival than a serious race, more beers, less gears!  Check out this link for more details and I'll see you there.

Oh and the title makes more sense if you visit the Ibis website, http://www.ibiscycles.co.uk/.  I love the sensationalist titles!

Injury - The Inevitable End Result

I'm injured... again.  For me there are two types of injury, ones that slow you down and cause discomfort and ones that stop you doing what you want to do, unfortunately this one is the latter.

I shouldn't be surprised really, after all riding mountain bikes fast in techy terrain invites crashes and crashes tend to lead to pain and injury!  Over the years MTB has seen me spend plenty of time in various hospitals.  As far as I can remember the current list is two broken wrists, one broken arm, broken hand, collarbone, leg, kneecap, two ribs, cracked elbow and hip and a couple of knockouts, one where I didn't wake up until I'd been in hospital for a while.  I can possibly add a broken thumb but I'm really hoping not.

The crash was pretty hilarious really, first run on an incredible new trail in Donard Woods I clipped a tree with my bars at full speed.  That sent me wider than planned on the next corner and my front wheel washed out and I flew OTB into a river.  My first reaction was to laugh, after all I was up to my elbows in water but then a familiar burning pain kicked in followed by a few minutes of swearing and annoyance.  I finished the trail sheepishly, quickly realising that my grip on the bars was weakening and a strange bulge was appearing on my thumb.  For once I did the right thing, headed home, took Ibuprofen and iced it for an hour.  The swelling went down and despite shooting pains and no movement at all I was confident all would be well in a week or so.

That was over a three weeks ago!  I have a small amount of movement back, I can almost grip a toothbrush but I definitely can't wrap my hand around a handlebar and hook my thumb under.  It's dawning on me that it may be worse than I thought.  Needless to say I'm gutted.  I was just starting to get back to speed and had survived a couple of other big crashes in the previous week which always breeds that sense of invincibility that adds a couple of mph when things get scary.  Now it looks like I'll be off the bike for a few more weeks, made all the more annoying by the dry trails I'm missing.  On the plus side it's only a thumb so I can at least still run and sit on a turbo trainer, on the downside, it's only a thumb which makes it more annoying that it's preventing me from actually biking.

So what's the point of this blog?  To let myself share my self pity?  Well yes!  But not only that.  There are plenty of times when I can't really be arsed to head out, getting changed, filling Camelbaks, getting wet and cold, the washing, the cleaning etc etc all seems too much.  As ever though, the minute you can't do something, the degree to which you want to do it magnifies massively.  I never regret going biking, even when I break bikes or bones, right now I really regret the times I've decided not to head out.  Go ride your bikes people and crack a smile for me...

Paul falling off his bike... on a road by the look of it!

MBL Pilot Course - Feeling the Pressure!

I've been delivering the Cycling Ireland/Coaching Ireland MBLA Trail Cycle Leader course for a few years now with great success in training the guides and coaches of the future.  It's the industry standard introductory level leadership course qualifying guides to lead groups of up to 8 people on terrain below 600m and within 30 minutes of getting help.  As good as the TCL is, there has been a growing demand for an advanced level qualification without the limitations on remoteness and terrain from both existing guides and from myself too.  As such, Cycling Ireland tasked me with writing the new qualification and getting it to match all the Coaching Ireland 'Advanced' qualification criteria.  Not an easy task!

Luckily, the framework for the course already existed and I was able to use the excellent Scottish Cycling Mountain Bike Leader syllabus as a guide.  Taking that course and improving and advancing it to the levels demanded by Coaching Ireland took many weeks of design, session planning, meetings, conference calls and practice until finally a couple of weeks ago I was ready to deliver an observed pilot.

I must admit that it was a lot more daunting than I'd anticipated actually delivering the course.  I'm well used to teaching and coaching with all types of people but with 4 candidates on one side of me and a panel of 4 observers made up of my tutoring peers and representatives from Coaching Ireland and Cycling Ireland on the other, I did feel a bit sandwiched in the middle.  I'll openly admit to being a bit of a perfectionist and so although it was a pilot course I put myself under great pressure to deliver a polished finished article.

Did it work?

Largely yes it did!  The timings need a tweak and there are a couple of suggestions from Coaching Ireland on content and also around firm pre-requisites in terms of the personal skills of participants but essentially it was a great success.  Therefore, I'm anticipating that Rock and Ride will be offering the new Cycling Ireland MBL course from early 2014.

The course is a step up and away from the Scottish Cycling MBL course with a greater emphasis on personal ability and coaching without losing any of the essential leadership aspects.  It definitely focuses on developing leaders who are not only safe to operate in remote mountainous areas but are also able to offer the detailed one to one coaching skills that really add value to a clients experiences.  For Cycling and Coaching Ireland, leadership and coaching have to be viewed as one interlinked entity and I totally agree.  The idea of a leader who doesn't coach seems ridiculous and unrealistic to me, if you can't teach somebody how to ride a bike properly then how can you safely lead them on a mountain biking session?

A good MBL standard fix on the pilot MBL training!

 Who is the new MBL course for?

- Existing TCL holders who have used that award extensively and to its limits.
- Coaches and guides that want to legally and safely operate in highly technical terrain.
- Guides that want to operate abroad in the mountains (it will be internationally recognised so can be used to guide in mountainous regions throughout Europe, except France!).
- Highly skilled guides who want to be recognised as being amongst an elite group at the pinnacle of their profession.

The assessment is going to be deliberately very tough, physically and technically in order to ensure that only the very best can gain the qualification.  Criteria for the assessment are obviously discussed in depth during the training course.  Pre-requisites for training include the ability to ride highly technical terrain confidently and confidence inspiringly and perform skills such as bunny hops, riding drop-offs and step ups and pumping.  If you can't do these things then you are recommended to attend an Intermediate Skills course a few months prior to the MBL course.

Cost will be around £165 for training and £90 for assessment.  Contact ian@rockandrideoutdoors.com for more details.

Broken Dreams - A Cautionary Tale Of Woe

Not really broken dreams, just broken bike bits but I thought a dramatic title might suck you in and it has!!  Anyway, the Rock and Ride crew have been hit by the rear mech gods last week with both Paul and myself doing expensive damage resulting in unplanned walking and swearing combos.  Mine wasn't the usual blap it on a rock type of incident though so I thought I'd briefly share it with you to avoid a repeat and save you some annoyance.

I was literally two minutes into a ride when for the first time in over 25 years of MTB I snapped a gear cable.  Faced with the prospect of spending the entire ride in top gear (not appealing, I've tried singlespeed on a 32-16 and that was bad enough!) I had to fit a new cable.  Smugly buoyed by the fact that I always carry a spare cable having spent years telling MBLA candidates the advantages of doing so I was quickly back on a fully functioning bike.  As I don't carry cable cutters I did the obvious thing and coiled the spare foot of left over cable into a neat little circle and got on with enjoying my day.

It was the final run of the day when my bike suddenly (and I mean very suddenly) locked up and stopped.  A glance down at the mangled wreck of metal near my back wheel confirmed the worst, my wallet was going to take a battering!  I carefully removed the twisted gear hanger, took off the snapped mech and tried to get out the chain that was wedged behind my cassette.  Simultaneously I was trying to work out what the hell happened as I hadn't hit anything.  Long story short, the spare cable had unwound and wrapped itself around the back wheel behind the cassette, instantly destroying the hanger and pulling the mech into the gears, snapping it in half.  The chain got thrown into the back wheel and got so badly wedged that I decided a 45 minute walk back to a chain whip and cassette tool was better than killing the back wheel by ripping it out.

Check out the twist on that hanger!!

Unfortunately upon taking the cassette off I found most of the drive side spokes were trashed anyway so I still had to rebuild the wheel, so the final tally was about 12 spokes and build time, a new hanger, new mech and obviously another new gear cable too.

So what's the moral of the story?  Be better prepared and carry a set of cable cutters?  Be less prepared and never carry a spare gear cable?  Actually neither.  As I carried my bike a few miles back to the van I was overcome by a strange calmness.  It dawned on me that I was walking through a beautiful forest in fine warm rain enjoying an inner peace to match the tranquility of my surroundings.  I felt energised and healthy and thought of friends who haven't been so lucky on bikes recently, damaging bodies instead of kit.  My ride had been brilliant, fast and loose.  For the first time in about 2 years I felt pretty pinned but the breakage allowed me a different kind of experience and I was all the better for it.  Like Ferris Bueller said. 'life moves pretty fast, if you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it'! 

The Process Of Belief

The Process Of Belief

Sporting success can be yours but you have to believe you deserve it....

This story begins a long time ago, the mid-nineties to be precise.  I was a moderately talented Cross Country mountain bike racer back then, regional champion, sponsored, felt like a big fish!  Which is all great until you get into the biggest pond.  It was my first year racing the full national series and I distinctly remember feeling totally overawed.  The sheer scale of the races sapped at my confidence and ultimately I found myself hiding on the back of the grid for the biggest race of the year, the National Champs, trying to be invisible, not bothering anyone.  The inevitable happened, I got stuck at the back of a huge bottleneck at the first singletrack and lost minutes.  By the end of the first lap any hope of catching the top 20 riders had been obliterated by other people's technical inabilities.  I was left frustrated by a 28th place finish in a race where I wasn't passed, not once!  I had spent the entire race picking off nearly a hundred other riders and when I finished I still had energy to burn and the definite knowledge that if I'd had the balls to stand at the front of the grid I'd have been a top 10 finisher.  The process had begun...

Fast forward 17 years and I found myself stretching my hamstrings on a bench in Janske Lazne, venue for the 2013 World Masters Mountain Running Champs.  After a frustrating 8 weeks of preparation since my last race, hindered by a run of interconnected injuries that had made my left leg a virtual passenger in my heavily interrupted training schedule, I had every right to feel nervous and unconfident, except I didn't.  Obviously I had the adrenaline, the essential buzz that brings out the best of performance when the flag drops but those crippling teenage doubts were nowhere to be seen.  I finished stretching, jogged back to the start line and placed myself on the front row, dead centre, racing line.  Any of the other racers could've demanded I moved back and joined the grid from the back as you should, but they didn't.  My demeanour said I was World Class, I belonged there.  The race went perfectly, tactically and physically.  As expected the genuine World Class athletes pulled away from me, the pros, full timers and superhuman specimens.  The rest of the field didn't catch me, couldn't pass me and I gradually eased away to get my top 10 finish.  Top 10 in the World!  The process of belief was complete.

Feeling confident 30 mins before the biggest race of my life

This scenario doesn't really make sense.  In 1996 I was already an experienced mountain bike racer with a fairly enviable CV of results.  I was at the peak of fitness and belonged somewhere near the front of that National standard grid.  By contrast, this year I was just a second year runner, albeit with some good Irish results but absolutely no experience of racing on a World stage and with no right to plonk myself in pole position on the Czech starting line.  In the 17 years between those two races I had learned a very important lesson...

Ability without confidence is about as useful as confidence without ability and neither is likely to win you anything!

I'll elaborate in a second within the limited context of my own sporting successes but first I want to drill this point home.  Picture Usain Bolt at the start of a race, any race, as he doesn't really lose ones that matter!  His posturing, smiling, oozing confidence, ultimate external image of relaxation actually served to change the sport of sprinting for a while.  I remember reading an article not long back about how Bolt's demeanour so totally crushed his opponents that the only way they felt they could compete was to copy him.  So everyone started acting the way he did, but they were just pretending to be confident, playing into his hands and basically by interrupting their own finely developed pre-race routines they were conceding the race before they even got into the blocks.  Even Olympic standard athletes need to believe they can win, the alternative is a lack of confidence that can end the careers of the truly talented.

Funnily, there are actually some comparisons to be made between those Olympic start lines and the pre-race warm-ups at the Irish fell races in which I've spent the last two years competing.  In my tentative first year I was turning up and getting sucked into a trap of amiability!  Despite always arriving with an hour to spare I'd end up chatting to so many really friendly people that I'd end up not even completing my warm up!  This left me underprepared and therefore never fully ready for the race.  I did OK that year, always top 10 but never a winner and there were a group of 5 or 6 runners who I never could beat, physically or psychologically.  I could almost predict my race result whilst stood on the start line because I knew that whoever was there from that elite group would be beating me to the finish line.  The process of belief was still a work in progress.  Having decided to focus properly on mountain running this season I began to think a bit more professionally and glean every bit of information that could make me faster.  I watched the pre-race rituals of the top contenders and realised that amongst all the chat (and they'd still be very friendly) they were definitely focused on their own routines and rituals, ensuring that when they stood on the start line they were 100% ready.  They were the Usains and the other 95% of us were the hapless opponents.  If I was going to win, my pre-race had to be right.

So that was learning point number one.  I changed my approach and developed a warm-up schedule that still allowed time for me to chat to everyone but guaranteed that I always finished with a final stretch just in front of the grid before stepping on to the front row, dead centre.

Here are the other things that I learned this year in order to mentally develop the required belief.  I think these are pretty generic and I'll be applying them back to mountain bike racing again in 2014.

1)  Prepare Physically

Yes this is totally obvious!  If you're not physically capable of winning races then you won't, but the format of your physical preparation can have a massive impact on your mental strength and belief processes.  Personally I'm a big believer in targets and goals and I had the perfect set of measures in the previous race results.  I based my pre-season training on an intention to beat the winning time from the 2011 Tollymore Hill and Dale race won by the then invincible Des Woods.  I knew that if I could get close to his time in my training then I'd have a really good shot at winning this year.  As the 2013 Tollymore race neared I focused all my energy on a full pace attempt at the course the week before.  I had to bury myself on that training run but I beat Des' race time without the added incentive of competition and so despite having never won a Hill and Dale race, I turned up at my first race of the season feeling like the firm favourite.  Ironically in this case it was the speed I'd developed and the confidence to run off the front of all those people I'd never beaten before that led to me missing a turning and leading the next three runners temporarily off course and to disqualification!  To me this was also irrelevant though, as far as I was concerned I won that race convincingly and I'd a sneaky feeling that my opponents felt that way too.  The belief was growing and I took it to the next race and won by over two minutes.

Brutal pre-season training added self-belief

2)  Set Ambitious Goals

At the start of the season I was asked what my goals were for the year.  Bearing in mind that this is just my second year in the sport I chose these.
a) Win my category in the classic Mournes based Hill and Dale race series and come top 3 overall.
b) Complete the iconic and historic Slieve Donard race in a sub 1 hour time.
c) Put together the results required to represent Ireland at the World Championships and not be disgraced when I competed there.
Pretty ambitious stuff but I figured if I was going to put everything into one sport for a year then I may as well aim high.  As it turns out my season started well and gained momentum from there, I achieved or over achieved all of these.  The important aspect though was the fact that having stated these to other people, the incentive was there to achieve them (or look very foolish/arrogant).  By setting these goals I was making that psychological shift needed to believe I could beat opponents who I previously found unbeatable.

3)  Ride The Momentum 

This is something that I learned but could have probably done a lot better myself.  Anyone who follows sport generally will probably have witnessed the way that winning is a habit.  Good teams become seemingly unbeatable and opponents start sub-consciously playing for a draw or just simply trying to limit their losses.  My season had great momentum but almost got de-railed by surprise success.

The Slieve Donard race is the one to win.  People have trained long and hard to get their names on the winners shield alongside the good and great of Irish mountain running and most have failed.  It's the race that used to totally astound me when I read that the winners could get to the summit and back in less than one hour.  Perhaps because of this I never once believed I could win it.  I raced it last year and was both delighted and gutted with my performance.  I was overjoyed with my 7th place but couldn't help but be disappointed with my time, 1hr and 46 seconds.  Not because it was slow by any means but because I'd built up a sub 1hr Donard as the ultimate verification of being a proper Mourne Mountain runner and I'd come so close.  That's why this year my main goal was to bag the 1hr Donard.  I prepared well and turned up with tactics in mind, get to the top as fast as possible and then try to hang on to the elites as long as I could on the way down (I'm not known for my descending prowess).  Sparing you most of the details, I ran away from everyone on the ascent and then unbelievably stretched my lead on the return journey to complete the course in 57:01 and win by nearly three minutes.  It's no word of a lie to say that I was in shock as I approached the finish and the realisation dawned that I'd won, and in a decent time despite the worst imaginable weather conditions.  My slightly over the top fist pumping as I slowed for the final 50 metres to savour the moment was entirely involuntary and came from a sense of disbelief.  My performance had outdone my self-belief and my head had some catching up to do!

The upshot of the result was that I nearly stopped running after it.  My total surprise at winning a race I respected and revered so highly almost derailed my whole season as I couldn't envisage it getting any better and subsequently lost motivation to train.  If I'd had a bit more belief then maybe I'd have taken it all in my stride, likewise if my goals had been more ambitious.  As it was I slacked off a bit and instead of riding the momentum of victory I had to wait a while to win another race.

The trophies that nearly ended my season!!

 4)  Stress the Details

I figured that if I was going to spend just one year achieving as much as possible in mountain running then I'd be insulting myself and the sport if I didn't do everything in my power to be as good as I could.  Obviously having a job, two young kids and a growing business meant that I couldn't train as much as I'd have liked but I took control of all the other factors, from the most major to the smallest details.  In terms of the bigger aspects I lost weight, taking over 1.5 stone off an already skinny (although I'd prefer lean) frame.  This took sacrifice, no booze, no buns, no biscuits, the lifestyle of a monk!  Obviously being lighter is a big advantage when running up steep mountain sides, imagine carrying a bag with 1.5 stone of rocks in it, it'll definitely slow your progress.  The other side to this discipline though is the fact that for every pint you refuse and for every Hob Nob you turn down, psychologically you feel that tiny bit stronger.  The more you sacrifice, the more it matters that you perform when you get the chance, because why make all that effort if your performances are going to be mediocre?  At the smaller aspects end of the scale I ditched the baggy biking shorts which had previously caused much amusement for my club mates and competitors alike.  By donning a pair of what passes as a pair of shorts amongst runners I was taking another psychological step to being a real runner myself (and on a practical note that move probably saved me from being blown off Millstone Mountain by a blistering headwind which would have flown my old shorts like a kite with me still inside them!).  By focusing on making all the measures I could to be faster, mentally my belief continued to grow.

Every little counts, and those shorts are little!

5)  Have a Routine

And stick to it.  Whether your race is a local evening event or the World Champs.  Whether it takes place at 7pm or 11am.  Whether your journey there takes 10 minutes or a whole day, just be sure that for the last hour before your event you're following your routine.  This takes out all the stress and allows you to go through the motions almost subconsciously.  Register, attach numbers, drink, warm up, stretch, energy gel, check the first 100 metres of the route, stretch again, line up on the start line, front row, dead centre, jog on the spot, GO.  Simple and worry free leaving nothing to burst that bubble of self-belief.

6)  Keep The Faith

You'll probably get beaten.  After all, there are lots of people stood on that start line with a race plan that ultimately ends up with them victorious.  Some of them may even have the self-belief too and so they'll probably get their results just like you get yours.  There can only be one winner, don't let your self-belief diminish because someone was better than you on the day, just work out how to beat them next time.  I won more races than I lost this year but I definitely lost races that I wanted to win.  I picked myself up and tried again next time but always with that same degree of belief.  On a similar note, if you're a runner you'll get injured at some point!  Give yourself time to heal properly (not easy I know) and with a bit of effort you'll soon be as good as you were before the injury and maybe even better for giving your body some much needed R+R.  Don't let your confidence be destroyed by the doubt that comes with injury.

7)  Keep It In Context (Or Maybe Not)

You could read this blog and assume that I'm some kind of genuine athlete with a solid backing in sports psychology (or probably not!).  The fact is that I'm neither.  I am fit, in fact very fit and I train hard (and have for years).  If I hadn't competed for years on bikes there's no way that I'd have been able to compete in a brand new sport physically, but even more so, there's no way I could've managed it psychologically.  It took me years of being totally rubbish, to mediocre, to average, to above average, to leading races for a while, to actually winning races as a mountain biker.  Without that experience there's no way that I'd have coped with the pressure of leading a race in a new sport with 250 people behind all wanting to be ahead of me!  This apprentiship as a sportsman is something that all but the most outrageously naturally talented have to go through.  The pleasing thing for me was discovering that in addition to the physical side, the mental side of being able to compete at a high level is also transferrable between sports.  Despite not actually winning a race of any kind since I quit mountain bike racing 15 years ago, that mentality and knowledge remained dormant, ready to be utilised when required.  If you too can develop that self-belief, the feeling that you belong amongst your rivals and deserve to beat them too then who knows where that mental fortitude could take you.  Big businesses love paying sports stars, adventurers, entrepreneurs and other 'inspirational achievers' to come and address their employees.  Why?  Because they want to inspire this winning mentality in their staff, show them the drive and self-motivation needed to be the best they can be.  I guess by the same reckoning I've never gone into a job interview, exam or assessment with anything less than 100% confidence and that's almost always got me the desired result.  Maybe there are very clear parallels between the psychology of sport and everyday life.  Don't forget to keep the sporting bits in context though.  Achieving what I have this year has brought me satisfaction and confidence.  However, if I'd failed dismally I'd like to think I'm man enough to shrug my shoulders and accept that none of it really matters in the grand scale.  Losing my job or business would have slightly more far reaching implications!

As a postscript to this story I took the self-belief to a whole new level in my final race of the season (and possibly my running career).  The details of the Mourne 2 Day Mountain Marathon are covered in my previous blog but now it's over (and with a sense of slight embarassment) I'll let you into a secret revealing how self-belief can get a bit out of control!  Despite having literally no experience of running in this type of event, no idea of how long we'd be out there for, no clue on how stiff the competition would be, I went in to the race fairly firmly expecting to win the Elite category.  Part of this belief definitely came from being partnered by a top athlete and previous winner of the event, but part definitely came from a degree of blind self-confidence.  I'll even admit that I'd considered what to buy with my half of the £500 prize!  I'm a touch ashamed to have felt like this and obviously if we hadn't won there's no way I'd ever had admitted to it but you can't control your sub-conscience.  I meant no disrespect to my fellow competitors, many of whom are very good athletes.  It's hard to ignore the fact that confidence can become a self-fulfilling prophecy but I was definitely setting myself up for a big (and probably deserved) fall!

The logical conclusion?  I expected this win before it came despite a huge lack of experience!

So next up I'm going back to a sport I'm very familiar with but in a brand new format, Enduro mountain biking.  I was out with the current Irish champion the other day and he left me for dead despite him complaining that he's massively out of shape and off the pace!  I'm going to have to seriously go back to the drawing board before I honestly have the self-belief to beat him.  Here we go again....