Author Archives: Jay Trotman

Maratona dles Dolomites – registration

The plan for today was as follows: Assemble bikes.  Put bikes in car.  Drive to registration.  Sign in.  Drive to Corvara and meet up with the Cycling Weekly group for photos and a group ride and coffee.  Best laid plans…

Breakfast first though, right?  Gotta love continental breakfasts – lots of cooked meats that I can eat, even if I can’t eat most of the rest of goodies – and they did look good – on offer.  You could even boil your own eggs.  I’d taken rice cakes with me, and the discovery of little packets of nutella that I could put on those was a definite highlight 🙂  Oh, and the coffee was good too – let’s get our priorities straight right?

Right, time to put the bikes together and check that that my baby had survived the journey intact.  And it had.  Just as well really!

Judging by some of the other steeds stabled there, even if the basement hadn’t been secure, my bike would have been!  Some very swish carbon out there…  As Kevin is ably demonstrating here, assembling bikes is clearly a very serious job, that involves a great deal of fiddling and concentration…

Time to put on kit, load the car, and get to La Villa, where the event village and sign on was.  Getting there was a nightmare.  There is one road through the valley, and it was full of cars doing the same as us, as well as hundreds of cyclists riding there instead.  It got busier and busier and slower and slower.  Unless you’re an Italian driver in which case you just hurtle past regardless and scare the rest of us witless.  We missed the turning for the village, there being only three signs, easily missed amongst the chaos and the paying attention to what everyone else was doing, and we ended up in Corvara where the finish line and later meet up was due to be.  Time for a U-turn, a quick flurry of texts exchanged with Steve who has done it before, was there, knows what he’s doing, and sorted me out, and we made our way back to La Villa where parking was not so much at a premium as completely lacking.  We ended up dumping a car in a little residential street, like many others, but which luckily turned out to only be a short distance from where we were supposed to be.  The queue to sign on was long, but moving fairly swiftly, and we joined it.  Well, it’s why we were there after all.

There was a wide range of outfits and lycra to internally critique to pass the time.  The sun continued to climb, and the temperature to rise, as we all stood around sweating under clear blue skies…and that was before even trying to ride a bike!  Did this bode well?

Once into the building, our paperwork was checked – photo id, entry paper, and medical certificate – and then it was onto the rider number queues to collect your very goody bag, along with rider and bike numbers.  The free jerseys were lovely, but the sizing was, well, Italian.  Trying them on was essential, and the stage was full of people doing so and exchanging them for a size that actually fitted.  It’s a good thing cyclists are generally a relatively fit bunch otherwise the sheer amount of flesh on display could have been distincly unpleasant.  As it was…well… 😉  Even the skinny men I knew ended up in XL or worse.  I’d put myself down for an L back when I signed up for this, and I got to be an S instead.  Which tickled me :).  I was tempted to buy the matching shorts…but by the time I decided to actually do so later in the day, they’d sold out in my size.  Boo hiss :(.

Formalities done and we were back out into the sunshine.  There was a large sign to show you just what you’d let yourself in for.  Be afraid, be very afraid…?

Next to sign on was an outdoor seating area where 5E bought you pasta, 3E apfel strudel, and inexpensive beer or water were on offer, depending on your preference.  Considering the heat, and the whole abstention the day before thing, it was sparkling water and one of my fabulous flapjacks for me, with awesome views to look at while sitting in the sunshine, and a ski lift going up and down past us.  Nice :).

The event village was just a little down the hill, with various stands and stalls.  Not a lot of any interest to me though – maybe I’m not bike geek enough.  Although the Pinarellos were nice.  Having said that, Pinarellos were ten a penny this weekend, which is not something you can usually say.

One of the nice things was the children’s entertainment around, with face painting, stilt creatures, activities etc.  Although I’m not sure what kind of creature the stilt walker was supposed to be.  See the Maratona jersey in the foreground?

I found the sheer number of people around otherwise a bit intimidating and stressful.  Considering all the chaos of the morning, there was no way we were going to make it back to Corvara in time to meet up with everyone and be in the photos, which was a bit of a shame.   It would have been lovely to ride up the Campolongo with the group, but I had been worried it might take too much out of my legs and dent my confidence, so I guess circumstances had conspired in my favour in a way.  We decided to head back to the hotel, and go for a trial ride from there instead.

We headed for the little village of San Martin de Tor just down the valley, which was only a short ride but went straight up straight away!  Which, in afternoon heat, not being warmed up, with the unfamiliar altitude, was hard work.  We had planned on going all the way up to the Castle at the top but quickly decided that was unnecessary which, since I was later informed it ramped up to 20%, may well have been a good call.  Instead we dropped back down into town and sat outside a café for more sparkling water instead.

The large building in the centre of the shot is our hotel.  Scenic out there isn’t it?  The village had a very pretty pointy church too – I wonder if they build ’em pointy around there because of the snow and the weight of it on roofs and the like?

I’m not sure I’ve ever drunk so much sparkling water as over this break, and it’s just as well I’ve acquired a taste for it.  Kevin’s capuccino looked lovely but I was worried that caffeine might keep me awake later and I definitely wanted to do my best to get a good night’s sleep, though nerves usually get the better of me on such occasions.  Still, no point aggravating the situation, and it’s important to keep hydrated in heat like that anyway.

It was a very nice place to kill some time.  Shaded, scenic, colourful, quiet, peaceful…the complete opposite to the morning, and much better for my head.

The gadgets informed us that actually it had been 12/13% to get up there, so the fact that it had felt bad felt less bad.  Especially as the maximum gradient due the following day was alleged to be 16% and the averages far lower than that, albeit for much longer than the diddy climb we’d just done.  It may have only been a short ride, but it served its main purpose which was to make sure the bikes were working properly and that my gears were working, which they were.  Time to go back down the hill and back to the hotel, as plenty of faffing remained to be done to make sure that first thing in the morning was going to be as easy as possible.  Kit to sort, debate, lay out.  Numbers to attach.  Same old same old…

Now I know it’s a very weird, coals to Newcastle, thing to do, but I took a bag of gluten free pasta away with me and the hotel were happy to cook it for my dinner.  It’s a great shame they then decided to put it in a very lovely but very far from safe tomato pasta sauce.  Man, did I ever regret eating that…. 🙁  Still, it stayed where it was supposed to be, so the chances were it would do its fuelling job.  Definitely no white wine this time, just time for an early night before the big day ahead.  Alarm set for 4:00am – as ready as I’d ever be.

Maratona dles Dolomites – the journey

If I wrote all of this as one blog entry, we’d be here forever, and you’d have stopped reading before it got interesting, if it ever did, so…instalments would seem the logical way to go.  Are you sitting comfortably?  Then I’ll begin…

We – being my L2P friend Kevin and I – flew out from Heathrow on Friday afternoon, and were lucky enough to be flying Club class, which I’ve never done, and which was kinda exciting.   I frequently wonder how the other half (5%?) lives ;).  This is the view from the airport lounge, where we got to hang out until it was time to board, having been fast-tracked through all the formalities in the blink of an eye.  That I like a lot.  Queuing may be very British, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it if I don’t have to.

Not only is the lounge essentially purple, as if designed for me,  but it comes complete with free food, and amazing enough, that even included “safe” food!  I could have stayed there for a couple of weeks and been perfectly well catered for.  Well, well enough anyway.  Though I’m thinking they might have kicked me out if I’d tried to…

Crisps and wine – the diet of champions 😉  We didn’t have all that long in there before it was time to go and sit on the expensive side of the divisive blue curtain.  Segregation is a terrible thing ;).  You get bigger chairs, more space, less hoi polloi…  Ah, well, not quite, cos you still get me *grin*.

In many respects I’m a big kid at heart and I LOVE flying.  The whole thing.  Whatever class I’m flying.  Especially on the way out somewhere – it’s all part of the big build up to whatever it is that you’re doing.

Take off is my favourite part.  I know – you can explain how it all works to me, until you’re blue in the face, but as far as I’m concerned, that moment when something that big and heavy breaks free, leaves the ground behind, and takes flight, with all that noise and power?  It’s magic, that’s what it is :).

I also like the fact that even when it’s grey and miserable down on the ground, admittedly not a problem today, it’s blue and sunny up there.  A very PMA inducing thought on those really grey/black days.  

Want to see what they feed posh people?  And me?

I could even eat about 75% of it.  And fizz?  Never wrong.  Bear that in mind if you ever feel like buying me a drink ;).  Our flight to Munich wasn’t a long one, so what with eating and taking daft photos of everything, I didn’t even have time to get bored.  Though I did have time for another bottle of free fizz.  Be rude not to, right? 😉

Before long we were starting our descent, and Germany hove into view.  Interesting colour water, no?

Apparently crop circles have fallen out of favour these days, and I reckon that’s because those visiting aliens have moved on to bigger and better things, like this.

I’m sure there’s a far better explanation, but it would probably be less amusing…  However if you feel able to enlighten or educate me, please feel free.

Munich airport was a masterpiece of German efficiency.  Straight through, bags arrived on cue, our hire car was the right car, with the right amount of space for the bike boxes and luggage, and it was time to hit the autobahn and head for Italy.

Look at those.  A sign of things to come…*gulp*.  It was a 3 1/2 hour journey, uneventful if a bit traffic ridden, and thanks to my satnav, recently upgraded to make sure it has accurate maps, we found our hotel, where a whole heap of the Cycling Weekly entrants were staying without any problem at all.  Ok, so it was right on the main road and bleedin’ obvious but still…

The Ostaria Posta has clearly been recently refurbished.  Clean, spic and span, lots of carved simple woodwork, friendly staff, and a lovely chocolate brown labrador to add that fluffy touch to the place.  It also has, more importantly, a secure basement with rooms for the storage and assembly of bikes.  We were just in time for dinner, so we stashed the boxes until the following day, and did the eating thing,  It was half board, and the food was very nice, though a tad tricky to negotiate sometimes – more of which later.  Standard fare was salad bar – soup – main course – dessert.  Salad I managed, soup was a no go, but the osso bucco with rice was both safe and quite nice.  And although everybody loves parfait, I don’t/can’t, so I passed on dessert.   It was a great relief to be where we were supposed to be, with the bikes in one piece, and every indication that the trip was going to plan.  We met Ian Parr, who organises the entries and helps the entrants, and who cleared up a few of my questions about how to sign in and what the plans for the following days were, which helped to set my mind at ease a bit.  A few glasses of very nice local white wine in the garden outside did the rest, and it was time to hit the sack.

 

I have no secret I am just me

Monday – rest day.  Well, apart from a walk with eldest.  I was kinda busy so I’d have been hard pushed to do much more even if that were wise.

Tuesday – gym session to check that the body still worked.

Today – bike session to check that the bike still worked, and that the body and bike are still talking to each other.

Check, check, and check.

In fact my legs were feeling pretty good, and I had to resist the temptation to take ’em up hills – I’m supposed to be taking it easy this week, right?  So I did this seaside loop.  Proper muggy out there it was, unremittingly grey and overcast with not a lot of wind.  I wore my Etape jersey to give myself a little mental boost, remind myself that I am capable of such things, to get some PMA before this year’s challenge.  Plus it’s not on my list of possible layers to take with me so I don’t have to worry about washing it and getting it dry before I leave tomorrow.  I’m practical like that.

Cycling time: 1:53:05 hrs
Distance: 32.06 miles
Avs: 17.0 mph.
ODO: 14630 miles

As this was supposed to be a leisure ride, after pushing a little up the Commodore Hill, I was going to treat myself to an espresso at the New Castle Inn.  Which was, inevitably, closed.  And which is now sporting a very large “FOR SALE” sign.  I guess they couldn’t make it work.  Maybe if they’d have been open more often…? 😉

No, I’m not packed.  No, I’m not ready.  But by the time I leave tomorrow afternoon I will be.  Hey, I’ve just made more flapjacks, that’s a start right?  😉

Dartmoor Classic 2012

I do not sleep well before sportives.  Even when sleep is white wine assisted.  After that one event when the alarm failed me, I think I’m so paranoid that I’m not going to wake up that my subconscious sees fit to wake me every hour or so just to make sure that I haven’t over-slept!  In between times there will have been various surreal cycling related dreams.  I think it’s safe to say my night was not restful, and I was up shortly before my 5:45 alarm.  Outside the rain was still falling…but, by the time I’d faffed enough to head over for breakfast, it had pretty much stopped.  Well, it wasn’t really breakfast, more just coffee really, since these days I travel with my own free-from muesli and lactofree milk.  Service was a little relaxed this morning, and I nearly gave up on coffee all together, but a morning isn’t a morning without a decent cup of black coffee, and it was very nice when it did come.

like the personalised jersey numbers?

Now, all sorted, layered up, and checked up, I could have left my car at the hotel and cycled to the start as many others were doing.  However the route on the way to the hotel had seemed a bit convoluted, and a little lumpy, and besides, I can’t review an event if I’m not getting the entire rider experience right?  Into the car I went, and back to HQ, early enough to be parked up in exactly the same field as I was in yesterday.

It wouldn’t be empty for long, and once full, riders would be marshalled into all sorts of bitty car parks in the vicinity of HQ, as we were last year.  I prefer my field – though the long recently mowed grass was interesting to negotiate by bike, or when walking in cleats.

timing tent

mechanical assistance

Since all the formalities had been done yesterday all we – being I, Gary, and GB – had to do was turn up, use the still posh facilities, and join the queue for the start.  At that point it was still a fairly short queue.  Riders were coralled into three pens, which were let go, and re-filled, in the relevant order.

the growing queue to be coralled…

No creme egg this time Gary?

ACGB

Ron gave a rider briefing, full of details about the last minute fallen tree induced route deviation, where/when to take care, and what to do with litter and for calls of nature.  First time I’ve ever heard a rider briefing get a round of applause at the finish!

riders on their way

It was a bit tricky getting going over the grass, past the timing things, and over the rug at the gate to leave HQ.  We were at the front of our pen which made things a little easier though.  We set off around 7:20ish, and were on our way.  It was wet, and windy, and to be fair not all that pleasant.  But not all that cold – until you got wet and the wind blew…moan moan.  The climbing started after about 20 minutes which is a shame because these days it takes me way longer than that to warm up!

see how nice it was?

Dartmoor is stunning.  Even in this kind of weather.  With rocks and everything.  Oh, and cows, horses, ponies, and remarkably small-brained sheep.  Makes life more interesting right?   To be fair, random roaming wildlife was less of an issue this year, probably due to the weather.  Normal critters take shelter on days like this, they don’t go cycling on ’em.  Or, for that matter, spectating!  I’m always amazed at the number of people who do turn out – their support is much appreciated, so I’m glad that, like us not being fair-weather cyclists, they’re not fair-weather spectators :).

I got my kit totally right today.  I started off wearing all my layers, and by the day all the excess baggage (arm warmers, legwarmers, gilet) was in the saddle bag.  Perfect.  These came in really handy, as well as being very natty 🙂  Just call me a mobile advert!

I’d like to tell you all about the hills with specifics and details and everything but, with this much climbing going on, they all kind of blur into one.  Let’s just say there were a lot of them?  Some steeper than others, and often very long and drawn out…

wet riders climbing behind me

wet riders climbing in front of me

and wet views!

The first (and last) food stop was at Princetown, which however you approach it involved a bl**dy great climb to get there.  First time around this was enhanced by being a slog into the headwind.  Nice.  Even if stopping wasn’t on your schedule, you have to go at least go through it as it included a timing check.  Riders were being instructed to rack their bikes then sort themselves out if they were stopping, but there wasn’t any space!  Luckily GB was there – having left me behind some time ago, and he grabbed me a banana so that I didn’t have to find somewhere to park the bike.  Gary was here too – I’m not sure in which sequence we arrived – but we didn’t hang around long as GB was getting cold and distinctly tetchy about it – even with his posh Rapha waterproof on 😉

The 100km/100mile route split came just after the stop and, tempting though it clearly was to many considering the conditions, we did not take the 100km left.  Not us!  Right for 100 miles, right?!  After the big climb to Princetown, what goes up gets to go down, and there were some lovely downs, and also some rather technical and a bit hairy when it’s wet descents, which were not so nice.  All the important junctions were marshalled so there was minimum stopping all day.  Signs – black/yellow – seemed to be ok, but there were so many riders on the route that you were never going to be lost!  The .gpx file worked too, apart from, obviously, the detour.  There were also lots of warning signs both for us, and motorists using the road we were on, which I always think is a good idea.  Especially when the route involved 2800 cyclists on a lot of narrow country lanes…  There were some traffic issues from time to time – of both car and cyclist varieties – and I think if the event gets much bigger this might become a real issue, as even I got slowed down a few times.  Bigger roads?  Staggered start times?  Hm…

At some point the hills started coming equipped with yellow signs to tell you how bad it was going to be at worst, on average, and for how long.  I have to admit to having tried to ignore them, what with ignorance being bliss, but once I’d seen ’em, that was it.  At least I knew what I was in for, right?  And they’re not Alpes.  Or Dolomites ;).

It was starting to dry up now, as you can see, which made the climbs less slippery and the descents less scarey.

Gary at the top of a climb

Sadly Gary was suffering, and shortly after this heroic shot, he made his way via short cut back to Princetown and followed the 100km route home.  Shame, cos he makes hills like that look easy!  Next time, right?

It wasn’t all sweeping views and moors, there was a fair share of tree lined roads and forest bits, as well as the more usual mundane run of the mill country lanes.  Last year I found the first half proper hard work, and had to have a word with myself half way ’round.  This time I stopped at the same place, to mark the moment, remove my arm warmers, and also to note that this time around, however slow, wet, cold, whatever, it was, I just wasn’t suffering in quite the same way.  Worthy of a pause for thought no?

Plus, around then, was the mental hurdle that is the halfway point.  Not quite so exciting when you’re aware it’s going to be a very long day with climbing like that, and that half is still a long time…but still, it’s something.  There was a water stop around 58 miles in, with toilets in the village hall behind, and another timing check to ride past.  GB and I took a little time to fill up, eat, and remove layers – leg warmers gone this time.

Time for more, drier, climbing, and more sweeping views.

Apparently the Yogi team had around 140 members entered, which I’m guessing explains this:

The longest climb of the day is the one that takes you back to Princetown again, with 65 odd miles in your legs already, which goes on, and on, and on, up and over the moor, with sightseeing traffic zooming by.  One particular motorhome came past me so close I flinched…and then went past GB ahead of me with barely an inch between his very solid fast moving wing mirror and the infinitely more fragile human GB.  *gulp*.  GB discovered his very own involuntary anglo-saxon reflex…so I hope the motorhome “driver” had his window open!

Princetown food stop second time round was sunny and a little less busy.  Spinach and feta tart anyone?  Or was it ricotta? I forget.  However having a savoury option made a change even if all I could eat was more banana 🙂  I also met Rob, who has been known to comment here from time to time, but you’d never have put us both at the same place at the same place like that if you’d tried!  More of him later…  And my gilet was the final entrant into the ever expanding saddle bag 🙂

very welcome Dartmoor Water

chapeau!

Yes, there were toilets at the food stops 🙂

GB thought it was time we starting riding and stopped talking, so I had to curtail our chat and be on my way.  Don’t know why since almost instantly, the white ACG blob that was GB disappeared slowly but inexorably into the distance, never to be seen again.  Déja vu!  Ah well, at least that left me free to do the remaining climbing my way, and descend without feeling him breathing on my neck and cussing my inability to descend around sharp corners…

The final climb is a doozy, out of Moretonhampstead, and it just goes on and on and on and up and on and on and up!  I tagged on to these two near the top just because it relieved the monotony a bit…

What made it marginally more doable was the knowledge that the last 15 miles or so are downhill and then essentially, by comparison, flat.  And man were they ever fun! Having eaten and drunk even when I didn’t want to, my legs were up to a sprint for home, and the faster I went, the sooner the pain would be over and done with anyway right?  Flying along the valley, through tree shaded descents…where sadly one poor rider had clearly come a cropper and was being dealt with by the ambulance.  I hope he/she’s ok 🙁  That kind of thing always gives you a bit of a mental check…and makes you ride a little more carefully.  Well, it does me, it doesn’t seem to work on some eejots, hurtling past me as traffic came the other way.  After over taking a couple of Yogi guys, a little while later they went past me again, and I grabbed a wheel.  Well, actually, if there were 140 of them, I guess I’m just presuming they were the same two!  I ended up in a little peloton with them, which grew as we went.  After a while I felt bad for wheel sucking, so took a turn on the front for a bit which I thoroughly enjoyed, though I had to wait a while for them to catch up after I made my move – I really must get better at that.  I met one of the guys at the end after – having noted his name from his number, and thanked him for towing me, but he said I didn’t need to as I’d done my share, they’d had a hard enough time keeping up with me when I did, and that I’d made grown men cry *grin*.  Tee hee… 🙂

I was really pleased to get in, properly chuffed with my time, and very happy with how it all went.  Once over the finish line it was off to the timing tent to get my time – after getting to jump the queue because GB was already in it – cheeky but handy.  Turns out I got me a Bronze, same as last year, but it’s a 35 minutes faster bronze than last year – ‘rah!  It’s nice to know I’ve improved a bit.  It would be seriously depressing if, what with this being my 14th sportive of the season, I wasn’t on reasonable form.  From there it was on to the next queue to get my bronze medal, stone trophy, and goodie bag complete with Specialized brochure, inner tube, and saddle bag – quality stuff.  Breaking the process down into two parts split the waiting up, and you could choose to join the queues whenever you wanted to.  Even once in them they moved at a reasonable speed and no-one seemed to be complaining about it.  Us British are good at queueing right?  Apparently there were quite a lot of other nationalities represented too though – and I spent a while following a useful windbreak of a Russian cyclist *grin*.

Cycling time: 7:07:23 hrs (7:49 last year)
Distance: 102.42 miles
Avs: 14.4 mph.
ODO: 14598 miles

Official time: 7:39:13 – BRONZE (8:14 last year)

Well organised, with a great route, stunning scenery, and lots of properly challenging hills…hard to beat.  Which is what I said last year, and why I did it again this year 🙂  The Gs headed for home pretty sharpish, as Gary had been in for a while, leaving me to kick my heels around the event village in the sun for a bit on my lonesome.  Shame, it would have been nice to hang out with friends, but since I was the only one buzzing, I can’t blame them for buzzing off *grin*.  I chatted to Ron the organiser for a bit, and thanked him for his hospitality, grabbed some more Dartmoor water, and contemplated what to do next.  I’m crap at the whole interviewing bit, but luckily Rob saw me loitering, and agreed to be my next interview volunteer/victim – I shall await his email.  Thanks Rob! 🙂

Fourth time lucky and he has his Silver – very impressive 🙂  There were lots of families, including his, enjoying the village in the sunshine, with the actually rather good live music, the kids activities, etc – which gave the whole event an atmosphere you don’t get at most sportives, and which is one of the things that makes this one stand out from the rest.

I think this picture pretty much sums it up 🙂

UPDATE: provisional results say that of 739 finishers on the 104 mile route, I was 381st, which will do me 🙂  I was 5th woman in my category, but there were s*d all of us – so 5th out of 8 ain’t all that impressive *grin*.  And I was only just behind GB on 7:37:35, so I feel a little consoled by that ;).  My official Cyclosport review can be found here.

Night nurse

“The doctor will see you now…”

Andrew must have the patient of a saint.  The hours he’s spent sorting my poor bike out…  I am so grateful to him 🙂  Yesterday, and once more, my bike and I spent a few happy hours in his “office” getting my bike checked over and sorted one last time before the Maratona.  The brake pads – check.  The bottom bracket – cleaned and greased (which always, sorry I’m juvenile, makes me want to giggle in a “tee hee” Benny Hill fashion).  The gears checked and tweaked, since the new cable had now stretched a little bit.  More importantly, he’s lent me a front wheel that actually has rims!  It may not be quite as good as mine, but a wheel that works is way better than one that might fail right?!  🙂  I also have my shiny new Schwalbe Ultremo ZX tyres on.  Very slick.  Much faster, right? 😉

Once back home, the plan was to go ride for a couple of hours and make sure it was working properly.  However by then I was freezing cold (Andrew doesn’t feel the cold, I do, and it ain’t warm in there), the weather was windy and unattractive, and my insides were throwing a pain party.  It would appear that I’m back on the pills again *sigh*.  Riding just wasn’t happening – I ended up sleeping it off on the sofa for a while, and then hit the gym for a couple of hours in the evening.

However that meant the bike still wasn’t checked out, so this morning I took it out for a quick spin to make sure it was all working, and to scrub the tyres a little.  Just a quick loop, which did the trick, and reassured me that all was ok, which it pretty much was.

Cycling time: 0:48:56 hrs
Distance: 13.59 miles
Avs: 16.7 mph.
ODO: 14496 miles

Once home it was time to get on with faffing, loading up the car, etc. for tomorrow’s Dartmoor Classic.  I got all that done, grabbed some lunch, and another siesta, before heading down to HQ in Kingsteignton, which is only an hour and a half or so away – easy peasy.  I was marshalled in to the parking, parked up and walked over to the event village, along with a great many other people who don’t fancy waiting until tomorrow morning to sign up if they don’t have to!

The registration tent wasn’t busy, so I found my name, signed up, disclaimed all responsibility, and had my timing chip checked.  Today it turns out that I’m number 2149, though I could have sworn the website said I was 2505 when I looked it up as instructed!  I also met Gary and GB in the tent, serendipitously, and we wandered around the event village for a while, with live music in the background, and the weather slowly deteriorating…

The Specialized tent and groovy seating, which was proving very popular.

 Bike porn.  Something to do with Mclaren… 🙂

Lots of stalls, aka opportunities to spend money on last minute essentials.  Or non-essentials.  I got a couple of SiS bottles as my bottles are knackered and don’t match – and that’s just not on, right? 😉

Time to take a seat, drink some surprisingly good coffee, eat icecream if that’s something you’re allowed to do, and debate the weather forecast, the layers to be worn, where to stick the jersey numbers, you know, the usual pre-sportive type of chat.  

I love that the ladies get luxury toilets :).  We’re very special you know *grin*

Right now I am, courtesy of the organisers, safely ensconced in my hotel room in the Passage House Hotel, watching the rain fall outside my window, and hoping it will have passed by by tomorrow morning.  I’d check a weather forecast to see, but we all know how helpful that’s likely to be!  I think I’ll settle for waking up tomorrow morning, probably at 5:45 am ish, and looking out of the window to see what’s actually happening out there before I decide what to wear :).  Time to go and see if I can find something safe and fuelling to eat.  I’m thinking something potato based…

Sun’s gonna shine on everything you do

I’m a busy bunny this week, and squeezing the riding in feels just like that – a squeeze.  Which is not an ideal frame of mind for riding.  But with the forecast deteriorating rapidly, the sun shining, and another gym session not appealing, I was determined to squeeze it into today somehow.  One major factor in making it all work was arranging to ride with Martyn at 2.00pm.  This meant that everything would have to be done by then, otherwise I would be letting someone else down, which is not an option.  It also stopped me from being lazy and opting for the gym/babysitter option instead if everything went pear shaped.  As it turns out everything went swimmingly.  Well, not swimmingly, because the weather remained dry and warm and pleasant, but I can’t be bothered to try and come up with a more appropriate adjective 😉

First up this morning was my follow-up appointment with my nutritionist/dietician which was oddly unsatisfying.  I should, post Maratona, start the process of working out which specific foods are my IBS triggers.  Well, that’s the plan.  It all seems like a lot of hard work to me, and is going to take ages.  You can only re-introduce one food at a time, over a three day period – small amount day 1, double that day 2, double that day 3.  It either proves “safe” – in which case you stop that food, and move straight on to trialling the next.  Or it doesn’t, you get symptoms, you stop that food, wait for everything to settle down again, and then move on to the next.  The idea is to end up having narrowed down which foods trigger you, and discovered foods that you can eat to expand your diet, make it more varied, and more healthy.  However this is all just IBS management.  It doesn’t fix you – and I’m big on fixes, and solutions, and conclusions.  Although the elimination diet occasionally fixes people, it sadly hasn’t fixed me, and neither am I quite as improved as she would have liked.   The low FODMAP diet has been a very good thing in many ways – in that most of my symptoms are greatly reduced when I’m strictly following the diet.  It does make it virtually impossible to eat out, or to be catered for though, which can be a little depressing.  However the pain element remains somewhat unrelated to the diet.  It may yet prove to have been related to my use of NSAIDs (ibuprofen to normal people), and just mean that my insides haven’t healed up yet.  Or it may mean that it wasn’t that at all, and I will need to have my consultant look further into that if, in the fullness of time, it hasn’t gone away.  I am still no wiser as to why I have developed IBS, or to what the long term prognosis or effects of it might be.  My nutritionist describes IBS as a life altering thing, and it appears to be precisely that, irrevocably.  As if that wasn’t enough, it seems quite likely that something else is going on in there too.  Marvellous :(.  I have to admit to have been being a little bit ostrich about it all, just following the diet, and sort of hoping that somehow it would all go away.  It may well be time to start taking it a little more seriously, getting my head around it, and making an effort to eat properly within whatever my limits turn out to be.  Apparently rice cakes, ham, and white wine, do not a balanced diet make 😉 *grin*.

I didn’t really have time to get depressed about all that then though, I’m saving that for later (now?) when I can wallow properly, because I had places to be.  It was time for a little retail therapy, of sorts.  Back up the motorway – my half an hour appointment was an hour’s drive away! – and into Tescos at Weston, for various bits and bobs, including the all important lactofree milk, and nutella.  I made it home in time for rice cakes and ham for lunch – lazy as ever – and a quick carb induced siesta before getting up to get ready to ride.

The weather had returned to grey blanket by the time I arrived in the Square, but it was a very warm grey blanket.  Layers in the singular only, legs out and everything.  Novel.  We made our route up as we went along.  Martyn, having come from Brent Knoll, was clearly far more warmed up than I was, as he was off!  I felt the strain for a while, partially because I always forget that the reason I feel crap for the first half an hour or so is just because I haven’t warmed up, not because I’m not capable of keeping up.   You’d think I’d know that by now wouldn’t you?  Having said that – remind me to stop letting fast fit people join the ACG – a girl could get tired of being continually outclassed!  Eventually I got a grip and settled down into it more happily, and we nipped around the Levels in fairly swift fashion, whilst still managing to chat at the same time.  This probably means we weren’t trying hard enough, but I was supposed to be taking it a bit easy, what with the long and hilly Dartmoor Classic on Sunday.   That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it.  Having been a cow last time, this time Martyn was showing off some very fetching new kit from veloist.cc, in a distinctive mustard yellow, which is apparently an Eddy Merckx thing.

Our improvised route was relatively flat – with only Mudgely Hill on the way out, and Winscombe Hill on the way back.  According to Strava I didn’t even do those well, ho hum…  Bl**dy Strava! 😉  Mind you I’d probably have gone up them even slower if I hadn’t had those segments lurking in the back of my mind.  Somewhere in between the two hills, on the Christon road, we came across this fallen giant.

That was once a BIG tree – proof of just how bad the weather has been around here lately?  Or is it a sign?  No, that’s not a sign, this is a sign! 😉

‘Rah – I got another sign in there! *grin*.

I may have broken my two hour rule, but it was a close run thing, and even though I went all the way down the bypass and back into town from the other side to stretch it a little, it wasn’t to be.  I guess if I add on the couple of minutes here and there when Bella wasn’t up and running, it was close enough right?  Besides, I blame it on our speed – it would have taken longer if we were slower! *grin*.  I got my ride in, and as a result I’m feeling less squeezed all ’round – thanks Martyn! 🙂

Cycling time: 1:51:56 hrs
Distance: 32.08 miles
Avs: 17.3 mph.
ODO: 14482 miles

Great Western Sportive

I was up with the alarm, and greeted by the unexpected sight of blue skies and sunshine out of the window.  A little bit windy out there, but still so much better than forecasted earlier this week.  I’ve got this leaving for a sportive thing down pat now, and was off on schedule, flying down the motorway.

Hard to make out I know, what with that unexpected sun and all, but this is a large section of aeroplane fuselage making its escorted way down the M4.  Just before they closed the M4 between junctions 18 and 17 and made all the traffic detour in slow convoy fashion down the A420.  *grrrr*.  This was not helping with my joie de vivre, but being me, I had left enough leeway in the schedule that a minor delay, which was all it really was, wasn’t a big problem.

The start venue was at Nationwide HQ, south of Swindon, and therefore blessed with copious quantities of free parking which didn’t really need marshalling as there was so much of it.

In fact the only real use the marshalls were was to tell me where registration was as this wasn’t at all clear, and which involved getting back onto the road and riding back down to the roundabout and taking the opposite exit to get to it.  Luckily I’d figured that distance might be involved, having learnt from previous events and not wanting to to and fro, so I’d opted for getting myself all sorted and ready before heading over there.  A one way trip to the start for me.

Pre-event emails and information had been copious, so all I had to turn was turn up at registration, rider number mentally noted, get my number, cable ties, and tag, and sign in.  Last week I was 3401.  This week I was one digit out.  Literally.  Knock a digit off – and call me 340 :).  This week’s electronic timing is brought to you by the attached to your wheel hub returnable tag variety.  Not my favourite and I cheated and attached it to the front wheel not the rear – no way I was messing with anything to do with the set up back there, we’ve only just gotten it working!

There clearly weren’t that many doing the event – around 450 were signed up I think – and there were no queues for anything.  Including the all important toilets.

Today kinda counted as a cycling tweetup, as I met up with both @awbennett and @stevemoranuk.  In fact Steve, who I “met” while planning last year’s Etape, and who is doing them both this year, plus the Haute Route, slummed it and most surprisingly rode the entire event with me!  I met him at the start, and after a short and not all that audible briefing, we were on our way a little after 8:00am.  The first, and one of the steepest, hills comes very early on, before the route settles down a bit and heads along the Avon Valley.  Thanks to the relative flatness of this section, there was quite a bit of impromptu group riding which was nice.  Especially as we were heading into a nasty westerly wind – there’s shelter in numbers!  Other than the wind the weather was clement.  Dry, mostly sunny, with temperatures increasing as the day went on.  How nice is that?

OK, so it’s a little unfocused, but I’m smiling, and if it was an instagram photo you’d just presume it was meant to be that way… 😉    I’m quite familiar with this part of the world, or some of it at least, as this is where t’other half’s family comes from, and I’ve also done the White Horse Challenge which uses some of the roads.  So when we entered the village of Cherhill I knew where we were, and that some climbs were on the way.  We turned left onto the A4, and formed a line to do the long gradual climb along past the hill that presumably gives Cherhill village its name.  Or vice versa.

Cherhill White Horse and Monument

It was time to remove the gilet so I stopped and let the peloton go on their way, which also allowed Steve to catch up to me after his own brief stop.  Sadly my gilet is a little pink thanks to my daughter and a washing machine incident, so it was probably best tucked away as soon as possible.  Here’s hoping some Colour Run Remover does the trick tomorrow…

Anyway…  After the climb, and a rather nice descent on the other side, we turned left and headed towards Avebury, though we were through it before you knew it, so there wasn’t a lot of appreciation going on.  Well, this is a sportive, not a sight seeing tour, right? 😉

I knew Hackpen Hill was coming, but it was further away than I remembered.  However it was 2008 when I did it last, so it’s hardly surprising that my memory is a little gruyere like.

You can see the white horse ahead of you, the road climbing and wiggling up the hill, with small brightly clad cyclists cresting the top by the trees.  Which would shortly be us.  T’was a bit of a slog, and there were a few who had resorted to shanks pony, white presumably, but the wheels went round, and before long we were at the first food stop.  Lovely views, but no toilets, tut tut.

I passed on the food, I think I sort of forgot that I should be eating, since nothing at food stops is safe for me to eat!  However being properly warmed up by now, I did stop and stuff my arms in the saddle bag.  The descent over the downs, past the racecourse, along to nearly Marlborough was, partially due to my familiarity with the road, a whole heap of not very technical fun.  Nicely cooling too :).   The next chunk of the ride involved lots of ups and downs – never quite enough of one or the other in some respects.  The next notable climb is Round Hill I believe, which was considerably steeper than most, and I was glad of my triple.  Steve has the most ridiculous (not that I’m jealous, much..) low gearing on his UDi2 equipped steed – something to do with a long cage – and he spins his way up hills like it’s easy!  Sorry – that’s as technical as I can get about it, and you’re lucky you got that :P.

riders climbing Round Hill behind me

As ever, there was a photographer on the hill to capture the moment…so I captured him instead!

Doesn’t black and pink make a nice change?  I’m not sure the yellow booties go though, or the red rucksack for that matter…but each to their own.  There’s no law that says everything has to match, contrary to popular opinion ;).  On to the second foodstop, small, well catered for if sweet is your thing, but again with no toilets.  It was also next to a water pumping station, with the constant sound of running water, just in case you didn’t already need the loo when you arrived…!

I was oddly impressed by the rider who pulled in, parked up, and had a fag break before getting going again.  Riding like this is hard enough for ex-smokers, let alone current ones!

This time around I remembered to eat – and it turns out that these flapjacks are the best yet.  Moist and not crumbly.  My SiS bars are doing the job on the road in the first half of my rides, and my flapjacks are for stops and the later part, depending on the crumble factor!  Too much crumble and there’s no eating them on the move…  Mind you, I do wish someone would come up with a decent savoury fuel – after 4 or 5 hours of eating that kind of thing it’s very hard to eat anymore, just because it’s all too sweet.  Hm…may have to see what I can come up with for my next flapjack attempt! 😉

Essentially, thanks to SiS, Nuun, and to my multitude of flapjack attempts, I’ve managed to ride mostly digestively pain free recently.  Shame about the knee…which was not having the greatest day today…but at least the paracetamol I took is only having to cut off the pain from one source not many!

Time to ride over the timing mat, complete with satisfying beep, and be on our way again.  A brief field stop was necessary a little further down the road…  Before long we were over halfway through the ride – always good mentally.  As you can see my Garmin was working this week, though I did try not to obsess too much about what it was saying.

More up and down, more sunshine…and one final stop to remove layers.  My capacious saddle bag had enough room left in it for my legwarmers, and there I was in Cyclosport jersey and shorts, all summery and everything :).  There are worse places for a quick break, no?

Having had the wind behind us for a while, we had to head north for a bit and then turn back into it, and I’m fairly sure it was way more of a hindrance than it ever was a help!  We took turns to play windbreak, and sheltered as best we could.  Luckily the route was quite wiggly so it wasn’t too relentlessly into it all the time.  The final foodstop was about 16.5 miles from the end according to Mr Helpful there – making the route total about to be 101 miles, not 105.  Amazing how much that helps mentally.  I managed to persuade him to tell me it was all downhill from there on in too… 😉

After another half a banana, and some more flapjack, we were off again.  No timing mat beep this time, though we did ride over it, honest!  Time for the last hour or so to the end.  At least it stood every chance of being an hour, but this was obviously going to depend on the wind, which was doing nothing for our rapidly dropping average speed, and how much climbing was left to us.  And there was more of both.  There was the long slow drag variety which, to be fair, wasn’t hurting too much…

The sign for Hinton Parva forgot to mention that it was pointing us towards another big hill – Blowing Stone Hill, which was another variety entirely.  Quite a kicker in fact when your legs are already practically at the finish, and not inclined to be inclined!  Talking of signage, as you can see it was pretty clear.  Orange/black for the route, yellow/black for warnings and splits, with plenty of both.  Then there were my favourite signs – orange repeater ribbons – to reassure you that you are indeed going in the right direction.  Even if the gpx file supplied hadn’t been accurate – which it was – I’d be surprised if many riders got lost today.  I didn’t see many with punctures or mechanicals either, which was good.  And I wasn’t one of the afflicted either – something I appreciate more these days than I used to!

This particular sign was a very good idea as we were about to cross a main road, at which we duly waited, and waited, and waited…  The rider who came from behind us, barely looked, and just rode straight across is a very lucky individual indeed…  Down to 8 lives at least.  And if he rides like that on a regular basis, which seems likely, I’m guessing we may be talking considerably less than that!

After that there were a couple more kickers, short but nasty, to come, but my legs were on their way home and weren’t having any of it.  Time to get back to the Finish, after a quick sprint down the main road for fun.  Must stop doing that, it’s neither big nor clever ;).

that would be me 🙂

Steve and I at the finish

I was pleased to get to the end, especially 5 miles earlier than I’d been expecting!  It’s been a while since I’ve done a hundred miler, so I was pleased with how it went, though to be fair, it was considerably less hilly (c.1500m) than advertised (c.2000m).  It was not however the best way to get used to a new saddle – we are NOT friends yet!  Oh, and something is still creaking….

Having handed in our tags we were given our voucher for a Tea and a Tee.  See what they did there?  That would be a coffee, a free double choc muffin to take home to the mob and a souvenir t-shirt for me :).  I definitely had a bit of post-event buzz going on, as I sat in the sunshine chatting to other riders, including a couple who actually came over to chat to me because they knew who I was, and wanted to put a face to the name, which was kinda amazing!  Nice to meet you both :).

Cycling time: 6:09:37 hrs
Distance: 100.38 miles
Avs: 16.3 mph.
ODO: 14449 miles

I had a chat with Martin the organiser, who came over for a chat, and also recognised me because we met at the Joker.  I hadn’t really taken note that the same group were organising both events – ‘doh!  I thought he looked oddly familiar back then, and had put 2 and 2 together since, but I needed to know if that made 4…which it did.  I used to work with his brother, many years ago, and there’s a serious family resemblance.  It’s a very small world :).  Sounds like they’d had a good event too, although the weather forecast this week had blighted the turnout somewhat which is a shame as those riders missed out on a good day in the saddle.  Incidentally, I think this would be a great sportive for anyone looking to do their first 100.  Some challenging ups (but not too much so), some lovely downs, with beautiful countryside and great organisation – the perfect way to get you hooked on the sportive drug 😉

Andrew

a rather tired looking rider

riders shooting the post-event breeze

Personally I had a great Great Western Sportive.  Good weather makes everything so much nicer doesn’t it?  I wasn’t exactly flying, but it did go pretty well, and my legs did what they were told with minimum complaint.  Or at least less complaint than sometimes.  I met some great people, topped up the vitamin D levels, and enjoyed some lovely scenery.  To put icing on the sportive cake, my official time, which I checked on the way back to the car, was 6:27 and a Silver – woo hoo! *grin*.

UPDATE: official Cyclosport review is up here.  Results are now up here as well.

Makes me work a little bit harder

I spent several hours at my second home yesterday.  Also known as Andrew’s workshop.  Hours during which I got a new saddle, new cassette, new gear cable and bits, and a new big chain ring.  A big chain ring that didn’t understand the meaning of the word compatible because it should have been and it wasn’t.  Bye bye new chain ring, welcome back old chain ring.  Voilà  – a bike that works considerably better than it did before.  And that shouldn’t creak going uphill any more.  The creak was the saddle, in case you were wondering.  It had done a lot of miles, and had just had it really.  I replaced it with one exactly the same.  Stick with what you know, especially when what you know is going to be stuck under your posterior for hours on end!  Oddly enough the bike looked instantly newer with it on, helped by the fact that I’ve touched up some of the damaged paintwork with black enamel paint.  My poor baby needed some TLC to go with all its new bits :).

This overhaul meant that today’s plans to ride weren’t really optional when, once more, I needed to check that the bike was working properly before this weekend’s sportive – the Great Western Sportive.  Déjà vu all over again.  The weather forecast was, as seems to be constantly the case these days, dismal, and as I sat in bed drinking coffee this morning the rain started.  Not exactly motivational.  So I came up with a strategy to make myself go out – I decided to commit to joining the Somerset Cycling mob’s regular (ish) Friday lunchtime ride.  I figured this would make me go out, as well as making a nice change from all this cycling by myself.  The forecast also showed a remote chance of things being a little more pleasant by then, in so far as such things hold water.  I was further prevented from bailing by agreeing to meet Carlo in the Square at 11:30am to ride down to meet the other guys at Mark.  No excuses left.

I haven’t been out with the guys in ages.  Whilst I really like riding with them – I have to admit that it’s hard work.  They’re fast folk, and I have to work to hold my own, and to take a turn at the front when I can.  I really enjoy it – it’s a challenge, it’s a different kind of riding to what I usually do, and it’s probably very good training.  It’s not necessarily a good idea in close proximity to a sportive though, hence the reason I haven’t been out with them of late.  I gather it hasn’t been quite such a regular reliable thing these days either, people have other things to do, lives change etc, so I guess I was lucky that today was once of the days when it was actually happening.

Carlo had claimed he might need a wheel to get to Mark.  Remind me to remember that Carlo is much faster than me even on one of his bad days!  Even though he was a little late, Cheddar having been more time consuming to negotiate than usual, we still made really good time down the A38 and across to the church in Mark.  Oh MAN it was windy.  REALLY windy.  If I’d known it was that windy I’d quite probably have stayed at home.  Well I’d have thought about it anyway.  Slogging into a headwind is not definitely the ideal way to warm up and I did have to hide behind Carlo from time to time when it all got too much.  We had sun, we had rain, we had drizzle, we had wind…  At least 3 seasons worth of weather before we even got there!  The only thing in its favour was that it was fairly warm, and when rain made you wet, sun and/or wind made you dry again pdq.

Carlo’s mate John was already there and waiting when we arrived.  With deep rim wheels.  Rather him than me…!  I made a mental note not to be too close to him when the wind was likely to be from the side ;).  Mark and Michael joined us shortly, and we headed off on a route of Michael’s devising.  Headwind first for a tailwind later, in an ideal world.  Routes change as you go along, but here’s what we actually did.

Colourful bunch aren’t we?  Looks practically pleasant out there…  Even with the wind it was good riding.  Working hard is a positive thing sometimes right?  It feels good to be pushing it, to be holding my own and keeping up with these guys, who all make it look easy.  After a considerable time spent fighting the Force rather than feeling it, at some point near Glastonbury we turned tail and put the wind more or less behind us.  Much better :).  Shame it wasn’t always like that – wiggling around the Levels inevitably puts you back facing it again from time to time, and unlike some, I can’t sprint into that!

We had coffee at Sweets where, in traditional fashion, the camera came out.  Sorry!  It would be wrong if I didn’t get Coxy eating again, or show you John, or annoy Michael by immortalising him again, right?

The coffee stop wasn’t just welcome, it was essential, as very unusually for me, I’d left my bottle at home.  See?  Not much good there is it?

Coxy very kindly sprung for drinks, in my case a large Americano, and a bottle of flavoured water for the journey home.  Ta muchly! 🙂  There was much discussion of riding, mostly racing, time trials, and the like, something which I know nothing about, and only briefly considered earlier this year before sportives became even more important than ever.  I drank my very nice coffee, and ate my self-catered lunch – one small clingfilm wrapped flapjack.  Two forms of cycling fuel :).

I’m onto my fourth (I think, I may have lost count) attempt at flapjacks, with a recipe courtesy of my fellow Cyclosport writer Mark, and some tweaks from me.  Result!  Much moister than usual – probably because it used more golden syrup and marg than previous recipes but then, to be fair, it also used more dry ingredients.  Very tasty too.  Though probably not what you’d call a health food, even with sultanas, cranberries, and various seeds in there *grin*.

We came the direct route home, with the wind actually helping to push us up Mudgley Hill.  Novel.  There was a little confusion as to who went where then.  Having followed Carlo and John straight on, I think Michael and Mark must have gone left, since they didn’t catch up, even though we dilly dallied, and stopped and waited a few times.  Carlo and I decided to head for home, as planned, and John went off to try and catch them.  Sorry guys – thanks for a great ride though :).

Cycling time: 2:07:46 hrs
Distance: 37.52 miles
Avs: 17.6 mph.
ODO: 14349 miles

Carlo and I took turns on the way home before he dropped me on the Wedmore straight.  I was doing 25mph+ and he was still vanishing into the distance.  Talk about strong…no wonder Strava thinks I did well – I was trying to keep up!  No chance :).  He slowed down long enough to say goodbye before we parted company though.  I got home tired but happy and well worked out, as you can see from the stats.  Flat but fast!  Now if they were to ride earlier in the week sometimes I might be able to join them more often…I definitely can’t be riding like that on a regular basis AND doing all my other riding :).

Here’s another one for the chain ring tattoo album.  Front chain ring from the look of it…

I hear that voice again

OK, so I had a blinding Dragon ride.  I’m still kinda gobsmacked by that.  Let’s face it, that kind of performance is totally out character, and quite probably a complete fluke.  In years to come I’ll be sitting in various cafés, recounting the time I was 234th…and everyone else will be yawning and ignoring the wrinkly misguided nostalgic cyclist in the corner…

But that was Sunday.  Today is Tuesday.  And that little internal voice was off…  Well, it could be my internal voice, it could be my bike telepathically communicating with me – we are very close after all.  Either way…  It’s sometimes hard to make out what it’s saying.  Sometimes it’s just a general I need to be out on my bike feeling.  Sometimes it’s telling you that it’s way too windy out there and you should stay at home and be safe.  It’s a chatty little thing.  Today it was wondering whether or not I could actually do hills.  I mean, maybe Welsh hills are an anomaly right?  Maybe I should try some local hills instead.  See, it’s hard to get hilly riding in around here at the moment.  The first ride of the week tends towards being a recovery ride.  The second ride of the week shouldn’t be too hard because it’s too close to the weekend.  And the weekend ride is a sportive!   OK, so that usually involves hills, which is great, and each sportive is really a training ride for the big one but…

So the little voice was niggling away at me.  Hills hills hills…  Once I’d heard it, that was it.  If I’d ignored it, I’d have felt like I was wimping out.  Bailing.  Can’t have that right?  So hills it was, making it up to join them up as I went along, which was quite enjoyable.  Sometimes unplanned is good.  The dots I joined up were Shipham Hill, Burrington Combe, and Ebbor Gorge.  Strava says I did my best times on Shipham and Ebbor too, which is kinda cool, tho I was a tad slower than sometimes up Burrington Combe.  It was dry, fairly sunny, a bit windy, and by no means warm out there.  Chilly and hilly in fact.  I didn’t have quite enough layers on, but luckily the hills warmed me up, the downs weren’t too long, and there were enough sheltered spots or sunny intervals to keep me just on the right side of the temperature seesaw.  Ebbor Gorge felt like hard work today.  One of those times when you’re convinced something isn’t working properly, that there should be another gear left, that you’re sure it used to get easier earlier, that you get up it just because you know you’ve done it before so you know you can, and you get up it because it’s the last hill before you’re heading for home.  So it’s a relief to know that the reason it was hard is because I was doing it better than usual, even if not by much!

My exact route?  Well if you want to see it, Bella will tell you all about it here.  796 metres of climbing may not be much, but it’s only over 2 hours/30 odd miles, so I think that counts as hilly.  I tried to ignore Bella too (sorry Bella) and ride like the Dragon – listening to myself and my gears.  Mindful riding, as I like to call it.  It seems to work.

I also thought I’d spare you more photos of hills you’ve seen before.  Besides which I was busy concentrating on riding up them rather than immortalising them on camera, that being the point of today’s ride!  How’s about a photo of  this lovely fence instead?  A work of proper craftmanship.  It goes on for quite a stretch and it’s gorgeous.  Must be nice to have a proper trade, to be a master of it, to work with your hands and to make something both functional and beautiful…

…and back in the real world, where we’ve lost touch with those roots, here’s how some would prefer to treat our countryside.

Why would you do that?  It’s not like the tip is far away.  Considering the wrapping, it may well even have been a new mattress.  Not that that’s really relevant one way or the other, since it shouldn’t be there whatever its condition.  But if it fell off a lorry, you’d stop and pick it up right?   So it’s been left there deliberately, in an area of outstanding natural beauty…until someone else clears up the mess.

Cycling time: 2:16:02 hrs
Distance: 33.53 miles
Avs: 14.8 mph.
ODO: 14311 miles

I’m a bit behind on my mileage for the month, so I hope to get out on Friday too if anyone’s around.  Then there’s the inevitable Sunday sportive of course…  At least the weather was ok today, the same is apparently not to be said for the rest of the week.  My legs even came out to play…gotta love a good chain ring tattoo :).