WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY SANNY & MARK
Mark sat on the side of the trail, his shoulders hunched, his head dropped. His bike lay discarded on the rocky trail where he had been unceremoniously ejected from it mere seconds earlier. He was, for want of a less polite and more industrial phrase, utterly spent. We were deep into hour nine of what on the map is a mere sixteen-mile loop. Things were not quite going according to plan.
“You know, Mark, even I’m beginning to lose my sense of humour. Sanny’s a ****.” Nick interjected, a big grin on his face as he said it. Truth to tell, worse has been said of me and to me, but for this to be uttered by Nick Craig, the indisputably nicest man in mountain biking, came as a bit of a surprise. Between you and me, I was secretly a little bit proud. That I had reduced him to using language that would make Roger Mellie blush felt oddly satisfying. After all, our previous adventures together had usually found me being on the receiving end of things going wrong, so this made for a pleasant, if unexpected, change. I was feeling good – the sun was out, my legs felt great and I was definitely enjoying myself. For Mark, however, he was experiencing the worst of mountain biking. But what had brought us to this? Just how exactly had I broken Mark and reduced Nick to using common vulgarities? Read on, dear reader, and I shall tell you.