After a year out for injury, I get to write my own blog after completing my 16th race.
No matter how I try, I can’t just let the 3 Peaks Cyclocross happen around me. It’s not something I finish, hose the bike off, and put away on a Sunday evening. In the same way as the build-up swallows me in each year, the gentle float back down to earth is a bitter-sweet obsession. Like my body, my brain goes through some recovery routine each year. Slowly the endorphins subside. The Sunday evening is a callous kick-in-the-teeth of utter fatigue mixed with endless re-runs of the day’s events. And that’s just when the race goes relatively without incident.