The bell sounds and panic ensues. Riders surge forward and fight for position. I’m right where I need to be. Two men attack flying up the road. The bunch look around and start to chase
Drifting alone, drifting. Why?Read more "Alone"
We’re descending now. Into the mist. Into the rain. Into the freezing cold. I can’t feel my hands. I go over a bump and I’m not sure if I’m still clinging on to the brakes or not. An icy breeze cuts through me.Read more "Gran Canaria Winter Camp"
The sun beats down as our reduced group powers by ranches in the Malibu canyons. I’m hot and couldn’t be happier. My legs and arms are exposed to the sunshine, the pedals turn effortlessly. This could be high summer in the UK but it’s not; it’s a Wednesday, in December. As we turn a corner Mike looks over and says, “This is about as good as it gets”Read more "A Los Angeles Festive 500"
Five laps to go and the race comes alive, finally. As the laps tick down I keep myself hidden near the back. I wait and wait keen to only emerge at the right moment.Read more "Hog Hill – The Last Race of the Season"
The rain pours down, at least I think it still does. I’m drenched right through and every pedal stroke of the bunch launches more spray into my face. Does it even matter if it’s still raining?Read more "Big Events at Hog Hill"
We pick up a lone rider, Ben, from the RCC in Manchester. He joins us, grateful for some company. We are flying now, into the wind, fast. Barney sets the pace, we help where we can.Read more "Manchester to London"