Category Archives: Cyclosport

Ride Like A Pro 2015

After a quick evening spin on Thursday, and a rest day on Friday, my cycling weekend had arrived. I did the Jaguar Ride Like A Pro last year, and I have to admit I hadn’t seriously been considering doing it again, but when they got in touch and asked if I’d like to do it again? Well, I’m a sucker for an invitation. To be honest, I did mentally debate it for a while, what with the Great Weston Ride the following day, but this year’s Ride Like A Pro was only due to be 48 miles, and I’ve ridden two days in a row before, and did I mention they invited me? Yeah, done deal 🙂 I signed on the dotted line, aka the on-line registration form, and the die was cast.

Of course the fact that I didn’t have to be in Bristol until 10:00am was definitely in its favour. So all I had to do this Saturday was get up at a reasonable hour, sling on summer kit because the weather was nice, throw (well, not literally) the bike in the back of the car and head North. Result 🙂

Which brought me to Hartwell Bristol Jaguar, somewhat nervous, but under sunny skies, all according to plan on Saturday. Why nervous? Well although I did enjoy it last year, keeping up with the race snakes was hard work and, not helped by a gear cable failure, I ended up limping home with just James for company. Would it be the same again? As I parked up and started to sort stuff, the sheer amount of high quality gear being unloaded and paraded around didn’t make me feel any more confident. However I had been told they were hoping to have three ability groups – fast, medium, slow – and rather than be daft enough to opt for the fast group this year, I had every intention of being slow and not pushing it, especially with Sunday in mind. I was doing my best to keep the nerves at bay.

I went inside the showroom – I mentioned it was a Jaguar ride right? – and admired the cars in passing on my way to use the facilities. I then chatted to Jack who’d invited me, and familiar face Ride Leader Pete who led us/me last year, while signing the relevant paperwork. Time to get properly ready then and hope it would all go according to plan. Whilst faffing I got chatting to another rider about the route and the day and where we’d come from and the like. A little while later, whilst waiting for the rider briefing, he popped up again and said…if I was from Axbridge, and cycling…was I in fact the Cycling Mayor? Well…yes…as it happens…I was. Am. Whatever 😉 Aw shucks, someone who reads this. How cool is that? 🙂

Time for the ‘tick every health & safety box’ rider briefing then. Which Jack did very well, to be fair. My heart sank somewhat when it became apparent that the plan was for us all to be one group for the whole ride. Oh dear… Resolved though I was to do my best I had visions of me just fading slowly into the background…and I found myself thanking my lucky stars that I’d downloaded the GPS route, even if my Garmin isn’t all that good at those. At least I would be able to get around on my own without getting lost!

So, after some obligatory photos with the Team Sky Jag, it was time to head off. It took us quite a while to get out of Bristol, what with traffic lights, traffic, and the like. And being one big group, which tended to get a little bit strung out as a result, I think it’s fair to say we didn’t make some of the rather impatient motorists like us any more than they had done before! On the upside this meant we were all pootling along at a more than tolerable speed. I wasn’t deluded enough to think that this would last but it was nice to have some time and space to warm up in.

Which took care of the first five miles or so I think. And took us out by the Long Ashton Park & Ride and out towards Nailsea which, on Sunday, would cause a certain amount of déja vù. Now that we were out of the big bad city, the group speed started to go up, as expected. I decided the best thing to do was to try and stay near the front so I had a way to drop back if necessary. However the roads through Wraxall and beyond were more rolling than anything else and dropping on the ups didn’t seem to be a problem. I even had chatting company for a while which was nice. It was definitely going better than the same time last year when I definitely remember struggling more. Actually I think this year’s group were overall a little slower…even if they’d hate to hear me say it…but you won’t hear me complaining!

It was nice out there though. Pretty. Sunshine, colourful lycra, Somerset countryside, what’s not to love? Mind you, I knew it wasn’t going to stay flat and easy all the way around. As we passed through the land of my father, through a surprisingly quiet Yatton, and on to Congresbury I knew that the first up of the day was ahead, and there was no way I’d be maintaining my place in the pack for that!

Right then, time for the up from Churchill to Shipham. And actually I got overtaken by far fewer riders than I was expecting. Which just goes to show that overall we were slower than last year 😉 It’s not the worst climb in the world, pretty gradual, with a steep kick out of Shipham, and then a lovely down which means you can then get quite a long way up the next kick to get to the top before the descent…

Which is where we met the Wiggle Mendips Sportive riders, who were coming down from Charterhouse to merge with us at the bottom by the Lillypool Cafe before going up to go down Shipham Hill. Of course having far more momentum on my side than them, I shot past them many of them who, not realising I wasn’t on their ride, were a tad bemused about me cruising up the hill past them like that. Very funny 🙂 After inevitably slowing down a bit for the last bit of the final up my favourite descent awaited me, complete with rabbits to chase and overtake. And I had a blast going down – much much fun. Especially as this year my gear cable didn’t snap on the way down! *grin* Since we were heading for our café stop at Edelweiss at the bottom of Cheddar Gorge I didn’t even have to slow down at the junction where I normally turn right, and knowing those roads well, I had lots more fun hurtling past lots of less cognisant riders to get to where everyone was gathering. As I neared the bottom of the Gorge, a Wiggle rider pulled up next to me to give me kudos on my descent. Apparently he’d been pedal to the metal trying to catch me all the way down and hadn’t manage to narrow the distance between us at all. Tee hee hee :D.

Time for coffee. Well it would have been, and was for many, but actually I fancied fizzy orange. And I definitely couldn’t face the cakes, bacon rolls, etc that others were eating. Not before Cheddar Gorge! The café staff were a tad overwhelmed by us all, so service got a bit chaotic. And £2 for a small bottle of fizzy Fanta seemed a tad much but hey, it went down at the same speed I’d just gone down 😉 There were also drinks and bars and things in the back of the support car too, as well as the opportunity to have your photo taken with it – all of which I let pass me by. I was just wondering when would be a good time to head off before everyone else so that they could catch me up later! After some time spent chatting to others in the sunshine I decided the time had come. It turned out that several others had already headed off, so I told the Ride Leaders I’d be doing the same, and one of the others joined me too.

Hello Cheddar Gorge. Again 😉 I’d like to thank the Wiggle Mendips Sportive for all their riders who were doing the same as it meant that, unusually, I actually overtook lots of people on the way up! Go me! Somewhat amusingly somewhere in the wiggly bits, on the side of the road, was Phil of SportivePhoto fame… I said hi, pointed out that I wasn’t one of his so he didn’t need to immortalise me, but he did anyway – and having seen the result on Twitter later, I think I need to buy that off him! He did make me laugh though 🙂 And I even overtook some of “our” riders as we neared the top – the shallow the gradient the faster I go, and it’s not like I don’t know the climb, right? Shame Strava doesn’t think I went up there at all…

Near the top I caught up with the rider I’d left the bottom with, and also picked up one I’d overtaken, and so as three Pro musketeers we headed off over the Mendips without waiting for the rest of the group to catch us. I had my reservations about this, mainly because I didn’t want to get lost, but we figured that between us and our various gadgets, we could probably find our way back. Which we did, with the odd little wiggle where we weren’t quite sure about things. I was a bit cautious about the West Harptree descent, not wanting another puncture. Chew Valley Lake was as pretty as ever, and the country lanes afterwards just sort of rolled by. Having done the ride before definitely helped, as sometimes I could remember the way, and also because it was all vaguely familiar, so it didn’t feel as long or as hard as last year, even including the couple of ups after Chew Magna. Luckily the guys waited for me to catch up after each one! The fast group caught us up on an up towards the end, but nowhere as soon as I’d expected, and then left us in their dust to head back into Bristol, followed by one of us. My remaining companion Andy, as he turned out to be, stuck with me however, which I was most grateful for; it is nice to ride in chatty company. He even waited when we got separated by traffic lights on the way back into Bristol on the basis that we’d done the last 20 miles together, we should do the last 200 yards that way too! And then there we were, back admiring posh cars, and picking up our goody bags. I’m pretty sure we were far from the last in too 🙂

I think there around 40 or so other riders on the ride, but I’m pleased to announce that I was the fastest woman today. I was also the slowest woman. Yes, I was the token woman! 😉 Not that I really noticed. I was Riding Like a Pro which, as I’ve said before, in my situation would make me Lance Armstrong, so I was just another bloke out there 😉 I really enjoyed the ride, even more so than last year. To be fair, the Ride Like A Pro supported ride bit only really worked for the first half of the ride, but at least after that, however splintered we all were, there was still a support car somewhere behind us. However the route is nice, the weather was good, there was a really friendly atmosphere all round, and I definitely feel like I held my own. A good ride for sure. Maybe they’ll invite me back next year? 🙂

Cycling time: 3:03
Distance: 48.5 miles
Avg: 15.9 mph
ODO: 10363.5 miles

Bike Bath 2015

I was asked to review Bike Bath last year but for some reason that I now forget, I couldn’t. So this year I decided I would put it on the calendar and make sure I did it. It seemed like I should.

Which is why, on Sunday morning, I was driving down half the course I would ride later, to get to Bath. It being around an hour away, it wasn’t the earliest of starts, which is always good, and the sun was shining which is always better. HQ is at Bath Recreation Ground in the centre of the city (I think it’s a city right?), but in order to promote cycling and reduce congestion, we were advised to park at the free Park and Ride facility on Newbridge Road. Not that I knew where that was, but I presumed my satnav would get me there which indeed it did. Unsurprisingly I was parked up next to a fair few doing exactly the same thing.

The forecast was for mild and not too windy, so there wasn’t too much faffing to do on the kit front, other than donning some arm warmers because it was still a tad chilly. I was pleased to discover the car park was free, though the bus into town if you use it is not. The toilets however, were not free, but I was pleased to discover I did actually have a 20p piece. In fact I think you could say I was relieved 😉

Time to see if I could find my way into town. Sorry, city 😉 I’d looked at the map supplied beforehand, and did so again, before heading off. I was hoping to follow someone in but all the cyclists who had been around had suddenly vanished! Luckily I do know Bath a bit and although I completely failed to take the right route in, I just followed the A4 until I knew where I was, found a sign pointing, presumably, to where I needed to be, and with no trouble at all other than a little traffic dodging, I was at HQ.

There was an event village set up, toilet blocks, tents, stands, all the usual, with the addition of the fabulous Claud the Butler. I decided to go and register before I indulged my high quality coffee addiction. Which luckily didn’t take long. A nice smiley lady told me where to sign, gave me my number and bike tags, and stuck a timing tag on the LHS of my helmet. Time for my short black Americano, a trip to the toilet block, and a quick break on the steps to watch everything happening.

Things were all fairly informal, so I just kinda got myself together, grabbed the bike off the rack where I’d stashed it earlier, and joined the latest group gathering by the start arch. The group ahead of us was just leaving so almost straight away we shuffled forwards for our rider briefing, that came with more of a sense of humour than usual, which was nice. And then a little after 8:00am I was on my way.

Sometimes local rides fill me with dread. Really, these roads, again? And sometimes I look forward to them because I know what I’m in for and I know I can do it. Today was one of the latter. Not that I’d ridden all of it before but still, a case of familiarity not breeding contempt 😉

In fact the first hour or so provided the greatest novelty. Cycling through Bath in vaguely cyclocross fashion through pedestrianised streets, the wrong way up roads, down cycle lanes, along cycle paths by the river, along a lot of cycle path in fact, including most novel of all – the Two Tunnels. Which was kinda scary! Two sections of the Somerset & Dorset railway have been turned into shared-use path, although at this time of morning there was only the odd walker/jogger to share them with. The tunnels are both downlit at regular intervals in oddly catacomb style so you can actually see where you’re going, but the darkness around you and the sunglasses balanced down your nose do lead to a slightly unstable feeling. The first section wasn’t that long, but the second section seemed to go on forever and I was quite glad to emerge blinking into the sunlight, in front of the obligatory photographer to capture the moment. As I thought, sunglasses on the end of your nose is not a good look 😉

There was a brief hiatus shortly afterwards where the signage said both straight on and left up and backwards. Logic dictated that anything other than straight on would just take you back, so presumably that was meant for one of the shorter routes. Straight on then, to infinity and beyond! Well to Somerset anyway. Time to go uphill then, and there were a few ups to climb out of Bath. Nothing too drastic though, just the gradual scenic variety really, followed by lots of country lane riding. I’m sure I should have been taking photos but I was busy warming up and looking around, and generally getting on with it! Oh, and we have great village names around here – Norton St Phillip, Buckland Dinham, and Great Elm to name a few.

We were getting into familiar territory now, especially when we got to Mells. Shortly afterwards came the first foodstop at Chilcompton. The food was plentiful, with sandwiches, pies, bananas, and more, and Cawston Press fizzy juice drinks but it was a bit chaotic as there were no bike stands, so trusted steeds were just strewn all over the gravel car park, mine included. I nipped inside the hall for a quick comfort break, took off the arm warmers, grabbed the usual half a banana and headed off again.

I think this route might become my favourite way to climb the Mendips, though sadly I live in completely the wrong place for it to be useful. Yes it’s essentially up, it goes on for quite a while, and some bits are steeper than others, but it just doesn’t really feel as bad as it should. And it’s pretty! Plus all that up brings you to the top of the Mendips, and across to Priddy, from where you get to go down again. Whoopee! Oddly I’ve been up Deerleap loads of times, but never down it. And I’m not sure I’d repeat the experience. Not with a classic car rally coming up it at the same time for sure! Given a guaranteed lack of traffic I think it’d be a lot of fun though, and it still wasn’t horrible, but it being narrow, steep and/or wiggly in places, it definitely called for a degree of respect. Mind you, once that bit was done, the flying section onwards through Wookey Hole and to the outskirts of Wells was much fun 🙂

Time to head to Wedmore, down a road I use at least once a week, but which somehow seemed more fun today. Well it was still sunny, and I knew it was pretty flat! In fact there was around 12 miles of flat, pretty Somerset roads, attractive villages and the like. I reminded myself that just because they’re a bit like wallpaper to me these days, people do actually come here on holiday, and it’s actually very lovely! I have to say though that having done a lot of sportives in the South West lately, Somerset really does some have the worst roads around – I found myself feeling a bit embarrassed for my county!

Anyway. Enough with the reflective and flat and scenic, time to go up the iconic! Yep, Cheddar Gorge loomed ahead of us. Believe me, it’s much nicer in the sunshine, and that we were still blessed with. My Garmin refuses to believe I went up it in the prescribed fashion so I have no idea whether it went well or not, but it felt like it did. It does help the PMA when you overtake people on the way up! For those of you who don’t know the Gorge, here it is in pictures. No Horseshoe Bend though – that involves concentration and hands on the handlebars! 🙂

It was starting to get a little less pleasant by the time I reached the top – clouding over and with some wind. Mind you, that’s often the case on the top of the Mendips, I should be used to it by now, and the cloud was still fairly patchy. Having made it up once more I knew I was going to get one of my favourite downs shortly – down West Harptree Hill. Which I was duly enjoying until I hit a bl**dy great pothole halfway down… No, I didn’t fall off, but it rapidly became clear that somewhere there ought to be air there wasn’t. I was, in so far as I could be, grateful to discover that it was at least only one tyre afflicted, and that it was the front tyre at that. So I took myself off to the side of the road and set about getting it sorted. Something I can do, I’m just not very fast at it. Still, I was sat on dry grass, sheltered, in a patch of sunshine, so hey, needs must. I was pleasantly surprised when most of the riders going past me checked to see if I was ok too – which is a good place to mention that this is one of the friendliest rides I’ve been on lately. Lots of etiquette, and lots of friendly chatting in passing too – makes a nice change!

As I sat there the silver mechanic support van came up past me, which may have been co-incidence, or maybe someone arrived at the foodstop a little further on and told them about me, who knows? They turned around a little way up, came back down, and pulled up next to me to check that I was ok and had everything I needed, which I was and I did, so I didn’t need their assistance. However having had a brief chat it was good to know that they were going to head back to the foodstop and that there would be a track pump waiting for me when I got there. My little pump is pretty darn good, but getting properly back up to pressure would be good, and save me bouncing around for the rest of the ride.

Job done, I headed down the rest of the hill a little more carefully, and then flew along to West Harptree proper where the foodstop was. And yes, there was a track pump, in fact an entire tool kit, complete with a hipster mechanic to pump my tyre up for me. Result! The food stop had a little less food, not that I needed any, but the Cawston Press fizzy rhubarb was fab! I also topped up my bottle with water and was rather thrilled to discover they also had Nuun tablets – my usual poison – so I wouldn’t even have to use the ones I’d brought with me – bonus!

Right then. With around 60 miles done, I only had 20 miles ahead. By the way it’s amazing how much easier 80 miles is to deal with mentally than 100. Weird, no? Of course it definitely helped that the weather was nice, the hills weren’t bad, and my legs just seemed to have it in them today. And the rest of my body too. I was having another good day at the office 🙂

The final 20 miles took us past the very pretty Chew Valley Lake, and then back to Bath along country lanes, without too much up or down. Sadly the weather deteriorated. Black clouds were gathering all around, and I was really hoping that, doing a fair speed, I might get back in before they got to me in a big way. Which I sort of did. It did rain for the last hour or so, but since it was still fairly mild, and it wasn’t too heavy, it was tolerable. It did stop me taking photos though, which was a shame. After quite a while of not knowing where I was, we popped out at Saltford, and suddenly I knew, and we were turning right onto the Bristol-Bath Railway Path to head, damply, back into Bath. At least the rain meant, once more, we weren’t sharing it with many other users. The damp and straight and flat did get a little tedious, well, mostly the damp to be fair, but it didn’t really take that long to get back into Bath, get confused once again by road signs, albeit in a different place, manage not to fall into the river cycling alongside it, and to negotiate Bath’s now busier streets to get back to HQ again.

Rolling under the Finish arch we were all welcomed in over the tannoy by name and with time, as various staff/volunteers presented us with our medals and sent us off over to the event village again. The rain managed to clear up for a bit as I parked the bike and then wandered around a bit trying to figure out what to do. There was free hot food available, but I wasn’t really in the mood. There was a Bath Ales bar doing a roaring trade, but I was driving. So I grabbed a bottle of water, sat by my bike, and checked my phone instead. And then the rain started again.

Right then, enough already. Time to head back to the car. Which turned out to be 3 miles of the wettest riding I’ve ever done. Everytime you wondered if it could get any worse, and if you could get any wetter, the heavens would inform you that yes it could, and yes you could! I got to the car, opened the boot, and climbed straight in!

And it didn’t stop. I changed into dry clothes. And waited. And it didn’t stop. Eventually I managed to get the bike into the car without getting out, and the nice rider who’d just arrived at his car next to me shut my boot for me, so I could clamber over into the driver seat and head home without getting soaking wet again! I gather it brightened up later and the whole event ended in glorious sunshine…*sulk* 😉

Still, I had a really good ride. Well, apart from the drenching 😉 I enjoyed the route. I had it going on, in so far as I ever do. It was well organised, low key and most and best of all, it was very friendly. It was definitely a nice day out on the bike 🙂

Cycling time: 5:10
Distance: 78.8 miles
Avg: 15.3mph
ODO: 10197.9 miles

Clif Bar nutrition

A little while ago I was lucky enough to be sent some Clif nutrition goodies to try out. Having met Mr Clif bar on my training camp, where he’d become familiar with my tedious nutritional requirements, he reckoned they’d do me nicely. Clif Bar’s philosophy means that they use wholesome ingredients in all their products, and that all their food is free of hydrogenated oils and high fructose corn syrup. Since not eating enough on sportives is something I have been known to do, trying out new stuff that might work seemed like a good idea. So I spent April and May doing my sportives powered, mostly, by Clif. With the odd flapjack and banana thrown in of course 😉

So, let’s break this down into the four different products. In, as it happens, my order of preference.

Clif Builders
These come in three flavours – Chocolate, Chocolate Mint, Chocolate Peanut Butter. Each bar has 20g of protein and is supposed to be eaten post-workout. I had the Chocolate Peanut Butter ones, and I have to say I wasn’t mad keen on them – but then eating post ride is something I’m notoriously bad at, and after a sportive all I generally want to eat is something savoury – enough with the sweet already! As a result I don’t have much to compare them to. They’re a good size, quite dense, chewy, and fairly chocolately, if that helps? Having said that, coming home from one long sportive driving down a long motorway, realising I was running on empty, one of these did get me back up and going and safely home again!

Clif Bars
I tried the White Chocolate Macadamia and Oatmeal Raisin Walnut flavours (also come in Chocolate Chip, Blueberry Crisp, Crunchy Peanut Butter and Chocolate Almond Fudge). These bars are made with organic rolled oats, and are not unlike the flapjacks I usually eat on that basis – and are ok for me as I’m ok with oat gluten. Unlike my flapjacks however they have a whole heap of other ingredients which elevate them above those. Apparently this mix of whole grains, protein and fibre, means each bar contains B6 and B12 which contributes to the normal release of energy for use in the body. That’s all a bit techy for me… However they do taste good! Not too sweet. Not dry. Easy to chew. They’re a good size for my back pocket and also my top tube bag (some bars are too long and thin), plus they don’t crumble all over the place either! I certainly didn’t “bonk” on the rides I used them, and I’d definitely buy more, and not just to try the other flavours 😉

Clif Shot Gels
Thanks to the training camp and my samples, I think I’ve tried every flavour these come in – Double Espresso (100mg caffeine), Citrus (25mg caffeine), Razz, and Chocolate. Unlike my usual gels these are shorter and squarer and they come with a special designed “Litter Leash™ Packaging” that means you can tear the top, drink/eat the gel, and the top stays attached to the packet to be tucked back inside, before the whole thing goes into your back pocket to be disposed of later. Very clever – and that bit less litter on the road is a good thing! When it came to actually using them, they always come as a bit of a surprise. There are I am expecting a sort of runny jam, and these are more like a thick custard. I’d describe it better if I could – but I can’t! Initially I found the Espresso flavour a bit bitter but I’m used to it now and I especially like the Citrus one. Clearly I’m a bit of a sucker for caffeine in gels… 😉 The gels, whichever flavour, definitely do the trick. Having left it a little too late on one particular ride, and with miles and hills to go, I took one and I could really feel it cut in as needed!

Clif Shot® Bloks™
Now these I absolutely totally love! Think of a tube of 6 separate jelly cubes – a bit like the ones you used to eat as a kid. Each energy chew is 33 calories, and they come in four flavours – Mountain Berry, Strawberry, Tropical Punch (25mg caffeine per serving), Black Cherry (50mg caffeine per serving). On a ride, once I’ve got past the bars/flapjacks stage, these have turned out to be the perfect way to make sure I eat something every twenty minutes, which is so important. They’re easy to eat, and rather than gels, which give you a hit when you need it, these gave me a more sustained energy level. I like them so much I went out bought loads last month and I’ve been using them ever since!

Unsurprisingly what you eat on a ride is always going to be a matter of taste. However I’d definitely recommend the range – especially the Bloks. None of the products upset my insides, and I definitely felt fuelled throughout my rides – result!

Dartmoor Classic 2015

One of the many lovely things about the Dartmoor Classic is that that the organisers, the Mid Devon Cycling Club, put up all their guests and sponsors etc. the night before the event, and feed them too. Which meant that rather than getting up at hideous o’clock to get down in time to register and ride on the day, I could go down to Newton Abbot at my leisure on the Saturday. So I did. Being earlier than hotel check-in time I went straight to registration at the racecourse, where there was plenty of parking, and plenty going on. The event village was up and running, live music was happening outside on the Grandstand, and people were milling around here there and everywhere in the sun. This did not mean however that there were massive queues, quite the opposite in fact. I walked straight in, up to the Grande route tables, proved my identity with my passport, and was given my envelope. Job done.

It was all so efficient and took so little time that I didn’t really know what to do with myself next really. The event village didn’t have anything I could be convinced I needed, so having forgotten to get cash on the way down, and fearing the “minimum spend” card criteria that was probably in place at the catering places on site, I took myself off to the Beefeater next door instead for a pint and some lunch, having also forgotten that eating would be a good idea today. Guy turned up a while later and, after registering himself, we had a chat for a while before going our separate ways – him to the Premier Inn next door, and me back to the Passage House Hotel a little further away. Since I still had plenty of time to kill before dinner, after checking in and checking out the envelope and faffing a little, I spent a couple of hours overlooking the River Teign, in the sun, hydrating 😉

After a very pleasant meal with everyone at the Passage Hotel Inn next door, it was time for a relatively early night. Well…it would have been earlier had my IBS not decided that something in the usually entirely safe (and particularly nice actually) ham egg and chips I’d had was not to be tolerated, and it would be passing Go without imparting any nutritional benefit on the way through. (TMI? Tough!) Gee, thanks for that. Just what I needed. So finally I was off to bed around 11pm ish, with an alarm set for 5:30am, not off to the greatest start…

Which was not helped by, for whatever reason, me waking up at 3:30am and completely failing to find much further comfort in the arms of Morpheus. The bed was a little hard, the room was a little warm, the open window meant it was also a little noisy, with the road outside and with other guests coming and going through the very loud fire doors…it just wasn’t happening. Ho hum. Who needs sleep anyway, right?

So 5:30am found me already up and drinking bad coffee. I ate a banana and cereal bar, went through the usual pre-sportive routine, and then got the bike out and set up before riding over to reception to check out. Outside it was definitely not as nice as the day before. Sadly. Windier, chillier, cloudier…and the 5 minute ride to HQ made me very glad of my gilet and arm warmers!

There was a small group of us due to be starting off together (me, Guy, Steve, Rob, and two Alans I think?), if not riding so, and we all gathered slowly near Guy’s car under the Premier Inn. I took advantage of this to nip to the toilets, and got spotted and told off by some small officious female marshal for having my iPod earphone in one ear. Apparently I was to take it off, or else. Or else if I was spotted with it on the route, I would be disqualified and not get a time. Like I care…! Oh, and having checked back through the pdf with the regs? No mention of them not being allowed either, as I thought. She picked on me later in queue for departure too to make sure it was gone. Well it wasn’t. It just wasn’t visible. And neither was it visible anywhere where I was likely to get caught on the day either 😉 But if you think I’m slogging up hills all day on my own without some background comfort, you have another think coming. I’m not a slave to daft rules… It’s always on quietly in my left ear, and has yet to stop me hearing anything important! She made me cross. Mostly at the tone she used actually, I don’t recall still being a child…

OK, eventually, after Steve and Alan had turned up and registered, and with several pens of Grande riders already en route, we all squeezed into the next pen ahead of the Medio riders as apparently all Grande riders HAD to be in this pen. So there we duly were. We do what we’re told right? Not that we were going anywhere anytime soon. I know a rider briefing is a good thing, but this one was interminable…and I’m not sure anyone was paying attention after the first couple of minutes. Maybe he was just killing time to allow the previous pen to be escorted and set on their way before the lead out car came and did the same for us but hey, play some music or something first and then brief?

I was feeling a bit nervous standing there, as well as post-telling off grumpy, oddly. Not that I could figure out why, and I did try, but I just was. Pre-ride banter was up to standard, and it was really nice to catch up with the guys though. Finally it was our turn to go, with a neutralised start following that car, to keep us all well-behaved through the streets of Newton Abbot, before we were let off the leash a way out of town, past the timing gadgets, ready to get on with it.

My time with the guys lasted longer than the 5 minutes I’d half feared, but the elastic between myself and them snapped after about 20 minutes. Which came as no surprise, and I’d already said I was ok with that, which I really was and am. Although in retrospect it probably doesn’t help to start off a very long tough ride already feeling left behind if that makes sense? Maybe I’d have been better off starting on my own? We’ll never know…

Right then. Me again. This was my fourth time doing the Dartmoor Classic, and I was up for the 107 mile Grande route I was down for. Again. But I started having doubts early on, even though I did have words with myself about mentally shutting up until I’d at least warmed up properly. Which today wasn’t easy. It was, as I believe I’ve mentioned, grey, chilly, and rather windy. Better things were forecast though so…?

5 miles of relatively flat warm up, and we were going through Bovey Tracey and then up onto the Moor with the first climbing of the day. It’s really one long climb up to Haytor, but comes in sections, which today included a closed road Strava segment timed ascent of Beckaford Hill. I plodded up the whole thing in my usual fashion, though with rather more rider traffic around me than was sometimes comfortable. I looked at the views – stunning as to be expected – as crawler gear engaged (I’m always worried it won’t!) and it was all going ok. Still, my average speed was barely in double figures, the wind up there was killer, and I was still chilly.

After some time on top of the world fighting that wind, and a lovely descent, it was time for more up (when wasn’t it?). Several more ups as I recall. One of which, around Holne Chase I think, is steep and narrow and was once again too busy. After the left turn at the top, going steeply up past walking riders, with many more doing likewise ahead, one of those decided to try and get back on…failed to do so…and crashed to the floor right in front of me. OK, so I stopped just in time, and warned the riders climbing behind me, but guess who wasn’t going to be able to get back on either now? I can’t remember the last time I’ve had to walk on a hill and I was NOT amused! A short grumpy walk later I was back on my bike and back to slogging up hills into the wind…

This is going to sound weird. But I just got bored. I know all these hills. I knew
I could and would get up them. I wasn’t suffering any more than usual. But I just couldn’t really engage my head with the whole thing. Or figure out why I was doing it. With the speed I was averaging, in the wind and the cold, it was starting to look like I’d be out there all day. And after the walking incident? I was actually bored riding my bike and I certainly wasn’t enjoying myself, so I decided that on that basis I’d possibly be better off cutting my losses…

The first food stop, and also the route split, was after the very very long slow windy slog up to Princetown, 33 miles in. Which on a route like this is not two hours in, it’s three hours in, and was possibly a little late for me on that basis. Dave, of MDCC and training camp fame, was marshalling at the entry so I had a friendly face to say hi to on the way in. It was busy but not too crowded, the queues for the toilets were short, and the infamous savoury Homity pie was still plentiful. Having grabbed some and refilled my bottle, I took myself off to a patch of grass, broadcasting thousand mile stare so that everyone would leave me alone, and ate it whilst checking with myself that I really wanted to do what I thought I was going to.

I did. I really did. I texted Guy so as he’d know, and after another cheery wave to Dave, I was taking the left turn and taking the Medio Route, with 34 miles to go to get home instead of 74. So sue me! 😉 This didn’t mean the climbing was all done of course, but it did mean I’d broken the back of it. Typically by now the sun was coming out, and finally my gilet and arm warmers came off, one by two. After some Moor draggy ups, the long descent into Moretonhampstead meant that only one big climb was left – downs always mean ups – and this up doesn’t half go on. But I know it, knew it would pass, and knew that the last 15 miles or so would be a down followed by a long flying finish along the valley, and hey, who knew, I might even get my average speed up a bit? 😉

After a happy hour or so doing what I do best, I was back at the racecourse and rolling past all the spectators to go under the Finish arch. I can’t say I was bothering to smile for the photographers, something I failed to do all day, but then I rarely buy the photos anyway 😉 It was just sort of good to have it over and done with. Smiling on the inside?

I headed inside to get my time, the relevant medal for a slow Medio route, and my goody bag. It turns out my official time of 5:18:44 narrowly missed the under 5:17 standard for Silver which, in retrospect, is a bit annoying, but I doubt I’d have been able to do anything differently anyway. Well, ok, I could have not eaten pie. But it was good pie 🙂 And talking of good, the goody bag didn’t suck either – a DC kit bag, DC tube scarf, a Yellow Jersey Insurance Ass Saver, and an inner tube. Nice 🙂

For all that I didn’t feel the love, it’s still a great event. Pretty much every key junction is marshalled by friendly folk with fluorescent jackets and red flags. The signage is good if practically superfluous as a result. The foodstop is lovely. The scenery is lovely. The whole thing is well organised, and friendly and helpful. And it is a real challenge, although possibly less so fourth time around, and that’s my motivational problem not theirs. However they did have, I think, around 1000 more riders than last year though, and I think that was reflected on the narrow roads and the hills, which wasn’t great, as I’ve said. Would I recommend it? Yes, definitely. Would I do it again? Hm…ask me again next year.

Cycling time: 5:14 (official time 5:18)
Distance: 67.6 miles
Avg: 12.9 mph
ODO: 9952.3 miles

And PS: where has rider etiquette gone?!

Velothon Wales 2015 – Part 2

I bolted awake, convinced I’d missed my alarm clock only to discover that since it was 6:30am, not 7:30am, I hadn’t. And I wasn’t going to get much out of pretending to doze through that last hour either, though I still gave it a go…

You see Velothon Wales has 2 routes. A 50km, and a 140km. With 15,000 riders to organise, everyone is put into waves, with allotted pens of 500 riders or so, and start times with, somewhat unusually and probably having something to do with road closures and the pro-race later, the short route guys being set off first, and then us long route folk. I hadn’t paid attention to which Wave I was in, I just knew that I was in Pen E2, with a start time of 9:00am, and that I should be there after 8:25 and before 8:55. Hence the relatively late start. I prefer to start early – sooner started, sooner finished – but hey, I also do what I’m told.

Having decided that I couldn’t face the hotel breakfast, mainly because the chances of them having anything much I wanted to eat were slim, I stayed put and drank bad instant coffee, ate a banana and just half a cereal bar, because I really wasn’t in the mood for eating full-stop. I faffed a bit, packed everything away, killed time doing very little, and then headed for the car. Not because I was going to use it, but because that’s where the bike and assorted paraphernalia were! I reassembled the bike, loaded it with all the usual, dumped my bags in the car, checked out, and headed off in unexpected sunshine.

My pen was, as the pre-ride pdf had indicated, just along from registration so finding it wasn’t hard. With all the cyclists all heading in the same direction, I couldn’t have gotten lost if I’d tried! A short ride through the now fairly empty city centre and I was there. Being on the early side of my slot, I was fairly near the front of the pen, with half an hour to kill. Still, the guy on my right was the chatty sort, so time passed amicably enough. I could have used a toilet but there were none to be seen near us, and besides being penned in would have made getting out and back in kinda problematical. Riders to the front of me, riders to the back, here I was, stuck in the middle with me 😉 Ah well, it could wait. It was pretty warm standing in the sun going nowhere, so I stashed my gilet, and debated doing the same with the arm warmers, but decided against. Our allotted 9:00am came…and not long afterwards we were all gingerly moving slowly forward, through the pedestrianised high street, trying not to slip on the shiny tiles, or bump into other riders or the railings! Some tannoy girl was chatting away and telling us how great we all were, and exhorting us all to have a good time, but without any actual constructive info in there, I think she was being pretty much ignored, which means her continued level of enthusiasm was fairly impressive!

Right then. Under the Start line arch, and off we all go. Once moving things were distinctly chillier, and I was half tempted to stop and put the gilet back on, but I didn’t fancy stopping so soon, and figured I’d warm up soon enough. Especially as I knew the first 40km or so were really flat, so the chances are they’d be fast too. Which they were. The first hour of roundabouts and suburbs and industrial outskirts and beyond flew by at an average of nearly 20mph! It took a while to get used to the novelty of ignoring traffic lights and junctions, of going round whatever side of a roundabout or traffic island you fancied, and there being no cars about. There were plenty of other riders to avoid though, or be avoided by! Sometimes we were on main roads and even dual carriageways, with lovely road surfaces, and as we got into the countryside, we were on narrower lanes with surfaces that were less so, but were still better than I get around here mostly, which is good because avoiding potholes in traffic ain’t easy!

Yes that many riders means a lot of traffic, especially on the narrower country lanes, which could be a bit tricky. Somewhere around the 30 mile mark, on one such, we were all suddenly grinding to a halt and backing up, with riders picking up bikes and walking. This would appear to be where the (how unoriginal) infamous tacks were, or had been, though I never saw one. I just walked along with everyone else, rueing the effect on my average speed, until we all finally got going again!

While I’m walking my way through this, I should mention that there were quite a few accidents out there that I saw (well I saw the aftermath anyway), which presumably means there were even more I didn’t. And marshals standing in the middle road of the road shouting incoherently and angrily at masses of fast approaching riders nearly caused even more. I’m thinking they should have had big red flags to use in such situations, as other events do, because it would have been far clearer what they were trying to achieve. There were signs warning of hazards but small white text on the odd orange sign is not all that legible, and if they’re warning of a sharp turn at the bottom of a hill (as was often the case), it’s no wonder a lot of riders missed them. Kinda ruins a good descent too! And shouting angrily at everyone to slow down for such things doesn’t really work either, as quite a lot of those slowdowns were also unnecessary for more experienced riders who know how to descend and how to handle a bike. I do hate unnecessary loss of momentum…!

Right, where were we? Ah yes. After a couple of little lumps, we reached the first food station, at around the 37 mile mark. Which was, not to put too fine a point on it, complete chaos. There was a long queue of riders all bunched up to get in. Riders queuing to get out – through the same entrance. I nearly gave it a miss, but I really did need a toilet by now! I managed to park the bike against a fence rather than queuing to get it and me in, and then to also have to find somewhere to put it. Once in, gingerly negotiating chunky gravel in cleats, there were queues for the food and queues for the toilet. Not that you could tell which was which or where which began. I think I probably jumped the queue I needed first, but no-one called me on it 😉 I couldn’t face the food queue at all, and as there was someone pouring out water from bottles near the entrance, I just topped my bottles up, grabbed the bike from outside thus avoiding the queue to get out, and legged it! Chaos, like I said.

climbers behind me

Things then started to get more scenic, which was good. The Welsh hills loomed ahead in the sunshine, and I knew all the climbing would be starting soon enough, though I wasn’t in any rush to get there! There were two big climbs today – the Tumble and Caerphilly Mountain. I’d avoided researching them too much – it’s not like knowing what they were like was going to stop me having to go up them – but rumour had it they were both pretty difficult. But by whose standards?

Which brings us to The Tumble. Which turned out to be long, fairly steep, and it even had a hairpin. It’s 6km at an average of 10% apparently. But it was oh so totally doable. My crawler gear was well and truly installed today, as others steam-trained past me, huffing and puffing, or walked by the wayside, I just slowly ground my way up serenely. How cool is that? There was scenery, and sheep, and sunshine, and although it didn’t half go on, well, it just went well. It’s lovely when it works 🙂

The second food stop was at the top and just as chaotic. Again with the same entrance/exit. It was more of a drink/gel stop than food stop though – the food had pretty much run out. And yes, there were queues all over, all over again. Once more unto the toilet, my friends. Once more to get water. And once more to leg it asap. Oh, and the state of the place! Rubbish everywhere, even with large bins all over the place! Better than dropping it on the roads I suppose, though a fair bit of that was happening too sadly, but still… Not good 🙁

Still the descent afterwards was fun; in fact the next five miles or so were essentially downhill, which is alway good 🙂 The next section seemed to involve a lot of urban and main roads and dual carriageways (empty of course!), and long slow climbs up those, which didn’t really feel like hills somehow but I guess they probably were. I guess main roads only really do up in the same way railway lines do – gradually! I wasn’t really feeling them though – by which I mean they were just ups not hills, to be followed by downs, as today I was on form and it was all going well (yes, it happens!).

There was one down, on the wrong side of a dual carriageway, on to a large roundabout, where the road surface at the bottom was just atrocious and my camera managed to bounce out of my top tube bag and onto the ground. B*gger. That would be why I use a camera for photos not my phone! I pulled up by some spectators on the side of the roundabout, asked if they wouldn’t mind watching the bike while I tried to retrieve it, and headed back to whence it lay. Luckily a marshal had seen my predicament, and he got it, and the memory card and battery, for me…and nearly got run (ridden!) over for his troubles. Luckily he didn’t, and since he had a fluorescent jacket on and I didn’t – I probably wouldn’t have been so lucky! Many thanks to him 🙂 And guess what, the camera, though a little battered and bruised, when reassembled, was still working – result! The spectators were most amused by the extra show, and loving their location. Thanks to their choice spot they’d managed to collect a small hoard of riders’ bottles which had likewise bounced free!

Off to Caerphilly we go. It has a castle and everything you know. Not just a mountain 😉 As with so many places en-route, there were plenty of spectators out cheering us on too. It’s hard to suffer too much on the bike when you’re having to smile and wave so much – it just cheers you up! 🙂 Which didn’t stop it being time to go up that mountain though. Shorter than the Tumble but steeper and a bit narrower and by now, it being later in the ride so I guess they were tireder, lots and lots and lots more riders were walking. Shame they couldn’t stick to the left hand side, or when they were, walk in smaller groups. With less than half the road free to ride up, with riders going down when it all got too much and un-cleating didn’t happen, or just stopping willy nilly, and with other faster climbers trying to push through, my heart was in my mouth frequently. I was back in my serene crawler gear and quite enjoying it, and really really really didn’t want anyone to make me stop! I was very relieved to make it to the top in one piece. Oh, and a little bit chuffed too 🙂

There was another feedstop up here, but this time I didn’t even bother, not after the state of the last two. Plus I was only 8 downhill miles from the end so there didn’t seem much point anyway. Yo home to Bel-Air 😉 The last few miles flew by, and I flew by a fair few riders too, as I had been doing all day, which is always good for the ego. And as I rolled under the Finish arch and joined the walking procession for medals etc, listening to those talking about how hard it had been and how tired they were I definitely had smug face on because to me it wasn’t, and I wasn’t. By my standards I nailed it 🙂

However, the after-ride aftermath was a bit of an anti-climax. We all shuffled forwards, got our medals, were offered a bottle of water and/or an inch of banana, then shuffled back down the other side…and that was it. The event village was still there, with some street food/coffee places, but as ever all I wanted was fizzy orange, far too down market for them 😉 There wasn’t much space for sitting around, even milling around was tricky with all the people with bikes, accompanying supporters, family, etc…none of which I had. So, Velothon Wales done, I just took myself straight back to the hotel. Where, once my car and I were all sorted and ready to go home, I had that fizzy orange 🙂

I guess this is sort of a mixed review. Let’s start with the negatives. You can’t blame the organisers for the idiot who put tacks down (although he probably thinks you can). And since all the pre-ride info had included a section on how to ride in groups and be a polite rider, you can’t blame them for the nearly complete lack of rider etiquette. Precious few riders were pointing out obstacles, or issuing a polite “coming through”, “on your right” and the like, which often made things a bit tricky.

But there’s a lot to improve/tweak for the organisers here. Better signage for starters. When you don’t have to have signs for the route, riders aren’t really looking for signs at all so those that you do have need to be large, and clear. And to encourage walking riders to stick to the left! The marshals were friendly enough and clearly helpful when they had to be, but a lot of big events use marshals with red flags on sharp corners etc – shouting really isn’t the way to go. I think maybe some of the marshals/outriders needed to better trained to cope with emergencies too (I do hope everyone who was one is ok). Most importantly of all, the food stops need a one-way system, an entry and exit, more food, and more toilets! Toilets along the route would be good too – and designated rubbish areas might help too. Which pretty much covers constructive criticism I think…

On the upside I LOVED the closed roads, I enjoyed the scenic hilly section, and all the local support was great. With the exception of the two massive hills I found the route pretty easy and with so much to pay attention too – other riders, marshals, supporters – I never got bored, or stuck on my own. The time just flew by, as I did…kinda 😉

Cycling time: 5:23 (official time 5:51)
Distance: 85.7 miles
Avg: 15.9 mph
ODO: 9804.8 miles

There were supposed to be 15,000 riders all together, but from the results it looks like there was only a total of 9815, which is a pretty high attrition rate! Still, 997 (around 11%) of those on the long route were women, which is more than most events manage (and it was 50% on the short route!). My stats for the long route? I was 5543rd out of 8777, 419th woman, and 78th out of the 174 ladies in my age group. Yes, I know, doesn’t really convey nailed it does it? But I feel like I did, and that’ll do me 🙂

Velothon Wales 2015 – Part 1

Woohoo – a new event! And not just new to me – new full stop. And it was a big’un too – Velothon Wales! In the absence of a closed road foreign road event on my calendar this year (*sob*), 15,000 riders on Welsh closed roads sounded like a pretty good Plan B to me, so I signed up sometime in the far and distant past, booked my hotel, and pretty much forgot about it…

Until this weekend of course. Which saw me, and a great many other cyclists, all heading down the M4 to Cardiff on Saturday afternoon, those that weren’t going to be doing the same on Sunday of course. I reckon around 20% of the many cars patiently queuing at the Severn Crossing toll booth had bikes either on or in them! Of course adding all of us to Cardiff’s usual Saturday afternoon traffic made for slow progress from thereon in…

OK, so I’d booked my hotel, the Big Sleep in Cardiff, through Velothon’s partner of choice. I knew they had limited parking. I was hoping that by getting there early I would stand a chance of getting a space. As I sat there in stop/start interminable traffic, eventually able to see my hotel but still not getting there, I felt my chances slipping away…surrounding by car parks with big red “Full” notices, and no alternative booked… So you can imagine how relieved I was when I finally pulled up the (very steep) ramp to the car park and found spaces if not galore, certainly sufficient for my needs! *phew*. Although my paperwork had said check in was at 2pm, and I was marginally early for that, it turned out that is oft the case, the paperwork sent by those I had booked through was wrong, and it was actually at 3pm. Probably explains why not everyone else was there yet and why there were spaces…but whatever the reason I certainly wasn’t complaining. I was where I needed to be, when I needed to be, and my little red car was happily parked up.

The weather wasn’t great, mild but damp. So given an hour or so to kill, I sorted some stuff out with the car and bag and such, grabbed my waterproof jacket, and headed back to the hotel to use the toilets and ask for directions to Cardiff Castle, which is roughly where I knew registration was. As it turns out another gentleman, aka a cyclist (not always the same thing!), was doing the same, so I acquired company by the name of Charlie. We headed off in the drizzle, me with the map of course, apparently it’s a girl thing 😉 We jay-walked our way there in grockle fashion, and eventually reached the event village by City Hall. To be fair, a couple of signs wouldn’t have gone amiss! The signs once there weren’t all that helpful either, but we figured the large white tent not noticeably selling anything and with a few people queuing out of it was probably registration which indeed it was. Having been open since Thursday, and with anyone else checking in to the City probably aiming for 3pm, the various number-related queues were pretty short, and mine was non-existent. For a change having been asked to bring photo ID with me, (I only have my passport and I really don’t like having to take it to sportives and then leave it in the car), I was actually asked to produce it. Which I did, of course. I was clearly me, so I was allowed to have my essential envelope and a goody bag which I gather in some cases contained hair conditioner which is useless to your average MAMIL and which might have actually come in handy for me. I just got some fliers and a pack of Craisins! And a voucher for a free Enervit bottle which, once Charlie was likewise sorted, we both went and collected. He also got one of their complete race nutrition – before, during, after – packs, which he’d reserved. I passed. Surprise, surprise 😉

We wandered around the village a bit. He needed a new bottle cage and gas canisters – which he found. I was handed the bag containing all these as he paid, as ever, a girl would only be there as someone’s wife, right? *sigh* My new marital status was the cause of quite some amusement 😉 Muc-Off were also there and I remembered I’d run out of their Chain Cleaner, so I picked some of that up too (saves paying p&p right?). But there wasn’t much else to do, or pay attention to, especially in the damp, so we headed back to the hotel to respectively check in at last, having duly killed the necessary hour to make our presence permissible. It turns out that the hotel is co-owned by John Malkovich, which is a tad surreal, as was sharing my room with a photograph of him staring out at me. Still, my room seemed, if basic, perfectly pleasant, though the fluffy curtains were a tad weird. So, what to do now? Charlie had work to do…due a presentation of exciting accountancy stuff on Monday morning apparently, whereas I had no such ties on my time. Since he had suggested I might like to join him and his club – iCycle from Bedford- for the meal they were all having that evening, although I wasn’t sure I would, it being a tad outside my comfort zone, I figured I should get some cash just in case, and hey, a girl needs to hydrate, no? 😉

On my way into town I walked past the kind of pub I always want to go in, all historic and tiled and stunning…but you can’t see inside so it’s a tad scary and, giving in to fear, I walked on by. Having found cash, the centre of Cardiff on a Saturday afternoon was a whole heap more scary though! And I don’t just mean the sheer quantity of hen/stag parties. They have an excuse (kinda!). I’m talking the other denizens prowling the streets! Oh, so classy…and I’d better add a big NOT there! All the central pubs, including a Wetherspoons which can sometimes be a good option, were heaving and loud and just not where I wanted to hang out in a quiet corner, mostly because there wasn’t such a thing anywhere to be found. So I was brave. I went back to the other pub. It was empty. And as I wandered around a bit downstairs, as stunning as I’d hoped. I went back to the main bar which was purple, with pink crystal chandeliers over the bar, and Perroni on tap. On ordering my pint from the softly spoken barman, it occurred to me that I wasn’t in Kansas in anymore, but I was probably somewhere where Dorothy would have a lot of friends. So once I was sat down I googled it. Yep 😉 Hey, it made no odds to me – the beer was cold and wet and wanted, my seat was purple and comfy, it was quiet, and a lot lighter and airier than I’d expected, so I curled up to read my Kindle happily for an hour or so 🙂

That done, I figured I’d head back to the hotel if I was going to have another one, and chill in my room sorting stuff for a while instead, as I was getting a bit chilly rattling around the place on my own. So I did just that. Whilst doing such upstairs, pinning numbers on jerseys and the like, and then resting up on my comfy bed, Charlie texted me to say I was indeed welcome to join them all for dinner and he was getting a taxi at 18:45pm if I wanted to. Just for once, maybe inspired by having been brave with the pub, I decided that I would. Unaccustomed as I am to being sociable, I thought I’d give it a go 🙂

I was nearly late, having got stuck filling in a Human Race survey that took far longer than it should have done. But I made it down in time, and we headed off to Demiro’s which turned out to be in Cardiff Bay, just down the road, where I’ve been before, and I like it there. Good start 🙂 By the time we’d all arrived there were about 25 of us, and I was somewhere in the middle of the table, which was nice, and made it easier to meet people. The menu was a tricolore of Welsh, Italian, and Spanish – an interesting mix! – but it had a whole heap of carb-loading options for those that needed them. Since gluten-free didn’t seem to be an option and I didn’t want to ask, I went with squid rings and then crab cakes. Not safe, but safer 😉 Oh, and also pretty good! As was the company, as it turns out. Lots of the usual cycling conversations, and quite a lot of good-natured banter 🙂 I’m not sure any of us were expecting cabaret…but they had singing waiters! One younger, one more Tony Bennett. Both quite good, especially so according to the lady of a certain age, and part of a large party in a middle of the room, who really got into the swing of things…extra entertainment! Bet her head hurt the next morning 😉 Having eaten well, drunk well but less than her, and done the usual splitting the bill shenanigans, Charlie and I eventually found another taxi and headed back to the hotel for a quiet drink putting the world to rights, before heading off to our rooms for a relatively early night. Bikes to ride an’ all that. No Dangerous Liaisons for me, y’hear? 😉 I was dead proud of myself for being brave twice in one day, both of which had gone well, and amused to have been both married off and adopted in one day too. Funny old world 😉 So far, so good…

Black Rat Cyclosportive 2015

I’ve done the Black Rat Cyclosportive before, and this was to be my third time. However it’s been different every time. It was based in Portishead for my first in 2012, when it went around Somerset and also for my second, in its “Three Bridges” incarnation in 2014. This time The Black Rat had relocated to Clifton Rugby Club for a route that wouldn’t be dissimilar to last year but with less bridges and no Avonmouth to negotiate – so I was definitely up for doing it again.

Clifton Rugby Club is, however, not that easy to find. The satnav was convinced it was a car showroom. The entrance on the other side of the uncrossable dual carriageway wasn’t open, so clearly wasn’t the right one. Hm. So, I drove around circuitously a bit in the hope that I would find inspiration…which, when a black arrow hove into view I did. I followed it and found the entrance lurking on the side of the one way road that I couldn’t have gone done coming from the direction I’d arrived anyway. I gather there was a different postcode to use somewhere but clearly that had passed me and many others by. Some sort of signage would definitely have been helpful, and if it wasn’t for the marshals at the entrance I could use when I found it, it still wouldn’t have been obvious that I was in the right place!

Still, here I was, marshalled to park on a grassy field in the sun, where I would later be joined by both my Dad and Alan. In the meantime I headed off to register in the club building. Being early the event was still sort of setting up around me and there certainly weren’t any queues for anything. I’d remembered my 613 number so found the right place on the table to be given all the usual, and also a free High5 gel. With at least an hour in hand I had plenty of time to use the facilities and grab a cup of free coffee too.

The forecast was for pretty much the same as my last ride, sunny/cloudy/breezy/mildish, so I’d figured out what to wear already. Lightweight longs, toe covers, bamboo s/s base layer, merino s/s jersey, arm warmers, and gilet. Which made for a whole heap less faffing than sometimes. Well, apart from trying to get the bl**dy seat post timing tag on – not easy with my huge saddle bag! As I was sitting in the car wondering what to do next Dad walked past looking for me. And shortly afterwards Alan walked past on his way to register. And then there were three. Not three to ride together, as Dad was doing the short route, with some of his club members around. But Alan and I were both down for the 100 mile route, aka the Granfondo, his first in quite some time, and we were going to be sticking together for the duration. ‘Rah – company!

Having said that, I then managed to misplace Alan until just before they started sending riders off…I was starting to worry I’d be riding on my own after all! So with no time to waste, we joined the queue, and waited for our turn to be briefed and sent on our way. The rider briefing was a tad rambling but covered the usual bases, and we were on our way at 8:37am, up that one way road, and up the dual carriageway. Not for long though, very shortly we turned left into country lanes, at which point I found myself wishing we’d been let go in smaller groups as things got a bit clogged up. Still at least the rider traffic stopped us hurtling off too fast too soon right?

I’m often a bit blasé about sportives this days but knowing that I was doing it with Alan who’s done less of ’em than me, I’d paid more attention to the elevation of the route than usual so that I knew that with the exception of one lump, we were in for pretty flat times all the way until the Severn Bridge. I figured that lump would be a good test of my insides anyway, although since I was back to popping pills like smarties, I was already dosed up and not too concerned. So we bimbled our way around the country lanes, doing a reasonable speed but not pushing it, and that lump, whilst a bit testing on early legs, went fine albeit predictably slowly. Good start 🙂

Right, off to the (old) Severn Bridge. Which I love riding across. And today was no exception. You can see it shining white like a beacon from quite a way off, and it always cheers me up. After the wiggly cycle path to get to the bridge proper, we stopped for selfies and the like to immortalise the moment, before enjoying the scenic if slightly windy ride across to Wales. It sure was pwerty 🙂 Unlike the housing estates of Chepstow that followed, but they passed by soon enough. We then bunched up for a while at the traffic lights in the centre where the route split was last year, which have possibly the shortest “go” phase anywhere, though I’m pleased to say no-one was jumping them!

Wales is where the hills are. And oddly I like Welsh hills. They’re, mostly, long but not too steep. We climbed out of Chepstow past the racecourse and beyond and then flew back down to the Wye Valley to once more immortalise Tintern Abbey. By now I was having a serious case of déja-vù but hey, the abbey looks much nicer in sunshine, no? Shortly after the abbey came the route split. Which didn’t seem to be marked, and the marshal who was occasionally shouting out which way was which was more interested in his mobile phone than whether or not we were going the right way. Luckily I caught the tail end of his last holler and we went straight on whilst the other two routes went left. Suddenly where there had been lots of riders around us, there weren’t! And then we passed some signs marking another route split…curiouser and curiouser! We carried on our merry Granfondo way as indicated…

Today’s event turned out to be awfully like the Wiggle Wye Valley Warrior, with the addition of the Bridge, and the subtraction of Symonds Yat. Sounds good to me! I hadn’t realised quite how identical it would be but then even if I had, having liked that route, I’d probably still have done it 🙂 When I met an up I knew I knew I could do it, and when I met a down I knew I could properly get in to it. Lovely 🙂 It was however all new to Alan!

As we carried on, the Wye Valley was just as beautiful as ever, though the bluebells were a little past their best by now. It really is pretty around there. Of course you have to climb out of the valley eventually, which was a new climb to me I think, up to St Briavel’s Castle. It has a Moat Society and everything, who knew?! The first food stop came at the 50km mark shortly afterwards, where we were marshalled over a timing mat, so they’d know who’d really done which route presumably. The stop was in a pub car park, a pub which had very salubrious toilets, and outside there was plenty of food on offer, both sweet and savoury. Although being me I just had half a banana *grin*.

Off we went again, with more familiar roads. The next big up. The church at Staunton. Monmouth. And once again, espied from a distance, Lydart or Trelleck Hill. Again! But I was doing well on hills today. Well full stop actually. I was feeling really strong, which was…unprecedented? I actually left Alan behind going up and he didn’t catch me until near the top when things were easing off. My best time up there ever I’ll have you know. Two minutes faster than two weeks ago! 🙂

Time for the second food stop, at 80km in, at another pub, in Trelleck. They were waiting on a delivery of more food but there was still a range and enough to go around. And they still had bananas 🙂 I was keeping my bottles well topped up today, but with the food stops so well spaced out it probably wasn’t essential. We had a bit of a chat with one of the organisers, and checked up on the rest of the route with him. I thought we’d done the four hills that I was expecting so far, so there was due to be a flattish/rolling section before one last big one, which he confirmed. Always good to know. And, for a change, I wasn’t asking because I was hating the going up bits, I just wanted to be prepared 🙂

We headed off once more, but Alan seemed to be flagging a bit, although he reckoned I was just haring off a bit. Yep, I was still feeling strong 🙂 I did suggest he took another gel though, and I reined it in a bit and tried to make sure he was always on my wheel – it’s always easier to follow a wheel, right? Shortly after the stop and a bit more up came the next route split, a very sharp right turn, a bit out of the blue, and again not that well signposted. We had to retrace a little bit and locate/check the signs so as to take our right turn rather than head straight back to Chepstow. Which also took us down possibly the best descent of the day. Fab views but steep and fast and not technical so no photos I’m afraid! So much fun 🙂

As promised the next section was indeed more on the flat side, with views, windmills and bridges – I do like having something definite to photograph 🙂 Again I was riding within myself, with Alan behind me. All of which took us to the third and final foodstop, once again at a pub, with the same selection of food. Alan was feeling it, and my left knee was playing up. Knowing there was a final big hill coming up even I thought a gel might be a good idea, not to mention it making a change from bananas 😉 And that final hill, the long slow interminable climb up from Usk towards Chepstow was just as tedious as it always is! Although better in the dry and sort of bright than in the rain to be sure. Knowing it was the last climb of the day and that the rest of the route would be down or flat was motivational too.

It was as billed. There was a long, long, long, enjoyable downhill and then we had to deal with Chepstow before we could go over the lovely bridge again. There was some confusion regarding signs and directions around the racecourse and also at the beginning of the bridge, but after some debate with other riders we all took the right path and crossed the by now distinctly windier bridge, but on t’other side this time. Which was still fun, even if Alan doesn’t look like it was. This left us with around 16 flat miles to do. Into a killer headwind. It has to be said, this was not fun. Alan was on my wheel with little left in the tank, my head was down, and yes, we were dragging our average speed up nicely, but man, it was hard work! And when we missed a right hand turn sign somehow, it being small and not that obvious on the pole on the RHS under a tree where it was, and we had to stop, deliberate, and retrace again? I did have a minor sense of humour failure. Still, it did mean, whilst stopped and trying to check GPS maps, that I took the final dose of pills that I’d been putting off taking since we were so nearly back, so it probably had a silver lining. Head down again, route relocated, we continued to eat up the final few miles until finally we were over, or under, the Finish line and sitting in the sun with a well earned pasty and some cider. Result 🙂 Black Rat done!

Cycling time: 6:44
Distance: 100.7 miles
Avg: 14.9 mph
ODO: 9442.6 miles

I was so pleased with how strong I felt out there. Really, I was on one, which is very rare. I’m really pleased we both did the 100 miles as planned, and company made the whole thing practically pleasant. In fact time/speed wise it’s one of my best centuries in quite a while. Go us! As events go I like it. I like the route, I like the hills, I like the organisers, I like the foodstops, and I loved the free cider afterwards – especially when they had too much and we were encouraged to fill up bottles and take it home with us! But I think the signage needs some work. One sign per junction just ain’t enough, and although there were some repeater ribbons, more would have been good. Let’s face it, it’s very rare that I go off course on a sportive…and I’ve had some experience of these things *grin*. I’d still do it again though – and I’d also recommend it 🙂

Wiggle Wye Valley Warrior 2015

For the fifth weekend in a row, and the last one for a little while, this Sunday was predictably time for another sportive. Welcome to the Wiggle Wye Valley Warrior. My son, also predictably, asked me “wye” I was doing it, given the ‘orrible weather forecast…*groan*.

This was a question I asked myself when the alarm went off at 6:00am, and I didn’t need to draw back the curtains to know it was raining, I could hear it! What with that and pills and pain I came much closer than usual to bailing altogether, and just rolling over and going back to sleep. But, well, clearly I didn’t, otherwise this (rather long!) blog wouldn’t be here. And besides, I don’t, do I?

So, coffee, pills, breakfast, and time to go. On the upside, Chepstow is only 45 minutes from here, hence the later than usual start, and I got to go across the old Severn Bridge which I always like. OK, so I prefer riding across it, but I’ll be doing that on two different sportives later this year, and it wouldn’t have been much fun in the cold and damp and windy anyway!

HQ was at Chepstow Racecourse, with parking being opposite on a large muddy gravelly sodden car park. Nice. I was not looking forward to negotiating that with the bike and cleats…but for the time being I was wearing boots and it was time to walk to registration in the racecourse building. Same old routine as ever, find your desk, get a timing chip stuck on your helmet, get a Powerbar bottle/goodies (unless you’re on a press place), grab a map, number and cable ties. Easy. Oh, and I loved my number by the way – 1234! Even I can’t forget that. I remember being 501 once… Right, just time to nip to one of the many toilets and head back to the bike.

So. Hm. Well yes it was damp. Drizzly. And with more damp forecast. But it wasn’t very cold. And warmer was forecast. But wet plus wind can make you very cold. And what’s in a forecast anyway? Oh, fiddlesticks. I hate wearing the waterproof so stashed it in the saddlebag in case damp became proper wet later. But this would mean precious little space for stashing layers later if I needed to so… Toe covers, lightweight shoe covers, winter bib tights, bamboo s/s base layer, summer s/s jersey and my winter jacket. With mitts, winter collar, and with the over gloves stashed in a pocket. Well the winter jacket has vents, and zips, and I can push the sleeves up quite a bit. At a pinch one of the s/s layers could come off laters and probably fit in the saddle bag too. I thought, or hoped at least, that I had every eventuality covered!

Which brings me to time to get going. Time to gingerly negotiate the muddy car park, clog the cleats up with gunge, and somewhat ruefully reflect that at least the rain would wash the mud off the bike once I got going… Over the road, and down to the start line where I was luckily straight into the next bunch being prepared to go. I couldn’t really hear the briefing, though I doubt they had much to say that I haven’t heard before, and I could see the board with the signage on, and heard the bit about route splits. Having made it here I was determined to ride some, but I still hadn’t decided which route I was going to do – the 101, the 79, or whatever the short one was. That would be determined by how the weather went and how I actually felt out there.

And off we go. To cycle along the very beautiful but very increasingly damp Wye Valley. There’s a reason it’s an AONB you know. And there were carpets of bluebells, fragrant wild garlic, vibrant yellow oil seed rape, and lots of green. Well wet is good for green and it was kinda raining. Although the kinda of stuff that gets you wet without you really noticing that it’s heavier than you think, if you see what I mean. It still didn’t feel like time to put the waterproof on though. Does it ever? 😉 At some point it occurred to me that things looked kind of familiar, and wasn’t Tintern Abbey on the route around here somewhere? I quickly looked around me, in the nick of time, to see it just about to fly by behind me on the right hand side. Whilst photos in the rain don’t usually happen, there have to be exceptions to the rule, and since this might be the only pretty thing I saw all day if things got properly head down and miserable, I retraced my tracks a little and, voilá, one damp Cistercian abbey captured for perpetuity.

Off we went again. As you do. That would be the royal we of course, since I was back to riding on my own as usual. And I’ll have to admit I was kind of bimbling today. I’ve not had a great week health-wise, and having had my insides sort of painfully implode on a couple of hills lately which, I can assure you, is a seriously weird and unpleasant feeling, I was keen to avoid making that happen again. And as it’s unpredictable, you can never tell if…when… So that was how today’s ride was going to be. Being more than a little terrified of my own insides, today was going to be a bimble. Still, as things started to go up, after one up there was one of those Wiggle signs saying “Well done”, I have to say I hadn’t really noticed it was a notable hill, so that was nice. Encouraging even 🙂

Things brightened up a little. Which meant that there were gaps in between the damp, and the waterproof could stay where it was. I swear I carry that thing more than I wear it! When there was a little sun it was also definitely warmer. But the weather was/is unpredictable, so would it stay nicer? Anyway, the first food stop came around 20 miles in which was maybe a little early, but I stopped anyway. I’d not drunk much yet, so didn’t bother topping up my bottles as I figured I could do that at the next one at that rate. I could eat half a banana and stash the winter collar though, before heading back out.

There were plenty of riders out there today. I never once couldn’t see another one, or felt like I might have gone off course because I’d been on my own for so long. Plus the signage was really good, so getting lost was probably unlikely. Well, all apart from one right turn at the bottom of a steep descent about 30 miles in which a lot of people missed. The rider in front of me pulled up having seen it, and I had to slow up a little too fast, but hey, at least I got the hint and went the right way. The riders swearing at him from behind me went past and disappeared into the distance…I wonder how far they got before they realised?

I’ll get on to the number of riders out there in a bit…bear with me. In the meantime, back to more valleys and hills. All very pretty. Goodrich Castle flew by on the right, there were pretty bridges and arty sculptures. I was doing ok, but I was still feeling too tentative on the pushing it front, and hey, it’s not a race right? To be honest, I’d known from the outset I wasn’t going to do the very long route. Nowt to prove these days, and I was almost tempted by the very short one! But that seemed a tad daft, even for me, so it was going to be the “Standard” route for me. Which I was hoping would have cut out Symonds Yat…no such bl**dy luck!

Which, with a minor detour, brings us to traffic. Wales was pretty busy today. Especially as the world woke up, realised the weather was improving, and that it was a Bank Holiday Sunday and they should be out. With lots of “them” on the road and lots of “us”, things weren’t always entirely civil, and there was some bad behaviour on both sides. And to add insult to injury, there was another cycling event running the same day, on a lot of the same roads, though frequently in the opposite direction. So that’s two way traffic of two sorts on narrow not always two way roads…oooh, we were NOT popular. I’m thinking cycling organisers should maybe communicate and stop this from happening? Especially as the other event, the Monmouthshire Challenge is part of a two day event which has the Forest of Dean Spring Classic, on the same roads, the following day. You know what, I did kind of feel sorry for the motorists, and that doesn’t happen often!

A lot of this came to a head on the aforementioned Symonds Yat. It’s a killer climb, up a narrow road that’s even narrower at the bottom, with precious few passing places. The other sportive may not have been here with us, but plenty of impatient motorists were trying to get down/up as we tried to go up. We all ended up stopped and stuck at one point waiting for things to clear, which led to that “will I ever be able to get back on again” worry. The lady in the car next to me was, very kindly and whilst chatting to me, waiting to let cyclists come up. Sadly she hadn’t realised that this was just backing up the traffic behind her and blocking the road even further up…and tempers back there were rising…

Still, the bottleneck cleared, I did get back into my cleats, and I did get up. Unlike most around me. Or any, actually. *grin* I hope the Mamil who failed to uncleat and rolled over onto the road in slow-motion almost comical fashion is ok, whilst being glad that he did it just far enough ahead of me that he didn’t take me down with him!

Yes, I made it up Symonds Yat again. That’s three for three 🙂 The footbridge over the road at the top marks the end of the worst, though it does keep going up for quite some time afterwards. It is, as a rider in red passing me commented, the hill that keeps on giving 😉 But there were pretty things to look at, and what comes up must come down, which is always good. Although that down brings you into a busy Monmouth. Very busy. With a bridge, lots of cars, traffic lights, some weird back streets to negotiate, and then the busy high street. Did I mention how popular we were?

Having gone down, and out, it was time to go back out into the countryside and as it opened out, a familiar looking climb loomed ahead. Ah, that one. *groan*. Lydart I think it’s called. I knew it was a long one and it was going to take a while. Having done it on the Forest of Dean Classic I knew I’d probably be ok with it though, and hey, with a hairpin, and being long and gradual really, it’s practically my kind of hill. Time to engage crawler gear and just get on with it. Which I did. Stunning views too, if you felt like looking over your shoulder that is.

By this point things had been tricky on the layer front for a while. Sun/hills meant I was a little too warm. When it clouded over, the wind blew, and the drizzle fell again, I was a little chilly. Should I stash a layer or not? More worryingly, because I was overall probably a little too warm, I was drinking more than usual. Having said that, the tramadol has that effect too. I was seriously starting to think I might run out of drink by the second food stop which didn’t come until somewhere around the 60 mile mark, which I think was too far from the first. I made it with mere mouthfuls to spare, and was very relieved to top up my bottles – riding when fretting is not great. Neither would riding dehydrated have been!

Having opted for the standard route as predicted, and not taken the right turn in Monmouth to do otherwise, this left me with only 19 miles or so to do. Which, if it wasn’t too hilly, wouldn’t take too long. And as it was much nicer out there by now, this left me feeling pretty positive. And I won’t say that changed too much but, after some more flat, and more pretty valley, there’s a very very long climb back to Chepstow. It just goes on and on and on. I wasn’t suffering particularly, but I did get pretty bored of the constant upness! Another amusing sign encouraged us to “Finish Strong”. Which hey, great, I’d love to, if you’d stop making me go up bl**dy hill! Still, even bad things come to an end, and the last 5 miles or so were pretty much down again, which just a little kicker of a hill to get us back up to the racecourse.

Ok, so today was a bimble. Maybe I hadn’t really earnt my Finishers medal and t-shirt. I always feel I should have done the long route to earn those. But as I drove back over the Severn Bridge and the heavens opened again, I reflected that if I hadn’t opted for the shorter route I’d probably be slogging up that long hill, or one similar, in the pouring rain and I decided I could live with it 😉 What I did do was have a pretty enjoyable ride, in some stunning scenery, with an awful lot of climbing that I managed just fine without pushing any painful limits. That’ll do me nicely 🙂

Cycling time: 5:47
Distance: 79.5 miles
Avg: 13.7 mph
ODO: 9233 miles

White Horse Challenge 2015

I’m getting used to the 5:15am alarm. To leaving as the sun is rising. As I drove over Winscombe Hill, a deer and I shared space for a little while, before it vanished into a hedge and I carried on my way. Near Banwell tiny lambs were gambolling around in the fields. And, unlike the night before, it wasn’t raining. All of which seemed fairly auspicious as these things go.

Right then, White Horse Challenge, here I come. As ever, I beat the satnav to Shrivenham, arriving early enough to get a parking space on the field behind HQ. Which was good because I knew there was going to be a whole heap of faffing this morning, and that takes time. I have gotten my kit wrong far too many times lately, so had been obsessively checking the weather forecast for days, and had brought a whole variety of kit options with me. First off though, registration, on the basis that walking over there and back would show me how cold and windy it really was out there. Plus, it being earlyish, there wasn’t as yet too much of a queue for the four portable toilets outside, so I thought I’d take advantage of that.

Registration was easy. I signed alongside my name, my timing sticker was stuck on my helmet, and I was left with just my bike number to sort. I passed on the free coffee, grabbed a map and two cable ties, and headed back to the car. Being outside had demonstrated that it was indeed cold and breezy but, on balance, not quite as cold as it was last week. Well, probably not. So, what to wear? Ooh, decisions decisions. I mentally ran through my options, and what I’ve been wearing out there lately and, here we go, from the bottom up; toe covers, winter bib tights, s/s bamboo base later, s/s summer jersey, l/s winter jersey, lightweight gilet, winter collar, mitts, over gloves. I was really hoping that I would have gotten it right this time…

Time to get going then. My steed and I headed back across the field, where I joined a much longer queue for the toilets again. When I emerged and headed for the start, I found Gary waiting for me without even having to look for him. Yes, just for once I was doing a sportive in company. Ooh, the novelty! We’d had a chat beforehand and agreed that if either of us was as crap as we thought we were, and we ended up not being able to ride together, that neither of us would get grumpy about it, which sounded like a plan.

Time to go and put that plan into action then. Riders were leaving one by one as they wished, no bunched starts here, so we duly rolled over the timing mats together and headed out into the chilly Wiltshire countryside.

Now, if last week’s sportive was a ride of two halves, then this week’s was a ride of three thirds. The first 25 odd miles are fairly flat. Which is good because it means you get plenty of time to warm up. There is the odd up, but nothing drastic. However, all of two miles in, on one of those, and probably also something to do with not being warmed up yet, my insides screamed into painful life. And I use the word screamed because that’s what I felt like doing. I was already on the latest pills but it would appear they were wearing off! It fair took my breath away, and I was out of breath already. This did not bode well for the rest of the ride, let alone the hills 🙁

Still, on with the show, right? 25 miles of scenic flat back country lanes. Which we did fairly fast as it happens. I was muddling through, though probably not as conversational as I might sometimes be. I hadn’t warmed up yet, bits of me were screaming, and it was still pretty cold! I sat on Gary’s wheel as necessary, and we made our way around to the first climb of the day. I’ve done the White Horse Challenge several times before, and today familiarity was a good thing. For some reason it made the whole thing feel like a shorter event because I could break it down into chunks, and I knew all the challenges ahead. And the first climb of the day – past the White Horse at Broadtown – I have done many times before. However today, what with the pain, I was kind of dreading it. I was very worried that going up was going to hurt even more which, unsurprisingly, didn’t appeal. And I was also annoyed because I’ve been doing pretty good up hills lately and to be sabotaged by my own body seemed unfair.

So I was very pleased when it actually went really well. We’d agreed to meet at the top and yes, initially Gary drew away from me. But as we got going, and my crawler gear engaged, I got it together, overtook some other riders, and by the time we reached the top I was on it and actually overtook Gary as the road flattened out. It was, as I commented at the time, a lot better than I expected, which did massive amounts of good stuff for my PMA. And it hadn’t made the pain worse. ‘Rah!

Which brings us to the second third of the ride. Which started with a technical down hill, some flat and fun, and the first food stop, when I took the next dose of pills, ate half a banana, and popped into the village hall toilets. We set off, and headed for more hills. Which in this case would be the A4 past the next White Horse at Cherhill. It’s a very long gradual climb which is very attractive but, sadly, had a bit too much traffic on it. Still I was warmed up now, the pills were working, and I was feeling a lot better. On form even. I actually accidentally left Gary behind me, but I waited for him at a relevant point, and we were back together to go through the stones at Avebury. Which formed the pattern for a while. I’d get ahead, then wait, and then we’d try again.

The stretch from Avebury to Hackpen is fairly rolling and fairly enjoyable, but without many places to stop. It’s not that wide a road which probably explains why the black Ferrari going past us all apparently nearly took Gary out – they’re wide cars! It just made me grin when it went past me – I love fast cars 🙂 Our next rendezvous was just after the right turn for Hackpen Hill, where we took a bit of a breather. Gary was feeling a tad dizzy, so the maternal in me nagged him into not just eating but also taking a gel. He did what he was told, though he may have been cussing me under his breath 😉

I love Hackpen Hill. It’s pretty, you can see it from miles off, the White Horse is lovely, I know I can do it, and I LOVE the flying stretch to Marlborough that comes afterwards. Stick followed by carrot. Overall it’s one of my favourite patches of road. The hill has hairpins and everything, and it’s steepest at the beginning and then gets easier – the way all hills should be. And again, it went well, I even overtook people on the way up. And I waited for Gary at the top, which was handy for taking photos 🙂

Having said that, the elastic holding us together was starting to stretch now though. Yes I’d waited at the top, but I then had to go have the fun I’d earnt. And I really did enjoy myself. Fast flying downhill? Of course I did. But I did leave Gary behind again. I waited in Marlborough though, as Gary and a small posse that had grown around him arrived, all of whom I’d overtaken on the way down 😉 We headed out of town down Chopping Knife Lane, which is a fab name, and set off into the middle of nowhere, with hilly wooded climbs, pretty villages, and yes, I’d dropped Gary again. I think I only have one speed. It’s either the speed I can go at at any given time, or no speed at all, and sadly today it wasn’t Gary’s speed. As I carried on there were quite a few more hills, including the one that has no name and no White Horse but is probably the worst of the lot! I went up it with two other riders. They both ended up walking. I did not 😉

I reached the food station at Froxfield, about 68 miles in, feeling fairly positive, and did the usual. I wasn’t that hungry though and actually, looking back, I didn’t eat that much today. One small flapjack, half a banana, some Clif cubes, and one gel. And about 1l of Nuun. I can’t say I felt the lack though, so I guess that’s ok. Anyway, Gary arrived shortly after I’d emerged from the toilet, and I was pleased to catch up with him again. Or have him catch up with me I guess 😉

Which brings us, inevitably, to the third third. Which was less fun. I dropped Gary again, and decided to just keep going. I felt a bit guilty, but the pills were wearing off slowly, it was still cold, and I needed to get this ride over and done with. I also knew he’d understand. Mind you there was also a killer head wind, and there were times I missed the chance of a wheel to sit behind! So off I went. There were more ups, and I knew that the big climb at Uffington was still ahead of me. There was also lots of long draggy climbing through yellow fields, on long straight roads, straight into the wind, that just seemed to go on and on and on… Talk about a slog. My hard earned average speed was ebbing away by the mile, along with my PMA…*sob* 😉

Finally, and somewhat later on the route than I expected for some reason, we reached that last hill. Uffington, aka the Dragon Hill apparently. Which does have a White Horse, but you never see it! It’s also a timed hill climb, which always brings forth a wry smile…as if! On previous rides this has been a pretty busy place, with spectators and the like. It was quiet today, apart from the obligatory photographer half way up of course, which was actually quite nice; less pressure to perform! And actually it was fine. Just another hill. A big one to be sure but hey, done it before, did it again. In fact I apparently did it the best I ever have. Go me! 🙂

Right. Enough with all the up stuff. With only 6 miles of down and flat to go it was time to sprint to the finish. So I did. Which was fun, even with that bl**dy wind 🙂 Finally it was time to cross the finish line, print out my time, and drink fizzy orange while I waited for Gary to join me, which he did a little while later. I’m pleased to say he was still talking to me. Don’t you just love it when a plan comes together? 😉 White Horse Challenge done 🙂

Cycling time: 5:51
Distance: 89.9 miles
Avg: 15.3 mph
ODO: 9092 miles

I’m a bit disappointed with my time; I think it’s actually the slowest I’ve ever done it. Which is weird because I swear it felt easier. And I did good up the hills. I guess what with the wind, and the whole screaming on the inside, and the painkillers, well…none of those are probably conducive. But disappointment not withstanding, and all things considered, it actually went pretty well. It’s a nice ride, on a nice route, with lovely scenery, and I got my kit pretty much right! I had a fairly good day out, and it made a really nice change to do a sportive in company though, even if we didn’t stick together for the entire thing. I may have to try and persuade more of my friends to join me at more events 🙂

Exmoor Beauty 2015

Hello Sunday. Hello sportive. Hello Exmoor Beauty. Which I was actually quite looking forward to. It’s not that far away, the forecast was pretty good, and the route had been made more beautiful and less beastly. Besides, what else would I do on a Sunday? 😉

All of which made for a 5:15am alarm call, aiming for registration at 7:00am, and the start at 8:00am. Which all went to plan, mostly. I even slept pretty well the night before, which is unusual. Surprisingly I was one of the first there, as very few seemed to have felt the need to get there for 6:30am when registration actually opened. I parked up, and walked over to the school sports hall, noting as I went that it was bl**dy freezing out there! My registration had gone astray, which does occasionally happen when you get places my way, but the timing guy just set me up all there and then, with a nod from the boss Marcus, and handed me my 1433 envelope, which contained my bike number, two cable ties, and a helmet timing tag. Then it was back to the car with an hour or so to kill. I alternated faffing outside with sitting in the warmer car and drinking my coffee. It really was cold out there, even in the sunshine, a lot of which was due to a fairly brisk and very chilly wind. Marvellous…

Someone once said that there’s no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothing. Well that pretty much summed up today. With knobs on. Given a bright but breezy forecast and the patch of good weather we are currently enjoying, pretty much everyone had presumed it would continue to be pretty much the same, and dressed accordingly. Including myself. Yes I could have put on some of the other options I’d bought, but since it was supposed to turn into a sunny nice day, I was worried I’d just be setting myself up for over-heating trouble later. So I stuck with the plan. My only concession was to add the winter collar and my overgloves that I’d bought with me to the mix. This was not one of my better calls….but of course I didn’t know that then did I?

Eventually I stopped hiding in the car and took my bike off to the start pen, half hoping they might let people away early to save us freezing to death. Sadly not. The pen slowly filled up, and then bunched up, possibly huddling together for warmth? As the time passed I got colder and colder and actually shivering. Lovely. Eventually Marcus gave us a briefing ably assisted by a man with signs to show us, and we were let go as planned at 8:00am. I was unusually keen to get going, and to hopefully warm up!

If we’re going with quotes, which it would appear we are, today’s sportive was a game of two halves. The first half was pretty horrible. It might not have been if the weather hadn’t deteriorated further, and it had nothing to do with the route or the organisers. But 3 hours of slogging up hills whilst freezing? Not good. I’m sure it wasn’t all up, but it kinda felt like it. Mind you, I was actually making it up the hills ok, and some of those ups were real stinkers, but still… And with all that climbing, my average speed was busy being atrocious and making it look like I was going to be out there for considerably longer than the less than 5 hours I’d been hoping for. On the upside all the quiet country lanes we were using were mostly surrounded by banks and hedges, so that wind wasn’t as much of a problem as it could have been. On the downside, that meant that all you ever seemed to be looking at was road and hedge, and it all turned into a fairly featureless miserable blur.

It all got a bit head down and zoned out, and I had to remember to look up and look out for signs which, luckily, were large, obvious, and where they needed to be, so I didn’t get lost. That would definitely not have helped! Oh, and note to self, if you’re riding alongside a river and it’s flowing the other way to you, you are going uphill, however gradually, and that’s why it feels like hard work! At least having ridden a bit around here some of it was familiar, including a few of the climbs, but I think it’s fair to say I was not enjoying myself. I was also feeling a bit guilty that I wasn’t doing my job. I needed to be taking photos, it’s what I do and it helps me to write about it afterwards. But I couldn’t feel my fingers, so photos en route were out, and I certainly wasn’t stopping to get colder just to take pictures! Yep, I was not a very happy bunny. Really just because I was so cold though which was, sadly, colouring my feelings about everything. The rest of me was doing the best it could given the circumstances!

Which brings us to the food stop at Exford, which was advertised as being at 29 miles in, and was actually 34 miles in. This might not sound like a problem, but when you’re trying to plan eating, and stops, and feel like a break might be a good idea…? A bit irritating. Still, a break was indeed good when I finally got there. And it was made even better by three things. One – there were no queues for the portable toilets. Two – they had warm soup. Warm is good. So was the soup. And the nice lady in the food tent asked me if I was her gluten free lady. To which I replied I wasn’t her gluten free lady but I was a gluten free lady. So three – she made me a gluten-free ham loaf. Real edible savoury food. Practically unheard of and just what I needed 🙂 Thus a little restored, and knowing I was over half way around now, it was time to get going before I got any colder.

Which brings us to the second half. Not much later on, as we up headed towards Exmoor proper, the sun finally came out, we went up, and the views came out too. And the rest of the ride was completely different. There was more climbing, but it was seemed to be more of the longer, wigglier, shallower, more me variety. With scenery to look at, including a cairn and everything. My overgloves and collar went away, the camera came out, and so did my PMA. Mind you, there wasn’t much hiding from the wind up on’t moor! Luckily at some point it became mostly behind me. And here’s where I finally started to have fun. Faster, flatter, sunnier fun. In fact the basic trend for a lot of the last half was essentially downhill. So I hopped from wheel to wheel and I pushed it. Over the moor, and down into the valley to follow the River Exe, flowing downhill this time! At some point we joined the return route to Tiverton that the Exmoor Beast takes and I knew I was properly on the home straight. Fun fun fun – and I was practically warm by now! 🙂

The route turned out, unsurprisingly I guess, to be 68 miles not 64, but since this was familiar territory, it wasn’t as annoying. I just kept going to get to where I knew I was going. And then we were back in town and at the school, just like that. It always seems to come out of nowhere somehow, I guess it’s because it’s on the outskirts of the town? I rolled under the Finish arch, where Marcus was on the tannoy welcoming everyone in by name, and collected my souvenir tankard. The Exmoor Beauty was done 🙂

Cycling time: 4:49
Distance: 68 miles
Avg: 14.1 mph
ODO: 8974.6 miles

Just the other side of the finish line a familiar face was lurking, Geoff Saxon, and it was nice to have someone to chat to for a change. He’d also been riding, though much faster than me! However I was getting chilly again standing still, so I headed off, leant the bike against a wall and went inside to get my time printed out, and grab a fizzy orange as ever before going home. I had, as hoped, made it round in under 5 hours – both ride time and elapsed – just! Officially my time was 4:58 🙂 And when the official results went up a day later, out of 380 riders, I was 167th and 8th woman. I’m really really pleased with that. OK, so my average speed may not seem that impressive, but if you consider where I drug it up from…it ain’t bad!

Today was a BIG ride. Not because it was long – it wasn’t really. Or because of the climbing – I’ve done hillier rides. So not a big ride for the obvious reasons. But…. Today was, by my reckoning, my 100th cycling event. I know these things are arbitrary, but I’m the one counting, I am the arbiter, so I make it 100. So there. And I’m pretty proud of that. Besides, any excuse for fizz, right? 😀