The Big 4.0. It looms above everyone in their 30’s like the sword of Damocles. Some will see their own mortality, see the thinning hair and grey flecked beard while reliving past glories and the missed opportunities. Fuck that. That’s the slippery slope thinking that plummets you towards wearing socks and sandals and ‘Old Guys Rule’ T-shirts. I may be 39 and staring into the middle age abyss but my cup is half full; 40 is surely just the end of the beginning. Time to up the ante and prove to the world (and myself) that I’m only as old as I feel. A quick check of the bank balance confirms that I can’t afford a supercar or a Harley Davidson. What’s needed is a challenge, something to motivate me inbetween family life and work; ‘Why not compete again, enter a bike race?’ says the voice inside my head. So, before I know it I’m looking at the completed entry form to Scotland’s answer to the Megavalanche, the MacAvalanche. Mid-life-crisis it is then.