An hour after the race finish and I have finally stopped shivering and now have feeling back in my toes - it's mid May but could easily have been mid winter -  its a long time since I felt this cold.

I had dithered all week about entering this race, one minute it was 'ride it, do it for fun' the next minute its 'why bother, what's to prove' - the weather report did not help, heavy persistent rain was forecast throughout the evening.

Still, I had left work early and was technically meant to be in Prague so at around 6.30ish I pulled the car into a dreich looking Castle Douglas car park.  Despite the rain there was a distinct buzz and all sorts of bicycle exotica being lifted off cars.  Any nerves  soon disappear as soon as I parked with Steve coming up to me with a warm welcome as did a land rover full of Warner's and followers (Liam's girlfriend most be devoted to him), Kenny soon pulled up and the cameradie of the club kicked in -  this was our home turf after all! Sign on in a small camper van, pay £5, hang around shivering and trying not to ogle too much the flash bikes of other riders and we are all told to move the start proper two miles out of Castle Douglas. At the start, sheltered under the bridge of the A75, groups were made up.  For the uninitiated, an APR (Australian Pursuit Race) is a handicap - set of in groups based on age and ability -  space the times correctly and in theory we all finish at exactly the same time, thus affording the opportunity for everyone to win -  that's the theory anyway, which dear reader, rarely works in practice.

Three groups were made up, youngsters and less able first, four minutes later group two, middle ability and a few minutes later, the hardcore lads -  aka Classic Walls and Glasgow Wheelers -  Dougie advised I go in group 1, I thought this unsporting so took group two. Dougies advice ran true however - expect to be caught by group 3 so just wait for them anyway, but this way I dont get dropped soon after the start.

Kenny's off in group 1 and there is enough time to wish him bon chance before we gather and then we are off -  two Stewartry wheelers in this group -  Liam and me. We quickly start rolling towards New Galloway and within a few miles there are shouts from behind that we are going too fast! -  pace lines are formed and I may be rusty but I remember how these work -  single line get to the front pull for 10 seconds and then the next guy comes up on your right and you rotate back -  pretty soon its obvious that although our group has about 15 riders only 5 or so of us are working -  within another few miles we again get told to slow down -  to be honest its an easy pace and my main worry is that we will be caught very soon by the scratch group. An elder statesman in the group says just go, their dropped now. And so we clip on, about 10 of us with about 4 of actually doing the turns, I do maybe too many along with a classic walls cyclists who I vaguely recognise from Grierson and Graham (skinny, specky guy anyone?) - Now I'm enjoying myself, the memories are flooding back and it feels good to be in a multicoloured bunch again, long pulls at the front and gaps form behind me. But mindful of Douggies advice I hold back and wait. At the turn to new Galloway, I see Steve and nod an acknowledgement - a shame Steve cant ride, he would have been good company tonight -  I couldn't see Liam in our group and assumed he had been dropped -  at least Steve was there to encourage him. -  The pace picks up through new Galloway, kids in the street shout encouragement and I feel just like them -  a kid. I turn to the cyclist next to me as I pass him and say, 'this is great fun eh?' -  he pants, looks at me briefly and turns the other way to spit. The group is still too slow for my liking but up ahead I see the front group -  Kenny's at the side of the road, I call out ok? and he nods, must have a puncture I think, only to later discover he crashed -  luckily he had a borrowed bike from the shop so no damage done there! . I lead the group as we catch the leaders at mossdale -  here its very exposed and the wind blows us around. A few shouts and squeeling breaks but no crashing sound so ok. Despite the rain and the constant spray in my face I'm thirsty so I pull over and take a swig, looking behind I see the scratch group coming -  we held them off for 20  miles -  shit! -  could have soloed it and held them off. I now face the dilemma many racing cyclists face. Do I work like hell and try and hold them off or sit and wait to fight out a bunch sprint? -  My first road race since the early 90's and the with the spray soaking my face I decide on caution. Ok, get ready and stay near the front. Within a few minutes they have caught us, a shout and a Classic Walls rider  shoots up the road. I lost too many races as a junior by hesitating, but 20 years on I'm more canny - another rider chases him and I flip on to his back wheel and get a tow up the lead rider. He sees us catch him and sits up -  almost instantly another attack goes, I slip down a gear and chase him, catch him and he sits up, the bunch comes up and we repeat this little game up towards Laurieston. None of the attacks have any real drive but I jump onto each one  with moderate effort, spinning the gears easily. All of a sudden I feel very marked man. The only Stewartry wheeler in the main bunch of what feels a mass of red and grey jerseys. Coming up toward Laurieston now -  I remember hearing that Douggie was marshal at this turn -  so to give the old guy a smile and in his honour I move to the front and take the corner about 2nd man- Simons there too and it feels very comfortable. Just after the bend there is the only real hill on the course -  OK Crooksie - show them what the back of Stewartry wheelers jersey looks like. I start the hill and other riders have the same idea and a classic walls jersey comes up one side and a Glasgow wheelers on the other side. The spray picks up and I glance at my bike computer 30 miles an hour is very fast in these conditions and made worse by the unpleasant feeling of my back wheel slipping. As I lift myself out of the saddle to climb the step gradient, I feel the water squelch out of my shoes -  no matter, we are joined by another rider and we all quickly pull at the front, as I slip behind the 3 I glance over my shoulder, we have a gap. In fact we have a very large gap - Actually that was pretty easy too, but  this is it, the winning break the gap appeared quickly and there are only 3 miles or so to go - I pull at the front and there is shout - apparently I'm either pulling too hard or for too long! - As I drop back I apologise to the Glasgow wheeler  -'sorry, its my first time'. He almost tumbles into hedge!

At the start we were told where the finish was and I thought I knew. We were also told that at 400 yards to go there would be a sign. I'm unprepared when I zip past the sign in 3rd place and realise we are now sprinting for the line. Spinning away I am boxed in on the inside - slow down and try and come around -  in the side view I see the classic walls rider a yard or so ahead of me thrashing away - My legs are so cold I can't bring myself up to full speed and then the Glasgow wheeler boxes me in on the right -  bugger, either 2nd or 3rd -  messed that up . As we slow down we all shake hands and congratulate each other - I should be disappointed at the sprint, but I'm not -  the best fun on wet Wednesday night that I've had in along time - The club did good. I roll back to car park with the Glasgow wheelers and chat amicably. They loved the circuit, love the area, want to know where the Stewartry is. As we amble back to town I feel colder by the minute. By the time I get back to the car I shaking with cold. Even when  changed into dry kit, with a towel around me and the heater switched full I cant stop shaking. Douggie comes up and I explain that I could have done better but he looks pretty pleased. Kenny's ok, a mid muddy from his crash and I'm pleased to see Liam roll in -  like Gino Bartali he always finishes.*

*Gino Bartali - classy cyclist and past winner of the Tour in the late forties -  Glamour personified at the time -  if it was socially acceptable in those days to pierce your lip he would have.