Reed Court Farm, just outside Chainhurst, near Marden in Kent. Not a circuit I knew, but was thinking it might be heavy, muddy farmland. Well, it wasn’t. It must drain well, which is probably why they can grow grapes around there - on the way from Marden station, I passed a farm shop sign advertising sparkling wine (£7 a bottle; just don’t call it Champagne).

It was hard and fast, and much different to what the pictures from last week’s race at Penshurst Off Road Club tell, which was a proper cross mudfest (I was keeping my bike clean up at the Inter Area Team Champs near Lutterworth, so didn’t ride PORC). Hard and fast, and not very technical - just a few dead slow turns, but no dismounts. To be honest, not very interesting but plenty of big-ring slogging across bumpy, grassy fields. It was going to be one of those races where an hour feels like a very long time indeed.

As per, I can’t tell you anything about what was happening behind. A few of the usual hitters were absent: no sign of Darren Barclay, who would have gone well here. Brian Curtis, Mick Bell, Chris Ansell… all my usual rivals. But there were still Ben Lockwood and Al Tullett for company. And our ranks were graced with one of the UK’s top crossers, Jody Crawforth, and - no slouch either - Jamie Newall, both in Evans colours.

Jody did the same London league event last year - and, leading the pack, crashed headfirst into a rider going the wrong way round the first turn on her way (late) to the start. It was an ugly moment, and neither took any further part in that race. So there were a few unfortunate moments of deja vu as we lined up on the grid only to see some latecomers heading down the gentle slope towards us.

But we got underway safely in the end. And it was nutso fast from the gun - a real Jamie Newall special, with Matt Holmes and Jody C for company. Michael Butler was fighting to go with them too. I settled for Al Tullett’s wheel, just off the pace of the big boys, and we already had a little gap into turn one. Behind us, Kevin Knox, who is a strong boy from the Dulwich Paragon, was fighting to make contact and getting close.

Al and I pressed on, more or less sharing the work. Just after the finish line, there was a long sector of semi-asphalted farm track, where you could really motor in big gear. But there was a headwind, so, unusually for a cross race, it was good to be on a wheel. Though not that good. It still hurt all the time, basically.

We held off Kevin, but the next time I looked it was Ben Lockwood bridging to us, ominously comfortably in fact - he went to the front almost straight away. In front of us, Michael Butler was in no man’s land, and we caught a glimpse of Matt Holmes, having apparently lost contact with Jamie and Jody. On maybe the end of the second lap, Michael Butler had dismounted in the finish area with some kind of mechanical.

So then it was our not-so-jolly band of three: Al, Ben and me, soon having to thread our way past backmarkers - it was that sort of circuit where the front of the race can go fast enough to start catching people very early. At about two-thirds distance, Al began to have a little trouble staying on the pace. He’d not taken a turn setting the pace for a while, always a sign. This is often a mistake because, unlike the road, it’s almost always harder trying to stay on wheels in cross than being on the front when you can dictate the tempo and find the best line through the corners. But if you’re struggling, then you don’t feel you can make the effort to get to the front - it’s a Catch 22.

So Al starts leaving little gaps, which Ben notices and rides past me on a particularly nastily bumpy little false flat. He says something to me as he passes, which I don’t hear, but I don’t need to: I know exactly what he’s doing, and I’m going to do the same. We’re such nice people, bike racers: see someone in trouble, dish him some more. I’m hurting too and finding it hard to hold Ben’s pace, but we’re vampires all and the idea that Al must be hurting even more than me is just sustaining enough to keep me making the big effort.

When we hit the easy bit, I get down on the drops and drill it, and by then we have 20 seconds on Al and he’s not coming back. Brutal game, but those are the rules.

After that, I do my turns, but I feel Ben is stronger. The two laps to go board doesn’t come soon enough, and by the bell, I’m just glued to Ben’s wheel, quietly hoping he doesn’t attack too early. I think about trying to outpace him across the last field, but I know I’d be kidding myself if I thought I could go much faster. At the finish, he sprints away from me for 4th place and that’s a fair result: I didn’t have much left. Al rolls in half a minute or so later, after several lonely laps. He’s stayed in front of the unlucky Michael Butler. Jody, Jamie and Matt are 1, 2, 3, well in front.

I have to dash to make my train, or I might have stopped and bought a bottle of Kentish bubbly. The demi-results went up on londoncyclesport later on. On the way home, playing with the Polar HRM I’ve been loaned to log race and training data (see the last blog, Testing Times), I checked the basics: I averaged 165bpm for the hour of the race, which is about 92% of MHR for me. Interesting to me, since I never wear an HRM to race normally. Just goes to show, however hard you think you’re working when you train, you can push yourself into another place when you race. Chainhurst, chain hurt.

A bientot.

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