Post-Race Blues, Tent Temptations, and Gravel Grudges: Adventures in Between

I suppose this is what they call the post-Rat Race blues. Last weekend’s big adventure feels like a glorious blur of mud, sweat and mild panic – and since then, well, not a huge amount has happened. But not nothing, and that’s something.

First up, I’ve signed up for the Dirty Reiver in April. I say “I’ve signed up,” but in reality, the Phantom pressed a few buttons and – poof – my name is on the start list - he signed me up! It’s a mere 130 kilometres of gravel cycling, mostly off-road, designed to be both punishing and life-affirming, a bit like British weather. Hopefully, the Phantom, Mr Orange, Boof, and K will all be rolling tyres alongside me, assuming nobody is suffering from selective memory loss when April comes around. Word on the grapevine says entries are sold out, so at least we can collectively suffer with some exclusivity.

Speaking of suffering, I spent an indecent amount of time obsessing about tents recently. At the Rat Race I spotted one with the words “the classic 2 seconds” emblazoned on the side. Naturally, I had to investigate. Turns out it’s a Quechua pop-up tent, which you can pitch in all of two seconds – less time than it takes me to clip into my pedals. A quick Google inevitably led to Decathlon, who happened to be flogging the three-person version for under £70. Thanks to PayPal temptation, I am now the proud owner of one (just awaiting delivery). It weighs just 3.6kg, promises to be dismantled just as quickly as it’s pitched, and is rated for “occasional outdoor use.” Which I generously interpret as “perfect for Rat Races, weekends with SJ, and pretending I am an organised outdoorsman.” Can’t wait to test it out.

Elsewhere, ParkRun continues to be a strangely addictive Saturday ritual. I’ve now completed my 95th, lining up at Arrow Valley for the 50th time. Out of 472 runners, I finished 107th in 24 minutes 23 seconds – my fastest time of the year, clipping 11 seconds off my previous best. That’s also two consecutive weeks of running my quickest of 2025, which either means I’m peaking nicely or about to injure myself in a blaze of misplaced confidence.

Cycling-wise, I’ve returned to the land of Zwift. My “bike room” had been untouched for a while, so reassembling it felt like piecing together a forgotten archaeological dig. The fans had migrated (cheers, Spoon), the smart plug sulked, and the heart rate monitor played dead. Eventually, I cobbled things together in time for an FTP ramp test – which, unsurprisingly, after a morning ParkRun PB, went about as well as testing one’s brainpower while hungover. Let’s just say the results were “character building.” My second pedal wasn’t officially a test, but still managed to prove my legs aren’t quite speaking to me yet.

Outside of self-inflicted endurance antics, I’ve walked Ernie a few times. He remains a mischievous little monkey, happy to remind me that a tug of war with the lead requires as much energy as a 5k run.

Looking ahead, next week promises something to get excited about: camping with SJ, testing the gifted walking poles, and that 2-second tent begging to prove its worth. Because in the end, whether it’s 130k of gravel or wrestling with a pop-up, it’s all an adventure in its own way.