Do You Remember the First Time? – Jarvis Cocker

I arrive at Eastnor Park, Herefordshire on the Saturday morning for the 2006 Saab Salomon Mountain Mayhem ready to have my 24 hour cherry popped. I have been chosen as this year’s guest rider for the Skidmarks Team. Raymond and pit babe extraordinaire Rachel are already there to great me having arrived the previous evening to set up camp at a prime spot beside the course. We spend a couple of hours exploring the event village, blagging as many freebies as we can, and drinking tea. Eventually, the rest of the team materialise, Julie, Dominic and El Capitan Paul, together with our other two pit babes, Jane (who has selflessly given up her place in the to allow me to ride) and Laney. Paul informs me that it is ‘tradition’ that the guest rider does the run at the start of the event and the first couple of laps and, as I once foolishly admitted to running a marathon many moons ago in the days when both my knees worked properly, I have been ‘volunteered’ for the task.

The start time is looming and I assemble my bike, eat some pre-race pasta and sneeze a lot (the newly mown grass on the course is giving me hay fever: perfect) before heading down to catch the race briefing. We arrive at the briefing after it has started and have to stand at the back like naughty children. Consequently I can’t hear a thing so decide that the next hour would be better spent getting ready to meet whatever fate has in store for me.

At about a quarter to two Paul and I head for the start area. I rack my bike and Paul takes up a position opposite it so that he can remind me where I left it after I have done the run. I take my place amongst the heaving mass of bodies at the start line. I remember Paul’s advice and worm my way towards the front of the pack. Two o’clock arrives and we’re off! The first few metres are spent trying to find some space and avoid tripping over someone else’s flailing limbs. I realise that, having gone AWOL from the briefing, I have no idea how far I have to run and, therefore, no idea how to pace myself. In the end I decide that it can’t be that far, as the main purpose is just to stagger the number of bikes setting off at any one time, and run at a brisk(ish) tempo, or at least as brisk as I can manage wearing cycling shoes. I get to the transition area and, thanks to the fact that Paul has erected a huge flashing neon arrow over it (or do I mean that Paul was flashing a huge neon erection? My memory is little confused here), locate my bike quite easily (actually, I made up the bit about the flashing arrow; Paul didn’t have time to rig up the neon sign as he had changed into a Gorilla outfit and was now jumping up and down making very authentic ape noises and pointing to my bike with a giant inflatable banana).

I grab my bike, wheel it out of the start area before mounting it postman stylee. The course heads out over a flat grassy section before climbing gradually up a few switchback sections. After a while the climbing ends and we enter the first wooded singletrack section. I recall from the course map that I saw earlier that this section is sponsored by Evans and is called the ‘Evans Spooky Forest’. I keep expecting Gary Smith to leap out from behind a tree waving his arms above his head in a Scooby Doo scary fake ghost kind of way going ‘Whoooooooo!’ Sadly, this doesn’t happen. After the singletrack comes a steep, loose gravely descent with a sharp left hand bend at the end. I see a rider in front of me over cook it but he manages to stay on his bike. I think that this section is going to be responsible for inflicting a few cases of gravel rash before the 24 hours are out. We are then onto a fast, flat ‘fire road’ type section. I adopt my usual strategy going flat out on this kind of terrain to make up for my relative ineptitude on the more technical sections. The course then drops down, via a stream crossing, back down to the campsite. After exiting the camping area we begin to climb. The climbing goes on and on. It’s not particularly steep but it is on grass and is long and draggy. I suddenly feel as if I’m going to blow up and it’s only the first lap! I drop down to my granny ring and twiddle. Eventually, the course joins a section of single track and drops down through the trees. I am very relieved. There are a few more minor climbs but the route is now mainly on fast, dry singletrack and broad grassy downhill sections down to the finish line. I am relieved to reach the finish line and get my first lap under my belt but, do the team strategy of doing two laps at a time, I have to go straight back out and do it all over again. The second lap is not quite so bad. At least I know what is coming this time and I cope a lot better with my nemesis, the long draggy climb, this time around. After completing my second lap I hand the batton to Raymond and head back to our race HQ (Skidmark Towers). It has taken me around 90 minutes to complete two laps of 7 or 8 miles.

At least the two laps strategy means that it will be around 6 hours before I have to ride again, plenty of time to relax, eat and sneeze. I seem to be doing an awful lot of the latter. A couple of women and a guy, who are camped opposite us on the other side of the course, seem to have an obsession with calling out the number of almost every rider who passes. This habit is vaguely annoying to begin with but soon attains the status of f*****g annoying.

At around 9:30 I take the baton from Julie and I’m off again. At least it is cooler now. It is just about light enough to do most of the first lap without lights but night begins to fall during the second lap and I finish with my lights on. I hand over to Raymond, grab a bite to eat, set my alarm for 4am and head to my tent for some sleep.

Despite the sounds of the race going on around me I manage to fall asleep. However, my sleep is fitful and I wake up with severe cramp in my legs and an urgent need to pass water. After answering the call of nature beside the course, I sleep a little more before rising at around three thirty. It is still dark and I can see a myriad of light trails snaking along the ridge above us and down towards the campsite.

At around 4:30 I am back at the start compound to take over from Julie. Dawn is rapidly approaching and I only need my lights for the Evans Spooky Wood. Despite the fact that my body still craves sleep, it is actually a great time to be riding; cool but not cold and the birth of a new day full of the promise of unlimited possibilities…..of pain…and suffering. I notice, particularly on the long climb, that there are some very tired people on the course and not all of them are sporting the yellow tag that denotes a solo rider. At one point on the course there is someone handing out freebies. I grab on thinking it is an energy bar only to discover it is an open can of Red Bull which I spill all over the poor woman as I make a grab for it. Once I get going I actually feel a lot better than I expected to. I finish my two laps at about six, grab some breakfast and retreat to my tent to try to catch up on my sleep. This objective is soon rendered impossible thanks to the moronic dawn chorus from the other side of the tracks; ‘C’mon number ten million and fifty eight…..Lookin’ good!!!’. ‘Arrrrrggghhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’


I get up and have a second breakfast and we fantasise about various methods of silencing the irritants over the way who are still greeting every ride with the refrain of ‘Come on number whatever’. Paul says he is going to write ‘My face’ on his number board. It takes a while to sink, in due to fatigue, but eventually Julie and I get the joke simultaneously and burst out laughing. Raymond asks me if I want to do the last lap (we have now reverted to a single lap strategy) so that I can shake hands with the fat man. My last lap comes round a little sooner than expected. Due to a bit of miscalculation (or cunning) everyone else has done a lap but I am left with over an hour to fill with my last lap. The rest of the team tell me that it doesn’t matter if I lurk. I start my lap at my usual pace, it actually feels as if it would be harder to go slower. I get to within spitting distance of the finish line and realise that I am going to have to lurk for over half an hour. I decide that I will be bored to tears and it also feels a little immoral. I am also a bit disappointed with my general lap times and feel that squeezing in an extra lap and hopefully pushing Skidmarks a few more places up the rankings is the least I can do to try and redeem myself. I make towards the finish and commit to another lap. I begin to get that ‘one more kilometre and we’re in the showers, feeling and I find I am actually enjoying myself. I get to the finish and I am greeted by the remaining team members and pit babes. They hang garlands around my neck and scatter me with rose petals….

I then go and shake the fat man’s hand; now it really is all over!

As far as first times go, the experience was, on the whole, a good one. My partners made me feel at ease and guided me and the whole business wasn’t as squelchy and messy as I’ve heard it can be.

I’ve now signed up for Sleepless in the Saddle. No longer a 24 hour virgin, I am now in danger of becoming a 24 hour tart.

Marky Marco