It all started to happen at the same time.
The cross season finishes, I quit my job, applications for 3 Peaks open, I’m making a cross bike and we have become a racing team.
I’m on the edge of the diving board. Toes dangling over nothing. My heart beats in my ears and my stomach and my eyes and my lungs. For six months, all I could think about is this very moment. Only I had no idea what it was going to be like.
It was raining but it stopped, Beth, Clare and I are lined up next to each other. JC and El take a photo of us. There’s maybe 400 riders in front. Forget all of the rules: socks are wooly and bikes are covered in pipe lagging.
1m66. That’s how tall I managed to grow. Nothing more, despite all the stretching and all the soup. In the eyes of mainstream bicycle manufacturers, 1m66 is exactly the same as 1m55 or 1m49 and a very small slice of the market. So they make one bike to fit us all and it doesn’t quite fit any of us.
I’m not ok with that. That’s why I started making bikes: to make one that would perfectly fit me. It has tons of mud clearance, no toe overlap, it’s got plenty of room in the front triangle to shoulder, my weight is distributed sensibly so it rides incredibly well. In my humble opinion, it also looks really boss.
The 54th Annual 3 Peaks Cyclocross Race starts with a small road section.