Day 1: Black Mountains 3 Day

In a value-added extra look at our weekend doing the Black Mountains 3 Day, each of the Cyclist No.1 editors will be taking a day each and giving their own account of the day's proceedings for the blog. Fi's up first with her report on day one. Check out Day 2 and Day 3.

The first day of the Black Mountains 3 Day was hot, hot, hot. We arrived at Gilestone Farm in Talybont a bundle of nerves and excitement. It was particularly tense for me, because I've been very ill this year and it would be the first time since I 'got better' that I would be giving it beans on a ride. It's been super slow for me or nothing since February. We parked up, unloaded our stuff into one of the blue tents pitched in rows on the pancake flat field and then registered. I haven't been mountain bike racing for a long time, but seemed to know everyone. It was lovely.

After a compulsory cup of tea we decided to get on down to the time trial for the first of the weekend's three rides. The BM3D is not a race, because you can't race bridleways in Wales, but the timetrial start meant noone was going to be relaxing! It was an 11km ride to the start and there was a lot of banter in the Cyclist No.1 team. I knew adrenaline was flowing! As we neared the start, my stomach started to rumble and I panicked. I thought 'I can't go flat out for 13km on a totally empty stomach!' Luckily, Scott had some torq gels and gave me one. Phew!

The boys decided they needed even more faff time at the start, but I just wanted to get on and ride. Paul Errington was there with instructions and I could see the bridleway carving up and up and up out of sight into the hills above us. This was going to hurt. Familiar with the Sportident timing system from adventure racing, I just 'dibbed' and set off up the climb.

I knew for me the trick would be pacing. I'm no sprinter but I can descend. As long as I kept cool going up the climb, I could make the most of the descent to pull back time I'd lost. The climb seemed to go on forever and I was certainly in the red at times. I had a metalic taste in my mouth and was breathing hard. I caught a few blokes riding their second lap and looking decidedly fatigued and that kept me spurred on. At the top, there was a sharp turn up another very steep grassy firetrack. This hurt but I winched my way up. I knew if I pedalled I'd be moving faster than if I had to dab so I concentrated on keeping traction and picking the best line.

Eventually the descent came. It was rough and ready singletrack carved through the trees. Right up my street. I didn't let it all out, but rode as smoothly as I could, making sure I chose conservative gears. Better to change up than change down with the chain under tension! There were a few photographers strewn on the trail at the fun little techy sections and I was really enjoying myself by the time I spun through the start in the big ring for my second lap.

Deep breath. Calm. Dig deep. The climb hurt. My legs were tired. I haven't gone flat out for 6 months. The last race I did was an eight day non stop expedition adventure race in Patagonia. No sprinting required! I have no speed. But I climbed smoothly, did not get caught and my lines on the descent were better the second time round. I knew the corners and took them closer and faster.

Coming into the final fire road I really thought I'd managed to get away from the boys. I was delighted that Scott hadn't managed to catch me. He is very fast and a climber. This was definitely his kind of trail. In the last few hundred metres, though, I heard a clatter behind me and Scott sprung past me on his gorgeous orange Niner. He pulled a gap but I managed to up my game and with a big grin on my face I dug deep and he didn't gap me any more and we screeched into the finish pretty close.

Later, I learned that I had been fastest woman round the course, which came as a bit of a surprise. It felt good though, I'll be honest. I knew I wouldn't sleep after all that adrenaline and I read my book deep into the night. Getting up to pee at 2am, I stood for ages watching the stars. The sky was totally clear and with no light pollution in the heart of the Brecon Beacons, there were millions of tiny pin pricks of light. It was a peaceful moment and one I remembered several times over the course of the weekend, when sweat filled my eyes and all I could hear was the sound of my own rasping breath. But for now, there was peace.

Check out Day 2 and Day 3.