STITCHED UP!

After having my first taste of sand (literally, I spent a lot of time on my face) a few days before the beach race, I was feeling pretty darn nervous. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced on two wheels; there’s so little grip, that I never lost the front once, I just never had the bloody thing in the first place. And the rear? Well, that just seems to do whatever it feels like.

Lining up for the race at Skeggy with over 170 other riders was absolutely mental though. I was right next to Boothy in the holding area, and felt properly fired up, and as they led us towards the start, I managed to get my elbows out and get in the second row of riders. The race start was absolutely incredible: everyone lined up behind the gates, loaded up on sugar and electrolytes ringing the absolute tits of their ‘crossers is something I’ll never forget. As my gate opened, carnage ensued; someone stalled in front of me, which held me up a bit, but I laced it as quick as I could, and fired into turn one to try and make up some time. Alas, in doing so I slightly over-egged my talent and caught the back of another bike, face planting the floor and getting ran over, before another bike ended up top of me, and it did not feel great. I got straight up, blasted the electric starter and proceeded to get stuck into the carnage though; bikes and bodies were scattered everywhere. It was utter insanity on the most hilarious level, and I only made it to the second dune before ending up on my ass once again – I got a good run at the hill, but as someone stalled on top, I lost my momentum and got stuck. Bugger. By this time I’d lost all sight of Boothy, Bruce and Fagan, so I got my shiz together, regrouped, and went for a different tactic – smoother, a touch slower (if possible) and a bit more intelligent.

I wasn’t even 20 minutes in and I was already feeling a bit sore, so just to get a few laps under my belt, I cooled it down a bit. It worked, and I managed to claw some time back and even pull some overtakes, but as I got to the end of lap one, I could feel the little KTM starting to overheat. I’ve never done much on ‘crossers so I aimed straight for the pits to give it the once over and make sure it was alright, although little did I know that it was the least of my problems. See, as I came in, Fagan and our pit babe Darren Fry (the F in FS-3 Racing!) noticed that I actually had a hole in my ass – and not just the normal one. See, when I went down at turn one, either a footpeg had gone through, or a chain had cut its way in, leaving a dirty great gash in my left cheek, and a load of fatty tissue hanging out. The problem was, all I could see with my lid on was a little cut below so I had no idea! It was already absolutely caked in sand and grime as well, so feeling a bit battered, I cut my losses and hobbled to the med centre

– race over. So, as the other lads continued their war of attrition, I went for a little lie down, some gas and air, and got a load of stitches for good measure. Big up the medical team for doing a brilliant job.

So yeah, I did pretty pants. I can’t wait to try something like this again, but I hope I make it past one lap this time. I just feel bad that my shiny new kit got cut off, I didn’t do the KTM (which was absolutely mega with those Kenda sand tyres) justice, and worst of all, I didn’t beat Bruce. Alas, there’s always next time…