I can’t remember a year like this. I raced through bluebell woods in bright warm sunshine last Sunday and then, on Tuesday, I visited hell. I raced at Goodwood. The rain started before I could finish my warm up lap so I was soaked and shivering before the race started. I hate the violent shaking waiting for the start but, I do enjoy knowing that the moment we get moving I’ll feel good. I love the fact that everyone else hates it more than me. I suppose I enjoy their suffering. The wind was so strong that I knew the field would be ripped apart by the good guys. I had a chance to contest one sprint before the E/1/2s came round. I hit the down wind stretch at 55 kph and was still near the front. My legs felt great, no hangover from the mountain bike race so “bring it on” I thought. They did, and whilst I was riding at over 50kph, they just rode away. I was dropped and the race was shredded. Fortunately I was not alone and our small grouped picked up more riders as they were spat out the back. It was pissing down, freezing and really windy. Love it! It was a really tough ride and sharing the work created a bond in the adversity so the high fiving and hand shakes finished of a great evening. During the warm down the cold hit us and with it its pain. We were shaking so much that it was almost impossible to get changed.