The Mt Isobel Challenge.

The challenge started with getting up in the 5's... Not the best time of day believe me, but the cosiness of bed was soon forgotten as I stood 4 hours later at the change-over, waiting for Tony to complete his mountain run, the howling wind, colder than a mouthful of minties blowing through my brain. The weather meant that the runners only did the short course, which, if you ask me, was still maddness: 1000m ascent in 8kms. Who are you kidding. I was fairly happy that gravity and I would be holding hands, like the best of friends, as I whizzed downhill. After all, hadn't just driven halfway up Mt Isobel, and wasn't the finish line at the foot of the mountain? Perhaps I should've had a better look at a map...
Tony appeared through the mist and I took off down the gravel road, but by then the head-wind was so strong that had I stopped peddling like man posessed I'd've stopped. You only had to open your mouth for you lungs to be crammed full of the icy mountain air. After half an hour or so the wind dropped and so did the downhill. Replaced by a granny-wheel grind upwards, replaced by a casual push. I was pretty much at the back of the field where the atmosphere was very laid-back. Chatting to the others about how amazing the views were. Before I knew it I was back on the top of a hill pointing the red devil downwards, bouncing off rocks, heather whipping at my shins, eyeballs rattling in my skull, grinning from muddy ear to muddy ear. A warp speed downhill, second to none that had to be repeated one day. My rather shaky overtaking manuevers were compromised by a flattie, but it didn't really matter as it was more of just a ride with a bunch of mates than truly competitive. Home in one piece, after a dip in those hot pools and on to another week. Thinking about the next one....