Category Archives: Events

Events I have done, or plan on doing…or…whatever!

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 🙂

Guide Dogs Tour of Berkshire 2015

Another Sunday, another sportive. Which is the story of my life this month, and I’m not complaining 🙂

This time it was the Guide Dogs Tour of Berkshire, running for its second year. It’s not a huge event, and it’s about raising money for the charity, not laying on an imitation Etape for Mamils. It is also one I haven’t done before, somewhere I rarely ride, and there’s a lot to be said for novelty value. I also knew that it was only 77 miles max, the forecast was good, and it had a whole heap less climbing than last week’s Cotswold Spring Classic. What’s not to love?

So, with kit lessons learnt from the Cotswold’s sauna experience, I headed off down various motorways to HQ wearing considerably less layers than usual. HQ was, unsurprisingly, at the HQ of the Guide Dogs for the Blind Association near Reading. Which would have been easier to get to if “they” hadn’t closed a railway bridge a couple of miles down the road for re-surfacing, thus confusing both my TomTom and I. Cue a confusing and circuitous detour… But I was there pretty much as planned, around 8:00am, and parked up in the walled garden staff car park. All very pretty, just like the house and grounds itself. It was all fairly low-key, but very sportive. Portable toilets, tent to sign up in, various catering outlets, all set out on the lawn.

Even though the instructions had insisted on photo id, as did the desk itself, nobody checked. I do wish people wouldn’t do that, I only have my passport, and I always feel a bit nervous lugging it around and then leaving it in the car – those things cost serious money to replace! Anyway I was duly handed my bag with my official numbers and various small goodies, which I took back to the car, so as to faff. Just as well I hadn’t gone over there, all ready, with the bike, as I’d still have had to go back to the car to leave it there…

First off – the bike number. I’m not a fan of seat post numbers. They just don’t work with my bike/saddle bag combo, as you can see. And the “don’t bend” instructions for the timing tag on it had me a bit worried, but hey, there wasn’t much I could do about it. The helmet number was easy, though I’d rather not have bothered, but felt I ought to. I continued to potter in the sunshine, debating what layers I had and which to actually wear. The trick was to have enough space in the saddle bag and pockets to stash anything I might have to take off, without compromising on the other stuff I had to carry – food, drink tablets, etc. But I reckon I had it covered, and although warm was due, it wasn’t quite here, though the potential was definitely in the air.

Since kit recitals are becoming my thing, today’s tally was as follows: toe covers, shoes, socks, lightweight tights, s/s bamboo base layer, merino s/s jersey, arm warmers, gilet, and winter collar. See, wasn’t that interesting?

I missed the horn for the start as I was queuing for the toilets. Btw, life is so much easier without bib tights 😉 As I headed to join the start queue in my turn, it turns out there wasn’t a queue if you were doing the “Epic” route and I was ushered straight through. I was off, just like that! The lack of waiting and a briefing was a tad disconcerting, I’m a creature of habit after all 😉

Right then. Here I go again, on my own, as ever. But I was up for that. A Sunday spent riding my bike in the sun? Oh alright then 😉 Mind you, as it turns out, it was a pretty linear loop – mostly out to the west, mostly back to the east – and it was pretty darn windy! A wheel or two to hide behind would have been bl**dy lovely. When you’re doing your best and still only doing 9mph, you sometimes lose the will to live! Luckily, if you can put it like that, the first half was mostly head wind, with the second half being mostly tail wind, as you’d expect. And although there was, according to Strava, more climbing than I thought, it was mostly a case of ups and downs rather than distinct climbs and descents. Rolling maybe. Or Andalucian “flat” 😉 Mind you, the bigger climbs were all in the first half really, and gee, I really love slogging up hill into a killer headwind, it’s just the icing on the cake! 😉

That wind kept things pretty chilly, despite the wall-to-wall sunshine. The winter collar might only have lasted for the first 20 minutes, but my gilet stayed on until around 11:30am which is probably round about when I turned to face the other way, surprise surprise, and my arm warmers came off shortly after that. The sunshine did make it all very pretty out there though. Cultivated fields, thatched cottages, elegant country houses. It being Berkshire it felt a little less countryfied than the Cotswolds had, there were lots of little villages to cycle through, interspersed with rolling fields, woodlands. All sort of well-behaved. England’s green and pleasant land or something. And somehow the miles just ticked by…

There were three food stops. One around 25 miles ish, which I passed on, one around 50ish I think where I did stop, and a drinks one at about 68 miles which I also decided against, it being too near the finish for me. They were a little makeshift – a van and tables in a lay-by, with fizzy coke, water, cake and jelly beans, and sadly no toilets. Mind you the staff were friendly, the coke was good; add a few bananas and flapjacks and, of course, a portable toilet, and they’d have pretty much hit my mark.

I was doing my best to push it a bit for a change. Especially on the flat with the wind behind me 😉 I knew it wasn’t too massive a challenge, and I was fair flying from time to time, and feeling pretty good with it. It’s odd how the time goes though. By the time I got in, I wouldn’t have wanted to do 100 miles, I felt like I was done. But then if I’d known I was going to do 100 miles I’d have paced myself differently, physically and mentally? It felt longer than some though, maybe because it was a lot of all the same for 5 hours? Or maybe I’m just getting bored of spending so much time with myself 😉 I did enjoy it though, which is the main thing. It went pretty well too 🙂

I rolled over the finish line, camera in mouth to avoid dropping it, and took up residence on the manicured lawn with the traditional can of fizzy orange, to watch the other riders come in for a while and get my breath back. And catch a few more rays of course 😉 I couldn’t stay there all day though, so I re-established verticality, popped into the toilets, and de-faffed before heading home. It had clearly been a pretty long day, as having hit the M4 rumble strip a couple of times, my eyes just weren’t going to stay open any longer, so I had to take a break at Chievely Services for a nap before heading on my way home again! I think I need to remember to eat when I get in too – that might well help.

Cycling time: 5:00
Distance: 77.6 miles
Avg: 15.5 mph
ODO: 8851 miles

It’s not a high falutin’ sportive. It’s a modest well-run well-meaning event. There were around 250 riders, and not including the money raised by individual riders, they’ve already raised over £1500 for the charity. It was well sign-posted, though the odd repeater sign might have been nice, and the wind had played havoc with a couple of the signs – which the friendly marshals were busy fixing as I went past. With the variety of routes on offer, 41.5km/84km/125km, it’d be a good event for the sportive novice, and with the relative flatness it’d also be a great route to try and do really fast as a group. According to the results on-line 99 riders did the Epic Route, and I was 50th. 11 of us were female. I was the fourth one of those, beaten by 3 Seniors but first in my V40 Category. I’ll take that 😉

Santini Cotswold Spring Classic 2015

Oops, I’m behind again. Three rides behind. But since two of them were cake related coffee runs with Alan, and I’m a busy bunny with a stinking cold, I’ll stick to just telling you about the sportive I think. In this case, as the title makes obvious, the Santini Cotswold Spring Classic. Which, having gotten my Cotswold’s sportives all muddled up in my head, it turns out I’ve not done since 2011, rather than more recently. What can I say, I’ve done a few sportives now, occasionally they all blur into one… At least I could look back through this blog and refresh my memory. On the other hand I’m not sure that helped. I did it with Guy, it was long and hilly, he danced up the hills, and I walked up them! Oh good. *gulp*.

Ah well, too late now, or something. I’d signed up, had nowhere else to be, no-one to see, it was Easter Monday, and the weather forecast was good. And walking up a hill is not the worst thing in the world. Worse things happen at sea. Etc…

The Cotswold Spring Classic HQ is at Cirencester College, and the car park opened at 7:00am. I left a little later than whichever route planner suggested I should so I could play beat the TomTom, which is always a good game. As I headed up the M5, the sun was coming up, and the street lights were going out one by one as I went past them, which was a little spooky 😉 Having duly won the TomTom race, I arrived at the car park just after 7:00am, one of the first to do so, with the proximity thus garnered putting me a just a short walk from registration in the main school hall. Sunny it may have been, but it was a bit nippy out there. Mind you, it was still very early for a Bank Holiday morning! There was a short queue for the few portable toilets outside but, having read the pre-ride pdf, I knew there were some inside so I nipped in to use those instead first. My pre-ride email had also told me I was rider 740, so I found my registration desk, signed my life away, and was given my map, bike number with timing tag on the reverse & two cable ties, and a couple of edible things.

Back to the car for much faffing. What on earth to wear? The forecast had said 14C, sunny, no wind. Apparently it had leapt up to 18C overnight which I was unaware of, but it was already feeling like warmer than had seemed likely. But… Oh dear. Decisions, decisions. I didn’t have summer kit with me. And it was only a forecast? After a few trips to and fro killing time and wondering, I did the best I could. I left the base layer and winter collar in the car, and took the shoe covers off. Which left winter bib tights, toe covers, long sleeve warm jersey, versatile winter jacket, head Buff, and mitts, with gilet and over gloves in the saddle bag just in case. And that was that. Nowt more to be done. Except to ride back to the start line again and queue up of course.

Start times for the mid (100km) and long (160km) routes were from 8:00am and even having done that to-ing and fro-ing I was still near the front. I then had a disagreement with the Garmin as to whether I not I should be allowed to do the activity I’d downloaded for once, or whether it would go on strike. It went on strike. So, this having happened before, I stepped out of the queue, reset the darn thing, and decided to settle on just recording what I did. I’d wanted to have the route so as to be warned when the hills were coming, but hey, if it wasn’t to be…

So I was away, post rider briefing, in the third of the groups of 50 or so riders being let away at two minute intervals. At which point the Garmin told me I was actually doing the route, by beeping route instructions at me slightly too late for me to ever actually do them. There was no way I was going pressing any buttons though, either to stop that, or to see if it was actually working – I wasn’t going to risk it throwing a strop again! So I left it to its own devices, figuring if I did get lost it might come in useful anyway, and headed off into the just slightly chilly Cotswolds.

I’d done my research. Well, kinda. I’d sort of looked at the route profile anyway. So I knew that the first few miles, out through Cirencester and then beyond, were ok, then the hills would start. A fairly hilly 15 miles in fact. And they were hilly. And I was not warmed up. There were two really big climbs. But…I wasn’t walking. Yes they were steep. And frequently also long. But I seemed to be grinding up them in survivable style. I even sort of enjoyed one of them 😉 A good start. Not that this stopped me worrying…as if I was going to do the long route, which was still up in the air, the majority of the climbing would come in the last 40 miles! Which seems a little unfair but does mean that the organisers can run two events for two audiences. It’s an early season event so anyone looking for a reasonable ride can do the 100km. Anyone looking for a real challenge can do the longer route. Which was I?

Ok, so the first chunk of hills were behind me, and I knew the next 30 miles would be a lot easier. The scenery was lovely, especially in the sunshine. Well it is The Cotswolds after all! Chocolate box villages, cute cottages, country piles, all glowing yellow in the sunshine. With flowers and trees and green countryside. All very pleasant, all getting warmer and warmer…and I really don’t like too hot. So by the time we got to the first foodstop at Performance Cycles HQ (event partners & also mechanical support) at Paulton, around 35 miles in, it was time to take action. Well, once I’d negotiated the cattle grid to get in…which was easier said than done with riders coming in and out. I cheated and walked the bike through the side gate next to it! I topped up my bottles, grabbed half a banana, and queued for quite a while for the toilets – 2 portable toilets and one urinal cubicle was not cutting it. It was however the best place to do the obvious as well as taking off the jersey from underneath the jacket. Sure, I’d have like to have lost the jacket, but my storage options were limited. The jersey fitted into the saddlebag, displacing the gilet and overgloves into pockets, and that was all I could do really. That and pull the jacket sleeves up a bit, and unzip the vents it has. I did say it’s versatile 😉

Time to head off again, all the time debating my options with myself. As I understood it the route split was at around 70 mile, at which point we’d be nearly back at HQ, so it would be a choice between 72 miles or 100. I really wanted to do the 100 miles, having failed to do so at The Lionheart, and I was feeling the need to have that first 100 miles of the season under my belt, before I got a real mental block about it. But I still really didn’t know what was going to happen. Sometimes these things are, as we know, out of my control. In the meantime I was feeling pretty good. I was eating regularly – testing out Clif bars and bloks – and I was drinking my Nuun as I sweated my way around the countryside. The weather was gorgeous, and so far it was all pretty much working.

Somewhat to my surprise the route split actually came at 60 miles, a little while after things had started going up in the world a little more often, and before I’d decided what to do. And it just felt too early to go home. So as it happens I didn’t even think about it, I just took the long route right turn. It was in fact a non-decision. So, for better or worse, I was going to get that 100 miles done. Which, although I knew a whole heap of hills were coming, was quite motivating. PMA!

They weren’t lying about the climbing though. OMG and holey moley! There were lots and lots of big long steep hills. Hard work, especially being so warm. And I had a way to go… So I broke it all down into chunks to deal with. 40 miles to go. Last 6 miles flat. So that’s 34 miles really. More than two hours of ups, less than three. With as much up as down, presumably. I took a break every hour, just to kick back a little, eat and drink, and recalibrate, and the second food stop broke things up too. I chatted to the photographers lurking on hills – nice to see you again Phil. Twice! I grinned, or gurned, at other riders, depending on the gradient. And I enjoyed the downhills of course. It all worked out. And I didn’t walk. A great many others did which, as ever, always makes me want to keep going that bit further…although walking might sometimes have been quicker! And those last 6 miles back along the main road to Cirencester were pretty flat, as promised 🙂 I was pretty close to bonking about two miles from the end…hot and tired I guess…but it seemed a bit late to eat anything. Luckily I made it in and over the finish line without losing it completely. First century of the year done, with around 7000 feet of climbing!

Cycling time: 7:15
Distance: 100.5 miles
Avg: 13.9 mph
ODO: 8773.4 miles

Having done the ride on my own, and with the mob being away, it was a little bit of a downer to have no-one to ring and be proud of myself to. But hey, I’m a big girl, right? I can pat myself on the back 😉 And of course it was all worth it, because the goody bag included not only a voucher for free hot food, a well-earned medal, and a cycling cap but also an Easter Egg! A Cadbury Creme Egg Easter Egg – my favourite. ‘Rah! 🙂 And I could also have had gluten free pasta bake but it was taking so long to sort the gluten free pasta for me and another rider, that I realised I was running the risk of falling asleep sat waiting for it, even having had a can of full fat coke, which I didn’t like but probably needed. So having had a chat to Andy Kirk, who’d sorted my place, I headed back to the car to load up and go home. I’d have had a shower first, the option was there, but I decided I’d rather sort myself out chez moi. Well, there was cold beer in my fridge 😉

It was a very good day out on the bike. Sunny, scenic, well-organised, and a real challenge, that I think I rose to. I am still a happy bunny about it. Not the Easter Bunny though 😉 Disappointingly I was slower than I thought, as according to the results I was further down the pack than usual. But hey, on the upside there were far more girls than usual too, which was great to see – around 10% on the long route and more like 25% on the medium route – which is very rare. It wasn’t all great out there today though. There were some pretty grotty lanes out there, a couple of dodgy descents, and some interesting patch resurfacing which was leaving the puncture-stricken parked up left and right, if not centre. I didn’t enjoy the two stretches on the A419 much either, as it had far too much holiday traffic on it, and didn’t compare well with the quieter scenic country lanes, even if it was faster and flatter! But let’s face it, where do we get good roads over here these days anyway? Overall it’s a really good event. And it only cost £28… Just saying 😉

Spoke unto the wheel

Ok, so I’m a bit behind. But I’ve been a bit busy. And I had a birthday. Excuses, excuses 😉

But I have been riding, though not as much as I’d like. Still, 600 miles for March ain’t bad, right? 😀

I did a seaside loop last Wednesday, handily combining riding the bike with catching up with my fellow Cyclosport writer and friend Sean who was in Weston-super-Mare for work. Coffee at the New Castle in Kewstoke it was then. And a few miles and a few hills 🙂 sand bay view

Cycling time: 1:59
Distance: 30.4 miles
Avg: 15.3 mph
ODO: 8553.7 miles

And as all birthdays should involve riding the bike, and for once the weather pretty much agreed with me, on Friday I did a coffee run with Chris. Coffee at Sweets then. With a few miles and virtually no hills 😉

Cycling time: 1:53
Distance: 31.3 miles
Avg: 16.6 mph
ODO: 8585 miles

Sadly however this Sunday’s ACG ride didn’t happen. On the basis that if I’m going to lead a ride, it’s probably not all that responsible to lead one into gale force winds and rain. It would have been not just unpleasant but also quite possibly dangerous. As the other riders bailed one by one, it became clear that everyone else agreed, so I called it off. Which came as quite a relief to my Dad, who was over to ride with us before our celebratory Sunday lunch at the The Oakhouse. And I can’t say as I was too disappointed either, as I hate wind! Sometimes you just can’t ride 🙂

In the meantime my next sportive – the Cotswold Spring Classic – is on Easter Monday. And maybe I’ll get out this week, if the wind stops blowing a hoolie that is! Today the postman bought me a whole heap of Clif goodies to test and review, so it looks like Monday’s ride will be well-fuelled for a change 😉 And the pain is still lurking, which is a bit of a worry, but I also have some new shiny pills that kinda work and a few days to get it under control. Result! 🙂

The Lionheart 2015

OK, enough with the warm sunny riding, it’s time for a British sportive 😉 In this case, The Lionheart. Again. My fourth, since you can’t really count the one that got snowed out, and the forecast was for dry, chilly, and not much wind. Good start. And having done three rides since my training camp, which had gone pretty well, I was actually sort of looking forward to it. To seeing how I would get on, more than the ride itself, if that makes any sense. I wanted to know if training camps actually work. I was all set for it. Ready to ride 100 miles again.

Well, until Saturday night that is. When the pain made an unwanted, though if I’d thought about it a probably predictable, return. I was really hoping it was just the start of a flare-up, and that it wouldn’t hit full stride for a while…all I needed was 24 hours right? *fingers crossed* ‘n all that. Unsurprisingly I did not sleep well. But I was up at 5:00am with the alarm, still not feeling too bad, and thinking I might get away with it. I’d done most of my faffing the night before, so after the usual coffee and cereal, with some ibuprofen thrown in for good measure, I loaded myself and many layers into the car, and enjoyed the hour’s drive to HQ at Longleat.

Thanks to the pre-entry pack, there’s no need to register on the day for this one. Having said that, it could have been more informative. Although it came with a whole heap of rider number stickers, and the essential timing chip, that was pretty much it and all the actual event information was on-line as a pdf. I’d read it. Some hadn’t. I knew that I was supposed to be there an hour before my entry time, and where there was. That the 100 milers would be leaving before the 100 kmers. And that entry times would be sent out the Tuesday before the event. Well if they were, I didn’t get mine. I did however remember this fact, and checked the entry list on-line, which said that my start time was 8:04am. All of which meant I arrived at around 7:00am, and was marshalled onto the parking on the grass by the event village.

But before we carry on – back to that entry pack. The timing chip is great. Stick it on to the LHS of the helmet – job done. I don’t mind a handlebar number, not that I’m likely to be buying any of the photos that that is mostly used for, and kudos for supplying little cable ties for it too. I quite like the fact that the two distances got different colours for this – red for long, green for short. But the rest of those stickers? Sticker for helmet. Sticker to go around the seat post – which never works with my saddle bag. And a number to be pinned on your back too, though with no pins with which to do so. Which I duly affixed to my jacket because the instructions said I “must”. But what with all the layers, the chances were that this would probably be covered up half the time anyway, so what was the point? I think there may have been some number overkill going on…

event village

Right, back to the paddock. First things first, the toilets of course, before the inevitable queues grew, which they did later on. There were no women only cubicles, unlike last year, but at this point neither this nor queues was an issue, which was good. Then it was back to the car to find some cash, having spotted that Claud the Butler was once again present. I don’t usually do pre-ride coffee, but I’ll make an exception for very good coffee, which is what they do. Plus I kinda know them by now and it’s nice to see a familiar face on days like this. Talking of which, as I was standing in the short queue for my short americano, Rob turned up. I’d forgotten he was doing it – I frequently have a brain like a sieve – and not only was it good to see him, but this was a familiar face that then agreed to ride with me for a bit too – bonus!

Back to the car for proper faffing. It was pretty chilly and it wasn’t due to really warm up, but there was a lot of climbing ahead, and if the sun did come out…ooh, what to wear? I made various decisions and crossed my fingers they’d be the right ones. Just as we were making our way to the start line, I had second thoughts about my tyre pressures and decided to actually do something about it rather than leaving it. Just as well – they were both well down, though I’ve no idea why, and they’ve only been pumped up a week! Rubber inflated, we set off on a little 10 minute ride through the arboretum to get to the start line. Which was a bit weird. Human Race have taken The Lionheart over and clearly made some changes. The Start (and Finish) line is on the main drive now – but facing the house. It’s a lot easier to line riders up here than wiggling them around the house, and this also means they don’t get in the way of arriving traffic or departing riders. But the little ride is a bit of an awkward way to get them there. Anyway, Rob and I were lucky. As we arrived at the start, going past the queue of 100km riders on the right (maybe they hadn’t read the pdf?) we were ushered straight into the back of the next group of 100 milers to be briefed and let go, so we didn’t have to hang around in the cold getting even colder. In fact looking at the results, we were off at 8:04am precisely!

But we didn’t hurtle off. The first four miles are around the estate, and mostly uphill. This is not the nicest way in the world to warm up, and it’s a mistake to push it (not that I could) because it’s too early in the day for that. So Rob kept me company while we slowly bimbled around, failing to see the lions, and then climbing the long hill out of the estate together, passing comment on the many examples of sartorial elegance around us. We were cold. It was cold. Very cold. Which didn’t stop many riders wearing shorts. Or, in the case of one madman, a vest top. Hypothermia anyone?! Once at the top we stopped, stashed gilets, and then out into the country lanes we went. After half an hour of company and tolerance, as I dropped back on a hill, Rob headed off to test out his legs. Not that I was complaining, we were probably both happier doing our own thing, but it was nice to have some company for a little while 🙂

I don’t remember much of the first hour or so. There were various ups and downs, the ups weren’t bothering me too much, and downs are always good. It was all a bit sort of unremarkable, probably because it was grey and cloudy and cold and I hadn’t really warmed up? Life was however starting to get more painful. Which was not great. I was due more painkillers at 10:00am so I started counting down to that. And wondering if 100 miles was in fact going to be doable. No need to make decisions yet though, so keep riding. Eat. Try and think of other things. Keep pedalling. The first foodstop, at the 18 mile mark, came and went, as I didn’t stop as it was too soon for me. We headed west towards familiar territory, and then south. Life got more scenic, with the pretty that is Evercreech, nice climbs and nice views. Somewhere after a climb before Bruton I stopped and took those pills, and realised I didn’t have any more with me, and although I had some of the big guns with me, I can only take those and ride when I’m already on them and accustomed. Otherwise I zonk, and zombies do not ride well. Hm.

Off again, duly mulling things over in my head, and into Bruton for the second (very well stocked) foodstop, 31 miles in, where I did stop. It was brightening up now, if not warming up, which was nice. I ate and drank and sat and thought. And pondered King Alfred’s Tower which was mentally looming 4 miles away, whichever route I was going to do. I decided I’d give the pills until 11:00, see if/how they worked, and then maybe decide what I was going to do afterwards. Time to go and climb that hill then. Another change for this year, and a big improvement, is that this was now a closed road timed hill climb. Ignore the latter bit, it’s the closed road bit that’s important! This is a 1.5 mile climb that gets steeper all the way, and is very narrow, so if a car comes the other way and you have to stop, getting going again can be seriously tricky. Especially if it’s wet which, luckily, today it wasn’t. So closing the road is a very good thing, but it wasn’t going to stop it being hard work! Here we go then. Walkers on the left, riders on the right please. Whatever the pain was doing, I was going to do my best which, as it turns out, slowly but surely got me to the top again. ‘Rah! Of those going up around me, about 95% seemed to end up walking, which was gratifying 😉 It’s one of the climbs where it’s very good knowing you’ve been up it before, because you know it can be done, and you also know where it ends! As I made it to the top, I have to say I was very pleased indeed as I really had thought that today, all things considered, I might have joined those on the left hand side…

The stretch of flat and fast afterwards was lovely, as we headed towards Stourhead. In previous years I’m fairly sure I remember the route going through the estate itself, with all the lovely views and prettiness that entails. Well one of the changes this year, which no doubt pleases the NT grockles but did not please me, was to cut this out and instead go around it by back roads that clearly haven’t seen any road maintenance in quite some time, before bringing us back to the forest bit of Stourhead on the other side. Which, being forestry proper, is not a nice road. It never is. Potholes and dirt and gravel. Now, if you’ve had all the pretty beforehand, this has been known to seem like a fair trade-off. But that not being the case, it was just not nice. OK, so once you’ve climbed out of it, the views are lovely but…

Onwards. I kept thinking maybe I could do the 100 miles. It was a Sunday, the sun was shining, I was feeling pretty good mostly; I could do this, right? And then the knife in my guts would twist again and I’d wonder if I could do the next 100 metres! Clearly the pills weren’t cutting it…and I didn’t have more. Mind you, I figured I could probably buy some en route, so this wasn’t overly concerning me, and I wasn’t due anymore for a while anyway. But I was heading for the route split, so decisions needed to be made. And it hurt. It was SO annoying. Because I was feeling pretty strong otherwise. I was doing the hills. I was flying on the flat and holding my own with other riders, and enjoying feeling good on the bike when I did. But…

third food stop

After a few miles on main roads, where just like last year (but without the hail) I led a little peloton for a while, we reached the food stop, at 49 miles, at Yapp’s in Mere again. It’s a nice place, a real sun trap too, and it was great to sit and feel warm for a while. There was lots on offer to eat and drink, including wine and cheese! Many people were debating what to do whilst milling around, as this was also where the route splits. Sadly I’d pretty much decided that it was going to have to be the 100km. Another 15 miles sounded a lot better than another 50, and a bit of me was wondering if I’d even manage that. I had a thought though…and headed off to see the ambulance guys, parked up outside. I expect they’re more used to dealing with dodgy knees and sore bums than they are my kind of problem but they were ever so helpful. Although all I’d initially asked for was ibuprofen to take a bit later, they actually gave me something stronger that I could take there and then. I wish I could remember what it was! Apparently it’s less strong than tramadol, so with less zombie effect, but better than ibuprofen and lasts 6-8 hours. I may need to get my hands on some of that for future use; something to ask the Doctor about methinks.

Deciding to take the shorter route means a long climb out of Mere which I remember hating last year. It didn’t bother me this year, I even completed some of the slowest over-taking manoeuvres you’ll ever see to get past some other riders 😉 I did know the next bit was lovely and that the rest of it wasn’t going to be too much trouble either, which probably helped. In fact I really enjoyed the last hour. The pain receded slowly. The sun was out and I was flying. After a little while over-taking lots of people, I picked up another rider, and we took turns to pretty much race back. Well that’s what it felt like anyway. There was no need to hold anything back now, so I figured I might as well go all out and get back 🙂

I’d dropped him, and a few others we acquired, just before the end, as we reached the final sprint down the drive. I took photos and then decided sprinting would be more fun. I think he tried to catch me…but I also think I won 😉 I was grinning as I collected my medal, shook his hand, and toddled off to tell the timing man I’d bailed. He already knew, and by the time I got back to the event village I’d had a text with my official time too!

I hung up my bike, collected my goody bag, and headed for the food tent, ostensibly in search of fizzy orange. Which had to be 7Up because of that they had none. But the free hotpot on offer turned out to be vegetarian bean hotpot that was also gluten and dairy free! Whilst probably not 100% safe, I wasn’t sure what I’d be eating for dinner later, so I figured I’d risk it. Very nice it was too 🙂

Whilst eating in my little corner of the marquee I inspected the contents of the goody bag, which weren’t that goody really. Lots of free samples of things with the odd voucher and a magazine thrown in. No souvenir tube scarf this year, which was a shame, and another change made for the worse I think. Especially when you consider that this sportive costs £42. Yes, £42! That’s £6 more than last year. With other similar, and equally well run, events coming in around the £30 mark, I really don’t know what that extra £12 buys you. There was some email earlier in the year putting the increase down to VAT or some such, but that really doesn’t explain it. It wasn’t cheap to start with! Yes it’s a good event, and it’s well run, but I’m afraid I just don’t think that it’s value for money.

So, not a great day at the office. My official time is 5:05, showing that I wasted 40 minutes at foodstops and various other I need to take a break stops. Without the pain I reckon I’d have had a good one though; I certainly felt like the potential was there. But it’s hard to focus on the riding when your body is trying to curl itself into foetal position, and you can’t concentrate on anything outside your insides. Ho hum. However my average speed is well up on last year’s, in fact Strava says I did most of it better than last year, so I’ll take that as a positive, remember the bits I did enjoy and that I could do, and take that on with me to the next one. 100 miles this time, right? PMA 🙂

Cycling time: 4:24
Distance: 61.6 miles
Avg: 14.0 mph
ODO: 8523.3 miles

Evans Ride It Bristol 2015

I don’t always look forward to sportives. In fact I can’t remember the last time I really did. But I was, oddly, looking forward to this one. After the last few positive rides I wanted to see how my form really was. Whether or not I could still do it. If I could do 70 miles yet. Mind you, however I thought I was feeling about it, someone had forgotten to tell my body, which did the whole dry mouth nervous thing for the entire way there…

…which luckily wasn’t far. Unsurprisingly the Evans Ride It Bristol starts in Bristol, which is only half an hour’s drive away. Again with the don’ts, but I don’t often do local sportives. I know these roads too well, there’s no novelty value, no real challenge to be had. But I signed up for this one as a hook to hang a longer ride on. To force me to get out of my 30 odd mile route rut and do something longer, with hills. And there’s a lot to be said for a 7:00am alarm call as opposed to a 5:00am one. So local isn’t all bad 😉

Of course, with predictably bad timing, my pain chose Saturday night to flare up, making for an even worse than usual pre-sportive night’s sleep, and sadly it hadn’t gone away by Sunday morning. Tramadol was out of the question as, when not habituated, it tends to zombie me, and that’s hardly conducive to bike riding. So mainstream analgesia it was, with my fingers firmly crossed that would be enough to get by.

So, all that said and done, welcome to Hengrove Park Leisure Centre where, at around 8:30am I was marshalled onto the small free car park on site, being early enough for it not to be full. Which was good, because the other options were further away. I could have walked to and from registration before faffing, but being as it was freezing cold (there was still ice in the puddles), I decided I might as well get all kitted up and wrapped up and go with the one step approach. The forecast was for fairly bright, fairly cold, and fairly breezy, all of which it was currently being. So on went every winter layer and, bearing my still dodgy ears in mind, the winter hat was joined by a Buff underneath to make sure everything was covered up. Fairly efficient as faffing goes. Me and my practically clean bike headed for registration – eldest has his uses 😉

It took a little while for them to find me since, thanks to my elevated VIP status, I got to be on a small special and exclusive list of free riders which was lurking at the end of the table. Oddly enough there was another female Trotman registered though…a DNS as it happens. The friendly bobble-hatted man behind the table stuck a timing sticker on my helmet, offered me a map and that was that. Which I refused. And then went back for on the basis that if I didn’t have it I might need it and just because I knew 95% of the route that wouldn’t stop me getting lost in and out of Bristol if I missed a sign. Plus it had all the emergency contact details on it which I thought I should have so as not to need them, like insurance.

Time for the requisite toilet break, and the facilities were inside the leisure centre along with a café etc. Cleats were banned, and getting the shoes on and off was a bit of a pain, what with all the overshoes etc, but hey ho, rules are rules. All necessities having been taken care of, there was nowt for it but to join the queue for the start in the cold. It didn’t take long though, and I was shortly penned in with the next batch of riders, being briefed. I wasn’t once told it wasn’t a race, but there was a sign saying so, which was nice. Well, tradition is important 😉

Right then. Briefing done. Here I go again, on my own. Going down roads I definitely know. Well, I would be once I got out of Bristol anyway 😉 After a couple of miles of leisurely (i.e. not going off too fast too soon) bimbling through housing estates, getting out of Bristol meant going straight up Dundry Hill. Oh cruel world! I definitely hadn’t warmed up, even supposing that was ever going to happen, and t’aint an easy hill for sure. But…it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be? Sure, it was hard work, and it went on for ages, bend after bend, but I didn’t feel like I was dying. Well, ok, I was, we all are, it’s part of life, but I didn’t feel like it was at risk of happening imminently 😉

Unsurprisingly I was overtaken on the way up, but I also overtook a few, and those who overtook me? Well I left ’em for dust on the downhill afterwards *grin*. The roads were pretty dry and, cold though it was, there didn’t seem to be ice around, so I could enjoy the downhills today my way, though I was maybe a little more cautious than usual.

Right then, bye bye Bristol, hello familiar roads. Not flat though, not yet. We were off plane spotting, gradually climbing through Winford and Felton up to the airport. Which cheered me up no end because this meant we were going to go down Brockley Combe. Fun fun 😉 Although actually it’s not steep enough to be real fun, you can’t get fast enough and there’s always a headwind. But I did my best 😉

I was on to Dad’s turf now, though sadly he wasn’t with me having left it late too late to sign up before it sold out. In the absence of his company, which would have been nice, I was actually happier with none, as I didn’t feel under any pressure to perform and could just take it as it came. And what came next was a nice patch of 10-15 fairly flat miles, enjoying the scenery, playing with the traffic in Yatton which is way easier on a bike than in a car, all the while getting closer and closer to the next big climb of the day, Burrington Combe. The first food stop was in the car park at the bottom, but I only stopped long enough to take the odd photo, it being sort of my job ‘n all. Tempting though the hot coffee looked, I was still cold, and didn’t want to get colder hanging around before doing that going up thing. That cold is also why there aren’t a lot of photos. It’s hard to use the camera in winter gloves which means either removing them (bye bye hands) or stopping to use it (bye bye body). So, more words, less pictures today.

Burrington Combe went pretty well, as it happens. As slowly as ever, but I felt ok about it. I knew the route split was coming up after and spent some happy mental time while pootling uphill, deliberating as to whether I was going to do the long route or the medium route. Sure, I was feeling fairly good, but I’d not done any long rides for quite a while, I’ve been ill, I couldn’t feel my toes, other than in that painfully cold sense, and my pain was making life…interesting, especially uphills. But I wanted to do the 70 mile route. That’s what I had set out to do. For once familiarity was a good thing. I knew where the route was going to take me, I knew which hills remained, I knew that what was ahead was theoretically doable, it having been done before. Who am I kidding? I was only mentally messing with myself really, I was always going to do the long route *grin*.

Besides, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t get to go down Cheddar Gorge, now would I? Which I did, and did well, and enjoyed just as much as ever. I’d have had flies in my teeth, but I was breathing through my winter collar – downhill was even colder! My buoyant mood carried me all the way out to and through Wedmore and on to the next foodstop at the infamous Sweets. I barely even noticed Mudgeley Hill, other than to fly down it of course 😉

Sadly there was no coffee on offer this time, just when I fancied one. Yes, I could have gone inside and ordered one, but that would have taken time I didn’t have. I did nip to the loo, and nab a couple of gels though, as there was one big hill to go and I was going to need ’em! Time to get back on my steed, to ride further East. Sadly this also involved some North and since today’s wind was a considerable North Westerly, it was suddenly quite a hindrance. OK, so I’d been aware it had been helping before, but the thought of the remaining 27 miles being all into that was a bit depressing, and I did briefly wonder if I’d made the right route decision.

I’m pleased to say it turned out to be less of a problem that feared. The road out to Wells was in a more favourable direction and there were bigger fish to fry. Old Bristol Hill. Which I’ve never cycled up in the snow before. Yes, as I came into Wells it started snowing. I’d like to say the novelty value made the climb easier. It didn’t. But it’s just another hill right? A very long hill mind, so I engaged crawler gear, laughed at the snow, and reminded myself that I’d climbed up far longer hills than this and they didn’t take all day and neither would this. Which it didn’t. Although it may have felt like it 😉

It was pretty breezy and awful chilly on the top of the Mendips but I knew it wouldn’t be for long, the snow had stopped without having settled, it was as scenic as ever, and I was going to get to go down Harptree Hill, another favourite. I’m very reward driven 😉 We’d been warned about the descent, which is probably quite fair if you don’t know it. But I do, so I got to fly all the way down happily, in my (joint) best time ever 😀

I was expecting to hate the slog out across the exposed valley and past Chew Valley Lake but somehow that didn’t happen. I knew the miles were counting down, and that I didn’t really have that far to go and so I just got on with it. Once we got to Chew Magna I was in unfamiliar territory though, and those few miles left s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d somehow, as I ceased to know where I was in relation to where I needed to be, whilst also not knowing what kind of hill was going to be necessary to get me back into Bristol. And yes, there was one, but it was no Dundry. Apparently it was Maesknoll, if you’re interested. And then that was that, just a few more miles through suburbia and I was back at HQ to walk over the Finish line, or more accurately under the Finish arch, and be counted back in, still feeling pretty good. Evans Ride It Bristol – done 🙂

Cycling time: 5:19
Distance: 70.5 miles
Avg: 13.2 mph
ODO: 7741.8 miles
Fuel: 2 gels, one flapjack, 1 litre Nuun.

Before I set out I was guessing at around 5 hours ride time. Then en route I realised how slow I was and that there were hills involved, and I decided 6 hours was more realistic. And then as things went on, I thought maybe I might make it in at around the 5 1/2 hours mark. So I was very pleased with 5:19, and happier still with my official 5:30 when the results went up on the website the following day. A pretty good start to the season methinks 🙂

PS: I’m also pretty chuffed that the organisers gave me both the High5 sample pack that everyone was getting, and also the free High5 Pack that riders who sign up more than 8 weeks in advance get – High5 gels are my fuel of choice!

Tour of Pembrokeshire Prologue 2015

Early, oh so early, on Friday morning, as the sun was slowly rising in the east, I was following the slowly waning moon west. Anyone would think it was sportive season which, it being January, it so isn’t. But it was time for this year’s Tour of Pembrokeshire Prologue ride, which meant being in Newport (no not that Newport) by 10:00am. Hence the unpleasant 5:30am alarm call, to get me out on the road in time to head towards the equally unpleasant weather that was forecast. There’s a reason sportives are generally later in the year…but having said that, last year’s Tour of Pembrokeshire was in April and boy, was the weather hideous. And hey, it was only a forecast, right? Besides, it’s not just about the ride, the Prologue has a hefty social element to it, with lunch all together afterwards, and it’s run by those who are now friends of mine so even if cycling around a wet and windy Pembrokeshire didn’t exactly appeal, in for a penny in for a pound, right?

So welcome to Prologue HQ, at Llys Meddyg in Newport. Parking was at somewhat of a premium as riders were already gathering, but I was assisted in squeezing my little red car into a little space in the hotel car park. Since I was staying there that night, I guess I was entitled 😉 I stuck my head inside, made my presence known, and headed back to the car to get ready. So far the weather wasn’t too bad, and it was pretty mild, which made the inevitable faffing a lot easier. I had considered washing the bike beforehand but, all things considered, I figured it would have been a waste of time. Oh and let’s face it, I’m lazy 😉 So out it came, complete with mud, and on went the necessary layers. I think there were forty other riders, or thereabouts, all milling around doing similar; registering, drinking coffee and the like.

As the time to depart drew near, we were sorted into ability-based groups, with me firmly in the softie group. I still had/have a stinking cold and inability to hear, haven’t done much exercise in a couple of weeks, and riding at all was possibly less than advisable, let alone doing it and trying to keep up with others. Besides, it looked like we were going to be a fairly sociable group, to be led by mein host Peter & his son Tom on their tandem, and there was even another girl for company – Nikki – which made a nice change.

And that’s pretty much how it worked out. Fairly sociable, stopping and starting to regroup, and just about slow enough for me. Yes, the downhills were fun, but there isn’t much flat, and why is it I always forget how hilly Pembrokeshire is? It is. Very. Hence the slow. Even doing the softie route, which meant cutting out the last big climbs, our 34 mile route included over 3000 feet of climbing! Man there was a lot of up – a real taster of what the real Tour is like. Sadly there was absolutely nothing in my legs, and going uphill literally hurt. I had lead for legs, but that’s unsurprising really I guess.

The first half of the ride was fairly pleasant, that not withstanding. It was still mild, only occasionally damp, with the odd hint of blue sky, and of course the scenery was as lovely as ever. It is beautiful around there, especially around the coast. For a little while it looked like we might make it around our loop before the weather came in. We did not. Oh no. Definitely not. In came the rain and serious amounts of wind. The sort that knocks you sideways, pushes you backwards, and generally just makes everything harder whilst completely failing to be behind you at any useful point in time, if at all. Hence the lack of photos. It would appear that this is the kind of weather I bring to Pembrokeshire, and as I coated yet more roads with snot, and coughed my way up yet another hill, I did wonder what on earth I thought I was doing, and why on earth I was doing it…

The last half of the ride was definitely a slog. I’ve done much longer rides that didn’t feel as hard work as this one did, and it was a great relief to get back to Newport and stuff the (even muddier) bike back in the car. I was geknackert. It is just possible that, considering my current being ill state, cycling 34 miles of wet windy Welsh hills was not the best idea ever… Still no-one ever said I was the sharpest knife in the drawer 😉

Cycling time: 2:54
Distance: 33.4 miles
Avg: 11.5 mph
ODO: 7449.7 miles

Once I’d checked into what turned out to be a very large & lovely room and I’d had a long hot shower, I felt restored to as close to human as I was going to get, and it was time to rejoin everyone for pheasant casserole & post ride debriefing downstairs. It sounds like those that had braved the full route had had some hairy times in the wind up on the mountains, making the route we took seem like a very wise choice. Not that I feel we needed that vindicating, as I’m just happy we didn’t have to do any more climbing! I know, girly wuss 😉 The après ride more than made up for my dismal performance on the ride, and what’s more, I felt like I’d earned it!

The Tour of Pembrokeshire 2015 takes place on 25th April and over 1100 have already signed up. It’s a great event, that I’ve done several times, and it promises to be just as good and just as challenging as ever. Due to other commitments, this year I’m not doing the Tour proper, but that probably means they’ll have their best weather ever! It’s one of my favourite events, and if you haven’t signed up already, why not do so now and make the most of the inevitable sunshine? 😉 *grin*.

Exmoor Beast 2014

You’d think by now I’d have stopped being nervous about sportives wouldn’t you? And if you’d asked me why I was nervous, I’d have been hard pushed to tell you really. I think maybe, after Thursday’s somewhat disastrous ride, I was just worried that there wasn’t going to be enough in the tank to make it around, let alone up the hills I knew were ahead of me. Presumably worrying about such things, and the usual “will the alarm clock go off, will I miss it” subconscious stuff, would be why I also failed to get a decent night’s sleep beforehand – even after two days of eating properly and getting an early night…

Still, this is nothing new, right? I finally gave up trying to sleep, after the nth time of waking up and having to check the time to see if it was even worth trying to go back to sleep, and was up at 5:00am. OK, so it was pitch black, but unlike earlier in the night, at least it wasn’t raining! In fact the forecast for the day was pretty good, however many times I refreshed the screen, which is far for the norm when it comes to the Exmoor Beast.

Yes, time for the Exmoor Beast again. It wasn’t my idea, honest! But having done it last year and enjoyed it more than I thought I would, it wasn’t a bad idea. In theory. Months ago! This morning however, it felt hideously early, and rather intimidating, and all in all, who’s idea was this?! I must be mad…but then we all knew that 😉

Having sorted all my kit out the night before, including faffing options for eventualities, there wasn’t much to do other than kit up, eat cereal, and then load the bike and bags into the car when Chris duly arrived at 6:00am. Being nervous, I probably wasn’t the most chatty of passengers on the way down, which those who have had to put up with me being irritatingly perky in similar circumstances, might well envy 😉 But it didn’t take long to get there…certainly not long enough for me to fall asleep again, and we arrived at HQ in Tiverton without a hitch, to be marshalled by men waving glowsticks to one of the pockets of parking around the place – in our case the tennis courts. The official start time wasn’t until 8:00am, an hour later this year, so we had plenty of time to go and register, find and queue for the toilets, get ready, and drink coffee. The sun kept going up, the skies brightened, and even I might have cheered up a bit 😉

But there was no putting it off any longer, it was time to go and do that queueing in pens thing. A later start is/was a good thing. No worrying about lights, no groping around in the dark, and more importantly when, after the rider briefing, our pen was set off a little after 8:00am, we could see where we were going! However…on the downside…it meant I could see where I was going! 😉 I don’t remember much of the early part of last year’s ride as I was too busy trying to cope with the unfamiliarity of riding in the dark, following flashing lights, avoiding other barely-seen riders, and so on… This time I saw, and felt, every hill! I knew I would feel rubbish to start with, I always do, and as predicted I did. My breathing was off on one and I just couldn’t seem to catch my breath, which is not ideal when slogging your way uphill. It took me 45 minutes, as usual, to warm up, and in the meantime on a couple of those early big hills, my lungs and core muscles and the effort being made all combined to make me feel like I was turning myself inside out! Not pleasant…but once we got to the top of one of them around an hour in and I stashed my gilet and head scarf I felt much cooler and much better. I really don’t like over-heating!

All that said, it was nice out there. Not (yet) too windy, dry overhead, fairly mild. The roads were damp and covered in crap though, so I was little more careful on some of the downhills than usual, especially since I was still on the summer bike, wheels, and tyres! Although there were allegedly around 1500 riders out there, it didn’t feel too busy in the country lanes, and there were slightly better manners than at some events, so I rarely got railroaded without notice, which was nice. So we bimbled along in my usual style, and the miles and hills passed, as did today’s guest of honour Jonathan Tiernan-Locke from time to time, making it all look easy of course. There was plenty of up, but I’m much better with long hills than short, providing they’re not too steep of course, and they were feeling ok. Being currently a drug-free zone it’s clear that some of those were affecting things and that now they aren’t. Not that I’m any faster up the darn things, they just feel different. And if that doesn’t make sense, tough 😉

After much general climbing up and hurtling down the moors, there was a fantastic descent into Dunster, which it’s fair to say I nailed. Oh, and enjoyed immensely. Me and my bike are very good at that 🙂 In fact, having swooshed past a great many, and then all the way up one up bit in the middle, when three of the guys I’d passed caught me up, which no doubt their egos insisted upon, I was congratulated on my “good effort” *grin*. After playing with very tolerant traffic in Dunster, we arrived at the very-well stocked food stop. Everything from soup to rolls and flapjacks and of course energy drink, water and bananas! I topped up my bottles, queued briefly for one of the portable toilets, and passed on the food – no need to mess up my insides since they were feeling ok. It felt nice to take a bit of a break in the sunshine, chat, and enjoy the fact that half the ride was behind us…

…which of course, means half of it was ahead, and that half included the biggest challenge of the day – Dunkery Beacon! *gulp* We set off again, heading for the inevitable, along the main road through and past Minehead that is a bit busy and full of nasty draggy upwards bits – I never enjoy that stretch of road, and today was no exception. In fact, even with flapjack and a gel on board, that dragging made me realise I was feeling pretty tired. And pretty worried. I know Dunkery Beacon, and it’s no walk in the National Park! Well, unless you have to walk up it of course, and that’s probably pretty hard work too 😉

After the relief of a bit of down, we turned left and started the trundle through the country lanes that gradually lead up to where the climb proper starts. Riders kept going past me but hey, if they were in that much of a rush to get there, more power to them. I was conserving energy and trying to think positively and gird my loins for the struggle ahead! A bit of me was thinking I’d also rather have ’em all ahead of me, out of the way, and not weaving backwards and forwards around me…

So, here we go. Another left turn, slowly going up already, and over the dreaded, but matted, cattle grid, heart in mouth… As the slog through the damp woods began, and I slowly ground my way up, I have to admit to having wondered about walking, whether today would be the day I would again, whether I’d have to, whether that would be such a bad thing…but not yet, right?

Make the wheels go around. One pedal stroke after the next. Avoid the horse-chestnut cases and leaves and twigs, pass the walkers, zig-zag a bit, keep the front wheel down, push, push, push… At least my lungs were working now, and so were my legs, for however long that might be the case. Steeper bits, even steeper bits, flatter bits, steeper bits…and then that bit in the middle which could be the top but isn’t, because it’s only half way; your chance to have a drink, regroup slightly and then, yes, start all over again. The forest drops behind you, the road climbs up into moorland, the views open up, but they’re behind you, and you’re too busy concentrating on the road ahead anyway, which stretches into the distance, with every diminishing spots of colourful lycra leading the way. On and on and on…but just that little bit less steep that it was down there, and so yes, it’s hard, but you keep going, you don’t get off, you just hit that mental zone where all you do is keep the wheels turning. Up this bit. Round the bend. Up the next bit. One stretch of tarmac at a time. And as long as the wheels are turning you’re going up, however slowly, while the race snakes hurtle pass you, you pass the “pedestrians” and take heart from that, the inevitable photographers lurk and you do your best to smile, before returning to that gurning place inside where you are mentally and you push some more and then…you know what…? The world has opened up around you, you’ve reached the sky, and it’s all behind you. I did it. Again. I have absolutely no idea how I made it up really. I just did 🙂

Now there’s an awesome feeling for you 🙂 Which probably explains why I was grinning when we passed a familiar friendly face shortly afterwards – Gaz and his camera were there to capture the moment – which was all the more reason to smile.

No time to hang around though – having done all that up, there was some down to be enjoying. I always look forward to downs, but it was so windy up on the top there that I was looking forward to getting down to some shelter more! Such fun though… 😀 It wasn’t the last up, there were a few more to drag myself up, but I now knew that the back of the Beast was broken and, on past experience, that the last 20 or so miles are just a long run down the valley back to Tiverton. Which was, with the exception of a couple of kickers, fairly flat and fast and fair flying , especially as I spent most of it sat on on Chris’ wheel – not having quite enough energy left in me to spend as much time on the front as I would have liked. This was probably not helped by the fact that we had to fight that headwind all the way back! I struggled a bit from time to time, but there were some down bits to enjoy as well as the flat, and we hopped from group to group, and generally had a reasonable approximation of a blast most of the way back to Tiverton. And then there we were, back at HQ, rolling past the timing machines, and into the hall.

As a small child presented us with our souvenir Exmoor Beast tankards, the tannoy, in the capable hands of Ron (of Dartmoor Classic fame), announced our arrival, complete with a whole spiel about me being the Cycling Mayor and Cyclosport writer…busted! You can ride, but you can’t hide 😉 We went around outside as instructed, stashed the bikes, and went back in to fill those tankards with the eponymous ale, before having a chat with Ron and others while getting our times. It was great to have the opportunity to catch up – it’s nice to do events and bump into people you know – one advantage of doing so many of the darn things! Oh, and that beer was pretty good too, especially enjoyed sat outside in the sunshine and the after-glow 🙂

Exmoor Beast – done. Again. Annoyingly, it turns out to have been a bit slower than last year, but I think I actually enjoyed it more? Which is more important. I had a pretty good ride, in good company, I didn’t feel like an invalid, and I don’t feel like I was outstandingly slow. I’m pretty pleased with how it went. Make that really pleased. You know what? I had a really good day out 😀

Cycling time: 4:56
Distance: 66.3 miles
Avg: 13.2 mph
ODO: 6966.4 miles

Update: Of the 520 100km riders, I was 285th. Of the 58 women amongst them, I was 19th. I’m pretty pleased with that 🙂

And I was only half an hour slower than Mr Tiernan-Locke…who must have stopped off for a cream tea at some point… 😉

The ghosts of my life, blew wilder than the wind

Yesterday was the annual Cyclosport industry bash. It was, as ever, quite a laugh, though my liver may well be less than amused 😉 I got to catch up with friends I’ve not seen in ages, got some very constructive networking done, and of course indulge my new celebrity cyclist stalking hobby…

…so, roll up, roll up, here’s the latest selfie selection: Mike Cotty, Matt Stephens, Yanto Barker, Dean Downing, Russ Downing, and my mate Peter, of Tour of Pembrokeshire fame. Hey, it gave me something to do! Thanks for being so tolerant guys 🙂

OK, so they’re all more or less famous, but to me, Mike Cotty is a legend. He’s been inspiring me since I got his Etape-preview DVD back in 2011, to help me get my head around what I was going to do. We’ve talked on Twitter (not that he remembers, as he talks to so many people!) – he gave me advice on other events to try, advice for the Maratona – and I’ve used his DVDs for that and Quebrantahuesos too. He crossed the French Alps non-stop last year, and this year he cycled over 1,000km and 21 mountains from Conegliano, Italy, to Chamonix-Mont-Blanc, France, in something like 50 hours. Non-stop. Mental! We had quite a long chat, about cycling and various related stuff, and he’s just as nice in person. Meeting him totally made my day 😀

And in the meantime my plans for next year may now include a proper training plan, and a training camp in Andalusia, amongst other things. How cool would that be? Fingers crossed…I have a few dreams I’d like to make reality 🙂