Author Archives: Jay Trotman

Endura Lionheart 2014

A great many of my mates are being put off doing sportives by the cost. Well, why pay £36 for a sportive when an audax is a fraction of the price, or when you can sort your own route out on a Garmin, ride both/either with mates, and spend the extra money on lighter bits for the bike? It’s a good question… Well I mainly do this one because it’s local. Which, since this weekend I had the kids, was more important than usual. The Endura Lionheart starts from Longleat, which is only an hour’s drive away, and also means a not too anti-social start – 5:30am alarm, 6:15am on the road. This year was my 4th such, and as I drove there over the hills, it wasn’t snowing, so I was already off to a better start than last year!

I must have been ahead of previous years though, as the queue to get in was minimal, but the views down the long drive were as stunning as ever. I ended up in a different car park to usual which initially annoyed me as it was a little bit further away from the start village. But it was on tarmac…which I learned to appreciate as I later picked my way through the mud to the toilets! There was a long queue for them, which was about to irritate me, when I realised that 5 or so of them were women only, and not being queued for. Result! There were a couple of male riders, clearly very confident in their own sexuality, who were happy to use them too ;).

One of the best things about this event is the pre-registration pack that you get a few weeks before the event, so there’s on need to register on the day. Just stick a tag on your helmet, number on your bike, map in your pocket, job done! So, with that all done in advance, I really didn’t faff much on site. The forecast had said variable and rather cold, so I was pretty much wearing everything I could be. The only concession I’d made to possible warmth later on was to stash my mitts in a pocket. Incidentally, whilst mentally writing bits of this while riding along, it took me half an hour to dig the word concession out of my cerebral cortex – and it had to be left to bubble up of its own accord! So you’d better believe I’m going to use it after all that hard work *grin*.

I had no idea what time it was, having not yet prodded the Garmin into life, but I headed for the start, and was far nearer the front than usual. Standing outside Longleat House, the Bath stone glowing in the rising sun, relatively sheltered, I did wonder about my layer choices…but it wasn’t warm, there was definitely wind, and I was going with the weather forecast. It’s usually worse than I expect, not better, after all! I stood there on my own, wondering if the Marquess was sneaking a peak at us all, listening to the bravado from the riders around me, watching the flag blow in the wind, as the organisers got everything ready. Big foreign cycling events get helicopters, we got a radio-controlled quadcopter, which I’m presuming was filming us, but maybe someone was just playing with their toy ;).

As it turns out, I was in the second of the groups to be let away. Our time came, the normal briefing happened; the standup comedian in charge told us it wasn’t a race, and apologised for the lack of snow this year…see, told you he was funny. Sometime a bit after 8:00am I was on my way under the arch, and off around the estate.

There’s a long loop around the estate, past the very long queue of waiting riders, to be done before you even get out into the wider world. I may have had what eldest would call “smug face” briefly as we went past them, but I figure I’ve done my time in that queue in years passed, I deserved to be first out for a change. Besides, the way I look at it, that also meant there were about 1200 other riders behind me, and it would take a while for them all to get their revenge by going past me, so I wasn’t going to be lonely for a while! I think 1387 had signed up, and by the looks of it, the turnout was pretty good, though I reckon they were going to be hard pushed to get them all away by their 9:00am deadline.

It’s actually a surprisingly lumpy loop, especially when you’ve not warmed up, around various back of the estate bits, over many cattle grids, and then past the lake on the right, where the seals should be swimming, and the sleeping lions on the left, before going out up the long long drive down which we all drove earlier. It’s a long drag, that always leaves some walking already, but it’s much easier without a blizzard! In fact you’ve done about 4 miles before you leave the estate…but at least this year I did. Leave the estate that is, not walk! ;).

The route changes every year. I don’t really remember the previous routes, but some of it rang bells, in that I recognised I was going out over roads I came in on once previously. Anti-clockwise it was then. This was good, because I hadn’t enjoyed that bit back then, so it felt like a positive change to know that wasn’t going to happen again. It was however really nippy out there, and there was really quite a lot of climbing early on, or at least it felt like it to me. I wasn’t sure how today was going to go, and really hadn’t made my mind up what I was doing – 100km or 100miles – and I was just happy to go with it. I knew the first food stop was 25 miles in, and that’s all I was aiming for initially, breaking it down into mentally manageable chunks as ever. I remember lots of country lanes, sunshine, and riders going past as predicted. Mr Tour of Wessex, Nick, and his posse went past me around 9 miles in, not that they noticed, being too busy telling each other what to do, and that there was a junction ahead. I think the high-vis clad marshals might have given that away.. Anyway they disappeared into the distance…and I pottered on.

A lot of the main junctions were marshalled, and there were also motorcycle outriders helping the deflated and otherwise stricken – I saw a couple of accidents. There were also some interesting junctions where marshals would have been a good idea – especially since you end up in the mindset where you think that if there’s not marshalling then it’s not necessary, and possibly don’t pay the due care and attention to the route ahead as you might do otherwise? Still, all the route signage was good, with the addition of my favourites – little orange repeater ribbons to stop you feeling lost – ‘rah! :).

The weather became increasingly changeable. I was in the process of dreading the King Alfred’s Tower climb that was due later that day, when we went up what seemed to be to be a bigger narrower and busier climb, that I wasn’t even expecting! Still, having made it up that, which was good for the PMA, as we were heading for the food stop at Evercreech, the skies darkened, the wind came up, and then the hail came down! Yes, hail! With rain mixed in with it, of course…

The foodstop might have been perfectly timed for hiding from the downpour for a bit, but the village hall itself was heaving, so sheltering was easier said than done. It was a nightmare finding anywhere to put the bike, and one of the nice ladies handing out Nuun tablets held onto mine so that I could fill my bottle up from the water tanks lined up outside. That was a big point in the event’s favour by the way – they’re my hydration of choice and having been advertised as present beforehand, it meant I didn’t have to carry any around with me :). I finally managed to find a space to park up the bike next to a wall as someone left, and went inside to fight my way through corralled damp and ravenous riders stuffing their faces with handfuls of food as fast as the friendly ladies could unwrap it. Not an attractive spectacle. They were clearly trying to keep riders and cleats off the shiny wooden floor, but there was no way to the Ladies other than across it, though as there weren’t many of us, maybe we weren’t considered as much of an issue. Toilet break duly taken, I ate a bit of flapjack, and grabbed half a banana for later – it was time to see if the hail had stopped.

Luckily it had, but I had to hang around a bit for riders to come and go so as to be able to dig my bike out from under what was now several layers of carbon! Not that I was in any rush, knowing that that Tower thing was ahead. In fact I took it nice and easy on the way there – no rush! I also wanted the traffic to spread out – the worst thing about climbs like that is other riders getting in the way. And on what was now to be a wet, muddy, slippery, steep climb…? *gulp*. I needn’t have worried. They’d put a sign up asking those walking to stick to the left, and those riding to the right, which helped. It also wasn’t too busy when I got there, and I have done it before – something I kept telling myself as I literally dribbled my way up. There were three of those oops the front wheel is lifting moments, but I kept it down low and kept going and…yep, did it again. Rah! It also didn’t take me as long to recover as sometimes either which cheered me up quite a bit. As did flying along the fairly flat miles that came afterwards, when I finally felt a bit of mojo :D. Shame about the muddy Stourhead estate that came next though. The road surfaces weren’t great, the weather had made bits of it really wobbly under wheel, and the much-vaunted views were absent because I was too busy paying attention to the road ahead so as to stay on the bike!

I was feeling fairly good, but getting colder as the day went on, for no particular reason. As I’ve said before, I seem to get cold more than usual at the moment. Various squalls passed over. Then the skies around got even darker and darker and then they weren’t so dark and I realised that’s because I was under them and my eyes had adapted and that meant things were likely to be about to go pear-shaped again. Yep, about 3 miles out from the next food stop, the hail came down again. Down, and down hard! 3 miles or so of flat fast, then main, road with it being blown in your face. A lot like going into hyperspace (generational specific simile there). (Or at least I think it’s a simile, not a metaphor, but I’m getting tired now…*yawn*…this writing stuff is hard work!). I pulled my winter collar up and over my face, it hurt that much – talk about extreme exfoliation. I also developed a mini peloton of people hiding behind me as I kicked arse through it….ouch!

And then, it passed, and the sun came out, and we were at the route split, which was also the food stop, pulling into the yard of Yapps Wine Merchants, all looking slightly shell shocked! A thankyou might have been nice…unless I’d dropped them by then of course ;). The food stop was just as busy before, but it was mostly all outside this time. Somewhat randomly there was food on tables, rescue greyhounds, portable toilets, classic cars, coffee to buy, and wine to sample. I wish…but I’d never have gotten going again if I’d indulged in that! I took some photos and milled around a bit, where I bumped into Rob who I’ve not seen in ages, and enjoyed a brief chat. Which was about the only conversation I got all day…*sniff*.

So, 100 miles, or 100 km? I had been told and told and told not to overdo it by my friends and family beforehand. I was feeling ok, but probably nowt more than that. Better than the Mad March Hare, considerably, but that may not be saying much. However I was cold, and now wet, and the weather was unlikely to get better, and you know what? Given the choice between 50 more miles, and maybe 20 more, meaning a couple more hours at home with the kids? It was a no-brainer. Time to go kilo-metric. Yes, I do sometimes do what I’m told. Oh, and I like my kids :).

The short route headed North and fairly directly for Lord Bath‘s home. Which turned out to be straight into the wind, and straight up a bl**dy great hill. In fact possibly the biggest climb of the day, while I was at my coldest. Well gee, that was fun. As was the long section across the ridge afterwards where the wind blew from the side, straight across your face, turning your skin to ice and stealing the air from your lungs as you tried to inhale, all the time trying to stay upright and not crab sideways. It might have been easier to do the longer route and dodge it more, especially as it seems that the majority of the climbing was in the first section of the ride! It was a very sapping final slog. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run to. Head down and just keep going.

Those last few miles were really hard work, and there wasn’t much me left. As usual, and on reflection, I don’t think I’d eaten enough. I’d been guessing at around 70 miles, a sort of deliberate mental pacing trick, and it turned out to be more like 60, which came as a bit of a shock and also quite a relief, and suddenly we were retracing our steps briefly to turn right back on to the estate. There was enough just left in my legs to enjoy sprinting down the straight Longleat Drive, flying towards the main house and then under the occasionally deflating finish arch though! :D. I’ve always got a sprint finish in me – bit like having a dessert stomach *grin*.

There – Lionheart 2014 done. Medal collected, I confessed my shorter distance to an understanding timing man, who pressed buttons, and stopped my official record lying. It turns out I did ok, for an old bird, looking at the results which are now online. I got a Silver, and I was 20 out of 100 or so women, but that’s not as well as I know I can do it. I do know I made the right decision, but I am still a bit cross about it, in a totally illogical fashion. I think if I’d had company to ride with, I could probably have made it around the 100 miles, but this way I lived to ride another day, right? Right?!

Cycling time: 4:37
Official time: 4:59:53 – Silver
Distance: 59.9 miles
Avg 12.9 mph
ODO: 4047.6 miles

One of the main downsides to riding events on your own is the lack of après ride. I stuck my head into the food tent to collect my goodie bag, and ignored the free hotpot as usual, because I knew Claud the Butler was there, and what I really needed was good coffee and a friendly familiar face :). I had a lovely black americano, chatted to a nice gentleman there (the father of one of the guys serving – hi there!), and made my way back to my little car. Since home was not far away, I turned the engine and heating on, did the bare minimum, without baring much, replaced wet and muddy with dry, stashed the bike, and was on my way asap 🙂

Angels watching over me

Sometimes I am, apparently, a wise old bird. Sometimes, as I think is more than obvious, I am not. This however, actually is. I’ve been meaning to show it to you for a while, but I’m only allowed to photograph things that I ride past, deliberate photography detours are against the rules, and I haven’t quite gone past it so I couldn’t. And yes, there are rules 😉 Wednesday’s ride, with the man from Minehead, aka @gazwagon, took us right past it, so carpe diem, call me Mr DeMille, here’s a very good way to mark the passing of a once mighty tree. Funeral rites for an Ent?

Here’s a quote that isn’t from a Wol, but is from Christopher Robin to Winnie the Pooh: “Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think“. I’m having a tough week; could these should be words to live by? Actually there are lot of Winnie the Pooh quotes I like. And I am frequently a Bear of Very Little Brain, though long words do not Bother Me, I love them :). Maybe I should put each quote on a pretty picture of a sunset or the like and then post them regularly on Facebook, where reading them will solve everything for everyone…but it’s probably already been done ;).

It was a nice ride, mostly. Well, apart from the headwind all the way to the seaside! Rides in good company are always good. It’s a sort of unwritten rule. A head start, a positive handicap, a favourable weighting. Even bad rides are better with friends. And this one wasn’t even bad, it was just quite hard work, for me anyway. I don’t have all those hills on my doorstep to practice on, he does, and it shows! Another MAMIL on form! *sigh*. Mind you, if that was my only option, I’d probably never leave the house, so I’ll keep my Levels thank you very much ;).

You may be interested to hear that The New Castle in Kewstoke is open again – under new ownership. Open all day, new tables and chairs, good coffee, reasonable prices, and a gluten free bar that isn’t a brownie(!), which all adds up to it being a very pleasant place to break up the loop and give me a break without having to resort to the debatable joys of Weston super Mare. We sat inside, to hide from the really rather chilly wind, really rather unsuccessfully since for all that it was nice in there, it wasn’t warm, and I seem to be getting cold rather easily at the moment. Coffee, cake, and time to be on our way again. At least that wind was due to be, and then actually was, behind us on the way home :).

Once again, I was left for dust all the way ’round, but you know, I’m kind of getting used to it, and there’s no point letting it get me down, as that would be counter productive. I don’t appear to be improving, or I don’t feel like I am, which is depressing. Though a couple of my Strava segments, like the climb up that Bleadon Hill, show that against myself, I’m not at my worst, and may actually be showing slight signs of improvement on earlier this year. It’s probably all a question of perception. Gaz thinks he’s slow, and he’s wrong too! ;). I went up a few hills, and that’s the main thing. And I still enjoyed the downs :).

For a change, I wasn’t in pain much, which was good. Well, not the usual pain. With that cleared away for a little while, and riding on three different types of bike of late – winter, summer, exercise – the old pain in my left knee has reared its ugly head again. Well, if knees can have heads. They can have ears right though, grasshopper? I think I’ll strap it up on Sunday, and take the pills with me, just in case. And since I wasn’t in pain then but I am now, I’ll probably be dosed up anyway :). I’m fairly nervous about the day but, with the week I’ve had, the thought of spending all day on the bike just riding kind of appeals, so even if I’m on my own and it takes all day, that might be ok :).

Cycling time: 1:51
Distance: 28.1 miles
Avg 15.2 mph
ODO: 3987.7 miles

Flying high on something beautiful and aimless

There are lots of reasons for riding a bike. Sometimes the only reason is just because. This time it was because it would have been rude not to. Good weather, good company, nowhere else to be, nothing else to be doing. Perfect :).

It was one of those sunny Spring days where your layering strategy will never be right and zips go up and down and layers come on and off but at least there are layers to do that with, and the novelty of not being wrapped up like the Michelin man stops it from being annoying. Thanks to the nasty cold fairly annoying wind going up hill may have been rather warm, but the rest was anything from quite nice to verging on chilly and then as the sun got a little lower later on, actually cold. None of that stopped it being absolutely blooming’ gorgeous out there though – just look at it? :D.

lumpy hill ahead

It be nice around Somerset, and this wasn’t my turf, so I got to see whole chunks of it that I hadn’t seen before, which made a really nice change. Being unfamiliar, our route seemed longer and further than it actually was, but that was ok. There were more hills than any route made by me would probably have involved, and that was ok too. Because it was just so nice being out there, on it, in it. I really, really enjoyed it which, as my Dad pointed out to me the other night, is supposed to be the point! There was definitely a lot of smiling going on :). Having persuaded Chris to check it over and make sure it was in working order, I was on my summer bike for the first time this year, and I fell in love with it all over again. It’s SO beautiful. Not just to look at, which it is, eye of the beholder ‘n all that, but also to ride. Oh yes. For the first time in however long, there were entire minutes of zone. That urge to kick off and sprint a bit, I’d forgotten how much it almost begs to do that. Also to swoop downhill at mad speeds. It’s no wonder we get on so well together ;). Even plodding my way up the hills felt good – slow but smooth and steady. Me and my bike were feeling pretty good…

So I rode again. I seem to have gotten away with it – no painful consequences. Definitely another step along the road back. I do love riding my bike. It was part of a really good weekend, and I’ve been trying to carry that happy feeling with me through today – it’s definitely made Monday more bearable :).

Cycling time: 2:12
Distance: 30.1 miles
Avg 13.7 mph
ODO: 3959.6 miles

On Sunday I have the Endura Lionheart, and I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet. I think I’m riding on my own, which could be interesting. I could do 100km or 100miles, and I guess I’ll see how I’m feeling, and how the weather is, and play it by ear on the day. Be nice to do the whole thing though…*fingers crossed*.

Can’t stay on your morphine, cause it’s making me itch

On Sunday I rested. On Monday I did a wattbike session + workout. On Tuesday I did half a wattbike session because that’s all that I could manage – I kinda bonked. Yes, I know, but there’s no telling me, as many people will tell you ;).

But I’d rearranged my schedule so that I could ride on Wednesday morning. The forecast was good. And I was feeling ok. On top of that, I was to be riding on my own, with no-one to keep up with, no agenda but mine own. No pressure, in other words, whether actual, perceived, or imagined.

Which is the best way to go up hill. Or up hills. On top of that, the sun was shining and I fancied enjoying it from the top of the Mendips instead of the bottom. What better way to do that than to go up Cheddar Gorge?

I pottered my way up happily enough, without pushing, chatting to the goats/sheeps as I went. However the nice weather was rapidly disappearing now, as was the scenery, behind what could have just been low cloud, or maybe it was fog. I’m sure there are lots of ways to tell the difference. All I knew was that by the time I reached the top there was s*d all visibility, I only had three tiny lights with varying degrees of not a lot of power, and was wearing a light blue jacket – not precisely high-vis. You’d think the traffic hurtling around the bends would, considering the conditions, slow down and drive with caution. Ha, ha, ha…

It was, quite frankly, scary. I felt very invisible and very vulnerable. I headed across towards Burrington Combe debating whether to take the more main roads – wider, more space, straighter but with traffic going faster, or the little back lanes – quieter but narrower and nowhere to go if something comes either way without seeing you, which kept happening. I went for the latter option, and carefully cycled the Charterhouse way across the top, slowly, listening out for traffic, and finding usually very familiar roads oddly new and frightening! Yes, I’m a big girly wuss :).

I stopped at the top before descending Burrington Combe to put my overgloves on, since I was getting cold. In that I can’t tell whether it was cloud or fog, I probably can’t tell whether it was freezing fog or not either, but there was fog and it was freezing! Flying downhill for a while is not known for making that any better, and so just for once I did the sensible thing. Stop, take a break, drink, and put those gloves on. And take a photo of course…I’m sure this sign has featured before, but since everything looked different, maybe I can be forgiven? 😉

It was a relief to get back down t’other side of the Mendips where everything was much clearer. It was also quite a lot of fun getting down there too *grin*. Why do I always forget it’s colder over there though? It always is, by a good couple of degrees. Chilly! Still, I pushed on, warmed up, made up quite a nice little route as I went along, and even finished up by going up Winscombe Hill. Go me! Well I’m impressed, neither Strava not anyone else is or should be ;).

As I turned onto the bypass for the final cruise home, the sun came out, the clouds/fog vanished, the temperature rose, and suddenly it was beautiful out there again. Bl**dy typical! Still, to be honest, the sheer predictability of it actually made me giggle. And there are worse places to be than riding down a road in the sun, fairly fast, while laughing :D. It was a pretty good ride all in all really. I did some hills, I did some miles, and I wasn’t hurting particularly. Amazing how nice that is…gotta love it when the drugs do work 😉 And yes, I know, I should still be resting….

Cycling time: 2:10
Distance: 30.2 miles
Avg 13.9 mph
ODO: 17351 miles

I was supposed to be riding with George today, but having woken up to fog outside, and informed by all the above, we bailed. Since it hasn’t cleared all day, that was clearly a good decision. And the not clearing away is also better than it cheekily doing so just in time to be gorgeous all afternoon once riding is no longer an option of course ;).

Sadly my wattbike went away yesterday…but I have bought a lovely replacement (works out cheaper than a year at the gym), so I resorted to working out at home instead. Better than nothing by far :).

When the whole world is on your case

I am a bit behind. But there are good reasons for that. I’m led to believe that reasons are better than excuses, although it’s kind of hard deciding which is which, and probably involves some splitting of hairs.

On Saturday I went out with 8 of the ACG, including a newbie, Chris. The sun shone, the headwind blew and really sucked, and we did one of my loops which I suppose made me nominally in charge. However it’s easier to lead from the front, which sadly is not where I was. Newbie Chris and I took turns to be at the back. However he’s new to the cycling game as well as to us, so that’s understandable. I’m just, well, you know, same old same old? And that’s the problem. And the reason I was reluctant to write – because you’ve heard it all before and I know it’s tedious. I’m bored of myself! So if you’d like to skip forward a couple of paragraphs…rather than join the pity party, or risk being likewise bored to death? Or maybe just look at the pictures for a bit? Why not just skip to the next entry, and save yourself the next 10 minutes of your life which you’ll otherwise never get back? 😉

So, for anyone fool enough to have stuck around, I had a mad busy week last week – with lots of work, travel, driving, drinking, not enough sleeping or resting… Neither big nor clever. But work is work, and life happens, and it doesn’t stop happening just because it would be easier if it did. And it turns out that, with the wonders of 20/20 hindsight, deciding to ride on Saturday morning was a seriously bad idea. Of course I didn’t know that at the time, now did I? The sun was shining, I was in good company, the route (being one of mine) was fairly easy, so why wouldn’t I ride?

Ah well. It was hard work. Constantly trying to keep up just pushed me too hard. It really doesn’t matter whether it’s because it’s only around 8 weeks since my op and I should be being more careful, or if the op didn’t fix the problem and it’s still here. Either way, as the ride went on, the odd twinge I’ve been having turned into plenty of proper pain, in the same place as usual. And it’s always made worse by cycling, which clearly is what I was doing. I didn’t have any pills on me, not that I’d have wanted to take them if I had, because when not habituated, they tend to space you out a bit. To compound things I hadn’t eaten all day, so I really hadn’t done myself any favours. Yes, yes, I know, I know…! Still, I did my best. I even enjoyed some of it. I got to chat to some of my mates, enjoy the tailwind on the way back, and laugh at the testosterone racing up Mudgely Hill. All of that and more. But by the time we got back to the Square I’d been knocked onto a slightly different planet, mentally and physically. Spaced and wiped out.

All of which explains why when I got in, took the pills, put the stronger patch back on, and had had a quick shower, I went straight to bed for a non-optional nap… And didn’t write my blog. Oops…

Cycling time: 2:00
Distance: 30.7 miles
Avg 15.2 mph
ODO: 17320.7 miles

On Sunday the sun shone. It was, not to put too fine a point on it, glorious out there. And I had nothing else to do. But depending on whether or not you believe in fairy tales, resting on the seventh day is de rigueur. So I did. Totally. Well, unless you count a short walk up to the reservoir to feed the ducks with the mob and my folks and back home via The Crown as exercise ;). It probably counts as medicinal though 😉 And I still didn’t write my blog… *grin*.

Mad March Hare 2014

Johnny always does the last dance of the season, even when somebody tells him not to. I always do the first ride of the season, the Mad March Hare, even when life tries to tell me not to. Nobody puts Baby in a corner right? 😉

Earlier this week, after some pre-event twitter banter, Mark (aka @velopixie), asked me if, in all seriousness, I was sure I was ok to be riding it. I replied that I was doing it. Which was apparently a little terse. But to be fair, it was a bit of a daft question since of course I was, whether I should be or not. I know, I know, people care, I should be more grateful. I am, honestly :D.

Thanks to what can euphemistically be referred to as my “struggles” of late, the Mad March Hare had become rather more important than it should have done. It is not an event that really warrants any great status per se, being not that long or hilly. But it is traditional that I start my season with it, and starting my season was part of trying to make a fresh start, move forward, put the past and the pain behind me. So the Hare had a lot of weight resting on his shoulders ;).

Now I’m not totally stupid, though many of you may choose to disagree with that statement. However now would be a good time to hold your peace… I’d checked that Sean was still doing it, and could and would review it for me if I didn’t make it. I took it a bit easier this week. Rested some. Ate. I was aware that I could bail. Not should, but could! If I’d been feeling worse, or the forecast had been worse, I might have done. But, thanks to the new world order, which finds me home alone every other weekend, I had nothing better to do. I figured that bailing meant another day rattling around here on my own. So a day riding slowly around the countryside with friends, even if it took me all day, well, why not? Nowt better to do, as I said.

The upside to having had an empty nest on Saturday was the freedom to have everything all laid out and prepared the day before, and for it all still to be where I left it when I got up the next morning. Often this early in the season I’m a bit rusty on the prep front, but not this year. I seem to still have the hang of sorting the layers, packing the bag, getting it all done in the minimum possible time to maximise the time spent sleeping instead. I didn’t even forget anything!

So here goes; the first 5:00am alarm call of the season, set on both the phone and the iPad just in case. I even got an early night beforehand, something else I’m not very good at, as I think by nature I’m actually nocturnal! Luckily I now have a form of sportive autopilot, and the day started. Get up. Turn coffee machine on. Get dressed. Eat porridge, drink coffee, finish packing, load final bits into car, program satnav, and leave. 45 minutes from asleep to en route. Yep, I still got this :).

HQ for the Mad March Hare is at Cult Racing Cycles, in Solihull. Parking however, is not. In fact due to weather and various organisational shenanigans, none of us knew where parking was until about a week beforehand. And it’s at The Phoenix Group, in Birmingham. Which is about three miles away, costs an extra £2, and is a nightmare to leave by bike as the marshals insist on you negotiating some bizarre footpath route to exit rather than the perfectly good road which is two-way and only being used by other arriving riders anyway! Yes, it’s a nice car park, in that it’s not a wet field, it’s tarmac, and there’s plenty of it. But that’s about all that it has going for it really. Today would have been a very bad day to have left something in the car, that’s for sure.

Still, let’s backtrack a little. After an uneventful drive, which left me feeling drowzy before I even started, I followed the satnav and a few little black on yellow arrow signs into the car park. I barely faffed, unlike all the other riders who seemed to have a great deal to debate and decide upon. It’s just possible I’ve got the hang of this by now ;). I headed off, toute seule, to find HQ. This was a route that had also changed over the last couple of days, thanks to road closures, and was marked by those same standard sportive signs. Not ones indicating that this was specifically the HQ<->car park route. And there only seemed to be the odd one, which on a cold windy morning, left me worrying I was lost already, and I wasn’t the only one! Luckily, as this is my 6th MMH, I soon found myself on somewhat familiar roads, and then me and the blind following the blind, behind me, were where we were supposed to be. Sorry, 6th? 6TH?! Blimey!!

Anyway… HQ is not a big site. Riders and bikes milled around. Registration was in the shop, ordered by first name not surname, which was novel. I signed my name, was given my timing chip (another first for the event this year) and reusable cable ties, and found a fence to lean the bike on. Free hot drinks were on offer, serve yourself, but I didn’t fancy it. My Garmin, all pre-loaded up with the course the night before, decided re-loading it now was one step beyond and promptly hung. Oh marvellous. There was no sign of the lanky fast one – aka Sean – and Mark was running late. So I loitered with intent, and went to the loo, because two of the five that were available (+ one urinal bit) were for ladies only. So I went twice ;). Mark finally arrived, faffed more than I had, and also failed to fix my Garmin ;). I consoled myself with the thought that at least I’d have a time for the ride as a whole though, and tried not to winge too much. He’ll probably tell you I failed dismally on that front ;).

With no ceremony at all, and presuming Sean had gone haring off into the distance, we left. Just like that. Over the timing mat, past a traffic organising Paul (the organiser), and off out into the greyness at around 8:30am ish. Presumably, as it’s not like I could tell… Moan, moan, winge… ;).

We were riding out into a nasty headwind which, as all cyclists will tell you, is the way to have it if there has to be wind, and apparently there always has to be wind. It was a cold, strong and blustery wind today, and I was grateful of my layers and winter collar, and head buff. Once past the initial too warm patch early on, when the body breaks into a sweat at the thought of being made to exercise, I settled down into feeling relatively comfortable as these things go. Hey, it was cold, and it was windy, but at least it was dry. Well, it was then anyway…

So, what to tell you about the ride? The first half was into a dry cold wind. The second half was brought to us by a tail wind and plenty of rain. In the middle there was a big hill and a food stop. That’s the brief version. Since my op, I’ve only done a few short rides. Enough to assure me that the first half would be ok, if slow, but also to leave me worrying somewhat about how I’d cope with the second half. Luckily for me the route is overall fairly flat, just the odd lump here and there. There’s a general trend for down on the way out, and up on the way back though, which is NOT the right way round, in case you were wondering. You weren’t? Ah well…

I’m very glad Mark was with me. Every ride should have a Pixie :D. For starters, once he realised that without my Garmin I needed reminding, he made sure I ate. I wasn’t feeling that perky full stop, and although I sort of warmed up after about an hour, that was about as good as it got, I never really did get going. Company was good. Essential. As was a wheel to suck occasionally – I am beyond grateful! After the first couple of hours, thanks to a particularly nasty slog into the wind session past the little airfield, I really started to feel tired. You can tell; it’s when I shut up, stop talking, and get that bit sort of more internally focussed and concentrated. It’s a tell-tale sign that I’m not doing that well, or so I’m told. Only physically today really, as thanks to not being on my own my head stayed pretty much ok :).

I’d eaten bits of bars, there being a sad lack of flapjack related to absence of youngest this weekend, and also had a couple of gels. I knew the big hill was coming. Compared to the big hills of previous MMHs, it was a bit uneventful. Dare I even say disappointing? I sat, and I plodded, and it just sort of went by. Mark was using hills as training, and seeing how long he could avoid the bottom ring altogether ;). It was fine, as hills go, and once over the top I was more than ready for what we had agreed would be a leisurely food stop. Well it was not to be. One village hall, lots of cyclists, and a queue stretching a long way out of the building and into the waiting hordes. Even standing around briefly debating our options had me getting chilly, and I really couldn’t face more of that. There were a couple of portable toilets outside so I availed myself of one of them, and we were about to head off when we spotted Sean and his mate in the queue – apparently they’d actually been running late and had been behind us after all, just! We chatted briefly but nonetheless left them to it, to add some extra “when will they catch us” speculation to the rest of our ride. Shame, I’d have loved a coffee, and it would probably have perked me up too. On the upside, I managed to persuade the Garmin to wake up while standing there. Half stats is better than no stats at all?

It’s a good thing we left when we did though because the weather started to seriously deteriorate. Mind you I’ll trade headwind for rain any day – it’s amazing how much difference it made – so it could have been worse. Although I knew we were over halfway done now, which is always very good mentally, I also knew how I was feeling and that this kind of distance was a new thing this season. An unknown quantity as it were. As I was to discover, it was very variable. Life became a bit (hopefully post op) ouchy, so I did resort to paracetamol. Since I’m not on the tramadol anymore I didn’t want to take that and risk zonking out further. I got more and more tired, but sort of in waves. I’d fly along for a bit (fly is used as a relative to crawling term), and then have to pootle for a while to regroup. Mark has the patience of a saint!

Having said that, thanks to the weather and the earliness of the season, no-one seemed to be pushing it. Other than a couple of pelotons early on, it was mostly just small numbers of riders kinda slogging it around, so we were by no means unusual. Out of the 800 or so registered, it looks like 662 actually rode though, which is pretty impressive for this time of year. 69 of them were woman, which is about twice as many percentage wise than usual – also pretty impressive!

Even if we had been going for gold today, the route was not conducive. The return leg was sort of gradually uphill with a few of the real thing, as previously mentioned. There was traffic. There were a lot of right turns across traffic. Straight over junctions, involving waiting to cross. Good thing there wasn’t even more traffic – later in the season I think this route would have serious problems, not least with people not stopping in time at those bottom of hill junctions and ending up playing with the traffic. A few of the junction signs weren’t that well sited and if it hadn’t been for other riders yelling, we’d have missed them and got lost. No way I was asking the currently functioning Garmin to try and load the route again, so we’d have been proper lost too! There weren’t really enough signs – one per junction and that seemed to be it. No repeaters or reminders that we saw. Other than mud and stuff, the roads themselves were actually in pretty good nick, and better than expected after the recent deluges, though I still wouldn’t have wanted to be one of the ones riding expensive deep rim carbon wheels over them! Each to their own…

Had it been a sunny day, I’m sure this ride/review would have been a different story, what with cute villages, pretty cottages, churches and country estates etc, but today even the big hill wasn’t all that exciting. I’m sure the MMH has used bigger more impressive and more scenic ways up there before? Today the whole ride just felt oddly unremarkable and generally a bit of a slog. Something even Mark agrees with, so it’s not just me being pathetic, honest 😉 Just as well the wind went the way it did, because riding back into it on top of all that would have probably totally wiped me out.

Neither of us were entirely sure how long the route was, and clearly my stats were no use. This sign seemed amusing, because by whenever we came across it, I was one cooked bird!! Crossing the motorway was a positive sign as it meant we were nearly there, and as it turns out we were back over the finish line about five miles earlier than we were sort of expecting. Not that we were complaining… Besides if it had been five miles longer, Sean and his mate might actually have caught us…as it was, while we were standing there figuring out what to do next, they arrived. I found beating them back, by however small a margin, and however long they stopped back there, oddly gratifying ;).

Man it was chilly by now though. Although the free bacon roll or soup being dished out appealed, standing in what was by now a predictably long queue to get to it really didn’t. The weather was getting worse, and I really didn’t want to get any colder, so Mark and I headed back to the car park. This was not fun. The return route was different. Were they sportive signs or car park signs? And where were they anyway? Where were we? We were once more fighting a headwind, into cold driving rain, and my sense of humour was rapidly failing as we negotiated the ‘burbs, nearly convinced we were lost… Luckily we weren’t, but I bet quite a few ended up giving up, turning back and returning to HQ to try again. It’s a good thing I’m stubborn (yes, I know, you knew that already), and carrying on was right, and then we finally found a sign and found the car park *grrrr*. I was very pleased to get back to my car, and start the reverse faffing that got me warm and dry, into my Skins, and with the bike wrapped up and away again.

Mark and I re-united for a bit at Hopwood services for coffee and food that didn’t involved queuing, before going our separate ways and heading for home. Unwisely I was so tired that even with that coffee I kept dropping off on the motorway, which was more than a little scary. Eventually I had to stop at Michaelwood services, probably about 30 miles later than I really should have done, for a nap to make sure I got home at all! I’m hoping becoming drug-free is going to fix my inability to do long drives, otherwise I may have a problem…

Right. Mad March Hare Sportive done! Should I have done it? Probably not. Did I enjoy it? Well, that might be pushing it. Am I glad I did it? I most certainly am 🙂 Truly. It was important. Psychologically. Or illogically 😉 Cycling is mental, and so am I? Maybe I was the tortoise to the hare. And even that’s probably only poetically true, since looking at the stats, I actually didn’t do it much worse than I usually do. Out of those 69 women, I came 17th, which is none too shabby I reckon, even if I did not have the time of my life 😉 I did it. I did. ‘Rah! Welcome back me :). And I truly can’t thank Mark enough for nursing me round – I owe you Monseigneur, and I won’t forget.

Cycling time: 4:53
Distance: 70 miles
Avg 13.7 mph
ODO: 17290.0 miles

Official Cyclosport review is here 🙂

And eyes that judge on actions alone

I rode Sunday, and then accidentally had a rather late night. Rather than taking it easy and recovering, as would have been wise. You know how it is, good white wine, rubbish film, blah, blah, oops… 😉

On Monday, even with a bit of a lie-in, I was tired, and due to various life stuff arriving on top of that with its usual immaculate sense of timing, I was not in the greatest of moods. So rather than have the rest day I should have been having, once I’d made it to the evening I resorted to wattbike therapy, with a workout thrown in on top. Which worked a treat in that it wiped me out far enough both mentally and physically that a decent night’s sleep was guaranteed.

An enjoyable but busy day at The Food & Drink Trade Show yesterday, spent mostly on my feet in surprisingly comfortable killer heels, totally wore me out. That, plus some rather lovely free single variety “Somerset Red Streak” Severn Cider, sent me to bed early by my standards. Even so I completely failed to wake up this morning, and by the time I finally made it out of bed I’d had pretty much 12 hours sleep! Blimey!

sand bay sign

So I doubt the sensible thing to do today was what I did. That won’t surprise anyone, right? ;). But the sun was shining, and, well, carpe diem and all that. Instead of listening to my increasingly communicative body, I took it to the seaside on the bike. As you do. To be fair, both of us pretty much enjoyed it. I even went up the odd lump, just because I can’t avoid them forever and because I know I can get up them, so I might as well do the training. I do actually quite like climbing, though no-one ever believes me when I say that now. It would appear I cried wolf one too many times ;). However there’s something oddly therapeutic about slowly plodding up there, and besides how else do you get the views from the top that I love so much?

What can I tell you? The sun shone. I got to listen to waves crashing on the shore. The grockles have yet to take up residence in Weston so no-one was too busy looking at the sea to see me. I went up hills. The headwind became a tailwind on the way home, as planned. It was a good ride. And the good ones help get you through the bad ones :). Here’s hoping this Sunday’s Mad March Hare Sportive is one of the former. Wish me luck, I may well need it!

Cycling time: 1:56
Distance: 28.1 miles
Avg 14.4 mph
ODO: 17197.0 miles

Ride done, I came home, ate, and had a nap. I guess I’m still tired! *grin*.

Those were the days my friend

I spent all day yesterday doing as little as possible to try and make sure I could ride with the ACG today. No wattbike, no walk, nothing but the usual household stuff, and a couple of trips to the tip. Even though the sun was shining and it looked lovely out there, I resisted temptation. I even made myself sit down and spend a couple of hours watching the sunny world go past the window while I read my Kindle instead of getting out there in it.

Just as well I did really. Because yes, I managed to ride with the ACG. Well, I went for a ride with the ACG. I just wasn’t always with them ;). I bet it would have been even worse without a rest day! Predictably the weather, having been lovely yesterday when I couldn’t ride, was wet and properly windy today. But not cold, which was the silver lining to the clouds above.

Guy had put together two routes – both heading out for coffee at The Strawberry Line Café in Yatton, and then diverging on the way back at Wrington to allow some people to do 70+ miles rather than the usual 30 or so. Well the first half went as billed. A posse of 9 or so of us (I never did count), including a newbie who rocked up looking quite clearly as if he knew what he was doing (hi Clive!), went out with an impressive tailwind to Winscombe, Sandford, and then Congresbury before a loop round the flat bits there to our coffee stop.

My ability to fall off the back of the pack was not aided by my chain doing its usual job of falling off going downhill, in Sandford, at which point I nearly lost them all completely and would have if Jon hadn’t waited for me, and we hadn’t just managed to espy the group heading off around the last visible corner once I did get going again… And then there were more things that seemed like hills to me but not to anyone else, and I fell back behind everyone and pootled, and did what I could. But I wasn’t downcast. Hey, I was still riding the bike, right? :).

We bumped into another group of cyclists while wiggling around the flat bits, which turned out to be Helen and her mates. It got quite confusing for a bit remembering who to keep up with and who was going where! Eventually we disentangled after a bit of a catch up, and went our separate ways in the drizzle. Coffee was definitely called for after slogging into what was by now a quite unpleasant headwind, and the café was as lovely as ever, though they probably won’t all that impressed with us totally steaming up one of their rooms! I was proper tempted by the gluten free lemon polenta cake but the way I was going there was no way I’d have worked off the calories – unlike the lads who quite justifiably decimated their stock of chocolate marshmallow brownies! Dad rocked up and joined us for a bit too, which was nice, especially as I’d forgotten to remind him beforehand ;). Mind you, it was very nearly the most expensive coffee stop ever…! 😉

So, how to get home? Well Guy’s long route was never going to be for me – just not quite there yet. But the short route would have been a bit boring, and I hadn’t done a hill and I sort of wanted to just to test the water, not just ride through it, as it were! 😉 There was debate and discussion and the weather conditions and…well, we all ended up heading back the same way. Back through increasingly damp lanes to Wrington, though I had as usual forgotten to restart the Garmin, so it wasn’t quite as direct a route as it looks! I did however realise my error before the hill we’d opted for – Burrington Combe. Well, I was kinda curious to see precisely how badly I would do it. Actually I quite enjoyed it, even in the drizzle, and on my own. Apart from the odd twinge, it went just fine. Slowly as predicted, but then why push? I did my “in the now” thing and just sort of enjoyed the fact that it was all working. Even with the wind pushing me sideways from time to time nearer the top. I was so pleased once I’d made it to the top – look at me, I did a hill! :D. And I wasn’t the slowest either, there were even a couple or riders behind me. Not gloating, honest, more astounded! *grin*. I’m still putting faith in the twinges being post op, I’d rather not start considering the alternative just yet…

From there we slogged our way across from Charterhouse to Tyning’s Farm, benefitting from some unexpected shelter from the trees and hedges there. The very top last exposed bit at the end was…interesting…but then there was the fun of going down Longbottom and then Shipham Hill. That I can still do, and I did, and it was fabulous :D.

Due to my technical ineptitude my stats are a little off, but these will do:

Cycling time: 2:05
Distance: 35.0 miles
Avg 14.6
ODO: 17168.9 miles

I used to be able to keep up. Hopefully one day I’ll be able to do so again :).

I’m not your anchor anymore

There’s a contingent of folk out there who think I’ll never learn. And they’re quite probably right. But when the sun is shining, the air is clear, and there’s company to cycle with…well, the fact that it’s the third time in a week that included two less than successful wattbike sessions, and only 5 weeks since surgery, seems to fly out of the window. Cyclists; mental right? ;).

So Mim and I did a couple of easy hours around the Levels. My muscles are fine, but the power behind them, not so much so. Let’s just take it easy and spin round, said the lady due to be racing tomorrow. As if I had a choice! But even so, how could it not be nice to be out there? I mean, just look at it! OK, so we could both have lived without the rather chilly and rather irritating wind, but I don’t think anything could have slowed me down any further, and besides, it was nice when it was behind us on the way back :D.

We played with an escapee bullock, tried to inform its intellectually challenged owner, speculated over the fish out of water (see above), and put the world to rights whilst scheduling a previously unplanned coffee stop at Sweets. Without which I’m not sure I’d have made it home. It wasn’t the nicest coffee in the world, but it was up there amongst the most essential I’ve ever imbibed!

It wasn’t all that warm in there, even with all the gassing we were doing, so we didn’t hang around too long being as capable of chatting on the bikes as on chairs. Straight home over Mudgeley Hill, which seemed to have assumed Galibier-like proportions… 😉 But I still wasn’t complaining, just letting the wheels go ’round while the sun just kept on shining :).

Cycling time: 2:03
Distance: 29.0 miles
Avg 14.1
ODO: 17133.9 miles

I parted company with Mim in Cheddar and made my way even more slowly home up the Cheddar Road, sadly once more noting the demise of my favourite manhole cover near the petrol station. I’m sure that replacing the hexagonal one made perfect sense, but I shall still mourn its passing… 🙁

By the time I got home I was totally wasted. In fact I was so knackered that even after a shower, a cup of tea, and some food, I was an hour late for work because I couldn’t get off the sofa. Oops :/. Since I hope to ride with the ACG on Sunday, I am declaring tomorrow a rest day. I am still flying the flag though…just 😉

Oops I did it again ;)

Well, knock me down with a feather, I appear to have been out riding the bike again! It’s my day off, it’s half term, the mob were variously and happily occupied, and the forecast wasn’t too bad. As is often the case, the weather which was predicted did not match that which actually materialised, but everything else remained true, and I wasn’t going to let a little drizzle put me off. Besides, there are plans afoot for an ACG ride on Sunday and I wanted to see which roads were flooded, or not, in best girl scout “be prepared” fashion, so as to plan a route accordingly.

So I did my usual kind of loop, with the odd extra bit thrown in. It’s been so long since I’ve had the wonderful head space that I only get on the bike, that while I was busy clearing out the mental mothballs I missed the odd turning. So it didn’t quite go to plan, but it didn’t really matter. I still got to where I needed to be, and the roads weren’t flooded, apart from one short patch on Max Mill Lane which wasn’t a problem. They were however covered in crap, and also washed away in places, so had to be negotiated with care. Since I wasn’t in any great rush, and just wanted to be out there, I was happy to ride as circumstances dictated. Hey, always good to have something to blame the average speed on, right? ;).

In brief aside, I’m having a “now” phase. As in being happy in the now. No point crying over the milk spilt yesterday, or inviting tomorrow’s troubles to arrive early. I’m not very good at yoga, or meditation, or any such philosophies really. But if I was going to, it might possibly be the whole mindfulness thing. By focusing on the now, being grateful for what that now is, I seem to be spending more time at the happy and positive end of my spectrum – and that has to be a good thing :).

So in my now I was on my bike, on quiet roads, feeling pretty good, riding fairly well, and damp but not cold. I was outside in a world full of flying things – swans, herons, a kingfisher, and even a wokka-wokka (aka a Chinook) flying low over the Levels, presumably bringing more of the army to submerged Somerset.

And I still wasn’t in pain. It’s hard to explain how an absence of something feels. Even when it wasn’t hurting, I knew where it was. Now it’s not hurting, and it’s not there. Or at least I’m fairly sure it’s not. *fingers crossed*. I can’t explain how I feel better, but I do, and it’s not just the absence thing, it’s more systemic than that. Being ill and in ever-increasing pain and on stronger and stronger meds for so long must have taken a lot out of me. And now I get to get me back? It’s a whole new, strange, world… Ok, ok, sorry, got sidetracked again, enough already, back to the cycling :D.

Cycling time: 1:47
Distance: 28.4 miles
Avg 15.8
ODO: 17104.9 miles

As routes go, it wasn’t long, or hilly, or fast, but it went pretty well really. My times up the hills I did do were not, somewhat amazingly, my slowest ever. My average speed was also up on Sunday, which is encouraging. But in that even after a rest day, yesterday’s wattbike session had to be aborted after 45 minutes when I ran out of energy, it seemed like a good idea to opt for some restorative calorie intake after I’d showered and changed. So there was a happy me because I’d ridden well and a happy three because we had fabulous hot chocolates with the works. Result *grin*.