Well no, of course I didn’t. Short course XC racing is for those students of proper training, garish lycra and a single minded focus on winning. So clearly not for barely fit, inappropriately biked fun-poker-at-ers who scratch their head/balls when faced with sixty or so Race Faces on bulimic bikes. Instead, I ambled round a couple of practice laps with all the speed needed to hunt down a lettuce. Fun course though and after two laps totaling an epic 5 miles, I abandoned any pretense of being a proper racer and sloped off with the camera instead.

It was dark and scary in the woods and that was before around 50 kilograms of zero body fat came screaming round the corner. Still revenge was mine, blinding them with the flash and having the odd cowardly snigger at silly narrow tyres and rigid forks. Unfortunately for my world weary cock snooping, almost all of them were competent bike handlers, smooth and fast in the twisties and propelled uphill as if a Saturn five booster had been strapped to their shorts.

Here’s a representative example.

To balance out the fast guys (and girls), there were a few that even I could have given a run for their entry fee assuming it was over one lap and uphills didn’t count. A few nutters were even on singlespeeds. Away from the podium hunters though were the fun category and the riders decked out in flowery shirts and big grins were exactly that.

Here’s a guy who was taking the whole thing with an appropriate amount of seriousness.

Here are a few more of my favourites. That’s pictures not riders, in case you think I’ve fallen foul of some man lovin’ lycra action.

There are a few more in much the same style here

It was an enjoyable evening even in the rain with the real prospect of expensive electronics giving up with a damp hiss. I much preferred the picture taking that the actual riding but you can’t fault the enthusiasm of those organising and taking part.

Apart from one guy who was just way too serious and after serially pissing me off with trivial complaints as befits a proper prima donna, I weed on his car on my way out.

I am striving for middle aged tolerance but sometimes I can’t help backsliding.