It’s always quite hard to write a nice up beat positive report when you didn’t finish what you set out to do but when I actually reflect on the whole experience it did actually have some areas I can be happy about. So hopefully without boring the pants off you, here goes with my own particular experience of (albeit only part of!) this year’s Giant Mountain Mayhem at Eastnor Deer Park.

My burning guilt at leaving poor Haggis behind and disloyalty in hiring a substitute for a week was too much to bear. The only way to mitigate against any persuasions towards purchasing a granny bike, besides money and garage space, was to get back out on Haggis in my most concerted attempt at getting back to where I once was on the cycling front. Yes, it seems that two days of decent mileage can cure a girl of any ridiculous notions of needing anything less than 24 gears. Despite a rather flatter terrain than I'm used to, the ruggedised nature of my lovely little hybrid thoroughly enjoyed some designated paths through beautiful countryside, speedy sweeping bends and gently glowing exertion and the odd grin inducing hard push to speeds I'm quite sure a basket and pannier just wouldn't allow. The weather was perfect when paired with some rather good suntan lotion, and the only thing missing was the padding from my shorts - how quickly you forget just how much better life is with a chamois! I'm not sure my next trip to the shops for the Sunday Times will measure up to this latest excursion - a 10 mile ride in glorious sunshine just to pick up the paper, Krispy Kreme (apple & cinnamon are yum!) and a smoothie, and spirited return journey to laze outside the tent for a few hours before returning to normality. It's not quite the Life of Riley, but it certainly beats the weekday windowless office hands down. Horray for the sunshine!

I felt a little guilty leaving Haggis behind for a week at a Euro CenterParcs, but the prospect of precariously balancing 5 bikes on my already overloaded hatchback, and the journey ahead just didn't register as being the best idea in the world, especially as I'd have been obliged to pull up alongside the caravanning public in the 'over 1.85m' section of the channel tunnel train. Any guilt I may have felt was swiftly assuaged when my after parking up the rather modest hire bike one lunchtime it was then buried up to the gears by the detritus left behind by a rather furtive bunny as he burrowed rapidly beneath our cottage in the middle of the woods. Had it been poor Haggis whose cogs were impreganted with soil I may have been a little less than amused. I was however mightly impressed at how comfortable granny bikes really are. Put your ego to one side for a moment, and as a commuting bike for jaunts to the shops and doing the school run and you couldn't go far wrong with the ergonomically perfect continental style bike. The minimal gearing was perfectly adequate for the terrain, and the brakes equally so, and the kids versions were more than perky enough to cope with the off-road track deeper in to the woods. never thought the day would come when I embraced a pannier rack and straps, but being at the very furthest reaches of the site it certainly aided my quest to do all the shopping in one go. What next I hear you ask, a shopping basket on the front? Think posture perfect 1950's and flowing skirts...

OK, cheesy title, but I didn't quite know how to advocate the use of a cycle helmet in a whitty one-liner.
Once again I'm off! Yes, in true Helen style, I've wrecked my precious pink Giro helmet, and am adorning a stylish new skin of purple with red streaks, accentuated by 'flesh' coloured plasters - though who has flesh that colour I'll never know.
In an attempt to make the most of the fabulously light evenings, and the warmth they bring the bikes made a mid-week escape from the garage. A less than auspicious start came in the form of a flat tyre. Hoping it was just a slow puncture I pumped it back to it's preferred PSI and scooted off. I made it up the to the top of the ridge with relative ease, surveyed the terrain, and went for it. The heathers either side of a treacherous path were scraping at my ankles, so I decided to take the seemingly more sensible wide and well trodden path. How wrong I was. Dusty, gravelly and very uneven paths, as wide as they were, were no match for my hybrid tyres. I need nobbles! Wibble I went, and then splat, bounce, splat, and suffice it to say that I need a new helmet, and ribena isn't the best choice for cleaning your wounds. Stick to plain water in your bottle!
Still, all good fun, and nothing much broken apart from the record of achievements stored in my cycle computer. Boo, hiss.
Nobbles here I come!

Excitement is steadily building in Casa del Miles for the annual MTB pilgrimage that is Mountain Mayhem. There is the checking over of bikes to do, the getting the substantial amount of ancillary “stuff” in one place and of course the constant not looking at the weather forecast…

Looking back at the photos we have of the three 24hr races that I tackled last year I was trying to choose a few that summed up for me the overriding memories and the three little words that sprung to mind are MUD, FOOD and PAIN. Well four really as above all there was also the YEEHAH factor!

An adventure at Benromach’s Ten under the Ben.

Even though I am currently sat here covered in midge bites and therefore a rather unattractive shade of well, just spotty, I simply can’t rave enough about what a fantastic event this was.

The party atmosphere was fabulous and the ten-mile course was just awesome - definitely worth putting this one on your list of things to do!

I’ve done this event solo for the last couple of years so as part of my ongoing plan to do things a bit different this year, it was an exciting change to be stepping out with Mr M in the rather hotly contested mixed pairs category.

My calendar had already warned me that April events were not going to be blessed by the lovely weather that we had last year.

Nevertheless, bikes and ancillary stuff were packed in the van the night before the Merida Spring Marathon at Builth Wells but at 6am the next day we sat in silence, coffee in hand, watching the rain pouring down and Mr M was definitely feeding me the option to wimp out!!