If you haven’t heard, I woke up to all my bikes having been stolen on Thursday morning. With my final shot at the Student Championships the following Sunday, finally coming around, and CNP Orbea going above and beyond to sort out a race bike for me, I tried to put a brave face on things and race.

For those that have been burgled you can understand that it affects you more than you would like. Your private space, one which you consider to be safe, has been violated and the thought of someone now in possession of your belongings hits more than you want it to. Having completed the final part of my degree, moving all my stuff back the Wednesday prior, this one hurt even more as I have decided to concentrate on cycling for the next year; my bikes are now the principle component of my life and this has put that in jeopardy.

I felt groggy all of Thursday but sticking to my plan and going out training after dealing with the aftermath help to bring me back to normality. With the race being up near Sheffield, I was able to drop by my team HQ and pick up one of last years bikes which Oli had spent the day bringing up to race condition - thanks, despite the image teams portray, most are only small and held together by the passion of a few individuals; bikes can’t be magic’d out of thin air.

For Saturdays training back in Bristol though, I had brought my old winter MTB out of the shed. The chain and chainrings are completely shot and sure enough, after a few close calls, the chain jumped on me on the rise of a bomb hole, sending me off the bars into a ditch. I landed on my (boney) hip creating pain that made me scream as much as to suggest a murder in Leigh Woods; bone knocking bone, I can’t imagine the pain when Mr.Beckingsale cracked this. Limping home, I couldn’t help but feel the world was against me.

Now with two things on my mind, I really didn’t know what would come of Sundays race. Thinking positive on the drive up, I thought of how much winning would wipe out the last few days and be the best way of raising up from this adversity. The student champs isn’t really a prestigious race apart from to students and for me as it has escaped me the last five years. It was also my first real race, the race which sparked my fire with my infamous squeals of ‘I want a medal!!’, remaining engrained upon a certain Bath generation. It’s a race which over the last few years I’ve felt was mine to lose and with my results coming into this years, this was no different. I didn’t want to stand on that podium again unless on the top step; I entered a sore loser.

Warming up I could turn the pedals, I could do my efforts, but that still didn’t prove whether my legs were producing at 100%. My hip hurt with each stroke and having struggled up stairs and barely able to do clams, fears that my glute had gone into damage control lay at the back of my mind; I don’t have Watts to give away.

The start kicked off and I was distanced by a group of three within 500m. My body clearly didn’t work. I fought ‘round a lap, fighting thoughts of failure in my head but it got too much so I climbed off and sat in the long grass for a bit. I knew I wouldn’t hold it together, on the podium or sitting in the grass. I made it through a Masters in Engineering at the 9th best University and 2nd best department with 2:1 (my ray of sunshine on that gray Thursday) whilst maintaining an international racing career and something like this brings me down from ever getting the elusive student title. I know it sounds pompous saying it like that, and like I deserve it, but I have to remind myself.

I have to say too that I couldn’t have done without the support from my team and coach Andy who creates the structure I need to manage my time. I can’t say whether it was my head or hip that hindered my race - probably both. I can get a temporary bike but I’ve learnt over the years how much pressure and stress get to me. Having all my bikes and kit in order so I can go into a race full of confidence is my best way of dealing with this and it is going to take a while to get that back. This probably reads like I need to slap myself ‘round the face as it was only bikes and things could be a lot worse but I thinking getting it out is good like a therapy group. The drive home was hard feeling sorry for myself, especially having lost my beloved 160GB iPod, as I turn to music in these situations.

On to the next National round in Scotland this weekend. I’m determined to get back to my usual form on another course which should suit me. I’m going to take a couple of days completely off, for both my mind and my hip, to stoke that fire.

John.