Hi there folks,
I’m Emily – a bike rider, zine writer, and candy cranks first timer. I thought, what better way to kick of my posts than with an account of last weekend’s 24 hour Jet Black mountain bike race, happy reading
‘The endurance mountain bike race’ – it’s like a music festival for the 30+;
Punters there for the 5th time – they just can’t get enough,
Dialed on Gu or pills, it’s all the same stuff,
24 hours of sweat, heat and chaos, the subject of lust.
Endless bottles of water, and forward planning a must,
Though you cannot prepare for the heat, rain and dust.
It may sound like hard work, but it’s more a labour of love.
The gates are open to the trendy, the bogans – it doesn’t matter,
Bonds made in the toilet queue, friendships formed in the mud splatter.
A race, a festival, whether it’s the former or latter,
Each punter will peak, and eventually shatter.
One thing’s for sure, you won’t get any fatter,
Think of all those kilos you’ll shed, as your muscles continually chatter,
Buzzing like flies stuck in thick pancake batter.
Sure the two may differ, but the ingredients are the same:
Plenty of supplements, tight clothes, and shit loads of rain.
Not to mention the chance to get a little insane.
But beware; there’s an intensity you have to maintain,
And a point – 20 hours in – when you start to feel pain.
A mosh pit or single track – you chose the terrain,
But the commonalities of mate-ship and fun times remain.
Take the Jet Black 24 hour race – it was just like the big day out,
With so many people and corporate tents about.
There were all sorts; the laid back, the devout.
One thing’s for sure, there was no sign of drought.
It pissed down with rain, which fucked with the route.
A ‘safer’ course meant us punters had to go without
All that awesome single track (excuse the long pout)
But it’s hardly a mountain bike race with so much road about.
But the good memories trumped the bad times, for sure.
Jay doing a rainy lap wearing a snorkel had me rolling on the floor.
But unfortunately our hopes at placing were slightly premature,
A podium finish was something we just couldn’t procure.
But who needs a medal when you’ve got good company galore?
‘Beers between laps?’ That wasn’t in the brochure,
And meant we didn’t establish the greatest rapport
With the clean cut army dudes in the tent next door.
But enough of the setting, let’s talk about the race,
I must admit, as a team, we set a good pace,
And despite our complaints, we learnt to embrace
That bitch of an uphill that bought tears to the face.
But it was nothing sweet single track couldn’t erase,
Bikes sliding like snakes, all over the place.
And as you came through the pillars of the red bull tent -
Heart like jelly, legs like cement -
You soon realised there was no time to lament,
Rest doesn’t feature in a 24-hour event!
And don’t expect to leave an ounce of energy unspent
Or don’t bother returning back to the tent.
All this torture, of course, with the rider’s consent,
And a jersey packed full of supplements.
At the end of the race, we were sweaty and tired,
It certainly felt like a music festival had just transpired.
We were feeling rough then, though we started off wired,
Just think of all that lactic acid we acquired.
28 laps; our quota met, our energy expired.
So we packed up the ute, with the aim to retire
Back home, to service our bikes and pump our tyres.
‘When’s the next race?’ I’ll have to inquire
And set my goals just that little bit higher
A lap under 30? That’s something to which I could aspire.
Yes indeed the race felt like a 24-hour bender
My muscles in shreds, like they’d been through a blender.
I was just glad to have been a contender,
And to have clocked up some cred for my gender,
It’s about time chicks were put on the mtb agenda.
Just like ‘Pyramid Rock’, ‘Field Day’ or ‘Splendour’,
The Jet Black 24 hour race was an event to remember.