You know what’s even better than a sportive that’s just on your doorstep and an easy drive away?  One that’s quite literally up the road, that you get to ride to and back, without adding more than a couple of miles each way to your trip.  Welcome to the Somerset Hills Gran Fondo.  Being as it’s a VERY local sportive, I wasn’t the only one doing it so, and, it’s getting better all the time, I even had company.  A very pleasant change to recent routine.  Of course before meeting them I had to eat carbs, and fret about layers.  2 out of 3 forecasts that expressed a preference said it was going to be cold, grey, but dry and not windy.  One of them said warmer and sunnier.  Being as that was what I wanted, but know better than to expect, I went with the other two.  I’m fed up of being cold!  So socks, shoes, overshoes, leg warmers, shorts, l/s jersey, winter jersey, and for good measure, my Cyclosport gilet.  It may sound a lot but…

Me, an unexpectedly present GB, and Gary met in the Square at 7:10 and headed off to Broadway Caravan Park to sign in.  Blimey it was nippy out there!  So far my sartorial choices were good ones!  We were amongst the first there, so the queue was negligible, and actually there weren’t yet that many other riders around full stop.

Sign on

We signed in, and were given our timing devices – which this time around were timing chips on lanyards to be worn around the neck and scanned in at each feed station.  For those leaving straight away they were scanned there and then and off you went.  I needed to do the usual pre-ride faff and use the facilities (as ever the ladies was free and there was a queue for the gents – is that positive discrimination ;)).  We headed for the start, ready to get scanned and on the road, only to find that the lady required was still back at sign in, so I had to back track, get scanned, and then head off.  Not a big problem when there’s only a few riders around, just minorly irritating, but I think when there were more, she’d have been better off standing by the exit…  While I’m at it – not loving the lanyard things.  Unzipped layers mean the darn thing kept dangling around and having to be tucked away.  I like the being scanned at every stop though – means you can’t switch from the Gran route to the Medio without anyone knowing, which must make sorting out the times easier.

Right, off we go.  I got half way into Cheddar before remembering to start Bella off though – ‘doh!  Time for GB to take us up the Gorge.  I swear he only manned up and came out so to do *grin*.  And he still made it look easy!  He’s the one furthest away from me…unsurprisingly.

Me, going up the Gorge

Cheddar Gorge gets included on every Somerset sportive.  Which is great, I appreciate that it’s iconic and all that, but it’s not actually the most challenging climb in the world.  Some of those that were to come later in the ride are/were far worse!  So we pootled our way up the Gorge.  Clearly I’d usually sprint my way all the way to the top, but considering the length of the ride, I thought it best to pace myself…;) *grin*.  We picked up another rider along the way – Nick from East Harptree – who was allowed to join us as he was wearing the male ride uniform of the day (see above) and thus blended in perfectly – what’s black, white, and red all over? ;).  He also won a place in our elite ranks by taking a turn at the front with me as we headed across the Mendips towards the descent to Rodney Stoke.  A little more climbing…

…a quick stop to take in the stunning views of the Levels to the south…

…and time for the first decent descent of the day, watching out for gravel and traffic, all the way to the main road at Rodney Stoke.  Nice 🙂  The guys had waited for me, and we posse’d up and headed off over extremely familiar roads to Wedmore and out through to Blackford.  This is when GB decided he’d made his point, he had done the MTFU thing, however advisable that may have been, he’d seen if he could, and he could, so it was time to make the right decision and head for home.  I’m glad he came out to play, it’s been a while, but I’m also glad he went home and didn’t do any more damage 🙂  So then there were three.

We headed out through Mark, which is reputedly the longest village in the country.  This may well be true.  I’m not going to argue.  Cycling through it certainly seems to take a while.  One of the publicans who initially introduced me to cycling called it a “mother-in-law road”.  Because it goes on, and on, and on… 😉  Which it does!  From there we headed across the flats to the Woolavington climb, and then the descent into Hell.  Aka Bridgwater.  Suburban roads and obstacles and plenty of traffic even at that time of the morning, though less than sometimes.  I think it was a bit early for most of the residents.  We were even heckled by a white haired lady pedestrian, which is not unusual for Bridgwater, but this time she was saying “Up the Cyclists” which has to be a first!  Go that woman – bucking the Bridgwater trend!

Time to head for the next big climb of the day – Enmore Hill.  Crawler mode engaged…  I’ve been up here a couple of times but I’m far from familiar with it, other than knowing that I can get up it without walking.

It’s not a constant climb, more of a three steps up, one step down, affair, and as a whole apparently goes on for 10k.  I guess that depends on where you consider the start and finish to be though.  I knew we were heading for the first food stop at The Pines Café, which came sooner than I expected since I vaguely remembered it being right at the top of the climb, and it wasn’t quite.  35 miles in, and it was definitely time for a quick break.

Sadly the café was closed, which meant so were most of the facilities, and I had to use the gents, which even though I’d waited until it was apparently clear, probably gave the non-cyclist who’d sneaked in there when we weren’t looking a bit of a shock!  Hey, needs must…*grin*.  Half a banana later, a quick photo of Nick, and it was time to be on our way again.

Nick Howard

It wasn’t the top of the climb, we had some more up to do.  The sun had been coming out for a while and at the stop, after the heat generated by that long climb, I’d contemplated removing layers.  I’m glad I didn’t because it was just as chilly as ever setting off again!

Rays of yellow...

There was a lovely descent to follow down Constitution Hill, which could have used a couple of “CAUTION” signs due to the bends, gravel, and the fact that cars go up it when you’re trying to go down it!  Luckily I’m a cautious soul…but that didn’t stop the white van and blue car coming the other way as I went around the sharp right hand bend half way down giving me a bit of a shock!

Shortly after this we came to the route split.  Left for us, as Gary had decided to switch from the Medio to the Gran to keep me company (thanks Gary!), and right for Nick, doing his first ever sportive.  And then there were two.  We had some nice pottering through pretty villages and across expanding countryside, before the next big climb.  I had been blissfully unaware of this one, having completely failed to do my usual level of research, but Gary was far better prepared so at least I had a little warning.  And the long climb up to Exmoor is a doozy!  8k at 15% ish, and then 8k at 10/12%.  Lovely…well, doable.  Long enough to get into my climbing rhythm and just get on with it.

me and my shoulder...

The views behind were stunning and luckily, as we headed towards Wheddon Cross, we got some that we could actually look at as we went along, although as you can see, it was a little hazy out there.

view over the Bristol Channel

There seemed to be an unfeasible amount of going down to the bottom of the valley that took us to Dunster.  A valley that was, rather unfortunately, also acting as a remarkably efficient wind tunnel!  What with that wind coming from the North East, and having properly cooled down coming down, I was freezing again by the time we got into Dunster.

Dunster Church. And traffic.

Dunster was as popular as ever, full of people not looking for cyclists, so it was a case of handle with care and get out the other side, from where you get a good view of the castle.  Dunster Castle, unsurprisingly.  A real, National Trust owned, honest to goodness castle.  Not like ours 😉

I wasn’t quite ready to take the bus though…;)

This put us on the A39 for a bit, which wasn’t ideal, as it can get pretty busy down there.  The next food stop was looming, in Blue Anchor, the left turn sign for which was partially obscured, but luckily we spotted it.  And then suddenly there was a big climb looming ahead.  No fair – I wasn’t expecting that!  Ah well…  Gary decided such things would be best tackled after answering nature’s call, so I waited for him at the top and took his photo, amongst others, to pass the time.

Gary Humphries

The second food stop was on the sea front at Blue Anchor, in the sun, with the seaside, and everything.  They’d also negotiated the use of the toilets at the nearby café, which was handy.

It was 65 miles in by now, and we took a slightly longer than usual breather, as I was feeling the need for one, but it wasn’t long before we were back following those signs.  I had the route on Bella, but Bella, along with various other people’s gadgets, had been yelling “off route” on and off all day so when she started doing it again, I pretty much ignored her, and we headed off up the long climb out of Watchet and rejoined the A39.

Me on the climb out of Watchet

Shortly after this things went pear shaped.  Turns out we, and many others, missed the right turn that would have taken us up Crowcombe Hill.  Looks like the locals had been “helping” again…  By the time we’d worked out that yes, we knew where we were, but that no, we were not where we were supposed to be, it was easier to carry on and rejoin the route that way than retrace our steps.  The mileage looked to be much the same, and hey, I’d been dreading that particular climb all day, so I guess fortune had decided not to favour the brave for a change, but to shine on me instead ;).

views inland from the coast road

I’ve been known to wonder what it would be like to cycle along that particular stretch of road, having driven it many times, and now I know.  Swoopy, and quite enjoyable, as it turns out.  The same cannot be said for about the following hour or so of riding.  From Cannington, where our route and the official one merged and all our Garmins beeped their satisfaction simultaneously, into Bridgwater again, through the chaos again and then out the other side on the rather scary and not busy enough to slow the traffic down dual carriageway back to the M5 junction.  Not fun.  A tad scary from time to time to be honest.

the highway from hell...

At least we had our signs back again, right?  Nice big signs that were, mostly, pretty unmissable.  A few more repeater signs wouldn’t have gone amiss on long stretches, and also few more signs at the worst or most important junctions.  A lot of the signs were put up high to avoid those pesky kids meddling, but then if your head is down, or you’re temporarily distracted, you can easily miss those, especially if there’s only one of them.

Right, 95 miles in, and the next, and final food stop, came after the relief of a left turn before the motorway junction, as an artic and trailer thundered past me…*shudder*.  Having three food stops definitely helps break the ride up into more manageable chunks, and it would have been even better if the third one had had obvious toilet facilities too, but two out of three ain’t bad 🙂   From here on in, being back on home turf, I knew that the terrain was essentially flat, and there was only 20 miles to go.  How hard could it be, right?

Well even though the website written description had said Burnham on Sea, Bleadon, Axbridge and back…the .gpx and the signs said we had to go through some fairly unpleasant and major roads through Highbridge and then briefly along the A38 just to make us go over Brent Knoll.  Which struck me as a tad gratuitous.  At least there were some perfectly presentable public toilets on Brent Street before I had to tackle it.  I prefer the hill the other way around, but actually it was ok.  Ok considering that I had a great many miles already in my legs.  Not ok by any other standards you might use.  Hey, I got up it right?

Several other riders went past asking respectively for new legs, their mother, and a new hobby… 😉  Good to see we all still had a sense of humour *grin*.

Brent Knoll up close and personal

Not far now…a bit more flat, and then the all too familiar climb past the Webbington where, to make it more interesting, I got the camera out again.  Poor Gary… 😉

And here’s Brent Knoll from afar.  We went over that.  Well, actually, over some of it, it’s more like up and over one side, before i go over-egging the cake.

Right.  Home straight.  We are nearly there yet 😉  Down t’other side, no horses this time, and through to Cross and the junction with the A38 – another place a “CAUTION” sign would have come in useful.  I dismounted, as is essential there, and realised I was absolutely totally geknackert.  Not a problem, as we were nearly there.  Right?  Wrong.

We crossed over and started the climb up towards the bypass, and I dropped off the back like a stone.  Lost it completely.  Gary headed off into the distance, and I tried to remember how to make pedals go around.  And how to stay on the bike.  And why, even when I’d finally reached the going down the bypass bit, albeit with headwind, getting anywhere was so hard.  It was the most bizarre feeling.  I guess I bonked.  Not something that’s ever really happened before.  And it’s just as well it didn’t happen any earlier as I’m not sure what I would have, or would have been able to have, done.

I limped, metaphorically, up to the Finish, got my time swiped, and went and sat on a bench before I actually fell over.  And I’m not even joking.  I dread to think what colour I was – I do a good ghost impression at the best of times!  It took me a few minutes to get it together enough to go see Gary and hand in my timing chip.  Luckily, rather than head straight for home, which I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been able to do, Gary fancied chips and was kind enough to buy me some too.  Best.  Chips.  Ever.  Just because I could feel them helping me climb up the stairway back to normality.  Shame the same cannot be said about the quality of the coffee…but it probably helped regardless.

waiting to scan riders at the Finish

Cycling time: 7:10:11 hrs
Distance: 109.8 miles
Avs: 15.3 mph.
ODO: 13536 miles

This is what Bella has to say for herself, and this is my official time card, which was a nice touch.  No waiting for some website to post them for a change :).  Since we weren’t wearing numbers, identifying who’s who on the photos when they go up could be interesting though.

Once I’d pulled myself together, which took a while,  I introduced myself and had a nice long chat with t’other half of the organiser, David, who was busy being told by everyone what a great event they’d had, which must have been nice.  390 riders had done the ride, a long way up on last year’s 89 for sure!  She was very friendly and chatty, and actually seemed genuinely interested in what I’d thought, which is nice.  Positive criticism taken that way can only help make the event bigger and better :).

Sue Moore

Oh, and by way of a post script, my layers choice was right.  I may have been a little hot occasionally, but the cold always came back and, other than stashing my gilet after Watchet, I was sorted :).  Furthermore I have completely forgotten to mention that today was the first time Gary has done over 100 miles!  And he didn’t even look tired, or like any of it was hard work – the man is a machine! *grin*.  Well done Gary – and many thanks for keeping me company, I really appreciate it :).

UPDATE: there were 190 riders on the Gran Fondo, of which 7 DNF, and I came 98th overall and 5th of the 13 women who did it.  Not bad!  And better than I thought actually :).  Photos are going up, and my blue legwarmers have made me easy to find, so I’ve added in a couple of me above at the relevant places, just to prove I was there.   There’s a lot to be said for free downloadable photos :).  Official review is now up at Cyclosport.

Gotta love a local sportive.  Whilst I didn’t go quite as far as riding to the start, which I suppose I could have done, I did get to stay in bed until the positively leisurely time of 6:45am.  How laid back is that?  I even got to load the car in daylight.  Such novelty :).

In fact, as I set off, there were even blue skies.  I took a photo to prove it, just in case that was the last time I saw such a thing all day!

The event start was at the Redwood Country Club, all of half an hour’s drive from here.  Mind you, around here, all it takes is a tractor in the wrong place and you could be talking considerably longer *grin*.

tractor in Barrow Gurney

So before you know it, there I was.  I parked up, and went to register, picking up a rather nice goody bag at the same time.  I was, as ever, early so I had a good hour or so to kill.  So I admired the Cipollini bikes on display, and chatted to my fellow Cyclosport writer Howie who was very firmly had his writer’s hat on rather than his rider’s helmet.  Mojo missing :(.

Man I can’t wait to get my new bike…*sigh*.  I faffed, and sorted my bike, and got myself together as the hordes gathered…  I say hordes, I think in the aim of keeping things small, selective, dare I say exclusive, the numbers were kept down to around 120.  So a rather small horde.  Which presumably makes Mario some sort of a cycling centurion, leading his lycra clad warriors into battle…?

There was some serious kit around strutting its stuff.  This was not a broad spectrum of riders.  This was carbon and race snakes, and all the gear and possibly no idea? 😉  Oh, and me.  In my battered longs, on my reliable and much loved mile muncher.  At least I was wearing Rapha, right? 😉  I didn’t half feel out of place.  Plus there was only a handful of girls in lycra, if that.  Mostly those women around were hangers on, or there to support their partners, so I did get the odd funny look.

I bet this guy got more funny looks than me though.  I may be supposed to know who he is.  His bike says he’s Steve Clarke.  Presumably he’s Steve Clarke then? *grin*.  That’s some stand out in a crowd kit though!  To say nothing of the long flowing locks…

At some point the famous (infamous?) Mario Cipollini emerged from the depths.  We all did that very English ignore the famous person thing…and he chatted to a couple of people he knew and sort of managed to be around without actually engaging at all.  Well, not over on our side of the car park anyway.  I was just grateful he wasn’t wearing white kit, which he does seem to do in an awful lot of the photos I’ve seen, because we all know white kit is wrong ;).

If we’re not talking to the man, there’s nothing wrong with paying attention to his bike though, right?  Very swish…  I’d go fast on one of those, right?

Finally it was time to go.  Well, not without the obligatory rider briefing of course.  Everyone seemed a little loathe to get going – was the big man supposed to lead the way or…?  But nothing happened, so we headed off anyway, which put me about third rider away.

Rider briefing

This was not going to be a ride that held any mystery for me – I think it’s safe to say I know these roads.  Some of them are at least a little less travelled than others, including the stretch across to Portishead, and then up the first real hill of the ride to the coast road.  I quite enjoyed it, purely due to its slight novelty value.  Shortly before this hill the Cipollini train passed me by…never to be seen again.  So much for working his way through the pack and sharing the love…

As we cycled along the coast road in the sun I mentally waved at Mum and Dad, and admired the views – just for once you could actually see Wales.  Bet Dad knows exactly where I was standing too.

As you can see the weather was initially pretty good.  I say initially…because the first rain came at 49 minutes in.  It was only a light shower, but it was a sign of things to come, a harbinger of doom, if you will.

At some point someone behind me hailed “the cycling mayor” which made me laugh, but I never did figure out who it was, mostly because I was leaving them behind at the time.  Especially interesting when you consider that I wasn’t wearing any of my customised kit.  Someone out there knows who I am ;).  Infamy, infamy…

The first food stop was at the White Hart near Congresbury, about 40km in, and very lovely it was too in their sunny car park, with facilities (ie toilets) in the pub itself.  That’s a tick on the toilet front then.  I know, I should stop going on about toilets on sportives, but it’s important! :).

The 1950’s bus cum café was serving up a storm.  The coffee was awesome, and came in mugs and everything.  No paper cups today, oh no.  The food available ranged from spanish tortilla, pizza and welsh rarebit, to lemon drizzle cake and flapjacks.  Let’s face it, this is the first sportive I’ve ever done that had a menu for its foodstops!  I risked a bit of tortilla – potatoes are usually pretty safe – and hung around in the sun with my coffee for a bit.  I was just walking across the car park, having checked out the facilities as it were, when a voice called out my name…and there was Dad!  I can’t tell you how nice it was to see a friendly face :).

It was all very pleasant there in the sunshine, as you can see.  If I’d known what was coming, I think I’d have hung around and enjoyed it longer!

my bike is sunbathing...

Clearly this photographer was rather more official than I, and taking it way more seriously.  Or over compensating.  Or something… 😉

Paparazzi papped

After chatting away for a bit on the serendipity of him actually having managed to find me at the right place and time, it was time to be on my way again.  We, being Dad and I, set off in the sunshine.  I tried to persuade Dad that he’d love to cycle up Burrington Combe with me but he was having none of it, dagnamit.  Can’t say as I blame him though!  Along the way we bumped into a familiar face also out enjoying the sunshine, who joined us for a bit before heading for home – hello again Rob!  Actually I think he was less enjoying the sunshine, more indulging in a bit of hero worship, as he’d actually managed to ride with the great man for a bit whilst on his meanderings.  Which is more than I did!  All too soon Dad was turning left, and I was heading for the hills.  Can you see the clouds gathering?

Time to engage crawler gear and go up.  Here’s Burrington Combe in photos.  I had to do something to pass the time, right?  It’s a climb I quite like, and it is what it is – a long steady climb that goes on for quite a while.

Before the first cattle grid

This is not the end, my friend...

By the time I reached the top, which is a considerable slog after the second cattle grid, it was raining again.  In less of a shower sense, and more like proper rain.  Delightful.  There is nowhere I’d rather be in the rain and blustery wind than the exposed top of the Mendips.  Not.  But at least it was all familiar territory.  It may have been miserable, but that’s a lot easier to deal with when you know that the misery is finite, and you know what’s coming up.

As I turned right towards Charterhouse, I caught, or was allowed to catch, another couple of riders.  They weren’t doing the ride but thought that they’d like to help someone who was, and would I like to suck a wheel for a few miles?  How cool is that?  And would it be ok if I bite your hand off now and accept?  😉  Nice guys! 🙂  We had a bit of a chat, although even though they were helping me out, it was still pretty hard keeping up…and they were making it look easy, so not that much chatting was actually possible, what with the whole need to breathe thing!  That lumpy gravelly muddy section over to Tynings Farm can be surprisingly sapping, especially in lousy weather.  And this was lousy weather.  Too wet for photographs for sure.  We parted company when we reached the t-junction at the now defunct Lillypool café, and I turned left to go up.  But at least I knew what was coming….the descent of Shipham Hill :).  Oh yes.  Now that I earned *grin*.  And I loved it – all the way to the bottom of a by now properly wet Cheddar Gorge.

My chain came off near the bottom of the Gorge, which was irritating, and messy, but my longs were wet enough that wiping my hands on them took care of most of the oil!  The rain also meant that the tourists and their cars were staying away, which made the climb a little more pleasant.  Silver linings?

After the wiggly steep section at the bottom the Gorge levels out, and though it may be heresy to say it, it gets a bit boring after that.  A long gradual climb to the top, with wet road, wet trees, wet rocks, without even the usual sheep/goats to distract me.  I know it’s an iconic climb ‘n all, but…  I wonder what it’s like for those on a sportive doing it for the first time?

Seeing this lot at the top did make me smile though :).

a Mini adventure?

This was followed by some gratuitous zig zagging across the top of the Mendips again, which presumably was supposed to keep us off the more major roads, or add miles, or something.  Not how I’d have designed it, but then no-one asked me.  Shame, my consultancy rates are very reasonable ;).  Some of it was quite a slog, either due to wind, or gradual incline, or both!  Finally I got my reward, the lovely back road down to Chewton Mendip where the second food stop was.   Or to name it more properly, the lunch stop, at Lynda’s Loaf.  No, seriously.  This was a Gran Fondo not a Sportive, which apparently means that it “offers the riders an exclusive and relaxed ambience as well as a prolonged experience”.  The rider briefing joked that the idea was to consume more calories during the ride than riding it burnt off!

There were various pizza, quiches, filo pastry things…with salads, coleslaw, cake, hot and cold drinks…all being eagerly received by damp cyclists.  You can check out that menu again if the details interest you that much.  Lots of variety, in seriously sizeable portions.

I decided to risk a slice of bacon and spelt quiche, and just not eat the pastry (not, as it turns out, a wise move).  The lady in charge, maybe Lynda herself?, was terribly apologetic, and if she’d known, she’d have made something gluten free…and she was ever so keen that I have some of her range of gluten free cakes afterwards.  I didn’t, but it was sweet of her nonetheless.  I’m afraid I just can’t eat that quantity of food and ride my bike.  In case you were wondering the quiche was very nice, even if it and I turned out to be less than compatible.  Sadly I couldn’t figure out where the coffee was, so I had to give that a miss.  Still, I probably didn’t really need any more caffeine :).

Inside the place was heaving, so I headed for the outdoors where people had previously been kicking back and enjoying their lunch, only to realise that it was now properly flinging it down, so I took shelter in the doorway.  Lunch inside looked like a very convivial affair, but it’s not so much fun when you’re on your own, and intruding into groups isn’t something I’m very good at…

Two local cyclists had taken it upon themselves to warn all the arriving riders of the kerb, to stop people falling off.  Very public spirited of them 🙂  Apparently Mario himself had come a cropper there…oops!  Bet that went down well.

mind the kerb!

sheltering riders

see that rain?!

So as food stops go, it was pretty well timed.  Both to break things up, and to dodge the weather!  I ate, and headed off again as the rain cleared a bit.  For a little while the skies hinted at better things to come, as I cycled through the familiar lanes around Litton and onwards.

After that the roads got grittier, and muddier, and lumpier, and just generally less pleasant.  I was getting very bored of fighting the wind and the wet on my own….I seem to have done rather too much of that of late!  The name of this road seemed particularly appropriate, and well timed…

Yep, I was having a bit of a sense of humour failure.  However the sight of aeroplanes approaching the airport cheered me up.  I like aeroplanes :).

spot the plane?

I stopped and watched one go right overhead before the climb up to Winford, and as I watched another rider passed me.  A rider with a stinking cold, sneezing and coughing his way along, and I couldn’t help thinking that this was probably not the best ride for that kind of thing!  Still, I passed him again and left him behind on the hill, always good for the PMA.

Just in case you were wondering, this may not be the New Forest, but we have some pretty impressive property over here too ;).

I knew I was getting closer and closer to the finish, as I watched the miles rack up on Bella, but those last few miles can take ever such a long time.  Even seeing Bristol in the distance didn’t really help.  Probably because it was precisely that – in the distance.  And covered in clouds…

The ride was mostly really well signed – white arrows on red backgrounds, with CAUTION (black on fluorescent yellow) signs as necessary.

However the one place that really needed a CAUTION sign was the one place that didn’t have one – at the bottom of the descent past the reservoirs at the T-junction with the fast moving and busy A38!  Just as well I knew it was there…  Everything seemed wet by now, but mostly just in a damp sense, by now I’d lost track of whether it was raining or not.  Barrow Gurney, for the second time of the day, was marginally more fun on a bike.  The GPX route I’d downloaded and the signs disagreed for a bit coming out of the village, but luckily I came across another sign before I had to decide whether or not to retrace my steps.  I hate having to do that.  Mr Sneezy caught me along here as I had slowed down whilst wondering what to do, and we chatted for a bit as we took the right turn and headed towards Long Ashton.  And then the heavens opened.  Not just a little bit.  Not just a crack.  Not ajar.  Wide open.  Deluge time.  O.  M.  G.   Like we weren’t wet and miserable enough.  Going through Long Ashton was as close as I want to get to swimming on the bike.  Throw in a running stage and I could have claimed to be a tri-athlete.  A yellow Ferrari passed by going the other way, and I think we were both thinking that our mean machines deserved better!  And when the hail started?  Words fail me…  I just put my head down, and pushed it.  Well, it’s not like I had a choice really :).

The final section through the Ashton Court estate was, courtesy of the weather, remarkably clear of the usual procession of grannies and pushchairs, though still, bizarrely, in possession of an ice-cream van.  Now that’s some serious wishful thinking for you.  Getting from the bottom of the estate to the top has more of a climb to it than I was expecting, not to mention some vicious little speed bumps in places.  We pottered ourselves all the way up and back out on to the main road near Clifton.  I could have used a tow, but apparently today was my day for towing.  My turn will come.  That last couple of miles was, not to put too fine a point on it, a bitch.  Traffic, traffic lights, rain, standing water, lousy road surface, and slow gradual barely discernable in a car climb nearly all the way to the finish which was just around the corner…no the next corner…no that one…and finally we were back, over the timing mat, and it was over.  Soaked to the skin, and very relieved to not be doing it anymore.

Cycling time: 4:28:46 hrs
Distance: 72.10 miles
Avs: 16.1 mph.
ODO: 13322 miles

Howie was waiting, doing his thing, interviewing folk and taking photos – a serious lesson in how it should be done.  I must learn to do that better.  Mario was trying to leave, but I think someone must have had a word, as he ended up sitting in the bar for a bit.  Howie took a couple of photos of him and I, though that was as good as it got on the interaction front.  And that wouldn’t have happened without Howie’s insistence – so I hope the photos turn out ok!

I left Mario to it, and collected my free jersey which is no doubt very expensive, but is also very see through – and they didn’t have any girl’s kit available.  I shall have to buy a summer sleeveless base layer to wear under it then.  I know just the one I want too…*grin*.  One quick cup of coffee, a bit more gassing and it was time to go home.

The official results went up today.  My official time is 4:53, and it looks like of the 109 finishers I was 36th.  Which is pretty darn acceptable even if the rest of the riders did all stop for long leisurely lunches ;).

So.  Was it a good sportive?  Well it’s quite a nice route.  Scenic with some nice climbs.  It was well signed, well supported, and very well catered.  But it’s not very long or massively hilly as these things go, so it’s not a sportive you’d do just for the challenge.  You do it to ride with a cycling hero, a man you’ve heard of, a character, arguable one of the greats…and on that front, as well as on the weather front, it was a complete washout.  Entry for the ride was £100 and I was lucky enough to be doing it for Cyclosport.  Sure, you get a very expensive jersey, a goody bag with many lovely things in – bar tape, snazzy bottle holder, bottle, etc, better than usual food, free massage, photos but…£100?  I’m thinking if I’d paid that entry fee myself I’d be quite cross right now.  Mario who?

photo of me at the finish by www.rightplacerighttime.co.uk

Mario Cipollini and a soaked to the skin me.

UPDATE: the official Cyclosport review, which includes Howie’s input, as well as mine and Holly’s (she got the gala dinner part!), is now up 🙂

It never rains but it pours.  And today it poured, and then some.  It was pouring when I left the house at 7:00am.  The M4 was a standing water spray filled nightmare, with as much rain coming up off the road and the cars on it as down from the sky above.  Yep – looked like sportive weather to me *sigh*.

Today was the Wiggle Magnificat Ladies Preview Ride, which was supposed to be a group of riders of the female persuasion doing the 51 mile CommuniCat route.  Due to the amount of water around, water water everywhere in fact, it turned into a handful of riders doing the 26 mile route.

Why just Ladies I hear you ask?  Oh, and I’d better not be hearing anyone suggesting I’m not a lady… 😉 *grin*.  Well essentially it’s because the Wiggle Magnificat has teamed up with the Breeze bike rides initiative, which is aimed at getting more women riding bikes.  The Magnificat is the first sportive to incorporate a Breeze ride – the 26 mile Breeze LadyCat which, as it turns out, we rode.  So in order to help publicise this, and spread the word, there we were.  A lady from Breeze, who explained it all to us, the local Breeze Champion, ladies from the local council, from Wiggle, and also three assorted racing ladies.  Oh, and me, with my Cyclosport hat on.  There was also male representation from British Cycling, and Phil O’Connor from Sportive Photo.  (Small world – I’ve bought photos from there in the past, and actually chatted briefly to him on Blissford Hill on Saturday!.  And last but not least, two of the event organisers – Ken and Andy.

Ken Robson

It took a while to get us all together at the start venue, what with weather, Newbury traffic and so forth.  The event starts from Newbury Racecourse which luckily I found easily and quickly, unlike some others.  As we sat in the dry and warm drinking coffee and getting to know each other, outside waves of heavy rain were interspersed with waves of…lighter rain and very occasional sunshine was but fleeting…  Ken decided, based on his knowledge of the route and the roads involved, that the amount of standing water around was going to make the planned 51 miles route treacherous, and that doing the shorter route would be more sensible.  Once we were all together, and had learnt a bit about why we were all there, it was finally time to ride.  Well, having gone all that way and being already kitted out, it would have been a shame not to do at least some riding.

Press call - www.sportivephoto.com

Only 5 of us actually rode – Wiggle lady, the three racers, and me.  At least when we set out it was dry…  We were led by Ken’s car, and followed up by Andy’s – which was a bit unnerving.  I’m used to listening out for cars behind me, so having one permanently there was weird.  Following a car was also interesting as it was a lot easier for him to keep a constant speed than it is for me – especially on the hills!  Mind you being chaperoned around the route like that did feel a tad professional – and if their cars had been yellow and black with wheels on top… 😉

follow the leader...

It was a relatively easy loop – though the first hill straight out of the race course would have been easier if we’d warmed up!  There were a couple of other hills en route but nothing I couldn’t plod up without too much grief.  As you’d expect it wasn’t massively hilly, as it’s supposed to be a route that’s encouraging riders not scaring them off!  The full length Magnificat is 127 miles and has 2800 meters of climbing, which is a whole different kettle of fish!  As we went round the rain came and went, the sun shone teasingly in between times, and there was even hail briefly.  The roads were wet and had had a lot of gravel washed over them in places, but at least they weren’t muddy – that had all washed away.  By the time we got in we were all soaked through and splattered, and probably quite grateful not to have done the 51 mile route, even if it did break my two hour rule ;). Here’s what Bella says we did.

It was wet out there... www.sportivephoto.com

Cycling time: 1:49:29 hrs
Distance: 29.82 miles
Avs: 16.3 mph.
ODO: 13215 miles

Now I have been known to get home before getting changed but when you’re soaked to the skin that isn’t really an option.  Time for a shower and clean dry clothes before lunch, more chatting, and heading back down the still dismal motorway to home.

My new bike is delayed, and I’m starting to wonder if it’ll ever turn up at all.  Which probably explains my minor case of bike envy…

race snake...

I’m going to write a proper Cyclosport review when I get the press release and photos, but in the meantime, this is what you get :).

UPDATE: the official Cyclosport is up here, and also on the Wiggle Magnificat website 🙂

…rinse…and repeat…

The alarm went off at 4:40am.  Mad as a box of frogs…  Since breakfast no longer involves assembly – bananas come ready made – and I’ve got this packing for a sportive lark down pat (well, mostly), it doesn’t take me long to get ready these days so I was out of the house and on the road by 5:15am or thereabouts.  I’m getting quite good at driving east these days…the roads most travelled of late (for the Lionheart, the Joker, and now the Wiggle New Forest…).  They’re quite fun first thing in the morning, as they’re fast roads, essentially empty, and when someone holds you up, overtaking opportunities are rife.  Draft and then slingshot past.  Not that I’m starting to drive like I ride or anything… 😉  *grin*.

I got to ride HQ – Brockenhurst College – around two hours later, which meant that although I was by no means first there, I did get to park in the car park nearest the start.  Always good.  Having done the New Forest 100 last year I was familiar with where everything was, and there are plenty of facilities – toilets, changing rooms, etc.  Registration took no time at all, the obligatory timing sticker went on my helmet, and that was that.  Sadly since I was doing this for Cyclosport – ie on a press/guest pass – I apparently wasn’t entitled to the free Maxifuel pack that riders who sign up to Wiggle Events early enough qualify for, nor a free tea/coffee ticket, which I thought was a bit poor.  The latter especially – you know how I feel about coffee!

Sports Centre HQ

Outside toilets too

Time to faff.  Gaze at the sky in search of inspiration.  Slaughter a goat and check out the entrails for weather forecasting information*.  Um and ah.  Change my mind, change it back again…  Compare what I was contemplating wearing with what everyone else was wearing.  Etc.  Not that there was much deliberation to be done since the only actual decisions to be made were overshoes or not, overgloves or not, Buff on head or not.  The rest was what I was wearing and that was that.  I was tempted to skip the overshoes…but then I remembered how much I hate cold feet (see the Joker) and stuck ’em on anyway.  The overgloves went in the saddle bag just in case, and the Buff went on my head, on the basis that I could always take it off later.  I got it so right.  And to those of you wearing shorts, I can only presume you’re all from up North.  Or just well ‘ard.

As you can see it was grey and gloomy.  What you can’t see is that it was also a tad chilly, and that there was more than enough wind.  Isn’t there always?  Actually what is enough wind?  None?  Anyway, having run out of layers to consider, gadgets to set up, and delaying tactics to use, it was time to head to the start.  I took my place in the pen indicated, and waited my turn.

Penned up and ready to go

Following a short riders’ briefing, our pen was on our way at 7:45am, one of the first away.  Today was my first solitary sportive of the season, though sadly it won’t be my last.  I stuck with a loose group for a while as we got underway, and it was, as ever this week, bleedin’ nippy out there once you started rushing that air past your skin!  Not as cold as the last event though, so I never completely lost touch with my fingers and about 10 minutes later they were back.  The group split up and spread out, mostly because they weren’t going fast enough for me and I needed to warm up, not wheel suck – that could wait for later – so I put my foot down and hurtled for a bit just to get going.  The first hour or so is nearly always the fastest, and it’s nice to get miles under your belt.  After a section in the so-called forest there was a climb up to the moor.  Well even the forest bits aren’t very foresty, supposing that foresty was an adjective.  I reckon it should be called the New Moor not the New Forest as there seems to be far of the former than the latter.  And man can it be bleak up there!  Flat, open, exposed, with the headwind to fight against over slab-laid road surface – bump bump bump over every tarmac filled join.  Nice…

I put my head down and slogged along.  Being away so early meant I couldn’t find a group to hook on to, so it was just me.  I was caught by a couple of the riders who I’d overtaken when trying to warm up, and after sitting behind me for a while they admonished me for being a lousy windbreak – apparently too small with too efficient a riding position – and promptly left me behind.  Charmin’.  Well, it’s a backhanded compliment I suppose ;).  Initially the roads were lovely and quiet, until about 9:15am when clearly the local residents all woke up, realised they’d run out of milk or needed a newspaper, and hit the roads in their 4x4s and the like – so the traffic level increased noticeably.

The weather slowly deteriorated, adding rain in varying strengths to the mix, and the temperature dropped another couple of degrees, so it was a relief to be off the moors for a bit.  I was glad of those overshoes now, and any thoughts of taking that Buff off my head were long gone.  The upside to the crap weather? Less people out there trying to enjoy the New Forest!  I think that helped a lot with the traffic levels, and with those drivers that were around not getting cross with cyclists being on their roads.   It was time to try and distract myself from the weather by enjoying the scenery.  Like this squirrel for example.  Though my youngest thinks there’s a distinct possibility that it’s a fox…

You should see some of the property lurking in amongst the trees.  Anyone want to buy a house, a very big house in the country?

Presumably the owners are amongst those who are able to shop here?  Clearly, being hoi polloi, I couldn’t get close enough to see what they drove, but I’m perfectly happy to make narrow minded assumptions *grin*.

The first food stop came at around 35 miles in which for some reason, it being an 83 mile ride, seemed a little late.  It was also sat in the middle of an exposed grassy area, with no toilet.  Darn…  At least it had everything else you could possibly need – drinks, water, bananas, fig rolls, flapjacks, jelly beans, etc.

None of which are any use to me in my current intolerant condition, so I just grabbed some water and topped up my Nuun.  There were two very smiley staff, which is impressive considering where they were standing and the conditions in which they were going to be doing so for hours!  I chatted to them briefly, and bemused them by taking their photo, before being on my way again.  There was another food stop at 48 miles, which was really (I think) for those doing the MTB event, though I’m sure they wouldn’t have refused to serve you if you had drop handlebars ;).  I didn’t stop there though, nor at the third stop at 54 miles in, since I was travelling well equipped and didn’t want to stop.

Third food stop

Anyone who’s heard of the New Forest knows about the ponies, but it’s not just horses and ponies that roam free you know.

if Gloucester Old Spot did cows...

There are horses, ponies, cows, donkeys, pigs, and grockles!  Which as it turns out is a word that originates from the New Forest.  Who knew?  And how serendipitous is that?! *grin*.  But I digress…  Due to the weather conditions and being on my own, a lot of the ride felt like a slog.  There’s not a lot of climbing involved, only around 8/900 metres all told, but there’s quite a lot of gradual undulation.  Without big climbs, you don’t get much by way of decent downs either, so you really have to make the most of those that you do get.

There was a memorable section somewhere on the return leg, back up on the moors, where the road was long and straight, and the wind was behind me, and I was flying for miles.  I could have done that all day :).  There is a kicker of a 25% hill in the middle as well, which I’d completely forgotten about.  The mind blocks out painful things apparently *grin*.  Which would be why I have two children not one presumably.  I think it’s called Blissford Hill.  Anyway luckily it’s short, and although I did have to get out of the saddle, I really didn’t have any problems getting up it this year – whereas I remember it being much harder work last time.  Result!  Mind you one poor guy in front of me had clearly decided it was too much, and was about to stop, but failed to un-cleat.  Now this would be bad enough usually, involving toppling onto your left side on the verge as it does, but sadly in this instance the verge turned into a deep concrete lined drainage gully…I can’t really describe quite what happened but it was fairly dramatic, involved him ending up upside down, with his bike on top of him, swallowed by the gully.  Judging by the cussing, it was also fairly painful.  The rider next to me was already stopping, so I just kept going, otherwise I could easily have joined him – stopping on that kind of hill with momentum is not easy.  If that was you – I hope you’re ok!

At around the 55 mile mark, after they overtook me, I ended up as part of a loose group of four, which I stuck with for a while.  However one of them at least (a younger lass from Evolution Tri), if not two, were tri-athletes, and I have this theory that they just don’t spend enough time road cycling.  No road warnings, no singling up to let cars by etc.  And no consistency to their speed either.  If I sat behind them they seemed to slow down, leaving me free-wheeling, and losing momentum by braking.  If I tried to sit on the front I’d end up pulling away from them, and then at some point, or junction, they’d end up with me again, and sit on the front again, slowing down…  Now I could have sat in this little group ’til the end, effectively being sucked home, and getting a free ride.  But I don’t go riding to take it easy, and besides, that was going to take longer than I wanted it .  We were getting down to 20 miles to go now, my legs could sense the end, and at a decent speed I thought that could be done in a reasonable time.

OK, I’ll admit it, I was trying to get a gold time.  Only because I managed one on the longer event last year, and it looked like it might be doable.  And it certainly wasn’t going to happen if I stayed where I was so…I put my foot down again, and pushed it for the next twenty odd miles.  It may have been harder work than it needed to be, but they never did catch me.  Knowing they were behind me somewhere probably helped motivate me to go faster too!  I doubt it worked though.

I crossed the finish line, fairly knackered but justifiably so, and collected my medal and goody bag (Cycling Plus, mini Muc-Off spray, bar, gel, water bottle etc).  After stashing my bike safely back in the car I went in search of refreshment.  There was quite a queue so I went and used the changing room and got, as that would imply, changed.  Well you can’t stay in damp lycra for long, not when driving home is going to take another couple of hours, so civvies seemed like a good idea, and the queue was a little better when I got back and joined it.

If such things are your thing, you could have had a sports massage too…

The fodder on offer looked all very nice, and if I could have I would have.  However they get extra points for having soup available – more events should have.  Well I was cold, and vegetable soup is a fairly safe dietary option for me, and very nice it was too.  Shame they over-charged me, but I wasn’t feeling up to saying anything about it.  I should also have been interviewing people to see how they’d found the event but, when on your own, it’s very hard to go approaching complete strangers in such a way, and I was feeling tired and quiet and shy, so I’m ashamed to say I wimped out.  If you rode it and have opinions about it, please get in touch! 🙂

Cycling time: 4:56:02 hrs
Distance: 84.52 miles
Avs: 17.1 mph.
ODO: 13156 miles

Ride number: 3848

Since the official times aren’t out yet I don’t know how I got on, but I think it’ll be a Silver because of stoppage time.  It needed to be <5hr 5mins for Gold, which is never going to have been the case.  B*gger.  I’m a little annoyed that I was slower than last year’s 17.8mph, but then I suppose I did spend a chunk of that ride in a group, and it was sunny and dry and towards the end of the season, all of which probably helped.  As opposed to early season, on my own, with miserable weather and a headwind.  I know, excuses excuses *grin*.

UPDATE:  Get in!  Official time is 5:03:28.  GOLD!  I am now a very happy girl :).

The official Cyclosport review is now up here :).

*(no animals were harmed in the creation of this blog 😉 ).

Early night.  Very early morning.  Guess it must be sportive time then :).

time to go...

In this case, the Joker, what with it being April 1st ‘n all that.  I tweeted about it in advance, along the “more Fool me” lines…  So maybe that would explain why my ride, and I emphasis the MY ride bit, I do not mean THE ride, was a comedy of errors.

Let’s get the usual moaning out of the way first, in stuck record fashion.  Whilst there is unlikely to be anything seriously wrong with me, in the meantime until we figure out what the wrong is, there are issues, and of late I’ve been having pain control issues, which I courteously texted GB about yesterday, as forewarned is forearmed.  As a result of whatever is going on, I also did not get a good night’s sleep, which is far from ideal pre-event.

Last night I discovered a slow puncture in the front tyre.  Then we (being I and my pit-crew) realised that those tyres, lovely though they are, were fraying on the side wall.  Cue a last minute changing of tyres and inner tubes.  I hate doing such things at short notice though – it totally wrong foots me.  Though I should be grateful I happened to have a spare set of fairly decent summer tyres…better safe than sorry.

It was also really hard to figure out what to wear.  The recent gorgeous weather has reset my layer gauge, and having the forecast return to seasonal resulted in much faffing and debate, and inevitably meant that I didn’t get it right.  I think the entire car park was having the same conversation though!

Toilet block - all events should have one!

It was sunny, with the tentative promise of later warmth, so I opted for various layers on top (tick), mitts (fine after the first 15 minutes during which my fingers froze off), longs (tick), and normal socks with no overshoes (uh-huh, our audience said…).  Winter socks maybe.  Overshoes maybe.  One or the other.  Neither?  Bad call.

queuing for the off

rider briefing

However, standing in the sunshine, listening to possibly the longest pre-ride briefing ever, ignorance was bliss.  All was ahead and yet to come…  We set off at around 8:30am into the Wiltshire countryside.  Lots of low morning sunshine, quiet country roads…but not for too long, the first hills started 20 minutes in which, considering how cold we were, wasn’t a bad thing.  For whatever reason I just wasn’t feeling it though. I couldn’t get warmed up, my back tyre seemed to be a bit flat and I could feel it dragging without getting any worse.  Slow puncture?  Under-inflation?  I don’t know, but it wasn’t adding to my joie de vivre.  It just felt like one of those days.  I sat on GB’s wheel, and hung in there in the hope that things would get better.  After all, it was far from horrible – riding the bike in the sun right?  I was happy enough, ish, but let’s face it, some days are just better than others.  This was turning out to be happy, but not happy plus.

view over my shoulder

trees, shadows, sunshine...

Now, you may be wondering why this ride is called the Joker?  Well it’s not just because it’s April Fool’s day, though I particularly loved the rider in complete jester costume, with hat & bells sticking through the ventilation bits on his helmet – there’s dedication for you.  It’s because there were 4 optional Jokers’ Challenges, that generally added climbing & distance, and some Fools’ Choices which cut distance but that came with a catch.  For each Joker achieved you got a Joker card for both souvenir purposes and to let the organisers figure out what you’d done in what time.  I’m thinking that might be quite a logistical nightmare…wouldn’t surprise me if it takes them a while to publish the official times!

The first Joker was entitled “Straight Up”.  At which point GB’s chain came Straight Off.  Mine followed shortly after.  Did I mention things weren’t going that well?  I took advantage of the impromptu rest to immortalise Easter Sunday lunch ;)…

..before uneventfully climbing the hill.  Might have been easier if I could feel my feet.  I’d forgotten how distracting their absence can be.  GB was doing a very good job of not abandoning me, which I appreciated whilst feeling guilty about it at the same – apparently it’s what I do and if he’d wanted to leave me he would have done.  Fairy Nuff.

Joker 1

Shall I immortalise him to show my gratitude?  Oh go on then…  You can appreciate the views at the same time, if that’s more your thing.

GB in ever appreciating HTC kit 😉

Conveniently he stopped at around 10:10am for some reason which was only ten minutes after the next dose of analgesics had been due.  I’d temporarily forgotten, and maybe it was just co-incidence, or maybe he remembered…either way it was a good thing.  Best not to let the pain relief run out I find, plus the views were lovely from there too :).

We headed off again, and at some point in the miles there, some eejot went past the two of us with a rather snarky “on your right please”, as clearly our brief two-up chat was annoying him.  Some people have no patience…  And before you think I’m being judgemental, at the next T-junction he blithely slipped left and joined the main road with nary a glance over his shoulder, leaving one very justifiably p*ssed off GTi driver having to brake so hard to avoid him that he stalled, before re-starting, and revving off with an angry toot of his horn.  Oh look, well done, yet another motorist with his opinion of road hogging, rule ignoring cyclists reinforced.  We actually happened across the car and driver at the next village and we did some damage limitation and some work on motorist-cyclist relations by apologising for the rotten apple in the barrel.  It doesn’t matter what you’re using to use to the road, we all use it, and we all have to use it properly and follow the rules!  Prat *sigh*.

I was starting to get hints of mojo back, and also the odd tingle that implied that my feet might still exist as we got to the food stop, somewhere around 25 miles in.  There was a support van (more of which later) with a track pump so I was able to put some more air in the back tyre and hope that that did the trick.  My valve cap was mysteriously missing, so maybe it got bashed in the car?  Who knows…  I also grabbed half a banana, as you do.  I can eat those :).

Food stop - used twice

Shortly after this, approaching the Joker 2 turning, one of my gear changes felt weird…and when we took the turning and stopped, it became clear that the rear gear cable had actually snapped, reducing me from 24 gears…to 3.  Top top, top middle, and top bottom.  My day was REALLY not going well, and there was nothing to be done about it, other than the use of of some choice anglo-saxon and a girly urge to resort to frustrated tears.  Hey, I am a girl, right?!  Time for a parting of the ways.  Well I’d been worried enough about getting up Gold Hill as it was, let alone with no granny ring!  I wished GB a good ride and headed back to the unadulterated long route.  No more Jokers for me.  No Gold Hill.  No Zig-Zag hill.  *sulk*.  Mind you, having been considering earlier that GB might be better off riding without me, maybe I should be more careful what I wish for? ;).

So I followed the route as best I could, reduced to Shanks Pony up the big hill near Fontmell, feeling properly sorry for myself, missing being able to test myself against the long climb properly, and deeply resenting those cycling past me.  Ho hum.  I think I was kind of hoping that when I got back to the food stop again that the support van would fix me, that someone would rescue me, broom wagon me home…anything!  Nope.  I couldn’t even get my phone to work to ring home for sympathy…although considering the litany of such things today I shouldn’t have been surprised.  Having limped my way there it turned out there was no get out of jail free card, and no real alternative option other than to possibly take a more direct but main road route back to the start.  Apparently the biggest hills were behind us however, and the rest of the return route (47km) was mostly undulating.  The thought of having to walk in more major traffic whilst also running the risk of getting lost didn’t appeal, so I had no choice but to MTFU and decide to follow the route.  I figured I would do the best I could when I could, and walk if it came to it.  Stiff upper lip…

In some respects this was good for me.  I stopped wallowing quite so much and got on with it.  I’m pleased to say “they” hadn’t lied to me either, which is great, because if there had been a lot of hills like that big one for me to walk up I’d still be walking up them now…   A lot of it was doable, though I have to say the headwind added serious insult to injury.  Like only three gears wasn’t enough of a challenge?  And, on a triple, who uses top top gear anyway?  Practically two gears then.  Ah well.  Luckily I can be fairly fast on the flat/gradual incline, to make up for the rest, and I did, bizarrely, overtake some people and keep up with some others who clearly knew what they were doing.  Which helped on the PMA front.

I like sportives to have enough riders that I can usually see one from time to time, but am generally happier once everyone has spread out so that I can stop comparing myself to how everyone else is doing and get on with doing what I have to do.  A few riders chatted to me, including one who nicknamed me “no-gears girl” having learnt of my plight, and whom I saw several more times.  His cheery “go no-gears girl!” did wonders to boost my morale, which seriously needed it.  However I spent a lot of time riding on my own, and was very pleased therefore that this was an event with regular repeater ribbons.  If you’re on your own, having a bad day at the office, and starting to think that you might be lost as well, the sight of a fluorescent orange ribbon can proper warm the cockles of your heart :).

Some of the hills were, unsurprisingly, a proper slog.  I’m usually a sit in the saddle and plod kind of girl, and having to get out of the saddle and climb until my legs ran out was hard work, and I’m going to feel it tomorrow for sure!  When my legs ran out, I walked…a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.  I’m sure it’s all good training, right?

another hill behind me...

Even with everything, there are worse ways to spend a couple of hours than riding a bike in the (still rather chilly) sun, albeit slowly.  It’s not the Tour de France, I wasn’t going to be winning any fancy jerseys, and there were no sunflowers but…

...close but no cigar... 😉

The main downside to all this sunshine and scenery and shadows?  It hides the potholes and bumps a treat, and the road surfaces were NOT good today.  Even without the dry weather and the farm traffic induced gravel etc some of those roads would be hard pushed to be described as having a surface at all :/.  Pretty though, right?

I was getting closer and closer to the end, counting down the miles, and getting back into familiar territory as the final section retraced the start of the route. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when Salisbury Racecourse hove into view, as a couple of hours before that I’d been in serious doubt that I’d get there at all.  I’ve never had a DNF and I didn’t want one today!

Rarely have I been so pleased to see a finish line, which I happily crossed, before handing in my tag, picking up a tea/coffee voucher and free-shirt, and taking a pew for a bit to recover.

Riders were spread out in the sun everywhere, no doubt recounting tales of derring do, or maybe just adding to the tan lines 😉

So what was the final damage?  Well according to Bella, it goes like this:

Cycling time: 4:29:14 hrs
Distance: 66.31 miles
AVS: 14.8 mph.
ODO: 12880 miles

And you know what?  All things considered, taking the walking into account, I think I did pretty well.  GB arrived a while after me, having successfully taken on the other Jokers, and possibly surprised to find me not all that cheesed off.  I was just happy to have made it round and triumphed over adversity.  Although I’m not sure I’m talking to my bike… 😉 *grin*.

UPDATE: official Cyclosport Joker review is now up.  My official time is here, 4:57, and after all that, still makes me a Bronze, which is cool :).

I did the Endura Trek Lionheart last year, and enjoyed the route so much I wanted to do it again this year.  Well how many sportives do you know that start in a safari park? 😉  It has the added advantage of not being that far from here, so the alarm was set for a positively lazy 5:40am, and I actually woke up at 5:35am, thus avoiding that wrenched from the depths of sleep feeling.  Great start :).

GB picked me up at 6:20, a little earlier than planned, but what with the necessity to be inside the venue before 8:00am, it seemed like a good idea.  Unsurprisingly when I looked out of my window it was foggy, but I’m pleased to say that it cleared up fairly quickly, and, added bonus to late starting, it was also daylight as we loaded up his car.  He drove, and I wittered, fuelled by caffeine, painkillers, and nerves.  Poor GB ;).  It’s almost not far away enough to adjust to what it is that you’re about to do and get into the right frame of mind though…as before you know it, you’ve joined the queue of cars down the long drive into Longleat.

Parking is copious, free, and marshalled.  You park on the grass, but there’s gravel road in between, which minimises the puncture risk and the length of time your cleats are walking over wet grass.  I hate starting a ride with wet feet, doesn’t everyone?

marshalls managing the car park

First things first, coffee related priorities…especially has having been sent the helmet tag and bike numbers in advance there was no need to register.  I know moaning about toilets at events is one of my bugbears, but with 1200 entrants, I’m thinking 9 portable toilets may well not be enough?

queue for the toilets

However should you, as is usually the case at sportives, be tempted to go water a tree – they were very keen to remind you that this was not acceptable and, to be fair, pretty much everyone was doing as they were told, probably to avoid being thrown to the lions! 😉  The toilets may have been busy, but they were still sufficiently equipped, if smelly, so it could have been, as is often the case, worse!

Essentials done and it was time to get back to the car and start the serious business of faffing.  Having checked at least 3 weather forecasts before leaving, which were guaranteed not to agree with each other, the layering options were endless.  I went with longs, l/s jersey, winter jersey, winter hat, winter collar, mitts + over gloves, woolie boolies + overshoes, and gilet.  The saddle bag got winter gloves and a Buff just in case.  This was on the basis that the gilet, over gloves, and winter hat could be way more easily removed than a superfluous base layer.  Time to join the queue for the start, with a brief hiatus as I returned to the car having forgotten the phone that was supposed to Strava for me.  Doh!  Back again to join up with GB and Kevin, and where we also conveniently found George and Simon, which was nice.

GB, thrilled at having his photo taken 😉

Kevin, ready to go.

George and Simon resplendent in Tor 2000 kit 🙂

Getting closer to the start…

Right.  A quick rider briefing, and it was time to be on our way.  After the apocryphal and exemplary Mad March Hare, setting off and it not being pouring with rain meant we were already ahead of the game.  The surprisingly lumpy loop inside the estate and the long climb out up the drive meant that the chill started to wear off pretty quickly.  The first couple of hours of riding were fairly flat on quiet country roads.  It was a bit hairy up until the route split as there was a wide range of bikes, rider abilities, and rider experience.  Quite a lot were clearly not used to riding in groups, or in company, so it was every man for him/herself when it came to spotting road obstacles and keeping an eye out for traffic.

The route split took a lot of people by surprise.  It was at a marshalled crossroads, about 18 miles in.  The “100 mile straight on”, “100 km right” signs were down on the left hand side across the junction.  If you didn’t hear the marshalls shouting, and arrived amongst a lot of riders, or were following wheels, it was easily missed, and I already know of quite a few people who ended up accidentally doing the shorter route, and not realising until it was far far far too late!   Ooops…  Luckily this didn’t apply to us.  George and Simon were already behind us, but they made it ok.  Kevin was ahead but had likewise spotted it, as did we.  Thank goodness!  So, onwards and upwards, amongst a thinned out crowd of possibly slightly more experienced riders, which made it easier to relax into the ride.

photos taken on the move are not always in focus 😉

It’s a miracle I manage to learn anything at all these days, because my brain is clearly full of sportive routes I’ve ridden, and 80/90s song lyrics.  It’s amazing how much you remember from years past.  Having done this event before, when the bizarrely located italianate church hove into view once more, I knew I was about to reach the first food stop – about 30 miles in.

I love it when food stops are in village halls (or similar) because I get to go to the toilet in civilised fashion, and don’t have to watch lycra clad men lined up by the side of the road doing their thing.  Much nicer I’m sure you’ll agree :).

As you can see there was quite a spread laid on and it was proving very popular.  Considering my current eating issues I had to give it a miss, resorting to the gluten-free bar I was trialling, and more importantly, the next dose of combined painkillers, since there was no way I was letting them run out!  I also stashed the gilet and took the over-gloves off, both of which went in the saddle bag, and replaced the winter hat with a Buff – all as per the plan :).  In case you were wondering, that would be a plan coming together ;).

Back on the road again.  Life got a little bit lumpier for the next section, with some longer climbs, the use of some more major roads, and a couple of beautiful descents.  Shame a good descent is nearly always ruined by a junction at the bottom!  A lot of them were well marked with “Caution” signs, but the first one for the A303, although well marshalled at the bottom, could have been better marked, and the second one (also to the A303) somewhat later on came as a nasty shock.  Good thing I have new brake pads!  To be fair they got us on and off the A303 first time around, which is where the traffic is worst, very efficiently and with a smile and some banter – which is always nice 🙂

For scenic interest, along the way I tried to capture the chalk military symbols at Fovant, with limited success, but if it sparks your interest, you can see more here.

country roads, scenic views

There was a nice climb up from the A303, where I actually got teased by another rider for being a typical woman talking going uphill.  Don’t think that’s ever happened before.  It made me feel all capable *grin*.  I had a brief chat with a rider wearing my Etape jersey, but who seems to have found it a whole heap easier than I did, so I’m not sure he’s as deserving of it as me ;).  Jealous, moi? 😉  Right, 50 miles in now, time for the second food stop.

I bumped into one of my twitter friends here, who was riding as one of the Strada Cycles team, one of whom had been in front of us in the toilet queue and whom we’d chatted to.  It’s a small world after all, right?  It’s weird meeting twitter folk – it’s hard to recognise each other in person at the best of times, let alone when clad in lyrca and hiding under a helmet.  Hello Rob 🙂

decisions, decisions…

The foodstop came with food, toilets, and mechanical assistance.  Oh, and sunshine 🙂  What more do you want?  Time to take the winter collar off and stash it in a convenient pocket.

Not long after the foodstop came one of my favourite parts of the ride, which I was quite looking forward to.  Welcome to Stourhead.  Scenic, pretty, and not as crowded as it can be.  I stopped to take this photo, and had a brief chat with a couple of elderly gentleman who were enjoying watching the cyclists going through and reminiscing about when they used to do the same.  I think a lady (ok, something approximating that) in lycra on a bike was a welcome novelty for them.  I hope that’s me one day, full of happy cycling memories, but I also hope I’ll still be riding then :).

There’s an up and down through a forest section after this, which I enjoyed more last year.  This year the roads were covered in mud and a bit hazardous, especially on descents.  Luckily it was almost devoid of cars, as I was frequently on the wrong (but drier) side of the road!  After the final climb out of the valley there’s a beautiful long stretch along a ridge with awesome views before another glorious descent, and it sure does make a change after all the recent fog to actually be able to see the views!

The forest and GB.

There were three foodstops on this route which I like because it helps me mentally break the ride up into more easily manageable parts.  Especially important as I knew the worst climbs of the day were in the last quarter!  The third stop is interestingly located, about 74 miles in, halfway up quite a steep hill.  Last year I nearly failed to unclip on arrival so I wasn’t going to let that happen this year, and unclipped well in advance!  Nothing like ending up on the floor in front of an amused, though possibly sympathetic audience, to ruin your sang froid ;).

They even had coffee inside, and since the temperature had dropped a little, something warm and with a bit of a kick went down a treat.  The cakes looked lovely too, if you’re not me, and the staff both inside and out were very friendly and cheerful :).  I stuck the winter collar on again, even though I knew hills were looming, because the clouds were ooming.  And if you don’t know the verb to oom, it’s a lot like to bode.  As in bode ill, or look ominous.  Enlightened now? 😉

Can’t hang around all day though right?  Time to get the last, and most anticipated section, over and done with.  I did have to walk a little way up the hill to a marginally flatter bit to make sure I got on my bike, got going, and stayed upright though!  3 miles down the road comes the King Alfred’s Tower climb which, last year, I had to stop on twice.  Rain was threatening, the road was damp and not clean, and I seemed to have blanked out the details of the climb altogether.  Worse still they were timing it this year, which, should you look later, will probably show how lamentable my time was.  Sod the time though…because I got up in one go!  I didn’t walk.  I didn’t even stop.  I puffed my way up, leaving lesser mortals in my wake…though to be fair since I did indeed sound like a steam train they certainly heard me coming!  Somewhere with the top in sight I could feel my front wheel lifting in that slightly heart stopping way…*shudder*.  So I leant forward, redistributed my weight, crossed a few mental fingers, and kept going.  If there hadn’t been an audience I’d have been whooping when I made it over the top, but there was, so I settled for telling GB (who’s climbed it several times easily) how proud of myself I was *grin*,  Go me!

early in the climb

My achievement helped motivate my legs for a while, which was good as they were starting to flag a little and I knew there were two big climbs to come.  They were indeed large, and hard work, but at least I knew what I was letting myself in for.  Again with the forewarned is forearmed.  Massive kudos to the two long haired guys on fixies who we’d leap-frogged a couple of times, and who came back and overtook me going up these – chapeaux!  GB gets faster when he’s tired, on the basis that that way he’ll get it over and done with faster.  I’ll have you know that this is quite exasperating when I don’t!  He decided enough was enough and he needed to get back and dropped me like a stone, leaving me with Kevin who had luckily dropped back to join us, having overtaken us at my last drug top-up stop.  Well finishing a sportive on your own isn’t a lot of fun, so company was good :).  The last few miles included an extra very busy car laden loop where, as a steady stream of slowly climbing riders, we held up the traffic a treat – man I bet we were popular!  There was entirely too much last minute climbing, and we also finished by going down the (admittedly enjoyable) drive, rather than down last year’s glorious sprint finish straight.  I kinda hope they bring that back for future years.

I finished, though what with my Strava phone having given up the ghost, and my cycling computer being a tad unreliable these days, my stats are slightly cobbled together from my figures, GBs and Kevin’s Strava ride.

Cycling time: 6:10 hrs
Distance: 103 miles
AVS: 15.6 mph.
ODO: 12647 miles

I think my official time will be around 7:00hrs which, as an 18-39 female, will give me a silver time.  ‘Rah!  Last year it was 6 miles shorter, took me 15 minutes longer, and I weighed more than a stone and a half more.  A lot can change in a year no? – and this year definitely felt faster :).

We headed for the event village where free hot drinks and food were available, toons were playing, and if I had the money I could probably have bought a Trek.  The Lionheart beer nearly called my name before I remembered that beer currently disagrees with me….so I was saved from myself 😉

resting bikes

We may not have stuck together like glue, but we started together and finished together, complete with medals to prove it.

GB and medal

a smiley happy Kevin 🙂

Sadly the very lovely looking free five bean hotpot didn’t stand a snowflake in hell’s chance of agreeing with me, so I had to give that a miss too.  Having had free coffee, which was most needed and very welcome, I forgot that I could have had superlative coffee from the fabulous Claud the Butler as I did last year.  (I’m biased I think, because my first decent bike was a Claud Butler *grin*).

Time to head ’em up and move ’em out…aka head for home.  It is Mothers’ Day after all, and last I checked I qualified as one of those.  A hot bath, roast dinner, dry cava and chocolates were awaiting me…and I needed all three :).

Things I have learnt today.  I can still ride 100 miles.  Though I hurt now and will hurt more tomorrow.  Mostly in my shoulders and arms though – weird!  If I eat enough potatoes and gluten-free pasta in the days beforehand, stick to gluten-free bars on the day, and drink plenty of lemon tea Nuun, I can ride 100 miles without bonking or making my insides hurt more than they do already.  Result!  Roll on the rest of the season – I need more miles and more hills under my belt :).  Oh, and one thing more?  103 miles and camera makes for a very long blog entry! *grin*.

UPDATE: official time is 6:59:47 which is indeed a SILVER :D.

The sanity of the cyclist is frequently debatable…

At 5:15am this morning, GB texted me to say was I awake, was I keen, and were we doing it anyway?  This makes more sense when you consider that it was already raining, all of 5C, and not forecast to be any better where we were going.  In fact the forecast for B47 6AJ included a not inconsiderable wind that was due to change direction halfway through the ride (yes, headwind all day) and the possibility of snow, whichever weather website I used – and believe me I have a whole range of those at my fingertips.  Despite all of this, I replied in the affirmative 3 times :).  Clearly I was awake, and I was caffeine fuelled keen, and not going back to bed anytime soon, so we might as well be doing it anyway, right?  Besides this was to be my first event riding and writing for Cyclosport, it was my first “proper” sportive of the season, I’ve done it three times before and it’s become my annual season starter, and I’d paid for it!  So even if weather related bailing was the kind of thing I do, which it isn’t, it so wasn’t going to happen today.

The same cannot be said for around 250 of the 500 people signed up to do the event.  Not so much DNF as DNA.  Bunch of lightweights the lot of you ;).  Having said that…

It rained on us all the way up the M5.  It was raining when we parked in the large field next to the shed building that was HQ.  It rained as we trudged across the long wet grass to sign in, which took no time at all.  Over more muddy grass to use the portable loos – two of which were set aside for females, which was much appreciated.  Back to the car to stand in the rain assembling bikes, attaching numbers, faffing around deciding on layers.  GB told me, quite rightly, to stop faffing and put on as much as I could.  As is frequently the case, he was right, and I should have paid more attention.  I did put on more than I was going to, but as it turns out, not as much as I could have or should have.

The view of the weather at the start.

Back to HQ to meet up with the BW, and another trip through the grass and mud to the toilet – darn that morning coffee.  This had the unfortunate side effect of meaning that my feet were soaked through already – from the bottom up – not a good start.  The BW finally arrived.  In shorts, having lost one of his legwarmers yesterday…  I refrained from the urge to tell him that this was a somewhat debatable decision, since he has one mother already, and I have my own children to tell off!  But still…!

Cyclists hiding in the HQ and putting off heading out into the weather for as long as possible!

Cyclists gathering at the start line.

Time to get going as we were already wet and cold and not getting any warmer hanging around.  Numbers and start times were noted down by the organisation and we were on our way.  Oh man it was cold out there!  It was clearly going to take longer than the usual twenty minutes to warm up…  In fact the closest I came to warm was the first hill of any note about 12km/8miles in.  I think I pulled my zip down a couple of inches, from whence it went back up again pretty darn quickly as soon as I reached the top!   And that was it for sartorial adjustment for the day really.  The rain continued.  The cold wind blew.  There was more and more standing water to deal with.  Lots of concentrating and trying to avoid hidden potholes.  The BW hared off (pun intended), presumably trying to keep warm, whilst those of us who are definitely older, and possibly wiser, flew along as best we could in a more measured fashion.  Us tortoises turned him into a Hare for real when we reeled him in and passed him before Willersey.  To be fair he looked in a pretty bad way, cold and done in.

The first big hill of the day came about 59km/37 miles in.  Having been getting slowly more and more cold, I’d almost been looking forward to it, as I was hoping it would warm me up a bit.  It’s a big long fairly steep constant climb up Saintbury Hill.  To emphasise how cold and wintery it was, we did this in the snow.  Yes.  It snowed.  In fact visibility became severely restricted due to the amount of the falling white stuff.  Add some wind to that and it was a bit like going into hyperspace!  (Those of you of a certain age know exactly what I mean and don’t pretend you aren’t/don’t!).  And don’t let anyone ever tell you that snowflakes are soft fluffy things.  Not when you’re cycling into them they’re not!    I think that’s a first for me – a sportive in the snow.  Limited novelty value it has to be said.  Quite a lot of people resorted, for whatever reason, to walking up the hill which, if I could have felt my feet, might have been attractive.  But I was feeling as stubborn as ever, and actually went up it pretty well and definitely with less zig-zagging than last year.    Sadly due to the being wet already, and the snow, and the wind, it really didn’t warm me up much.  After a bit more climbing we reached the small feed station in a layby on the right hand side, well stocked with bananas, flapjacks and free SIS gels…though hot coffee would have been more welcome ;).  I ate some of what turned out to be a very nice uncoated orange Zipvit energy bar that I had, and swopped my soaking wet gloves for drier ones from my saddle bag.  It was neither the time nor place for hanging around, and although we waited for the BW there was no sign of him, so we headed off on our way again.  (I gather he gave in to the powers that be (aka his Dad in support car behind) and called it a day at around the 60 mile mark).

that’s a snow cloud and the flying white bits are snow!

Looks nice out there doesn’t it? 😉

There was another similar climb, albeit a little shorter, about 7 miles later, which also went well.  Descents were less fun than they might have been due to the need to pay attention to the road, and brake in the wet.  I was clearly getting colder and colder…I hadn’t had feet for hours, and my hands were well on the way to joining them wherever they were, even in the drier gloves.  It always amazes me how much cold parts of your anatomy can hurt!  Braking when your hands aren’t all there is…interesting.  About 90 mins from the end, after a rather dangerous crossing of the A46, we stopped to grab some more food, and I nearly fell over trying to stand up on feet that I didn’t have anymore!  As we ate I realised I had actually started shivering, and we headed off pdq.  I don’t think my body has ever been that cold on a bike, let alone tried shivering whilst riding one, and it’s a very weird feeling.  It’s trying to do all the things required to propel you along, and to shiver at the same time, which does odd things to your stomach muscles.  Which, considering the current state of my insides and the fact that today the painkillers dismally failed to work, is not a nice thing.

Like it or not, life got a little slower.  When you can only feel 10% of your hands, gear changes are not a spontaneous thing.  They are planned in advance and frequently attempted several times!  Braking is a cautious thing, just in case…  I was so cold that my brain stopped working properly for a while and I was tad worried that I was just going to stop functioning altogether and end up in some ungainly heap on the floor wondering how I’d gotten there!  Luckily this didn’t happen.  Even though by now the rain had stopped, this was way beyond too little too late.  The temperature may have gone up a degree or so, GB was now ahead of me blazing a trail for me to follow, and however we did it, we got back to the start in one piece.  Two pieces? ;).  It turns out a lot of those who had turned up hadn’t made it all the way round – DNFs.  There’s a rumour that I was the first woman home!  Not sure that’s ever happened before!  *grin*.  Go me!

I had a quick chat with Paul Prince, who organises it, whilst drinking my soup.  It being the fourth year of the Mad March Hare, it’s come a long way, though I kinda miss the Easter Bunny costume he wore first time around 😉  The new venue is a great improvement and there are plans to expand the event in the future.  Due to the poor turnout this year they may keep the route the same for next year though, since it’ll still be new to a lot of people!  The organisation had all gone really smoothly, and I can personally vouch for the homemade vegetable soup – very yummy 🙂  It’s still much cheaper to enter than a lot of the sportives out there and is extremely good value for money.  Well you can’t blame the organisers for the weather, now can you?!

Even with warm food on the inside, I couldn’t stop shivering, and it was getting worse and worse.  I’ve never had that reaction before, but then I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold and so wet on the bike for so long!  Time to get back to the car, get sorted, and head to the nearest services to get changed into dry clothes somewhere warm, and drink a large caramel macchiato.  Even so it took quite a while longer down the M5 for the shaking to finally stop.  Hypothermia anyone?

And as we went South for winter, as could have been predicted, the skies cleared…typical.

Roadworks and sun on the M5.

Cycling time: 5:05 hrs
Distance: 78 miles with 1100 metres of climbing
AVS: 15.4 mph.
ODO: 12347 miles

Ish.  GB says I’m over recording.  Anyway…  In retrospect, with the infamous 20:20 hindsight I should have warn my thermal tights under my longs, and a different combo of jersey/jackets, but even so, I think that might only have delayed the loss of extremities, not prevented it.  Until I got proper cold I was doing really well, and even once frozen, my legs and the engine were feeling pretty good – just distracted by pain and hindered by lack of functionality!  I don’t think I can have been said to enjoyed it, other than in masochistic fashion, but we turned up, we did it, and we are once again officially badass *grin*.  First sportive of the season – done 🙂

Hoping for blue skies next time…

UPDATE:

My official time is 5:22.  Looks like 179 riders finished, and I’m around 48th.  Not bad 🙂  Spare a thought for those poor hardy souls who were out there for hours more – longest time recorded is 8:07!

Also – the official Cyclosport review is now up  – about which I’m very excited and very proud.  Lots of people have said very nice things about it too.  Very cool indeed :).

In my new role as commuter I was in London yesterday, meeting up with the Cyclosport crew for the first time.  We spent a couple of hours in the Porterhouse sorting out who’s doing what next year.  It’s one of my favourite pubs, so sitting there on medication and unable to drink was a tad galling…  But hey, they did a very nice curried vegetable soup, so that was compensatory.  It was really nice to meet everyone – put faces to twitter accounts etc – and it’s always nice to hang out with cyclists who are as obsessed as I am.  Safety in numbers, birds of a feather flocking together, etc ;).

Here’s what 2012 currently, and provisionally (entries have to be sorted for some of them), holds for me – and I’ll be editing it as the year goes on:

• Winter Mini Sportive – Sunday 12th February
• Mad March Hare – Sunday 4th March
• Endura Lionheart – Sunday 18th March
• The Joker Sportive – Sunday 1st April
• Wiggle New Forest – Saturday 14th April
• Mario Cippolini Gran Fondo – Sunday 22nd April
• Forest of Dean Classic Somerset Hills Gran Fondo – Sunday 6th May
• Tour of Pembrokeshire – Saturday 12th May
• Black Rat Bristol Sportive – Sunday 20th May – NEW
• Wheel Heroes – Sunday 27th May
• Wiggle Magnificat – Sunday 3rd June
• Wiggle Dragon Ride (medio corto) – Sunday 10th June – NEW
• Great Western Sportive – Sunday 17th June
• Dartmoor Classic – Sunday 24th June
• Maratona dles Dolomites – Sunday 1st July
• Great Weston Ride – Sunday 15th July
• Tour of the Cotswolds – Sunday 22nd July
• Sodbury Sportive – Sunday 19th August
• Etape Cymru – Sunday 9th September
• Cheddar Cyclosportive – Sunday 16th September
• Bristol Belter – Sunday 23rd September
• Wiggle New Forest – Saturday 6th October
• Exmoor Beast – Sunday 28th October
• Wiggle Devils Punchbowl – Sunday 4th November

Now all I have to do is get myself well again and start training.  Easy right? 😉  *grin*.