Two months on and I still haven't recovered from my neck injury so I can't comfortably ride my bike at all, but once a week I have been taking a bunch of painkillers and attempting to compete in the North West Cyclocross races. I come in at the back of the field after battling around a course for an hour with veteran 70 year olds. This week the race was at the most local course to me, Otterspool Park.
It looks a really pleasant area but Otterspool is a fairly notorious stretch of land on the banks of the River Mersey, that can be frequented by cruising guys, sexual deviants, predators and general weirdo lurkers:- That guy you think is innocently flying a kite.....the dude over there, walking the small Scotty dog.....they'll soon, 'bump into' that old man who looks like he is quietly contemplating life, sitting on the bench. The scene that is going on in this area doesn't normally involve the bike racing scene. In the week before, a friend of mine was doing some training laps in the park and he said at one point while riding a single track section in the bushes and trees, there was a guy openly pissing while two dudes watched him.
As usual, I end up rushing trying to get my act together and make it to the race on time, so I put on the only clean shorts I could find. I sign on, have a 5 minute ride on part of the course, take a quick pee and dash to the start line just as everyone is lining up. In my hast I didn't fully, 'adjust myself' in the pretty low Assos bibshorts I was wearing. The race starts, first lap in and I know I'm not sitting comfortably. I carry on riding for as long as possible until I can find a suitable time and place to take one hand off the bars and make the necessary amendments to my wardrobe malfunction. As I enter a section of singletrack I reach down to my groin and delve into the shorts only to have my front wheel slip out on some protruding roots, as I was on my way to crashing, still with one hand, 'occupied' I managed to get a foot out and scramble to a stop. Shit, I rode off wondering what type of person could have come, quite literally, to my rescue. I'm sure I'd not be the first guy to be found in the trees there, on the floor with a hand down his shorts, out of breath and in pain.
